The second Part of King Henry the Fourth.

78

one, and the pox pinches the other; and so both the De-
grees prevent my curfes. Boy?

Page. Sir.

Fal. What money is in my purfe?

Pag. Seven groats, and two pence.

Fal. I can get no remedy against this Convolvement of the purfe. Borrowing onely lingers, and lingers it out, but the difeafe is incureable. Go beare this letter to my Lord of Lancafter, this to the Prince, this to the Earle of Weftmerland, and this to old Miftris Vrfula, whome I have weekly fworne to marry, fince I perceiv'd the firft white haire on my chin. About it : you know where to finde me. A pox of this Gowt, or a Gowt of this Poxe: for the one or th'other playes the rogue with my great toe: It is no matter, if I do halt, I have the warres for my colour, and my Penfion fhall feeme the more reafonable: A good wit will make vfe of any thing : I will turne difeafe's to commodity.
Exeunt.

## Scæna Quarta.

Enter Archibishop, Haſtings, Mowbray, and
Lord Bardolfe.

Ar. Thus have you heard our cauſes and know our
And my moſt noble Friends, I pray you all (Means:
Speake plainly your opinions of our hopes,
And firſt (Lord Marshall) what fay you to it?

Mor. I well allow the occafion of our Armes,
But gladly would be better ſatisfied,
How (in our Meaneſ) we ſhould advance our ſelves
To looke with forehead bold and big enough
Vpon the Power and puilſance of the King.

Haſt. Our prefent Muſters grow upon the File
To five and twenty thouſand men of choice:

And our Supplies, live largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whoſe boſome burnes
With an incenſed Fire of Injuries.

L. Bar. The question then (Lord Haſtings) ſtandeth thus
Whether our prefent five and twenty thouſand
May hold-up-head, without Northumberland:

Haſt. With him, we may.

L. Bar. I marry, there's the point:
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
My judgement is, we should not ſtep too farre
Till we had his Affiſtance by the hand.

For in a Theame ſo bloody fac'd, as this,
Conjeſture, Expeſtation, and Surmiſe

Of Aydes incertaine, ſhould not be admitted.

Arch. 'Tis very true Lord Bardolſe, for indeed
It was yong Hoi purres caſe, at Shrewsbury.

L. Bar. It was (my Lord) who lin'd himſelfe with hope,
Eating the ayre, on promife of Supply,
Flatt'ring himſelfe with Project of a power,
Much ſmaller, then the ſmallest of his Thoughts,
And ſo with great imagination.

(Proper to mad men) led his Powers to death,
And (winking) leap'd into deſtruction.

Haſt. But (by your leave) it never yet did hurt,
To lay downe likely-hoods, and formes of hope.

L. Bar. Yes, if this prefent quality of w. re,
Indeed the inſtant action: a cauſe on foot,
Lives ſo in hope: As in an early Spring,

We fee thet appearing buds, which to prove fruite,
Hope gives not ſo much warrant, as Deſpaire.

That Froſts will bite the n. When we meane to build,
We firſt ſurvey the Plot, then draw the Modell,

And when we fee the figure of the houſe,
Then muſt we rate the coſt of the Erection,
Which if we finde out-weighes Ability,
What do we then, but draw a-new the Modell
In fewer offices? Or at leaſt, deſſit
To builde at all ? Much more, in this great worke,
(Which is (almoſt) to plucke a Kingdome downe,
And fet another up) ſhould we ſurvey
The plot of Situation, and the Modell,
Content upon a ſure Foundation:
Question Surveyors, know our owne eſtate,
How able ſuch a Worke to undergo,
To weigh againſt his Oppoſite? Or eſſe,
We fortiſe in Paper, and in Figures,
Vſing the Names of men, inſtead of men:
Like one, that drawes the Modell of a houſe,
Beyond his power to builde it; who (halſe through)
Gives o're, and leaves his part-created Coſt
A naked ſubject to the Weeping Clouds,
And waſte, for churliſh Winters tyranny.

Haſt. Grant that our hopes (yet likely of faire birth)
Should be firſt-borne: and that we now poſſeſt
The utmoſt man of expeſtation:

I thinke we are a Body strong enough
(Even as we are) to equal with the King.

L. Bar. What is the King but five & twenty thouſand?
Haſt. To us no more: nay not ſo much Lord Bardolſe.
For his divifions (as the Times do braul)

Are in three Heads: one Power againſt the French,
And one againſt ſlendower: Perſorce a third
Muſt take up us: So is the unſirme King
In three divided: and his Coffers found
With hollow Poverty, and Emptineſſe.

Ar. That he ſhould draw his feveral ſtrengths together
And come againſt us in full puilſance,
Need not be dreaded.

Haſt. If he ſhould do ſo,
He leaves his backe unarm'd, the French, and Welch
Baying him at the heeles: never ſeare that.

L. Bar. Who is it like ſhould lead his Forces hither?
Haſt. The Duke of Lancafter, and Weſtmerland:
Againſt the Welſh himſelfe, and Harry Monmouth,
But who is ſubſtituted? againſt the French,
I have no certaine notice.

Arch. Let us on:
And publifh the occafion of our Armes.
The Common-wealth is ſicke of their owne Choice,
Their over-greedy love, hath ſurſetied:

An habitation giddy, and unfure
Hath he that builde on the vulgar heart.

O thou fond Many, with what loud applaſe
Did it thou beate heaven with bleſſing Bullingbrooke,
Before he was, what thou would'ſt have him be?
And being now trimm'd up in thine owne defires,
Thou (beatly Feeder) art ſo full of him,
That thou pronok'ſt thy ſelfe to caſt him up.

So, ſo, (thou common Dogge) did it thou diſorge
Thy glutton-boſome of the Royall Richard,

And now thou would'ſt eate thy dead vomit up,
And how! It to finde it. What truſt is in theſe Times?
They, that when Richard liv'd, would have him dye,
Are now become enamour'd on his grave.

Thou that threw'ſt duſt upon his godly head
When through proud London he came fighting on,
After th'admired heeles of Bullingbrooke,

Cri'ſt now, O Earth, yeeld us that King againe,

And

79

And take thou this (O thoughts of men accrurs'd)
"Paſt, and to come seemes beſt; things Prefent, worſt.

Mow. Shall we go draw our numbers, and fet on?

Hoff. We are Times Subjects, and Time bids be gon.

## Altus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Hofſeſſe, with two Officers, Fang, and Snare.

Hofſeſſe. Mr. Fang, have you entred the Action?

Fang. It is enter'd.

Hoff. Where's your Yeoman? Is it a luffly yeoman?
Will he land to it?

Fang. Sir, ha, where's Snare?

Hoff. I, I, good M. Snare.

Snare. Heere, heere.

Fang. Snare, we must Arreſt Sir John Fallſaffe.

Hoff. I good M. Snare, I have enter'd him, and all.

Sn. It may chance coſt home of us our lives: he wil ſtab

Hoff. Alas! the day: take heed of him: he ſtabd me in
mine owne houſe, and that moſt beaſtly: he cares not
what miſcheefe he doth, if his weapon be out. He will
foyne like any divell, he will ſpare neither man, woman,
nor childe.

Fang. If I can cloſe with him, I care not for his thruff.

Hoff. No, nor I neither: Ile be at your elbow.

Fang. If I but ſtir him once: if he come but within my
Vice.

Hoff. I am undone with his going: I warrant he is an
infinitive thing upon my ſcore. Good M. Fang hold him
ſure: good M. Snare let him not ſcabe, he comes continu-
antly to PyCorner (ſaying your manhoods) to buy a fad-
dle, and hee is indited to dinner to the Lubbars head in-
Lombardſtreet to M. Smoother the Silksman. I pra'ye ſince
my Exion is enter'd, and my Cafe ſo openly known to the
world, let him be brought in to his anſwer: A 100. Mark
is a long one, for a poore lone woman to beare: & I have
borne, and borne, and borne, and have bin ſub'd off, and
ſub'd-off, from this day to that day, that it is a ſhame to
be thought on. There is no honeſty in ſuch dealing, unless
a woman ſhould be made an Aſſe and a Beaſt, to beare e-
very Knaves wrong.

Enter Fallſaffe and Bardolſe.

Yonder he comes, and that arrant Malmeſey-Nofe Bar-
dolſe with him, Do your Offices, do your offices: M. Fang,
& M. Snare, do me, do me, do me your Offices.

Fa. How now? whoſe Mare's dead? what's the matter?

Fang. Sir John, I arreſt you, at the ſuit of Milt. Quicſky.

Fal. Away Varlets, draw Bardolſe: Cut me off the Vil-
laines head: throw the Queane in the Channel.

Hoff. Throw me in the channell? Ile throw thee there.
Wilt thou? wilt thou baſtardly rogue. Murder, mur-
der, O thou Hony-fuckle villaine, wilt thou kill Gods of-
ficers, and the Kings? O thou hony-feed Rogue, thou art
a hony feed, a Man-queller, and a womati-queller.

Fal. Keep them off, Bardolſe. Fang. A reſcu, a reſcu-

Hoff. Good people bring a reſcu. Thou wilt not? thou
wilt not? Doe, doe thou Rogue: Doe thou Hempfeed.

Fag. Away you Scullion you Rampallian, you Uſſeil-
liarian: Ile tucke your Cataſtrophe.

Enter, Ch. Inſtice.

Inſt. What's the matter? Kcepe the Peace here, hoa.

Hoff. Good my Lord be good to mee. I beſech you
ſtand to me.

Ch. In. How now fir John? What are you brauing here?
Doth this become your place, your time, and buſineſſe?
You ſhould have bene well on your way to Yorke.

Stand from him Fellow, wherefore hang it upon him?

Hoff. Oh my moſt worſhipfull Lord, and't pleafe your
Grace, I am a poore widow of Eaſtcheap, and he is ar-
reſt'd at my ſuit. Ch. Inſt. For what ſumme?

Hoff. It is more then for ſome (my Lord) it is for al:
I have, he hath eaten me out of houſe and home: hee hath
put all my ſubſtance into that fat belly of his: but I will
have ſome of it out againe, or I will ride three o'Nights,
like the Mare.

Fal. I thinke I am as like to ride the Mare, if I have any
vantage of ground, to get up.

Ch. Inſt. How co nes this, Sir John? Fy, what a man of
good temper would endure this tempeſt of exclamation?
Are you not alham'd to inforce a poore Widdowe to ſo
rough a courſe, to come by her owne?

Fal. What is the groſſe ſumme that I owe thee?

Hoff. Marry (if thou wer't an honest man) thy ſelſe, &
the mony too. Thou didſt ſweare to mee upon a parcell
gilt Goblet, ſitting in my Dolphin-chamber at the round
table, by a ſea-cole fire, on Wednesday in Whitſon week,
when the Prince brok thy head for lik'ning him to a fin-
ging man of Windſor; thou didſt ſweare to me then (as I
was waſhing thy wound) to marry me, and make me my
Lady thy wife. Canſt thou deny it? Did not goodwife Keech
the Butchers wife come in then, and call me goſſlip Quic-
ky? comming in to borrow a meſſe of Vinegar: telling us,
ſhe had a good diſh of Prawnes: whereby thou didſt deſire
to eat ſome: whereby I told thee they were ill for a greene
wound? And didſt not thou (when ſhe was gone downe
ſtaſtires) deſire me to be no more familiar with ſuch poore
people, ſaying, that ere long they ſhould call me Madam?
And didſt thou not kiffe me, and bid mee fetch the 30. s? I
put thee now to thy Book-oath, deny it if thou canſt!

Fal. My Lord, this is a poore mad ſoule: and the ſayes
up & downe the towne, that her eldeſt fon is like you. She
hath bin in good cafe, & the truth is, pouerſty hath diſtra-
cted her: but for theſe fooliſh Officers, I beſech you, I
may have redreſſe againſt them.

Inſt. Sir John, fir John, I am well acquainted with your
maner of wrenching the true cauſe, the ſalſe way. It is not
a confident brow, nor the throng of words, that come
with ſuch (more then impudent) laweines from you, can
thruſt me from a levell ſ confidentation, I know you ha'
practis'd upon the eafie- yeelding ſpirit of this woman.

Hoff. Yes in troth my Lord.

Inſt. Prethee peace: pay her the debt you owe her, and
unpay the villany you have done her: the one you may do
with ſterling monys; & the other with currant repentance.

Fal. My Lord, I will not undergo this ſneape without
reſply. You call honorable Boldnes, impudent Saweines:
I a man will curſ'e, and ſay nothing, he is vertuous: No,
my Lord (your humble duty remembred) I will not be your
futor. I ſay to you, I deſire deliv'rance from theſe Officers
being upon haſtly employment in the Kings Affairs.

Inſt. You ſpeak as having power to do wrong: But
anſwer in the effect of your Reputation, and ſatisſe the
poore woman.

Fal. Come hither Hofſeſſe.

Enter M. Gower.

Ch. Inſt. Now Maſſler Gower; What newes?

Gow. The King (my Lord) and Henry Prince of Wales
Are neere at hand: The reſt the Paper telles.

Fal. As I am a Gentleman.

Hoff. Nay, you ſaid ſo before.

Fal. As I am a Gentleman. Come, no more words of it.

Hoff. By this Heavenly ground I tread on, I muſt bee
faineto pawne both my Plate, and the Tapiftry of my dy-
ning Chambers.

g 3

Fal.

80

Fal. Glaffes, glaftes, is the onely drinking : and for thy
walles a pretty flight Drollery, or the Story of the Pro-
digal, or the Germane hunting in Water worke, is worth
a thousand of thefe Bed-hangings, and thefe Flybitten
Tapiftries. Let it be ten pound (if thou canft.) Come, if it
were not for thy humors, there is not a better Wench in
England. Go, waft thy face, and draw thy Action: Come,
thou muft not be in this humour with me, come, I know
thou was't fet on to this.

Hoſt. Prethee(Sir Iohn) let it be but twenty Nobles; I
am loath to pawne my Plate, in good earneſt la.

Fal. Let it alone, and make other shift : you'll be a fool
ſtill.

Hoſt. Well, you ſhall have it although I pawne my
Gowne. I hope you'l come to Supper: You'l pay me al-
together?

Fal. Will I live? Go with her, with her : hooke-on,
hooke-on.

Hoſt. Will you have Doll Teare-Sheet meet you at SUP-
per?

Fal. No more words. Let's have her.

Ch. Inſt. I have heard bitter newes.

Fal. What's the newes( my good Lord?)

Ch. Inſt. Where lay the King laſt night?

Mef. At Bafingtoke my Lord.

Fal. I hope(my Lord ) all's well. What is the newes
my Lord?

Ch. Iu. Come all his Forces backe?

Mef. No: Fifteene hundred Foot, five hundred Horfe
Are march'd up to my Lord of of Lancafter,
Againſt Northumberland, and the Archbifhop.

Fal. Comes the King backe from Wales, my noble L.

Ch. Iu. You ſhall have Letters of me prefently.

Come goalong with me, good M. Goure.

Fal. My Lord.

Ch. Iu. What's the matter?

Fal. Maifter Gowre, ſhall I entreate you with me to
dinner?

Gow. I muſt waite upon my good Lord here.

I thanke you, good Sir Iohn.

Ch. Iu. Sir Iohn, you loyter heere too long, being you
are to take Souldiers up, in Countries as you go.

Fal. Will you ſup with me, Maifter Gowre?

Ch. Inſt. What foolifh Maifter taught you theſe man-
ers, Sir Iohn?

Fal. Maifter Gowre, if they become mee not, he was a
Foole that taught them mee. This is the right Fencing
grace(my Lord) tap for tap, and ſo part faire.

C. Iu. Now the Lord lighten thee, thou art a great
Foole.

## Scæna Secunda.

Enter Prince Henry, Pointz, Bardolſe,
and l'age.

Prin. Truſt me, I am exceeding weary.

Poin. Is it come to that? I had thought wearies durſt
not have attach'd one of ſo high blood.

Prin. It doth methough it diſcolours the complexion
of my Greatneſſe to acknowledge it. Doth it not ſhow
vildely in me, to deſire ſmall Beere?

Poin. Why, a Prince ſhould not be ſo loosely ſtudied,

as to remember ſo weake a Compoſition.

Prince. Belike then, my Appetite was not Prinely
got: for (in troth) I do now remember the poore Cre-
ture, Small Beere. But indeede theſe humble confidenc-
tions make me out of love with my greatneſſe. What a
difgrace is it to me, to remember thy name? Or to know
thy face to morrow? Or to take note how many paire of
Silk flockings thou haſt? (Viz. theſe, and thofe that were
thy peach-colour'd ones:) Or to beare the Inventory of
thy ſhirts, as one for ſuperfluity, and one other, for uſe.
But that the Tennis-Court-keeper knowes better then I,
for it is a low ebbe of Linnen with thee, when thou kee-
peſt not Racket there, as thou haſt not døe a great while,
becaufe the reſt of thy Low Countries, have made a ſhift
to eate up thy Holland.

Poin. How ill it followes, after you have labour'd to
hard, you ſhould take ſo idlenly? Tell me how many good
yong Princes would do ſo, their Fathers lying ſo ſicke as
yours is?

Prin. Shall I tell thee one thing, Pointz?

Poin. Yes: and let it be an excellent good thing.

Prin. It ſhall ſerve among wittes of no higher bred-
ing then thine.

Poin. Go to : I ſtand the puſh of your one thing, that
you'll tell.

Prin. Why, I tell thee, it is not meet, that I ſhould be
fad now my Father is ſicke: albeit I could tell to thee (as
to one it pleafes me, for fault of a better, to calmy friend)
I could be ſad, and ſad indeed too.

Poin. Very hardly, upon ſuch a ſubjeſt.

Prin. Thou think it me as farre in the Divels Book, as
thou, and Falſiaſſe, for obduracy and perſturity. Let the
end try the man. But I tell thee, my heart bleeds inward-
ly, that my Father is ſo ſick: and keeping ſuch vild com-
pany as thou art, hath in reaſon taken from me, all offen-
tation of ſorrow.

Poin. The reaſon?

Pr. What would it think you of me, if I ſhould weep?

Poin. I Would think thee a molſt Prinely hypocrite.

Prin. It would be every man's thought : and thou art
a bleſſed Fellow, to thinke as every man thinkes never a
mans thought in the world, keepeſt the Rode-way better
than thine: every man would think me an Hypocrite in-
deede. And what accites your molſt worſhipſul thought
to thinke for?

Poin. Why, becauſe you have beene ſolwde, and ſo
much ingraſſed to Falſiaſſe.

Prin. And to thee.

Pointz. Nay, I am well ſpoken of, I can heare it with
mine own eares: the worſt that they can ſay of me is, that
I am a ſecond Brother, and that I am a proper Fellow of
my hands: and theſe two things I confefſe I cannot helpe.
Looke, looke, here comes Baldolſe.

Prince. And the Boy that I gave Falſiaſſe, he had him
from me Chriftian, and ſee if the fat villain have not
trans form'd him Ape.

Enter Bardolſe.

Bar. Save your Grace.

Prin. And yours, molſt Noble Bardolſe.

Poin. Come you pernicious Aſſe, you baſſful Foole,
muſt you be bluſhing? Wherefore bluſh you now? what
a Maidenly man at Armes are you become ? Is it ſuch a
matter to get a Pottle-pots Maiden-head?

Page. He call'd me even now (my Lord) through a red
Lattice, and I could diſcern no part of his face from the
window:

82

He was the Marke, and Glasse, Coppy, and Booke,
That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous him,
O Miracle of Men! Him did you leave
(Second to none) un-feconded by you,
To looke upon the hideous god of Warre,
In dif-advantage, to abide a field,
Where nothing but the found of Hotspur's Name
Did feeme defenfible: so you left him.
Never, O never doe his Choff the wrong,
To hold your Honor more precife and nice
With others, then with him. Let them alone:
The Marshall and the Arch-bifhop are strong.
Had my sweet Harry had but half their Numbers,
To day might I ( hanging on Hotspur's Necke)
Have talk'd of Monmouth's Grave.

North. Behrew your heart,
(Faire Daughter) you doe draw my fpirits from me,
With new lamenting ancient Over-fights.
But I muſt goe, and meet with Danger there:
Or it will feeke me in another place,
And finde me worſe provided.

Wife. O flye to Scotland,
Till that the Nobles, and the armed Commons,
Have of their Puiſance made a little taſte.

Lady. If they get ground, and vantage of the King,
Then joyne you with them, like a Ribbe of Steele,
To make Strength ſtronger. But, for all our loves,
First let them trye themſelves. So did your Sonne,
He was ſo ſuffer'd; ſo came I a Widow:
And never ſhall have length of Life enough,
To raine upon Remembrance with mine Eyes,
That it may grow, and ſprowt, as high as Heaven,
For Recordation to my Noble Husband.

Nor. Come, come, go in with me: tis with my Minde
As with the Tyde, I ſwell'd up unto his height,
That makes a full-land, running neither way.
Faine would I goe to meet the Arch-bifhop,
But many thouand Reafons hold me backe.
I will reſolve for Scotland: there am I,

Till Time and Vantage crave my company.

Exeunt.

## Scena Quarta.

### Enter two Drawers.

1. **Drawer.** What haſt thou brought there ? Apple-
Iohns? Thou know'ſt Sir John cannot endure an Apple-
Iohn.

2. **Draw.** Thou ſay'ſt true: the Prince once fet a Difh
of Apple-Iohns before him, and told him there were five
more Sir Johns: and, putting off his Hat, I will now
take my leave of theſe fixe drie, round, old-wither'd
Knights. It anger'd him to the heart: but hee hath for-
got that.

1. **Draw.** Why then cover, and fet them downe: and
fee if thou canſt finde out Sneakes Noyſe; Miftris Teare-
beeth would faire have ſome Muſique.

2. **Draw.** Sir, ha, heere will be the Prince, and Maifter
Points, anon: and they will put on two of our Ierkins,
and Aprons, and Sir John muſt not know of it: Bardolph
hath brought word.

1. **Draw.** Then here will be old Uris: it will be an
excellent ſtratagem.

2. **Draw.** Ile fee if I can finde out Sneake.

Exit.

### Enter Hofteffe, and Dol.

Hoft. Sweet-heart, me thinkes now you are in an ex-
cellent good temperality: your Pulfidge beates as extra-
ordinarily, as heart would deſire; and your Colour (I
warrant you) is as red as any Rofe: But you have drunk
too much Canaries, and that's a marvellous ſearching
Wine; and it perfumes the blood, ere we can ſay what's
this. How doe you now?

Dol. Better then I was: Hem.

Hoft. Why that was well faid: A good heart's worth
Gold. Looke, here comes Sir John.

### Enter Falſtaffe.

Falſt. When Arthur first in Cosirt--(empty the Jordan)
and was a worthy King: How now Miftris Dol.

Hoft. Sick of a Calme: yea, good-footh.

Dol. So is all her Seſt : if they bee once in a Calme,
they are fick.

Dol. You muddy Raſcall, is that all the comfort you
give me?

Fal. You make fat Raſcalls, Miftris Dol.

Dol. I make them? Gluttony and Difeaſes make them,
I make them not.

Fal. If the Cooke make the Gluttony, you helpe to
make the Difeaſes (Dol) we catch of you (Dol) we catch
of you: Grant that, my poore Vertue, grant that.

Dol. I marry, our Chaynes, and our Jewels.

Falſt. Your Brooches, Pearles, and Owches: For to
ſerve bravely, is to come halting off: you know, to come
off the Breach, with his Pike, bent bravely, and to Surge-
ry bravelie; to venture upon the charg'd-Chambers
bravely.

Hoft. Why this is the olde ſ fashion : you two never
meete, but you fall to ſome difcord: you are both (in
good troth ) as Rheumatike as two drie Toſtes, you
cannot one beare with anothers Confirmities. What
the good-yere ? One muſt beare, and that muſt bee you:
you are the weaker Veffell, as they ſay, the empty
Veffell.

Dol. Can a weake empty Veffell beare ſuch a huge
full Hogs-head ? There's a whole Marchants Venture
of Burdeux- Stuſſe in him: you have not ſeen a Hulke
better ſtufft in the Hold. Come, Ile be friends with thee
Iacke: Thou art going to the Warres, and whether I
ſhall ever fee thee againe, or no, there is no body
cares.

### Enter Drawer.

Draw. Sir, Ancient Piftoll is below, and would ſpeake
with you.

Dol. Hang him, I swaggering Raſcall, let him not
come hither: it is the foule-mouth'dt Rogue in England.

Hoft. If hee I swagger, let him not come here: I muſt
live amongst my Neighbors, Ile no Iwaggerers: I am
in good name, and fame, with the very belt: flut the
doore, there comes no I swaggerers heere: I have not
liv'd all this while, to have I swaggering now: flut the
doore, I pray you.

Fal. Do'ſt thou heare, Hofteffe?

Hoft. Pray you pacify your ſelf (Sir John) there comes
no I swaggerers heere.

Fal. Do'ſt

Falt. Do't thou heare? it is mine Ancient.

Hof. Tilly-fally (Sir Iohn) never tell me, your ancient
Swaggerer comes not in my doores.I was before Mafter
Tisick the Deputy, the other day;and as hee faid to mee,
it was no longer agoe then Wednesday laft: Neighbour
Quickly (fayes hee;) Maifter Dombe, our Minifter, was by
then: Neighbour Quickly (fayes hee) receive thate then
are Civill; for (fayth hee) you are in an ill Name: now
hee faid fo, I can tell whereupon: for (fayes hee) you are
an honest Woman, and well thought on; therefore take
heede what Guëfts you receive: Receive (fayes hee) no
f swaggering Companions. There comes none here. You
would blefle you to heare what hee faid. No, Ile no
Swaggerers.

Falt. Hee's no Swaggerer (Hofteffe:) a tame Cheater,
hee: you may fyroake him as gently, as a Puppy Grey-
hound: hee will not f wragger with a Barbary Henne, if
her feathers turne backe in any ſhew of refiſtance. Call
him up (Drawer.)

Hof. Cheater, call you him? I will barre no honſt
man my haufe, nor no Cheater, but I do not love f wag-
gering; I am the worſe when one fayes, f wagger: Feele
Maſſers, how I ſhake: looke you, I warrant you.

Dol. So you doe, Hofteſſe.

Hof. Doe I ? yea, in very truth doe I, if it were an Aſ-
pen Laſe: I cannot abide Swaggerers.

Enter Píſtol, and Bardolph and bis Boy.

Pift. 'Save you, Sir Iohn.

Falt. Welcome Ancient Píſtol. Here (Píſtol) I charge
you with a Cup of Sacke: do you diſcharge upon mine
Hofteſſe.

Falt. I will diſcharge upon her (Sir Iohn) with two
Bulleſts.

Falt. She is Piftoll-proofe (Sir) you ſhall hardly of-
fend her.

Hof. Come, Ile drinke no Proofes, nor no Bullets: I
will drinke no more then will doe me good, for no man's
pleasure, I.

Pift. Then to you (Miftris Dorothy) I will charge
you.

Dol. Charge me? I ſcorne you (ſcuruy Companion)
what ? you poore, bafe, rafcally, cheating, lacke: Linnen-
Mate: away you mouldy Rogue, away, I am meat for
your Maſter.

Pift. I know you, Miftris Dorothy.

Dol. Away you Cut-purſe Rafaſſ, you filthy Bung,
away: By this Wine, Ile thrufft my Knife in your mouldy
Chappes, if you play the ſawcy Cuttle with me. Away
you Bouſte-Ale Rafaſſ, you Basket-hilt ſtale Ingler, you.
Since when, I pray you, Sir ? what, with two Points on
your fhoulder ? much.

Pift. I will murther your Ruffe, for this.

Hof. No, good Captaine Píſtol: not heere, fweete
Captaine.

Dol. Captaine ? thou abhominable damn'd Cheater,
art thou not afham'd to be call'd Captaine ? If Captaines
were of my minde, they would trunchion you out, for ta-
king their Names upon you, before you have earn'd the
Thee. You a Captaine? you flave, for what? for tearing a poore
Whores Ruffe in a Bawdy-houſe? Hee a Captaine ? hang
him Rogue, hee lives upon mouldy ſты'w'd-Pruines, and
dry'd de Cakes. A Captaine ? Thefe Villaines will make
the word Captaine odious: Therefore Captaines had
neede looke to it.

Bard. Pray thee go downe, good Ancient.

Falt. Hearke thee hither, Miftris Dol.

Pift. Not I: I tell thee what, Corporall Bardolph, I
could teare her: Ile be reveng'd on her.

Page. 'Pray thee goe downe.'

Pift. Ile fee her damn'd firſt: to Pluto's damn'd Lake,
to the Infernal Deepe, where Erebus and Tortures vilde
alſo. Hold Hooke and Line, ſay 1: Downe: downe
Dogges, downe Fates: have ween not Hiren here?

Hof. Good Captaine Peefel be quiet, it is very late:
I beſeeke you now, aggravate your Choler.

Pift. Theſe be good Humors indeede. Shall Packer
Horſes, and hollow-pamper'd Iades of Afia, which can-
not goe but thirty miles a day, compare with Caſar, and
with Caniballs, and Trojan Greckes? nay, rather damne
them with King Cerberus, and let the Welkin roare: ſhal
wee fall foule for Toyes?

Hof. By my troth Captaine, theſe are very bitter
words.

Bard. Be gone, good Ancient: this will grow to a
Brawle anon.

Pift. Die men, like Dogges; give Crownes like Pinnes:
Have ween not Hiren here?

Hof. On my word (Captaine) there's none ſuch here.
What the good-yere, doe you thinke I would denie her?
I pray be quiet.

Pift. Then feed, and be fat (my faire Calipolis.) Come,
give me ſome Sack, Si fortune me tormente, ſperato me con-
tente. Feare wee broad-fides? No, let the Fiend give fire:
Give me ſome Sacke: and Sweet-heart lye thou there:
Come wee to full Points here; and are &c; cetera's no-
thing?

Fal. Píſtol, I would be quiet.

Pift. Sweet Knight, kifle thy Neaſſe: what ? wee have
ſeene the ſeven Starres.

Dol. Thrufft him downe ſtayres, I cannot endure ſuch
a Fuſtian Rafaſſ.

Pift. Thrufft him downe ſtayres? know we not Gallo-
way Nagges?

Fal. Quoit him downe (Bardolph) like a ſhove-groat
ſhilling: nay, if hee doe nothing but ſpeake nothing, hee
ſhall be nothing here.

Baed. Come, get you downe ſtayres.

Pift. What ? ſhall wee have Incifion ? ſhall wee em-
brew ? then Death rocke me aſſeepe, abridge my doleful
dayes: why then let grievous, gaſtly, gaping Wounds,
untwind'd the Sifters three: Come & Atropos, I lay.

Hof. Here's good ſtuffe toward.

Fal. Give me my Rapier, Boy.

Dol. I prethee lacke, I prethee doe not draw.

Fal. Get you downe ſtayres.

Hof. Here's a goodly tumult: Ile forſwereare keeping
houſe, before Ile be in theſe tirrits, and frights. So: Mur-
ther I warrant now. Alas, alas put up your naked Wea-
pons, put up your naked Weapons.

Dol. I prethee lacke be quiet, the Rafaſſ is gone: ah,
you whorfon little valiant Villaine, you.

Hof. Are you not hurt i'th'Groyne ? me thought hee
made a ſhrewd Thrufft at your Belly.

Fal. Have you turn'd him out of doores?

Bard. Yes Sir the Rafaſſ's drunke: you have hurt him
(Sir) in the ſhoulder.

Fal. A Rafaſſ to brave me.

Dol. Ah, you ſweet little Rogue, you: alas, poore Ape,
how thou ſweat'ſt ? Come, let me wipe thy Face: Come
on, you whorſon Chops: Ah Rogue, I love thee: Thon
art

84.

art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth five of Agamemnon; and tenne times better then the nine Worthies: ah Villaine.

Fal. A rafcally Slave, I will toff the Rogue in a Blanket.

Dol. Doe, if thou dar't for thy heart: if thou doo't, Ile canvas thee betweene a paire of Sheetes.

### Enter Musique.

Pag. The Musique is come, Sir.

Fal. Let them play ; play Sirs. Sit on my Knee, Dol. A Rafcall, bragging Slave: the Rogue fled from me like Quick-filver.

Dol. And thou follow'd it like a Church: then whorfon little tydie Bartholmew Bore-pigge, when wilt thou leave fighting on dayes, and fyoning on nights, and begin to patch up thine old Body for Heaven?

### Enter the Prince and Poines disguis'd.

Fal. Peace (good Dol) does not fpeake like a Deathshead: does not bid me remember mine end.

Dol. Sirrha, what humor is the Prince of?

Fal. A good shallow young fellow: hee would have made a good Pantler, hee would have chipp'd Bread well.

Dol. They fay Poines hath a good Wit.

Fal. Hee a good Wit ? hang him Baboe, his Wit is as thick as Tewksbury Muftard: there is no more conceit in him, then is in a Mallet.

Dol. Why doth the Prince love him so then?

Fal. Because their Legges are both of a bigneſſe: and hee playes at Quoits well, and eates Conger and Fennell, and drinkes off Candles ends for Flap-dragons, and rides the wild-Mare with the Boyes, and jumpes upon Ioynd-tooles, and ſweares with a good grace; and weares his Boot very smooth, like unto the Signe of the Legge; and breedes no bate with telling of diſcreete ſtories: and ſuch other Gamboll faculties hee hath, that ſhew a weake Minde, and an able Body, for the which the Prince admits him; for the Prince himſelfe is ſuch another: the weight of an hayre will turne the Scales betweene their Haberde-pois.

Prince. Would not this Nave of a Wheele have his Eares cut off?

Poin. Let us beate him before his Whore.

Prin. Looke, if the wither'd Elder hath not his Poll claw'd like a Parrot.

Poin. Is it not ſtrange, that Defire should ſo many yeeres out-live performance?

Fal. Kifle me Dol.

Prince. Saturne and Venus this yeere in Conjunction? What fayes the Almanack to that?

Poin. And looke whether the fiery Trigon, his Man, be not lifping to his Maifters old Tables, his Note-Book, his Councell-keeper?

Fal. Thou do't give me flatt'ring Buffes.

Dol. Nay truely, I kifle thee with a moſt conſtant heart.

Fal. I am old, I am old.

Dol. I love thee better, then I love ere a ſcurvy young Boy of them all.

Fal. What Stuſſe wilt thou have a Kirtle of? I ſhall receive Money on Thursday: then that have a Cappe to morrow. A merry Song, come: it growes late,

wee will to Bed. Thou wilt forget me, when I am gone.

Dol. Thou wilt fet me a weeping, if thou fay't for prove that ever I drefſe my ſelte handſome, till thy returne: well, hearken the end.

Fal. Some Sack, Francis.

Prin. Poin. Anon, anon, Sir.

Fal. Ha ? a Baſtard Sonne of the Kings ? And art not thou Paines, his Brother?

Prin. Why thou Globe of ſinſull Continents, what a Life do't thou leade?

Fal. A better then thou : I am a Gentleman, thou art a Drawer.

Prin. Very true, Sir: and I come to draw you out by the Eares.

Hoſt. Oh, the Lord preferve thy good Grace: Welcome to London. Now Heaven bleſſe that wift Face of thine: what, are you come from Wales?

Fal. Thou whorfon mad Compound of Maſſety: by this light Fleſh, and corrupt Blood, thou art welcome.

Dol. How? you fat Foole, I ſcorne you.

Poin. My Lord, hee will drive you out of your revenue, and turne all to a merryment, if you take not the heat.

Prin. You whorfon Candle-myne you, how vildly did you ſpeake of me even now, before this honeſt, vertuous civil Gentlewoman?

Hoſt. 'Bleſſing on your good heart, and ſhee is by my troth.

Fal. Didft thou heare me?

Prince. Yes: and you knew me, as you did when you ranne away by Gads-hill: you knew I was at your back, and ſpoke it on purpofe, to try my patience.

Fal. No, no; no: not so: I did not thinke, thou walt within hearing.

Prin. I ſhall drive you then to confefſe the wilſull abufe, and then I know how to handle you.

Fal. No abufe (Hall) on mine Honor, no abufe,

Prince. Not to diſprayſe me, and call me Pantler, and Bread-chopper, and I know not what?

Fal. No abufe (Hal.)

Poin. No abufe?

Fal. No abufe (Ned) in the World: honeſt Ned none. I diſprays'd him before the Wicked, that the Wicked might not fall in love with him: In which doing, I have done the part of a careful Friend, and a true Subjeſt, and thy Father is to give me thankes for it. No abufe (Hal) none (Ned) none; no Boyes, none.

Prince. See now whether pure Feare, and entire Cowardife, doth not make thee wrong this vertuous Gentlewoman, to cloſe with us? Is ſhee of the Wicked? Is thine Hoſſe ſcheere, of the Wicked? Or is the Boy of the Wicked? Or honeſt Bardolph (whose Zeale burnes in his Noſe) of the Wicked?

Poin. Anſwere thou dead Elme, anſwere.

Fal. The Fiend hath prickt downe Bardolph irrecoverable, and his Face is Lucifers Privy-Kitchin, where hee doth nothing but roſt Mault - Wormes: for the Boy, there is a good Angell about him', but the Devill outbids him too.

Prin. For the Women?

Fal. For one of them, ſhee is in Hell already, and burnes poore Soules: for the other, I owe her Money; and whether ſhee bee damn'd for that, I know not.

Hoſt. No, I warrant you.

Fal. No,

Pals. No. I thinke thou art not: I thinke thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another Indictement upon thee, for suffering flesh to bee eaten in thy house, contrary to the Law, for the which I thinke thou wilt howle.

Hoſt. All Viciuallers do ſo: What is a Loynt of Mut-
tion, or two, in a whole Lent?

Prince. You, Gentlewoman.

Dol. What fayes your Grace?

Falf. His Grace fayes that, which his flesh rebells a-
gainſt.

Hoſt. Who knocks ſo lowd at doore ? Looke to the doore there, Francis?

Enter Reto.

Prin. Peto, how now? what newes?

Peto. The King, your Father, is at Weſtminſter,
And there are twenty weake and wearied Poſtes,
Come from the North: and as I came along,
I met, and over-tooke a dozen Captaines,

Bare-headed, fweating, knocking at the Tavernes,
And asking every one for Sir John Falſaffe.

Prin. By Heaven (Poines) I feele me much to blame,
So idly to prophane the precious time,
When Tempeſt of Commotion, like the South,
Borne with black Vapour, doth begin to melt,
And drop upon our bare vnnamed heads.

Give me my Sword, and Cloake:

Falſaffe, good night.

Exit.

Falf. Now comes in the fweeteſt Morſell of the
night, and wee muſt hence, and leave it unpickt. More
knocking at the doore ? How now ? what's the mat-
ter?

Bard. You muſt away to Court, Sir, preſently,
A dozen Captaines ſtay at doore for you.

Falf. Pay the Mufitians, Sirha: farewell Hofteſſe,
farewell Dol. You fee (my good Wenches) how men of
Merit are fought after: the undeferver may ſleepe, when
the man of Action is call'd on. Farewell good Wenches:
if I be not ſent away poſſe, I will fee you againe, ere I
goe.

Dol. I cannot ſpeake: if my heart bee not ready to burſt-Well (fweete Iaſke) have a care of thy ſelſe.

Falf. Farewell, farewell.

Exit.

Hoſt. Well, fare thee well: I have knowne thee theſe twenty nine yeeres, come Pefcod-time: but an honeſter, and truer-hearted man-Well, fare thee well.

Bard. Miftris Teare-ſteet.

Hoſt. What's the matter?

Bard. Bid Miftris Teare-ſheet come to my Maſter.

Hoſt. Oh runne Dol, runne : runne, good Dol.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter the King, with a Page.

King. Goe, call the Earles of Surrey, and of Warwick:
But ere they come, bid them ore-reade theſe Letters,
And well confider of them : make good ſpeed.

How many thouſand of my pooreſt Subjeſts.

Are at this howre aſſleepe ? O Sleepe, O gentle Sleepe,
Natures ſoft Nurſe, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids downe,
And ſleepe my Sences in Forgetſulneſſe?

Why rather (Sleepe) lyeſt thou in ſmoaky Cribs,
Vpon uneaſe Pallads ſtretching thee,
And huſiſt with buffing Night, flyes to thy ſlumber,
Then in the perfum'd Chambers of the Great?

Vnder the Canopies of coſtly State,
And lull'd with ſounds of fweeteſt Melody?

O thou dull god, why lyeſt thou with the vilde,
In loathſome Beds, and leav'ſt the Kingly Couch,
A watch-caſe, or a common Larum-Bell?

Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy Maſt,
Scale up the Ship-boyes Eyes, and rock his Braines,

In Cradle of the rude imperious Surge,

And in the viſitation of the Windes,
Who take the Ruſian Billowes by the top,

Curling their monſtrous heads, and hanging them
With deaſſ'ning Clamors in the ſlipp'ry Clouds,

That with the hurley, Death it ſelſe awakes?

Canſt thou (O partiall Sleepe) give thy Repoſe

To the wet Sea-Boy, in an hour ſo rude:

And in the calmehr, and moſt ſtilleſt Night,

With all appliances, and means to boote,
Deny it to a King? Then happy Lowe, lye downe,

Vneaſe lyes the Head, that weares a Crowne.

Enter Warwicke and Surrey.

War. Many good-morrowes to your Majety.

King. Is it good-morrow, Lords?

War. 'Tis One a Clock, and paſt.

King. Why then good-morrow to you all(my Lords;)

Have you read o're the Letters that I ſent you?

UVar. We have (my Liege.)

King. Then you perceive the Body of our Kingdome,
How foule it is: what ranke Difeaſes grow,
And with what danger, neere the Heart of it?

PVar. It is but as a Body, yet diſtemper'd,

Which to his former ſtrength may be reſor'd,
With good advice, and little Medicine:

My Lord Northumberland will ſoon be cool'd.

King. Oh Heauen, that one might read the Book of Fate,
And fee the revolution of the Times

Make Mountaines levell, and the Continent

(Weary of folide firmeneſſe) melt it ſelſe

Into the Sea; and other Times, to fee

The beachy Girdle of the Ocean

Too wide for Neptunes hippes; how Chances mocks

And Changes fill the Cuppe of Alteration

With divers Liquors. 'Tis not tenne yeeres gone,
Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends,
Did ſeafe together; and in two yeeres after,

Were they at Warres. It is but eight yeeres ſince,
This Fereſe was the man, neereft my Soule;

Who like a Brother, toyl'd in my Affaires,

And layd his Love and Life under my foot:

Yea, for my fake, even to the eyes of Richard

Gave him defiance. But which of you was by
(You Couſin N[eve]l, as I may remember)

When Richard, with his Eye, brim-full of Teares,

(Then check'd, and rated by Northumberland)

Did ſpeake theſe words (now prov'd a Prophecie;)

Northumberland, thou Ladder, by the which

My

86.

My Coufin *Bullingbrooke* affcends my Throne:
(Though then, Heaven knowes, I had no fuch intent,
But that neceffity ſo bow'd the State,
That I and Greatneſſe were compell'd to kiffe;)
The Time ſhall come (thus did hee follow it)
The Time will come, that foule Sinne gathering head,
Shall breake into Corruption: ſo went on,
Fore-telling this fame Times Condition,
And the division of our Amitie.

*War.* There is a Hiftory in all mens Lives,
Figuring the nature of the Times deceas'd:
The which obferv'd, a man may prophecie
With a neere aime, of the maine chance of things,
As yet not come to Life, which in their Seeds
And weake beginnings lye entreafured:
Such things become the Hatch and Brood of Time;
And by the neceflary forme of this,
King *Richard* might create a perfect gueſſe,
That great *Northumberland*, then faſſe to him,
Would of that Seed, grow to a greater falſenſe,
Which ſhould not finde a ground to roote upon,
Vnleſſe on you.

*King.* Are theſe things then Neeceſſities?
Then let us meete them like Neeceſſities;
And that fame word, even now cryes out on us:
They ſay, the Biſhop and *Northumberland*
Are fifty thouand Itrong.

*War.* It cannot be (my Lord:)
Rumor doth double, like the Voice, and Eccho,
The numbers of the feared. Pleafe it your Grace
To goe to bed, upon my Life (my Lord)
The Pow'rs that you already have ſent forth,
Shall brings this Prize in very easily.
To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd
A certaine inſtance, that *Glendour* is dead.
Your Majeſty hath beene this fort-might ill,
And theſe unſeafon'd howres perſence muſt add
Vnto your Sickness.

*King.* I will take your counſaile:
And were theſe inward Warres once out of hand,
Wee would (deare Lords) unto the Holy-Land.

Exeunt

## Scena Secunda.

*Enter Shallow and Silence: with Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, Bull-calfe.*

*Shal.* Come-on, come-on, come-on: give mee your
Hand, Sir, give mee your Hand, Sir: an early firſtirrer, by
the Rood. And how doth my good Coufin *Silence*?

*Sil.* Good-morrow, good Coufin *Shallow*.

*Shal.* And how doth my Coufin, your Bed-fellow?
and your faireſt Daughter, and mine, my God-Daughter
Ellen?

*Sil.* Alas, a blacke Ouzell (Coufin *Shallow*.)

*Shal.* By yea and nay, Sir, I dare ſay my Coufin *William*
is become a good Scholler ? hee is at Oxford ſtill, is hee
not?

*Sil.* Indeede Sir, to my coſt.

*Shal.* Hee muſt then to the Innes of Court ſhortly : I
was once of *Clements Inne* ; where (I thinke) they will
talke of mad *Shallow* yet.

*Sil.* You were call'd luſty *Shallow* then (Couſin.)

*Shal.* I was call'd any thing : and I would have done
any thing indeede too, and roundly too. There was I, and
little *John Deit* of Staffordshire, and blacke *George Bur*,
and *Francis Pick-bone*, and *Will Squete* a Cot-fal-man, you
had not foure ſuch Swindge-bucklers in all the Innes of
Court againe: And I may ſay to you, wee knew where
the *Bona-Roba's* were, and had the beſt of them all a
commandement. Then was *Jacke Fauſaffe* (now Sir *John*)
a Boy, and Page to *Thomas Mowbray*, Duke of No-
folke.

*Sil.* This Sir *John* (Couſin) that comes hither anon a-
bout Souldiers?

*Shal.* The fame Sir *John*, the very fame: I faw him
breake *Schoggan's* Head at the Court-Gate, when he was
a Crack, not thus high; and the very fame day did I fight
with one *Samp'ou Stockſh*, a Fruiterer, behind Greyes-
Inne. Oh the mad dayes that I have ſpent ! and to ſte
how many of mine olde Acquaintance are dead?

*Sil.* Wee ſhall all follow (Couſin.)

*Shal.* Certaine: 'tis certaine: very ſure, verie ſure.
Death is certaine to all, all ſhall dye. How a good Yoke
of Bullocks at Stamford Faire?

*Sil.* Truly Couſin, I was not there.

*Shal.* Death is certaine. Is old *Double* of your Towne
liuing yet?

*Sil.* Dead, Sir.

*Shal.* Dead ? See, fee: hee drew a good Bow: and
dead ? hee ſhot a fine ſhoote. *John* of Gaunt loved him
well, and betted much Money on his head. Dead ? hee
would have clapt in the Clowt at Twelve ſcore, and ca-
ryed you a fore-hand *Shaft* at foureeteene, and foureenteen
and a half; that it would have done a mans heart good
to fee. How a ſcore of Ewes now?

*Sil.* Thereafter as they be: a ſcore of good Ewes may
be worth tenne pounds.

*Shal.* And is old *Double* dead?

## Enter Bardolph and his Boy.

*Sil.* Heere come two of Sir *John Falfaffes* Men (as I
thinke.)

*Shal.* Good-morrow, honeſt Gentlemen.

*Bard.* I beſeech you, which is Iuſtice *Shallow*?

*Shal.* I am *Robert Shallow* (Sir) a poore Etiqure of this
County, and one of the Kings Iuſtices of the Peace:
What is your good pleafure with me?

*Bard.* My Captaine (Sir) commends him to you: *my
Captaine, Sir *John Falfaffe* : a tall Gentleman, and a moſt
gallant Leader.

*Shal.* Hee greets me well: (Sir) I knew him a good
Back-Sword-man. How doth the good Knight ? may I
aske, how my Lady his Wife doth?

*Bard.* Sir, pardon : a Souldier is better accommoda-
ted, then with a Wife.

*Shal.* It is well faid, Sir; and it is well faid, indeede, too.
Better accommodated? it is good, yea indeede is it; good
phraſes are ſurely, and every where very commendable.
Accommodated, it comes of *Accommodado*: very good, a
good Phraſe.

*Bard.* Pardon, Sir, I have heard the word. Phraſe
call you it ? by this Day, I know not the Phraſe: but
I will maintaine the Word with my Sword, to bee a
Souldier-like Word, and a Word of exceeding good
Command. Accommodated : that is, when a man is
(as they ſay) accommodated : or, when a man is, being
whereby

The Second Part of King Henry the Fourth.

whereby he thought to be accommodated, which is an
excellent thing.

Enter Falſtaffe.

Shal. It is very iuſt: Looke, heere comes good Sir
John. Give me your hand, give me your Worſhips good
hand: Truſt me, you looke well: and beare-your yeeres
very well. Welcome, good Sir John.

Falſt. I am glad to fee you well, good Maſter Robert
Shallow: Maſter Sure-card as I think?

Shal. No fir John, it is my Cofin Silence: in Commiffi-
on with me.

Falſt. Good Maſter Silence, it well beſits you should
be of the peace.

Sil. Your good Worſhip is welcome.

Falſt. Eye, this is hot weather (Gentlemen) have you
provided me heere halfe a dozen of ſuſſufficient men?

Shal. Marry have we fir: Will you fit?

Falſt. Let me fee them, I beſeeth you.

Shal. Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll? Where's
the Roll? Let me fee, let me fee, let me fee: fo,fo,fo;fo:
yea marry Sir Raphe Mouldy: let them appeare as I call:
let them doe fo, let them doe fo: Let me fee, Where is
Mouldy?

Moul. Heere, if it pleaſe you.

Shal. What thinke you (Sir John) a good limb'd ſel-
low: yong, ſtrong, and of good friends.

Falſt. Is thy name Mouldy?

Moul. Yea, if it pleaſe you.

Falſt. 'Tis the more time thou wert us'd.

Shal. Ha, ha, ha, moſt excellent. Things that are moul-
dy, lacke uſe: very ſingular good. Well faid Sir John,
very well ſaid.

Falſt. Pricke him.

Moul. I was prickt well enough before, if you could
have let me alone: my old Dame will be undone now, for
one to doe her Husbandry, and her Drudgery; you need
not to have prickt me, there are other men fitter to goe
out then I.

Falſt. Goe too: peace Mouldy, you ſhall goe. Mouldy,
it is time you were ſpent.

Moul. Spent?

Shal. Peace, fellow, peace; ſtand aſide: Know you
where you are? For the other fir John: Let me fee: Si-
mon Shadow.

Falſt. I marry, let me have him to fit under: he's like to
be a cold ſouldier.

Shal. Where's Shadow?

Shad. Heere fir.

Falſt. Shadow, whose ſonne art thou?

Shad. My Mothers ſonne, Sir.

Falſt. Thy Mothers ſonne: like enough, and thy Fa-
thers ſhadow: fo the ſonne of the Female, is the ſhadow
of the Male: it is often fo indeed, but not of the fathers
ſubſtance.

Shal. Doe you like him, fir John?

Falſt. Shadow will ſerve for Summer: pricke him: For
we have a number of ſhadowes to ſell up the Maſter-
Booke.

Shal. Thomas Wart.

Falſt. Where's he?

Wart. Heere fir.

Falſt. Is thy name Wart?

Wart. Yea fir.

Falſt. Thou art a very ragged Wart.

Shal. Shall I pricke him downe;

Sir John?

Falſt. It were ſuperfluous: for his apparrell is built
upon his backe, and the whole frame ſtands upon pinnes:
pricke him no more.

Shal. Ha, ha, ha, you can doe it fir: you can doe it: I
 commend you well.

Francis Feeble.

Feeble. Heere fir.

Shal. What Trade art thou Feeble?

Feeble. A Womans Taylor fir.

Shal. Shall I pricke him, fir?

Falſt. You may:

But if he had beene a mans Taylor, he would have prick'd
you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an 'enemies Bat-
taile, as thou haſt done in a Womans petticote?

Feeble. I will doe my good will fir, you can have no
more.

Falſt. Well ſaid, good Womans Tailour: Well fayde
Couragious Feeble: thou wilt be as valiant as the wrath-
full Dove, or moſt magnanimous Mouſe. Pricke the wo-
mans Taylour well Maſter Shallow, deepe Maſter Shal-
low.

Feeble. I would Wart might have gone fir;

Falſt, I would thou wert a mans Tailor, that thou
might't mend him, and make him fit to goe. I cannot put
him to a private ſouldier, that is the Leader of fo many
thouſands. Let that ſuſſice, moſt Forcible Feeble.

Feeble. It ſhall ſuſſice.

Falſt. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is
the next?

Shal. Peter Bulcalſe of the Greene.

Falſt. Yea marry, let us fee Bulcalſe.

Bul. Heere fir.

Falſt. Truſt me, a likely Fellow. Come, pricke me
Bulcalſe till he roare agame.

Bul. Oh, good my Lord Captaine.

Falſt. What? doſt thou roare before th'art prickt.

Bul. Oh fir, I am a diſeafed man.

Falſt. What diſeafe haſt thou?

Bul. A whorſon cold fir, a cough fir, which I caught
with Ringing in the Kings affayres, upon his Coronation
day, fir.

Falſt. Come, thou ſhalt goe to the Warres in a Gowne:
we will have away thy Cold, and I will take ſuch order
that thy friends ſhall ring for thee. Is heere all?

Shal. There is two more called then your number:
you muſt have but ſoure heere fir, and fo I pray you goe
in with me to dinner.

Falſt. Come, I will goe drinke with you, but I can-
not tarry dinner. I am glad to fee you in good troth, Ma-
ter Shallow.

Shal. O fir John, doe you remember ſince we lay all
night in the Winde-mill, in Saint Georges Field?

Falſt. No more of that good Maſter Shallow: No more
of that.

Shal. Ha? it was a merry night. And is Jane Night-
worke alive?

Falſt. She lives, Maſter Shallow.

Shal. She never could away with me.

Falſt. Never, never: ſhe would always ſay ſhe could
not abide Maſter Shallow.

Shal. I could anger her to the heart: ſhe was then a
Bona-Roba. Doth ſhe hold her owne well?

Falſt. Old, old, Maſter Shallow.

Shal. Nay, he muſt be old, ſhe cannot choose but be

h

old:

88

old: certaine she's old: and had Robin Night-worke, by old Night-worke, before I came to Clements Inne.

Sil. That's fifty five yeeres agoe.

Shal. Hah, Confin Silence, that thou hadst feene that, that this Knight and I have feene: hah, Sir Iohn, faid I well?

Falst. We have heard the Chymes at mid-night, Ma-
fer Shallow.

Shal. That we have, that we have ; in faith, Sir Iohn, we have: our watch-world was, Hem-Boyes. Come, let's to Dinner ; come, let's to Dinner: Oh the dayes that we have feene. Come, come.

Bul. Good Maſter Corporate Bardolph, ſtand my friend, and heree is ſoure Harry tenne ſhillings in French Crownes for you: in very truth, fir, I had as lief be hang'd fir, as goe? and yet, for mine owne part, fir, I doe not care, but rather, becauſe I am unwilling, and for mine owne part, have a defire to ſlay with my friends: eſſe, fir, I did not care, for mine owne part, ſo much.

Bar. Goe-too: ſtand afide.

Moul. And good Maſter Corporall Captaines, for my old Dames ſake, ſtand my friend: ſhe hath no body to doe any thing about her, when I am gone: and ſhe is old and cannot helpe her ſelfe: you ſhall have forty, fir.

Bard. Go-too: ſtand afide.

Feeble. I care not, a man can dye but once: we owe a death. I will never beare a bafe mind: if it be my defiti-
ny, ſo: if it be not, ſo: no man is too good to ſerve his Prince: and let it goe which way it will, he that dies this yeere, is quit for the next.

Bard. Weil ſaid, thou art a good fellow.

Feebl. Nay, I will beare no bafe mind.

Falſt. Come fir, which men ſhall I have ?

Shal. Foure of which you pleafe.

Bard. Sir, a word with you: I have three pound, to free Mouldy and Bull-calfe,

Falſt. Go-too: well.

Shal. Come, fir Iohn which ſoure will you have ?

Falſt. Doe you chufe for me.

Shal. Marry then, Mouldy, Bull-calfe, Feeble, and Shallow.

Falſt. Mouldy, and Bull-calfe: for you Mouldy, ſtay at home, till you are paſt ſervice: and for your part, Bull-calfe, grow till you come unto it: I will none of you,

Shal. Sir Iohn, Sir Iohn, doe not your ſelfe wrong, they are your likely eſt men, and I would have you ſerv'd with the beſt.

Falſt. Will you tell me (Maſter Shallow) how to chufe a man? Care I for the Limbe, the Thewes, the ſtature, bulke, and big affembiance of a man? give me the ſpi-
rit (Maſter Shallow.) Where's Wart? you fee what a ragged appearance it is: hee ſhall charge you, and diſcharge you, with the motion of a Pewterers Ham-
mer: come off, and on, ſwifter then he that gibbets on the Brewers Bucket. And this fame halſe-fac'd fellow, Shadow, give me this man, he prefents no marketo the Enemy, the foe-man may with as great ayme levell at the edge of a Pen-knife: and for a Retrait, how ſwiftly will this Feeble, the Womans Taylor, runne off. O, give me the ſpare mea, and ſpare me the great ones. Put me a Calyver into Warts hand, Bardolph.

Bard. Hold Wart, Traverſe : thus, thus.

Falſt. Come manage me your Calyver: ſo: very well, go-too, very good, exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old, chopt, bald Shot. Well ſaid Wart, thou art a good Scab: hold, there is a Teſter for thee.

Shal. He is not his Crafts-maſter, he doth not do
it right. I remember at Mile-end-Greene, when I lay
at Clements Inne, I was then Sir Dagenet in Arthour
Show: there was a little quiver fellow, and he would
manage you his Peece thus: and he would about, and a-
bout, and come you in, and come you in: Rah, tah, tali,
would he fay, Bownce would he fay, and away againe
would he goe, and againe would he come: I ſhall never
fee ſuch a fellow.

Fal. Theſe fellowes will do well, Maſter Shallow.
Farewell Maſter Silence, I will not uſe many wordes with
you: fare you well, Gentlemen both: I thanke you; I
muſt a dozen mile to night. Bardolph, give the Souldiers
Coates.

Shal. Sir Iohn, Heaven bleſſe you, and proper your
Aſſayres, and ſend us Peace. As you returne, viſit my
houſe. Let our old acquaintance be renewed: peradven-
ture I will with you to the Court.

Falſt. I would you would, Maſter Shallow.

Shal. Go-too: I have ſpoke at a word. Fare you well. Exit.

Falſt. Fare you well, gentle Gentlemen. On Bardolph, leadeth the men away. As I returne, I will fetch off thefe Inſtices: I doe fee the bottome of Inſtice Shallow. How ſubject we old men are to this vice of Ly-ing? This fame ſtarv'd Inſtice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildenſe of his Youth, and the Feates he hath done about Turnball-flreet, and every third word a Lye, duer pay'd to the hearer, then the Turkes Tribute. I doe remember him at Clements Inne, like a man made after ſupper, of a Cheſe-paring. When he was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked Radith, with a Head ſantaſtically carv'd upon it with a Knife. He was ſo forlorne, that his Dimenſions (to any thicke fight) were invincible. He was the very Geniuu of Famine: he came ever in the rere-ward of the Fatin-on: And now is this Vices Dagger become a Squire, and talks as familiarly of Iohn of Gaunt, as if he had beene ſworne Brother to him: and he be ſworne he never ſaw him but once in the Tilt-yard, and then he burſt his Head, for crowding among the Marſhals men. I ſaw it, and told Iohn of Gaunt, he beat his owne Name, for you might have truſ'd him and all his Ap-
parrell into an Ecle-skinne: the Cafe of a Treble Hoc-
boy was a Manſion for him: a Court: and now hath he Land, and Beeves. Well, I will be acquainted with him, if I returne: and it ſhall goe hard, but I will make him a Philofophers two Stones to me. If the young Dace be a Bayt for the old Pike, I fee no reaſon, in the Law of Nature, but I may ſnap at him. Let time shape, and there an end.

Exemm.

Actus Quartus, Scæna Prima.

Enter the Arch-bishop, Mowbray, Haſting,
Welmerland, Colevile.

Bibl. What is this Forreſt call'd?

Haſt. 'Tis Gualtree Forreſt, and't ſhall pleafe your
Grace.

Bibl. Here ſtand (my Lords) and ſend diſcoverers forth
To know the numbers of our Enemies.

Haſt.

["The second Part of King Henry the Fourth.", "91", "Haſt. We have ſent forth already.", "Bifh. 'Tis well done.", "My friends, and Brethren (in theſe great Affaires)", "I muſt acquaint you, that I have receiv'd", "New-dated Letters from Northumberland:", "Their cold intent, tenure, and ſubſtance thus.", "How doth he with his Perſon, with ſuch Powers", "As might hold ſonſtance with his Quality,", "The which he could not levy: whereupon", "He is retry'd, to ripe his growing Fortunes,", "To Scotland; and concludes in hearty prayers,", "That your Attempts may over-live the hazard,", "And ſearefull meeting of their Oppoſite.", "Mow. Thus do the hopes we have in him, touch ground,\nAnd daſh themſelves to pieces.", "Enter a Meſſenger.", "Haſt. Now ? what newes?", "Meff. Weſt of this Forreſt, ſcarcely off a mile,", "In goodly ſorme, comes on the Enemy :", "And by the ground they hide, I judge their number\nVpon, or neere, the rate of thirty thousand.", "Mow. The juſt proportion that we gave them out.\nLet us way-on; and face them in the field.", "Enter Weſtmerland.", "Bifb. What well appointed Leader fronts us here ?", "Mow. I thinke it is my Lord of Westmerland.", "Weſt. Health, and faire greeting from our Generall,\nThe Prince, Lord Ioh, and Duke of Lancaster.", "Bifb. Say on (my Lord of Westmerland) in peace :\nWhat doth concerne your comming ?", "Weſt. Then (my Lord)", "Vnto your Grace due I in cheife addreſſe", "The ſubſtance of my Speech. If that Rebell ion", "Came like it ſelſe, in bafe and abjeſt Routs,", "Led on by bloody Youth, guarded with Rages,", "And countenanc'd by Boyes, and Beggery :", "Hay if damn'd Commotion to appeare,", "In his true, native, and moſt proper ſhape,", "You (Reverend Father, and theſe Noble Lords)", "Had not beene here, to dresſer the oogly ſorme", "Of bafe, and bloody inſurrection,", "With your faire Honors. You, Lord Arch-biſhop,", "Whofe Sea is by a Civill Peace maintain'd,", "Whofe Beard, the Silver Hand of Peace hath touch'd,", "Whofe Learning, and good Letters, Peace hath tutor'd,", "Whofe white Inveſtments figure Innocence,", "The Dove, and very bleſſed Spirit of Peace.", "Wherefore doe you ſo ill tranſlate your ſelſe,", "Out of the Speech of Peace, that beares ſuch grace,", "Into the harſh and boyſtrous Tongue of Warre ?", "Turning you Bookes to Graves, your Inke to Blood,", "Your Pennes to Launces, and your Tongue divine", "To a low Trumpet, and a Point of Warre?", "Bib. Wherefore doe I this ? fo the queſtion ſlands,", "Briefly to this end : We are all diſeaſ'd,", "And with our ſurſetting, and wanton howres,", "Have brought our ſelves into a burning Fever,", "And we muſt bleede for it : of which Difeaſe,", "Our late King Richard (being inſected) dy'd.", "But (my moſt Noble Lord of Westmerland)", "I take not on me here as a Physician,", "Nor doe I, as an Enemy to Peace,", "Troop in the Throths of Military men :", "But rather ſhew a while like ſearefull Warre,", "To dyet ranke Mindes, ſicke of happineſſe ;", "And purge th'obſtructions, which begin to ſtop", "Our very Veines of Life: heare me more plainely.", "I have in equal ballance juſtly weigh'd,", "What wrongs our Armes may do, what wrongs we ſuffer", "And find our Griefes heavier then our Offences.", "We fee which way the ſtreame of Time doth runne,", "And are enſore'd from our moſt quiet there,", "By the rough Torrent of Occaſion,", "And have the ſummary of all our Griefes", "(When time ſhall ſerve) to ſhew in Articles ;", "Which long ere this, we offer'd to the King,", "And might, by no Suit, gayne our Audience :", "When we are wrong'd, and would unfold our Griefes,", "We are deny'd acceſſe unto his perſon,", "Even by thofe men, that moſt have done us wrong.", "The dangers of the dayes but newly gone,", "Whofe memory is written on the Earth", "With yet appearing blood ; and the examples", "Of every Minutes inſtance (prefent now)", "Hath put us in theſe ill-beſeeming Armes :", "Not to breake Peace, or any Branch of it,", "But to eſtablifh here a Peace indeed,", "Concurring both in Name and Quality.", "Weſt. When ever yet was your Appeale deny'd ;", "Wherein have you beene galled by the King ?", "What Peere hath beene ſuborn'd, to grate on you,", "That you ſhould feale this lawleſſe bloody Booke", "Of ſorg'd Rebell ion, with a Scale divine ?", "Bifb. My brother generall, the Common-wealth,\nI make my quarrell, in particular.", "Weſt. There is no neeſt of any ſuch redreſſe ;", "Or if there were, it not belongs to you.", "Mow. Why not to him in part, and to usall,", "That feele the bruizes of the dayes before,", "And ſuffer the Condition of theſe Times", "To lay a heavy and unequall Hand upon our Honors?", "Weſt. O my good Lord Mowbray,", "Conſtrue the Times to their Necefli ties,", "And you ſhall ſay (indeed) it is the Time,", "And not the King, that doth you injuries.", "Yet for your part, it not appears to me,", "Either from the King, or in the prefent Time,", "That you ſhould have an inch of any ground", "To build a Griefe on: Were you not reſtor'd", "To all the Duke of Norſtolkes Seignories,", "Your Noble, and right well-remembred Fathers?", "Mow. What thing, in Honor, had my father loſt,", "That need to be revin'd, and breath'd in me ?", "The King that lov'd him, as the State ſtood then,", "Was ſore'd, perſorce compell'd to banifh him :", "And then, that Henry Bullingbrooke and he", "Being mounted, and both rowſed in their Seates,", "Their neighing Courſes daring of the Sparre,", "Their armed Staves in charge, their Beavers downe,", "Their eyes of fire, ſparling through ſights of Steele,", "And the lowd Trumpet blowing them together :", "Then, then, when there was nothing could have ſlay'd\nMy father from the Breaſt of Bullingbrooke ;", "O, when the King did throw his Warder downe.", {"bbox": [458, 1279, 762, 1

92

West. You fpeake (Lord Mowbray) now you know not
The Earle of Hereford, was reputed then (what.
In England the moſt valiant Gentleman.
Who knowes, on whom Fortune would then have ſmil'd
But if your Father had beene Vicer there,
He ne're had borne it out of Coventry.
For all the Country, in a generall voyce,
Cry'd hare upon him : and all their prayers, and love,
Were ſet on Herefold, whom they doted on,
And bleſs'd, and grac'd, and did more then the King.
But this is meere digreſſion from my purpofe.
Heere come I from our Princely Generall,
To know your Griefes ; to tell you, from his Grace,
That he will give you Audience : and wherein
It ſhall appeare, that your demands are juſt,
You ſhall enjoy them, every thing ſet off,
That might ſo much as thinke you Enemies.

Mow. But he hath fore'd us to compell this Offer,
And it proceeds from Pollicy, not Love.

West. Mowbray, you over-weene to take it ſo :
This Offer comes from Mercy, not from Feare.
For Ioc, within a Ken our Army lyes,
Vpon mine Honor, all too confident
To give admittance to a thought of feare.
Our Battaille is more full of Names then yours,
Our Men more perfect in the ſue of Armes,
Our Armor all as ſtrong, our Caufe the beſt;
Then Reaſon will, our hearts ſhould be as good.
Say you not then, our Offer is compell'd.

Mow. Well, by my will, we ſhall admit no Parley.

West. That argues but the ſhame of your offence :
A rotten Caſe abides no handing.

Haſt. Hath the Prince Iohn a full Commiffion,
In very ample vertue of his father,
To heare, and abſolutely to determine
Of what Conditionis we ſhall ſtand upon ?

West. That is intended in the Generalls Name:
I mufe you make ſo flight a Queſtion.

Bifh. Then take (my Lord of Westmerland) this Sche-
For this containes our generall Grievances : (dule,
Each feverall Article herein redrefs'd,
All members of our Caufe, both here, and hence,
That are infinewed to this Action,
Acquitted by a true ſubſ tantiall ſorme,
And prefent execution of our wills,
To us, and to our purpofes ſ confined,
We come within our awſull Banks againe
And knit our Powers to the Arme of Peace.

West. This will I ſhew the Generall. Pleafe you Lords
In fight of both our Battailles, wee may meete
At either end in peace : which Heaven ſo frame,
Or to the place of difference call the Swords,
Which muſt decide it.

Bifh. My Lord, wee will doe ſo.

Mow. There is a thing within my Boſome tells me,
That no Condition of our Peace can ſtand.

Haſt. Feare you not that, if we can make our Peace
Vpon ſuch large terms, and ſo abſolute,
As our Conditions ſhall conſit upon,
Our Peace ſhall ſtand as firme as Rocky Mountains.

Mow. I, but our valuation ſhall be ſuch,
That evry flight, and falſe-derived Caufe,
Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton Reaſon,
Shall, to the King, tafe of this Action :
That were our Royall faiths, Martyrs in Love,
We ſhall be winnowed with ſo rough a windes,

That even our Corne ſhall ſeeme as light as Chaffe,
And good from bad find no partition.

Bifh. No, no (my Lord) note this: the King is weary
Of dainty, and fuch picking Grievances :
For he hath found, to end one doubt by Death,
Revives two greater in the Heires of Life.
And therefore will he wipe his Tables cleane,
And keepe no Tell-tale to his Memory,
That may repeat, and Hiftory his loffe,
To new remembrance. For full well he knowes,
He cannot ſo precifely weede this Land,
As his miſdoubts preſent occasion :
His foes are ſo enrooted with his friends,
That plucking to unſixe an Enemy,
He doth unſaſten ſo, and ſhake a friend.
So that this Land, like an offenſive wife,
That hath enrag'd him on, to offer ſtokes,
As he is ſtriking, holds his infant up,
And hangs reſolu'd Correction in the Arme,
That was uprear'd to execution.

Haſt. Befides, the King hath waſted all his Rods,
On late Offenders, that he now doth lacke
The very Inſtruments of Chaſticement :
So that his power, like to a Fangleſſe Lion
May offer, but not hold.

Bifh. 'Tis very true :
And therefore be aſſur'd (my good Lord Marſhall)
If we doe now make our attonement well,
Our Peace will (like a broken Limbe united)
Grow ſtronger, for the breaking.

Mow. Be it ſo :

Here re is return'd my Lord of Westmerland.
Enter Westmerland.

We. The Prince is here at hand: pleafeth your Lordship
To meet his Grace, juſt diſtance ? tweene our Armies ?
Mow. Your Grace of Yorke, in heaven's name then
forward.

Bifh. Before, and greet his Grace (my Lord) we come.

Enter Prince Iohn.

Iohn. You are well encontrued here (my coſin Mow-
Good to you, gentle Lord Archbiſhop,
And ſo to you Lord Houstings, and to all.
My Lord of Yorke, it better ſhew'd with you,
When that your Flocke (aſſembled by the Bell)
Encircled you, to heare with reverence
Your exposition on the holy Text,
Then now to ſe you heere an Iron man
Clearing a rowt of Rebels with your Drumme,
Turning the Word, to Sword; and Life to death :
That man that fits within a Monarches heart,
And ripens in the Sunne-ſhine of his favour,
Would he abufe the Countenance of the King,
Alacke, what Mifcheſſes might he ſet abroad,
In ſhadow of ſuch Greatneſſe? With you, Lord Biſhop,
It is even ſo. Who hath not heard it ſpoken,
How depe you were within the Bookes of Heaven?
To us, the ſpeaker in his Parliament :
To us, the 'imagine voyce of Heaven it ſelfe :
The very Opener, and Intelligencers,
Betweene the Grace, the Saſaſtities of Heaven?
And our dull workings. O, who ſhall believe,
But you miſuſe the reverenc of your Place,
Employ the Countenance, and Grace of Heaven,
As a falſe Favorite doth his Princes Name,
In deeds diſ-honorable? You have taken up,

Vnder

["The second Part of King Henry the Fourth.", "16", "Vnder the counterfeited Zeale of Heaven,", "The Subjects of Heavens Substitute, my Father,", "And both againſt the Peace of Heaven, and him,\nHave here up-ſwarmed them.", "Bibl. Good my Lord of Lancaſter,", "I am not heere againſt your Fathers Peace :", "But (as I told my Lord of Westmerland)", "The Time (miſ-order'd) doth in common ſence", "Crowd us, and crush us, to this monſtuous Forme,", "To hold our ſafet y up. I ſent your Grace", "The parcels, and particulars of our Griefe,", "The which hath ben with ſcorne ſhov'd from the Court:", "Whereon this Hydra-Sonne of Warre is borne,", "Whofe dangerous eyes may well be charn'd aſſeepc,", "With grant of our moſt juſt and right deſiſes;", "And true Obedience, of this Madneſſe cur'd,", "Soope tamely to the foot of Majeſty.", "Mow. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes,", "To the laſt man.", "Haſt. And though we here fall downe,", "We have Supplyes, to ſecond our Attempt :", "If they miſ-carry, theirs ſhall ſecond them.", "And ſo, ſucceſſe of Mifchieſe ſhall be borne,", "And Heire from Heire ſhall hold this Quarrell up,", "Whiles England ſhall have generation.", "Ioh. Youare too ſhallow (Haſtings)", "Much too ſhallow,", "To found the bottome of the after-Times.", "Weſt. Pleaſeth your Grace, to anſwere them directly,", "How farre-forth you doe like their Articles:", "Ioh. I like them all, and doe allow them well :", "And weare here, by the honor of my blood,", "My fathers purpoſes have beene miſtooke,", "And ſome, about him, have too lavilſhy", "Wreſted his meaning, and Authority.", "My Lord, theſe Griefes ſhall be with ſpeed redreſt :", "Vpon my life, they ſhall. If this may pleafe you,", "Diſcharge your powers unto their ſeverall Counties,", "As we will ours: and here betweene the Armies,", "Let's drinke together friendly, and embrace,", "That all their eyes may beare theſe Tokens home,", "Of our reſtored Love, and Amity.", "Bibl. I take your Princely word, for theſe redrefſes.", "Ioh. I give it you, and will maintaine my word :", "And thereupon I drinke unto your Grace.", "Haſt. Goe Captaine, and deliver to the Army", "This newes of Peace : let them have pay, and part :", "I know, it will well pleafe them.", "High theſe Captaine.", "Exit.", "Bibl. To you, my Noble Lord of Westmerland.", "Weſt. I pledge your Grace :", "And if you knew what paines I have beſtow'd,", "To breed this preſent Peace,", "You would drinke freely : but my love to ye,", "Shall ſhew it ſelſe more openly hereafter.", "Bibl. I do not doubt you.", "Weſt. I am glad of it.", "Health to my Lord, and gentle Couſin Mowbray.", "Mow. You with me health in very happy ſeafon,", "For I am, on the ſodaine, ſomething ill.", "Bibl. Againſt ill Chances, men are ever merry,", "But heaviſſe ſore-runnes the good event.", "Weſt. Therefore be merry (Cooze) ſince ſodaine forrow\nServes to ſay thus : ſome good thing comes to morrow.", "Bibl. Beleeve me, I am paſſing light in ſpirit.", "Mow. So much the worſe, if your owne Rule be true.", "Ioh. The word of Peace is render'd : hearke how they\nhowrt.", "Mow. This had beene chearefull, after Victory.", "Bibl. A Peace is of the nature of a Conqueſt :", "For then both parties nobly are ſubdu'd,", "And neither party looſer.", "Ioh. Goe (my Lord)", "And let our Army be diſcharged too :", "And good my Lord (fo pleafe you) let our Traines", "March by us, that we may perſute the men", "We ſhould have coap'd withal.", "Bibl. Goe, good Lord Haſtings :", "And ere they be diſmiſ'd, let them march by.", "Ioh. I truſt (Lords) we ſhall lye to night together.", "Enter Westmerland.", "Now Couſin, wherefore ſtands our Army ſtill ?", "Weſt. The Leaders having charge from you to ſtand,", "Will not goe off, untill they heare you ſpeake.", "Ioh. They know their duties.", "Enter Haſtings.", "Haſt. Our Army is diſpers'd :", "Like youthfull Steeres, unyoak'd, they tooke their courſe\nEaſt, Weſt, North, South : or like a Schoole broke up,", "Each hurryes towards his home, and ſporting place.", "Weſt. Good tidings (my Lord Haſtings) for the which\nI doe arreſt thee (Traytor) of high Treſon :", "And you Lord Arch-biſhop, and you Lord Mowbray,\nOf Capitall Treſon. I attach you both.", "Mow. Is this proceeding juſt, and honorable ?", "Weſt. Is your Asſembly ſo ?", "Bibl. Will you thus breake your faith ?", "Ioh. I pawn'd thee none:", "I promiſ'd you redrefſe of theſe fame Grievances", "Whereof you did complaine; which by mine Honor,", "I will performe, with a moſt Chriſtian care.", "But for you (Rebels) looke to taſe the due", "Meet for Rebellion, and ſuch Aſts as yours.", "Moſt ſhallowly did you theſe Armes commence,", "Fondly brought here, and fooliſhly ſent hence.", "Strike up our Drummes, purſue the ſcatter'd ſtray,", "Heaven, and not we have faſely ſonſt to day.", "Some guard theſe Traitors to the blocke of Death,", "Treatons true bed, and yeelder up of breath,", "Exeunt.", "Enter Fallſaffes, and Colleſevile.", "Falſt. What's your Name, Sir ? of what Condition are\nyou ? and of what place, I pray ?", "Col. I am a Knight, Sir :", "And my Name is Colleſevile of the Dale.", "Falſt. Well then, Colleſevile is your Name, a Knight is\nyour Degree, and your Place, the Dale. Colleſevile ſhall\nſtill be your Name, a Traytor your Degree, and the Dun-\ngeon your Place, a place, deepe enough : ſo ſhall you be\nſtill Colleſevile of the Dale.", "Col. Are not you Sir Iohm Fallſaffe?", "Falſt. As good a man as he ſir, who ere I am : doe yee\nyeeld ſir, or ſhall I ſwcate for you ? if I doe ſwcate, they\nare the drops of thy Lovers, and they weep for thy death,\ntherefore rowze up Feare and Trembling, and doe obſer-\nvance to my mercy.", "Col. I thinke you are Sir Iohm Fallſaffe, and in that\nthought yeeld me.", {"bbox": [465, 1216,

Enter Prince John, and Westmerland.

John. The heat is pait, follow no farther now
Call in the Powers, good Coufin Westmerland.
Now Falstaffe, where have you beene all this while?
When every thing is ended, thou you come.
Theفتardy Trickers of yours will (on my life)
One time or other, breake some Gallowes backe.

Falstaffe. I would be forry (my Lord) but it should be thus: I never knew yet, but rebuke and checke was the reward of Valour. Doe you thinke me a Swallow, an Arrow, or a Bullet? Have I, in my poore and old Motion, the expedition of Thought? I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of poſsibility. I have fowndred nine ſcore and odde Poſtes: and heere (travell-tainted as I am) have, in my pure and immaculate Valour, taken Sir John Collevile of the Dale, a moſt furious Knight, and valorous Enemy: But what of that? he faw me, and yeielded: that I may juſtly ſay with the hooke-nos'd fellow' of Rome, I came, faw, and over-came.

John. It was more of his Courteſe, then your deſer-
ving.

Falſt. I know not: heere he is, and heere I yeeld him: and I beſech your Grace, let it be book'd with the reſt of this dayes deedeſ; or I ſweare, I will have it in a particular Ballad, with mine owne Picture on the top of it (Collevile) kifſing my foot: To the which courſe, if I be enforc'd, if you doe not all ſhow like gilt two-pences to me; and I, in the cleare Sky of Fame, o're-hine you as much as the full Moone doth the Cynders of the Element (which ſhow like Pinnes-heads to her) beleeve not the word of the Noble: therefore let me have right, and let deſert mount.

John. Thine's too heavy to mount.

Falſt. Let it ſhine then.

John. Thine's too thicke to ſhine.

Falſt. Let it doe ſomething (my good Lord) that may
doe me good, and call it what you will.

John. Is thy Name Collevile ?

Col. It is (my Lord.)

John. A famous Rebell art thou, Collevile.

Falſt. And a famous true Subject tooke him.

Col. I am (my Lord) but as my Betters are,
That led me hither: had they beene rul'd by me,
You should have wonne them dearer then you have.

Falſt. I know not how they fold themſelves, but thou
like a kind fellow, gav't thy ſelfe away; and I thanke
thee, for thee.

Enter Westmerland.

John. Have you left purſuit ?

West. Retreat is trade, and Execution ſtay'd.

John. Send Collevile, with his Confederates,

To Yorke, to preſent Execution.

Blunt, leade him hence, and fee you guard him ſure.

Exit with Collevile.

And now diſpatch we toward the Court (my Lords)

I heare the King, my Father is fore ſicke,

Our Newes ſhall goe before us, to his Majeſty,

Which (Couſin) you ſhall beare, to comfort him:

And we with ſober ſpeede will follow you.

Falſt. My Lord, I beſech you, give me leave to goe through Glouſeſterſhire; and when you come to Court, ſtand my good Lord, 'pray, in your good report.

John. Fare you well, Palſtaffe: I, in my condition,
Shall better ſpeake of you, then you deferre.

Falſt. I would you had but the witt: 'twere better then
your Dukedome. Good faith, this fame young ſober-
bloode'd Boy doth not love me, nor a man cannot make
him laugh; but that's no marvalle; he drinks no Wine.
There's never any of theſe demure Boyes come to any
proofe: for thinne drinke doth over-coole their blood,
and making many Fith-Meales; that they fall into a kind
of Male Greene-Tickneſſe: and then, when they marry,
they get Wenches. They are generally Fools, and Cow-
ards; which ſome of us ſhould be too, but for inflammation.
A good Sherris-Sacke hath a twofold operation in it: it
atcends me into the Braine, dryes me thereall the foolſil,
and dull, and crudy Vapours, which environ it: makes
it apprehenſive, quicke, forgetive, full of nimble, ſiery,
and delectable ſhapes; which deliver'd o're to the Voyce,
the Tongue, which is the Birth, becomes excellent Wit.
The ſecond property of your excellent Sherris, is, the
warming of the Blood: which before (cold, and feted)
left the Liver white, and pale: which is the Badge of
Pugillanimity, and Cowardize: but the Sherris warmes
it, and makes it courſe from the inwards, to the parts
extremes: itilluminateth the Face, which (as a Beacon)
gives warning to all the reſt of this little kingdome (man)
to Arme: and then the Vitall Commoners, and in-land
petty spirits, muſter me all to their Captaine, the Heart;
who great, and pufſup with his retinue, doth any deed
of Courage: and this Valour comes of Sherris. So, that
skill in the Weapon is nothing, without Sacke (for that
fets it a-woke:) and Learning, a meere Hoord of Gold,
kept by a Devill, till Sacke commences it, and fets it in
act, and uſe. Hereof comes it, that Prince Harry is vali-
ant: for the cold blood he did naturally inherite of his
Father, he hath, like leane, ſtrerrill, and bare Land, ma-
nured, husbanded, and tyll'd, with excellent endeavour
of drinking good, and good ſtore offertile Sherris, that
he is become very hot, and valiant. If I had a thousand
fonnes, the firſt Principle I would teach them, should be
to forſweare thinne Potations, and to addict themſelves
to Sacke.

Enter Bardolph.

Enter Bardolph.
How now Bardolph.

Bard. The Army is diſcharged all, and gone.

Falſt. Let them goe: Ile through Glouſeſterſhire,
and there will I viſit Mafter Robert Shallow, Eſquire: I
have him already tempering betweene my finger and my
thombe, and ſhortly will I ſeale with him. Comeaway.

Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter King, Warwick, Clarence, Glouceſter.

King. Now Lords, if heaven doth give ſuſſeſſe full end
To this Debate that bleedeth at our doores,
We will our Youth leade on to higher Fields,
And draw no Swords, but what are fanctify'd.
Our Navy is addreſſed, our Power collected,
Our Subſtitutes, in abſence, well inſulted,
And every thing lyes levell to our wifh:
Onely we want a little perſonall ſtrength:
And pawſe us, till theſe Rebels, now a-foot,
Come underneath the yoake of Government.

War. Both which we doubt not, but your Majeſty
Shall ſtooke enjoy.

King.

King. Hamptrey (my Sonne of Gloucester) where is the Prince, your Brother ?

Glo. I think he's gone to hunt (my Lord) at Windfor-

King. And how accompanied ?

Glo. I do not know (my Lord)

King. Is not his Brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him ?

Glo. No (my good Lord) he is in prefence here.

Clar. What would my Lord, and Father ?

King. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence,
How chance you art not with the Prince, thy Brother ?
Heloves thee, and thou do'st neglect him (Thomas.)
Thou haft a better place in his Affection,

Then all thy Brothers : cherrifh it (my Boy)

And Noble Offices thou may't effect

Of Mediation (after I am dead)

Betweene his Greatneſſe, and thy other Brethren.

Therefore omit him not : blunt not his Love,

Nor loose the good advantage of his Grace,
By (leeming cold, or careleſſe of his will.

For he is gracious, it he be obſerv'd :

He hath a Teare for Pitty, and a Hand

Open (as Day) for melting Charity :

Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's Flint,

As humorous as Winter, and as sudden,

As Flawes congealed in the Spring of day.

His temper therefore must be well obſerv'd :

Chide him for faults, and doe it reverently,

When you perceive his blood enclin'd to mirth :

But being moody, give him Line, and hope,

Till that his paffions (like a Whale on ground)

Confound themſelves with working. Learne this Thomas,

And thou ſhalt prove a ſhelter to thy friends,

A Hoope of gold, to bind thy Brothers in :

That the vnited Vefſell of their Blood

(Mingled with Venome of Suggesſion,

As force, perſorce, the Age will powre it in)

Shall never leake, though it doe worke as ſtong

As Aconitum, or rafh Gun-powder.

Clar. I ſhall obſerve him with all care, and love.

King. Why art thou not at Windſor with him (Thomas)?

Clar. Hee is not there to day : hee dines in London.

King. And how accompanied ? Can it thou tell that?

Clar. With Pointz, and other his continuall follow-
ers.

Kin. Moſt ſubject is the fatteſt Soyle to Weedes :
And he (the Noble Image of my Youth )

Is over-spread with them : therefore my griefe

Stretches it ſelfe beyond the howre of death.

The blood weepes from my heart, when I doe ſhape
(In formes imaginary) th' unquided Dayes,

And rotten Times, that you ſhall looke upon,

When I am fleeping with my Anceſtors.

For when his head-ſtrong Riot hath no Curbe,

When Rage and hot-blood are his Counſailors,

When Meanes and lavifh Manners meete together,

Oh, with what Wings ſhall his Affections flye

Towards fronting Perill, and oppos'd Decay ?

War. My gracious Lord, you looke beyond him quite:
The Prince but fluidyes his Companions,

Like a ſtrange Tongue : wherein, to gaine the Language
'Tis needfull, that the moſt immodet word

Be look'd upon, and learn'd : which once attayn'd,

Your Highneſſe knowes, comes to no farther uſe,

But to be knowne, and hated. So, like groſſe termes,

The Prince will, in the perfectneſſe of time,

Caſt off his followers : and their memory

Shall as a Patterne, or a Meaſure live,

By which his Grace muſt mete the lives of others,

Turning paſt-evills to advantages.

Kin. Tis ſeldome, when the Bee doth leave her Combe
In the dead Carrion.

Enter Westmerland.

Who's heere ? Westmerland?

West. Health to my Soveraigne, and new happineſſe
Added to that, that I am to deliver.

Prince Iohn, your Sonne, doth kiffe your Graces Hand :

Mowbray, the Bifhop, Seroope, Haſtings, and all,

Are brought to the Correction of your Law.

There is not now a Rebels Sword unheath'd,

But Peace puts forth her Olive every where :

The manner how this Action hath beene borne,

Here (at more leyſure) may your Highneſſe reade,

With every courſe, in his particular.

King. O Westmerland, thou art a Summer Bird,

Which ever in the haunch of Winter ſings

The lifting up of day.

Enter Harcourt.

Looke, heere's more newes.

Har. From Enemies, Heaven keepe your Majeſtys

And when they ſtand againſt you, may they fall,

As thathe that I am come to tell you of.

The Earle Northumberland, and the Lord Bardolſe,

With a great Power of Engliſh, and of Scots,

Are by the Sherife of Yorkeſhire overthrowne :

The manner, and true order of the fight,

This Packet (pleafe it you) contains at large,

King. And wherefore ſhould theſe good newes
Make me ſicke ?

Will fortune never come with both hands full,

But write her faire words fill in fouleſt Letters ?

She either gives a Stomacke, and no food,

(Such are the poore, in health) or elie a Feaſt,

And takes away the Stomacke (fuch are the Rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.)

I ſhould rejoyce now, at this happy newes,

And now my Sight ſayles, and my braine is giddy.

O me, come neere me, now I am much ill.

Glo. Comfort your Majeſty.

Cla. Oh, my Royall Father.

West. My ſoveraigne Lord, cheare up your ſelfe, looke
up.

War. Be patient (Princes) you doe know, theſe Fits
Are with his Highneſſe very ordinary.

Stand from him, give him ayre :

He'le ſtraight be well.

Clar. No, no, he cannot long hold out : theſe pangs,

Th'inceſſant care, and labour of his mind,

Hath wrought the Mure, that ſhould confine it in,

So thinne, that life lookes through, and willbreake out.

Glo. The people feare me : for they doe obſerve
Vnfather'd Heires, and loathly Births of Nature :

The feafons change their manners, as the yeere

Had found ſome moneths aſleepe, and leap'd them over.

Cla. The River hath thrice flow'd, no ebbe betweene :

And the old folke (Times doting Chronicles)

Say it doſ, a little time before

That our great Grand-fire Edward ſick'd, and dy'd.

Warc.

War. Speake lower (Princes) for the King reovers.

Glo. This Apoplexy will (certaine) be his end.

King. I pray you take me up, and beare me hence
Into fome other Chamber : fofly pray.

Let there be no noyfe made (my gentle friends)

Vnleſſe fome dall and favourable hand

Will whisper Muficke to my weary Spirit.

War. Call for the Muficke in the other Roome.

King. Set me the Crowne upon my Pillow here.

Clar. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.

War. Lefſe noyſe, leſſe noyſe.

Enter Prince Henry.

Pri. Hen. Who ſaw the Duke of Clarence?

Cla. I am here (Brother) full of heavineſſe.

Pri. Hen. How now ? Raine within doores; and none
abroad ? How doth the King?

Glo. Exceeding ill.

Pri. Hen. Heard he the good newes yet ?

Tell it him.

Glo. He alter'd much, upon the hearing it.

Pri. Hen. If he be ſicke with Ioy,

He'l recover without Phyſicke.

War. Not ſo much noyſe (my Lords)

Sweet Prince ſpeake low.

The King, your father, is diſp'd to ſleepe.

Clar. Let us with-draw into the other Roome.

War. Wil't pleafe your Grace to goe along with us ?

Pri. Hen. No: I will fit, and watch here, by the King.
Why doth the Crowne lye there, upon his Pillow,
Being ſo troubleſome a Bed-fellow ?

O polliſh'd Perturbation ! Golden Care !

That keept the Ports of slumber open wide,

To many a watchfull Night : ſleepe with it now,
Yet not ſo found, and halſe ſo deeply ſweet,

As he whoſe Brow (with homely Biggen bound)

Snores out the Watch of Night. O Majeſty !

When thou doſt pinch thy Bearer, thou doſt fit
Like a rich Armor, worne in heat of day,

That ſcald it with ſafety : by his Gates of breath,

There lyes a dowlney feather, which ſtirres not :

Did he ſupire, that light and weightleſſe dowline

Perſorce muſt move. My gracious Lord, my Father,

This ſleepe is found indeed : this is a ſleepe,

That from this Golden Rigoll hath divorc'd

So many Englifh Kings. Thy due, from me,

Is Teares, and heavy Sorrows of the Blood,

Which Nature, Love, and filial tenderneſſe,

Shall (O deare father) pay thee plenteouſly.

My due, from thee, is this Imperiall Crowne,

Which (as immediate from thy place, and blood)

Derives it ſelſe to me. Loe, here it ſits,

Which Heaven ſhall guard :

And put the worlds whole ſtrength into one gyant arme,
It ſhall not force this Lineall Honor from me.

This, from thee, will I to mine leave,

As 'tis left to me.

Exit.

Enter Warwicke, Glouceſter, Clarence.

King. Warwicke, Glouceſter, Clarence.

Clar. Doth the King call ?

War. What would your Majeſty ? how fares your
Grace?

King. Why did you leave me here alone (my Lords)

Cla. We left the Prince (my Brother) here (my Liege)
Who undertook to fit and watch by you.

King. The Prince of Wales ? where is he ? let me fee
him.

War. This doore is open, he is gone this way,

Glo. He came not through the Chamber where we
ſtayd.

King. Where is the Crowne ? who tooke it from my
Pillow ?

War. When we with-drew (my Liege) we left it
heree.

King. The Prince hath ta'n it hence :

Goe ſeeke him out.

Is he ſo haſtly, that he doth ſuppofe

My ſleepe, my death ? Find him (my Lord of Warwick)
Chide him hither : this part of his conjoynes

With my diſeafe, and helps to end me

See Sonnes, what things you are :

How quickly Nature falls into revolt,

When Gold becomes her Object?

For this, the fooliſh over-carefull fathers

Have broke their ſleepes with thoughts,

Their braines with care, their bones with induſtry.

For this, they have ingroſſed and pyl'd up

The canker'd heapes of ſt range-atchieved Gold :

For this, they have beene thought full, to inſev

Their Sonnes with Arts, and Martiall Exerciſes:

When, like the Bee, culling from every flower

The vertuous Sweets, our ſt highes packt with Wax,

Our Mouthes with Honey, we bring it to the Hive;

And like the Bees, are murthered for our paines.

This bitter taſte yeelds his engroſſements,

To the ending father.

Enter Warwicke.

Now where is he, that will not ſlay ſo long,
Till his friend ſickeneſſe hath determin'd me?

War. My Lord, I found the Prince in the next Roome,

Washing with kindly Teares his gentle Cheekes,

With ſuch a deepe demeanure, in great forrow,

That Tyranny, which never quafft but blood,

Would (by beholding him) have waf'd his knife

With gentle eye-drops. He is comming hither.

King. But wherefore did he take away the Crowne?

Enter Prince Henry.

Loe, where he comes. Come hither to me (Harry.)

Depart the Chamber, leave us hereere alone.

Exit.

Pri. Hen. I never thought to heare you ſpeake againe.

King. Thy wifh was father (Harry) to that thought:
I ſlay too long by thee, I weary thee.

Do't thou ſo hunger for my empty Chayre,

That thou wilt needes inſult thee with mine Honors,

Be fore thy howre be ripe ? O fooliſh youth !

Thou ſeek'ft the Greatneſſe, that will over-whelme thee

Stay but a little : for my Cloud of Dignity

Is he'd from falling, with ſo weake a winde,

That it will quickly drop : my Day is dimme.

Thou haſt ſtolne that, which after ſome few howres

Were thine, without offence : and at my death

Thou haſt ſeel'd up my expectation.

Thy life did manifeſt, thou lov'd me not,

And thou wilt have me dye aſſur'd of it.

Thou hid'ft a thouſand Daggers in thy thoughts,

Which thou haſt whetted on thy ſtony heart,

To ſtabbe at halſe an howre of my life.

What canſt thou not forbeare me halſe an howre?

Then

Then get thee gone, and digge my grave thy selfe,
And bid the merry Bels ring to thy care
That thou art Crowned, not that I am dead,
Let all the Teares, that should bedew my Hearse
Be drops of Balme, to fanctifie thy head :
Onely compound me with forgotten dust,
Give that, which gave thee life, unto the Wormes ;
Plucke downe my Officers, breake my Decrees ;
For now a time is come, to mocke at forme.
Henry the fift is Crown'd: Vp Vanity,
Downe Royall State: All you fage Counfallors, hence :
And to the English Court, afflemble now
From every Region, Apes of Idlenefle.
Now neighbor-Confines, purge you of your Scum :
Have you a Ruffian that will Iware? drinke? dance?
Revell the night? Rob? Murder? and commit
The oldest finnes, the neweft kind of wayes ?
Be happy, he will trouble you no more :
England, shall double gill'd, his trebble guilt.
England, shall give him Office, Honor, Might :
For the Fift Harry, from cur'b Liceſe pluckes
The muzzle of Reſtraint, and the wild Dogge
Shall fleſh his tooth in every Innocent.
O my poore Kingdome (ficke, with civill blowes)
When that my Care could not with-hold thy Ryors,
What wilt thou doe, when Ryot is thy Care ?
O, thou wilt be a Wildenefle againe,
Peopled with Wolves (thy old Inhabitants.
Prin. O pardon me (my Liege)
But for my Teares,
The moſt Impediments unto my Speech,
I had fore-stall'd this deere, and deepe Rebuke,
Ere you (with greefe) had ſpoke, and I had heard
The courle of it ſo farre. There is your Crowne,
And he that weares the Crowne immortally,
Long guard it yours: If I affect it more,
Then as your Honour, and as your Renowne,
Let me no more from this Obedience rife,
Which my moſt true, and inward duteous ſpirit
Teacheth this proftrate, and exteriour bending.
Heaven witneſſe with me, when I heere came in,
And found no courſe of breath within your Majefty,
How cold it ſtrooke my heart. If I doe ſaine,
O let me, in my prefent wildenefle, dye,
And never live, to ſhew th'incredulous World,
The Noble change that I have purpofed.
Comming to looke on you, thinking you dead,
(And dead almoſt (my Liege) to thinke you were)
I ſpake unto the Crowne (as having ſenſe)
And thus upbraided it. The Care on thee depending,
Hath fed upon the body of my Father,
Therefore, thou beſt of Gold, art worſt of Gold.
Other, leſſe fine in Charraſt, is more precious,
Preferving life, in Med'cine potable :
But thou, moſt Fine, moſt Honour'd, moſt Renown'd,
Haſteate the Bearer up.
Thus (my Royall Liege)
Accufing it, I put it on my Head,
To try with it (as with an Enemy,
That had before my face murdred my father)
The Quarreller of a true inheritor,
But if it did infect my blood with joy,
Or ſwell my Thoughts, to any ſtraine of Pride,
If any Rebell, or vaine ſpirit of mine,
Did, with the leaſt Affection of a Welcome,
Give entertainment to the might of it,

Let heaven, for ever, keepe it from my head,
And make me, as the pooreſt Vaffeſle is,
That doth with awe, and terror kneele to it.
King. O my Sonne !
Heaven put it in thy mind to take it hence,
That thou might'ſt joyne the more, thy Fathers love,
Pleading ſo wifely, in excufe of it.
Come hither Harry, ſit thou by my bed,
And heare (I thinke, the very lateſt Counſell
That ever I ſhall breath: Heaven knowes, my Sonne)
By what by-pathes, and indirect crook'd-wayes
I met this Crowne : and I my ſelfe know well
How troubleſome it fate upon my head.
To thee, it ſhall defend with better Quiet,
Better Opinion, better Confirmation :
For all the foyle of the Atchievement goes
With me, into the Earth. It ſeem'd in me,
But as an Honor ſnatch'd with boyſt'rous hand,
And I had many living, to upbraid
My gaine of it, by their Affiſtances,
Which dayly grew to a Quarrell, and to Blood-ſhed,
Wounding ſuppoſed Peace.
All theſe bold Feares,
Thou ſeeft (with perrill) I have anſwered :
For all my Reigne, hath beene but as a Scane
Acting that argument. And now my death
Changes the Moode: For what in me, was purchas'd,
Falles upon thee, in a more Fayrer fort.
So thou, the Garland wear'ſt ſucceſſuely,
Yet, though thou ſtand'ſt more ſure, then I could doe,
Thou art not firme enough, ſince grieſes are greene :
And all thy Friends, which thou muſt make thy friends
Have but their flings, and teeth, newly taken out,
By whose ſell working, I was firſt advanc'd,
And bywhofe power, I well might lodge a Feare
To beagaine diſplac'd. Which to avoyd,
I cut them off: and had a purpofe now
To leade out many to the Holy Land ;
Leaſt reſt, and lying ſill, might make them looke
Too neere unto my State.
Therefore (my Harry)
Be it thy courſe to beaſie giddy Mindes
With Forraigne Quarrels: that Action hence borne out,
May waſe the memory of the former dayes.
More would I, but my Lungs are waſted ſo,
That ſtrength of Speech is utterly deni'd me.
How I came by the Crowne, O heaven forgive :
And grant it may, with thee, in true peace live.
Prin. My gracious Liege :
You wonne it; I wore it, kept it, gave it me,
Then plaine and right muſt my poffeffion be ;
Which I, with more, then with a Common paine,
'Gainſt all the World, will rightfully maintaine.

Enter Lord John of Lancafter,
and Warwicke.

King. Looke, looke,
Here comes my Iobn of Lancafter :
Iobn. Health, Peace, and Happineſſe,
To my Royall Father:
King. Thou bring'ſt me happineſſe,
(Sonne Iobn ,)
But health (alacke) with youthfull wings is flowne
From this bare, wither'd Trunke. Vpon thy fight
My worldly buſineſſe makes a period.

Where

96

Where is my Lord of Warwicke?

Prin. My Lord of Warwicke.

King. Doth any name particular, belong

Vnto the Lodging, where I first did fwoon'd?

War. 'Tis call'd Ierufalem, my Noble Lord.

Kin. Laud be to heaven :

Even there my life must end.

It hath beene propheſi'd to me many yeares,
I should not dye, but in Ieruſalem :

Which (vainely) I ſupſed the Holy-Land.

But beare me to that Chamber, there Ile lye :

In that Ieruſalem, ſhall Harry dye.

Exeunt.

## Adus Quintus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Shallow, Silence, Falstaffe, Bardolfe, Page, and Davy.

Shal. By Cocke and Pye, you shall not away to night.
What Davy, I fay.

Fal. You muſt excufe me, Maſter Robert Shallow.

Shal. I will not excufe you: you ſhall not be excuſed.
Excuſes ſhall not be admitted: there is no excuſe ſhall
ſerve: you ſhall not be excuſ'd.

Why Davy.

Davy. Heere fir.

Shal. Davy, Davy, Davy, let me fee (Davy) let me fee:
William Cooke, bid him come hither. Sir John, you ſhall
not be excuſ'd.

Davy. Marry fir, thus: thofe Precepts cannot bee
ferv'd: and againe fir, ſhall we ſowe the head-land with
Wheatee?

Shal. With red Wheatee Davy. But for William Cooke:
are there no yong Pigeons ?

Davy. Yee Sir.

Heere is now the Smithes note, for Shooting,
And Plough-Irons.

Shal. Let it be caſt, and payde: Sir John, you ſhall
not be excuſ'd.

Davy. Sir, a new linketo the Bucket muſt needes be
had: And Sir, doe you meane to ſtoppe any of Williams
Wages, about the Sacke he loft the other day, at Hinckley
Fayre?

Shal. He ſhall anſwer it :

Some Pigeons Davy, a couple of ſhort-legg'd Hennes: a
joynt of Mutton, and any pretty little tine Kickſhawes,
tell William Cooke.

Davy. Doth the man of Warre, ſtay all night fir ?

Shal. Yes Davy :

I will uſe him well. A friend i'th Court, is better then a
penny in purſe. Vſe his men well Davy, for they are ar-
rant Knaves, and will backe-bite.

Davy. No worſe then they are bitten, fir: For they
have marvellous ſowle linnen.

Shal. Well conceited Davy : about thy Buſineſſe,
Davy.

Davy. I beſeech you fir,

To countenance William Vifor of Woncot, against Cle-
ment Perkes of the hill.

Shal. There are many Complaints Davy, against that
Vifor, that Vifor is an arrant Knave, on my know-
ledge.

Davy. Igaunt your Worſhip, that he is a knave Sir:
But yet heaven forbid Sir, but a Knave ſhould have ſome
Countenance, at his Friends requeſt. An honest man fir,
is able to ſpeake for himſelfe, when a Knave is not. I have
ferv'd your Worſhip truely fir, theſe eight yeeres: and
if I cannot once or twice in a Quarter beare out a knave,
againſt an honest man, I have but a very little credite with
your Worſhip. The Knave is mine honest Friend Sir,
therefore I beſeech your Worſhip, let him be Counte-
nanc'd.

Shal. Goe too,

I ſay he ſhall have no wrong: Looke about Davy.
Where are you Sir John? Come, off with your Boots.
Give me your hand Maſter Bar dolſe.

Bard. I am glad to ſee your Worſhip.

Shal. I thanke thee, with all my heart, kind Maſter
Bardolſe: and welcome my tall Fellow:
Come Sir John.

Falſt. Ile follow you, good Maſter Robert Shallow.
Bardolſe, looke to our Horſes. If I were ſaw'd into
Quantities, I ſhould make ſoure dozen of ſuch bearded
Hermites ſlaves, as Maſter Shallow. It is a wonderfull
thing to ſee the ſemblable Coherence of his mens ſpirits,
and his: They, by obſerving of him, doe beare themſelves
like fooliſh Inſtices: He, by converſing with them, is
turn'd into an Inſtice-like Servingman. Their ſpirits are
ſo married in Conjunction, with the participation of So-
ciety, that they flocke together in content, like ſo ma-
ny-Wilde-Geefe. If I had a ſuite to Maſter Shallow, I
would humour his men, with the imputation of being
neere their Maſter. If to his Men, I would curry with
Maſter Shallow, that no man could better command his
Servants. It is certaine, that either wife bearing, orig-
norant Carriage is caught, as men take diſeafes, one of
another: therefore, let men take heede of their Compa-
ny. I will devife matter enough out of this Shallow, to
keepe Prince Harry in continually Laughter, the wearing
out of ſix Fashions (which is ſoure Tearmes) or two Ac-
tions, and he ſhall laugh with Interwallums. O it is much
that a Lye (with a flight Oath) and a jeſt (with a ſad
brow) will doe, with a Fellow, that never had the Ache
in his shoulders. O you ſhall fee him laugh, till his Face
be like a wet Cleake, ill laid up.

Shal. Sir Ioha.

Falſt. I come Maſter Shallow, I come Maſter Shallow.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Secunda.

Enter the Earle of Warwicke, and the Lord
Chieſe Inſtice.

War. How now, my Lord Chieſe Inſtice, whither
away?

Chei. Inſit. How doth the King?

War. Exceeding well: his Carcs
Are now, all ended.

Chei. Inſit. I hope, not dead.

War. He's walk'd the way of Nature,
And to our purpofes, he lives no more.

Chei. Inſit. I would his Majefly had call'd me with him,
The ſervice, that I truely did his life.

Hath left me open to all injuries.

War.

War. Indeed I thinke the yong King loves you not.
Chei. Iust. I know he doth not, and doe arme my selfe
To welcome the condition of the Time,
Which cannot looke more hideoufly upon me,
Then I have drawne it in my fantafie.

Enter Iohn of Lancafter, Gloucefter,
and Clarence.

War. Heere come the heavy effuse of dead Harry :
O, that the living Harry had the temper
Of him, the worit of these three Gentlemen :
How many Nobles then, should hold their places,
That muft strike faile, to Spirits of vilde fort ?

Chei. Iust. Alas, I feare, all will be over-turn'd.

Iohn. Good morrow Cofin Warwickes, good morrow.

Glou. Clar. Good morrow, Cofin.

Iohn. We meet, like men, that had forgot to speake.

War. We doe remember: but our Argument

Is all it too heavy, to admit much talke.

(heavy.

Iohn. Well: Peace be with him, that hath made us

Chei. Iust. Peace be with us, leaft we be heavier.

Glou. O, good my Lord, you have loft a friend indeed:

And I dare weare, you borrow not that face

Of feeming forrow, it is fure your owne.

Iohn. Though no man be affur'd what grace to find,
You ſtand in coldeſt expeſation.

I am the forfrier, would 'twere otherwife.

Cla. Well, you muſt now ſpeake Sir Iohn Falſtaffe faire,
Which ſwimmes againſt your ſtreame of Quality.

Chei. Iust. Sweet Princes: what I did, I did in Honor,
Led by th'Imperiall Conſtuct of my Soule,
And never ſhall you fee, that I will begge

A ragged, and fore-ſtall'd Remiflion.

If Troth, and upright Innocency faile me,

Ile to the King (my Maſter) that is dead,

And tell him, who hath ſent me after him.

War. Here comes the Prince.

Enter Prince Henry.

Ch. Iust. Good morrow: and heaven ſave your Majeſtly
Prin. This new, and gorgeous Garment, Majeſty,
Sits not to caſe on me, as you thinke.

Brothers, you mixe your Sadneſſe with ſome Feare:

This is the Englifh, not the Turkifh Court:

Not Amurah, an Amurah ſucceeds,

But Harry, Harry: Yet be ſad (good Brothers)

For (to ſpeake truth) it very well becomes you a

Sorrow, ſo Royally in you appears,

That I will deeply put the fashion on,

And weare it in my heart. Why then be ſad,

But entertaine no more of it (good brothers)

Then a joynſt burthen, laid upon us all.

For me, by Heaven (I bid you be affur'd)

Ile be your Father, and your Brother too:

Let me but beare your Love, Ile beare your Cares;

But weepe that Harry's dead, and ſo will I.

But Harry lives, that ſhall convert theſe Teares

By number, into houres of Happineſſe.

Iohn, &c. We hope no other from your Majeſtly.

Prin. You all looke ſtrangely on me; and you moſt

You are (I thinke affur'd, I love you not.

Chei. Iust. I am affur'd (if I be meaſur'd rightly)

Your Majeſty hath no juſt cauſe to hate me.

Prin. No? How might a Prince of my great hopes forget
So great Indignities you laid upon me?

What? Rate? Rebuke? and roughly fend to Prifon
Th' immediate Heire of England? Was this caſe?
May this be wafh'd in Lethe, and forgotten?

Chei. Iust. I then did uſe the Perſon of your Father;
The Image of his power, lay then in me,
And in th' administration of his Law,
Whiles I was bufſe for the Commonwealth,
Your Highneſſe pleated to forget my place,
The Majeſtly, and power of Law, and Iuſtice,
The Image of the King, whom I prefented,
And ſtrooke me in my very Seate of Indgement:

Whereon (as an Offender to your Father)

I gave bold way to my Authority,

And did commit you. If the deed were ill.

Be you contented, wearing now the Garland,

To have a Sonne, fet your Decrees at naught?

To plucke downe Iuſtice from your aweſull Bench?

To trip the courſe of Law, and blunt the Sword

That guards the peace, and ſafety of your Perſon?

Nay more, to ſpurne at your moſt Royall Image,

And mocke your workings, in a Second body?

Question your Royall Thoughts, make the caſe yours:

Be now the Father, and propoſa Sonne:

Heare your owne dignity ſo much prophan'd,

See your moſt dreadfull Lawes, ſo loosely ſlighted;

Behold your ſelfe, ſo by a ſonne diſdained:

And then imagine me, taking you part,

And in your power, ſoft filencing your Sonne:

After this cold confidence, ſentence me;

And, as you area King, ſpeake in your State,

What I have done, that misbecame my place,

My perſon, or my Lieges Soveraignty.

Prin. You are right Iuſtice, and you weigh this we ll:

Therefore ſtill beare the Baſſance, and the Sword:

And I doe wih your Honors may encreafe,

Till you doe live, to fee a Sonne of mine

Offend you, and obey you, as I did.

So ſhall I live, to ſpeake my Father's words:

Happy am I, that have a man ſo bold,

That dares doe Iuſtice, on my proper ſonne;

And no leſſe happy, having ſuch a Sonne,

That would deliver up his Greatneſſe ſo,

Into the hands of Iuſtice. You did commit me:

For which, I doe commit into your hand,

Th' unflained Sword that you have us'd to beare:

With this Remembrance; That you uſe the fame

With the like bold, juſt, and impartiall ſpirit

As you have done 'gainſt me. There is my hand,

You ſhall be as a Father, to my Youth:

My voyce ſhall found, as you doe prompt mine care,

And I will ſtoope, and humblemy intents,

To your well-practis'd, wife Directions.

And Princes all, beleeve me, I beſeech you:

My father is gone wilde into his Grave,

(For in his Tombe, lye my Affections)

And with his Spirits, fadly I furvive,

To mocke the expeſation of the World:

To fruſtrate Propheſies, and to race out

Rotten opinion, who hath writ me downe

After my feeming. The Tide of Blood in me,

Hath proudly flow'd in Vanity, till now.

Now doth it turne, and ebbe backe to the Sea,

Where it ſhall mingle with the ſtate of floods,

And flow henceforth in formall Majeſty.

Now call we our High Court of Parliament,

And let us choose ſuch Limbes of Noble Counſaile,

That

98

That the great Body of our State may goe
In equall ranke, with the beſt govern'd Nation,
That warre, or Peace, or both at once may be
As things acquainted and familiar to us,
In which you (father) ſhall have formoſt hand,
Our Coronation done, we will accite
(As I before remembred) all our State,
And heaven (configning to my good intentes)
No Prince, nor Peere, ſhall have juſt caufe to ſay,
Heaven ſhorten Harries happy life, one day.
Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Falſtaffe, Shallow, Silence, Bardolfe, Page, and Piftoll.

Shal. Nay, you ſhall fee mine Orchard where, in an
Arbor we will eate a laſt yeres Pippin of my owne graſ-
fing, with a diſh of Carrawayes, and ſo forth: Come
coſin *Silence*, and then to bed.

Falſt. You have heere a goodly dwelling, and a rich.

Shal. Barren, barren, barren: Beggers all, beggers all
Sir *Iohn*: Marry, good ayre. Spread *Davy*, I spread *Davy*:
Well faid *Davy*.

Falſt. This *Davy* serves you for good uſes: he is your
Servingman, and your Husband.

Shal. A good Varlet, a good Varlet, a very good Var-
let, Sir *Iohn*: I have drunke too much Sacke at Supper.
A good Varlet. Now ſit downe, now ſit downe: Come
Colin.

Sil. A firra (quoth-a) we ſhall doe nothing but eate,
and make good cheere, and praife heaven for the merry
yeere: when fleſh is cheape, and Females deere, and lufty
Lads rome heere, and there: to merrily, and ever among
ſo merrily.

Falſt. There's a merry heart, good Maſter *Silence*, Ile
give you health for that anon.

Shal. Good Maſter *Bardolfe*: fome wine, *Davy*.

Dav. Sweet fir, fit: Ile be with you anon: moſt fweet
fir, fit. Maſter Page, good Maſter Page, fit: Proſace.
What you want in meate, we'll have in drinke: but you
beare the heart all.

Shal. Be merry Maſter *Bardolfe*, and my little Souklior
there, be merry.

Sil. Be merry, be merry, my wife ha's all.
For women are Shrewes, both ſhort: and tall:
'Tis merry in Hall, when Beards wagge all;
And welcome merry Shrovetide. Be merry, be merry.

Falſt. I did not thinke Maſter *Silence* had beene a man
of this Mettle.

Sil. Who I? I have beene merry twice and once, ere
now.

Davy. There is a diſh of Lether-coats for you.

Shal. *Davy*.

Dav. Your Worſhip: Ile be with you ſtraight. A
cup of Wine, fir ?

Sil. A Cup of Wine, that's briske and fine, and drinke
unto the Leman mine: and a merry heart lives long-a.

Falſt. Well faid, Maſter *Silence*.

Sil. If we ſhall be merry, now comes in the ſweet of
the night.

Falſt. Health, and long life to you, Maſter *Silence*.

Sil. Fill the Cup, and let it come. Ile pledge you a
mile to the bottome.

Shal. Honeſt *Bardolfe*, welcome: If thou want it any
thing, and wilt not call, beſhrew thy heart. Welcome my
little tyne theſe, and welcome indeed too: Ile drinke to
Maſter *Bardolfe*, and to all the Cavileroes about London.

Davy. I hope to fee London, once ere I dye.

Bard. If I might fee you there, *Davy*.

Shal. You'll cracke a quart together? Ha, will you not
Maſter *Bardolfe*?

Bar. Yes Sir, in a potte pot.

Shal. I thanke thee: the knave will ſtike by thee, I
can aſſure thee that. He will not out, he is true bred.

Bard. And Ile ſtike by him; fir.

Shal. Why there ſpeke a King: lack nothing, be merry,
Looke, who's at doore there, ho: who knockes?

Falſt. Why now you have done me right.

Sil. Doe me right, and dub me Knight, *Samingo*. Is't
not ſo?

Falſt. 'Tis ſo.

Sil. Is't? Why then ſay an old man can doe ſomewhat.

Dan. If it pleafe your Worſhip, there's one *Piftoll* come from the Court with newes.

Falſt. From the Court? Let him come in.

Enter Piftoll.

How now *Piftoll*?

Pift. Sir *Iohn*, fave you fir.

Falſt. What winde blew you bither, *Piftoll*?

Pift. Not the ill winde which blowes no to good,
I weet Knight: Thou art now one of the greateſt men in
the Realme.

Sil. Indeed, I thinke he be, but Goodman *Puffe* of
Barfon.

Pift. *Puffe* ? Puffe in thy teeth, moſt recreant *Coward*
bafe. Sir *Iohn*, I am thy Piftoll, and thy friend: hider
skelter have I rode to thee, and tydings doe I bring, and
lucky joyes, and golden Times, and happy Newes of
price.

Falſt. I prethee now deliver them, like a man of this
World.

Pift. A footra for the World, and Worltings bafe,
I ſpeake of Africa, and Golden Ioyes.

Falſt. O bafe Affyrian Knight, what is thy newes?
Let King *Covitha* know the truth thereof.

Sil. And Robin-hood, Scarlet, and *Iohn*.

Pift. Shall dunghill Curres confront the *Hellicons*?
And ſhall good newes be baffel'd?

Then *Piftoll* lay thy head in Furies lappe.

Shal. Honeſt Gentleman,
I know not your breeding.

Pift. Why then Lament therefore.

Shal. Give me pardon, Sir.

If fir, you come with newes from the Court, I take it,
there is but two wayes, either to utter them, or to con-
ceale them. I am Sir, under the King, in fome Authority.

Pift. Vnder which King?

Bezonian, ſpeake, or dye.

Shal. Vnder King *Harry*.

Pift. *Harry* the Fourth ? or *Pift* ?

Shal. *Harry* the Fourth.

Pift. A footra for thine Office.

Sir *Iohn*, thy tender Lamb-kinne, now is King
*Harry* the Fift's the man, I ſpeake the truth.

When *Piftoll* lyes, doe this, and figge-me, like
The bragging Spaniard.
Falſt.

99

Fal. What, is the old King dead?

Pist. As naile in doore.

The things I fpeake, are juſt

Fal. Away Bardolph, Saddle my Horfe,

Maſter Robert Shallow, choofe what Office thou wilt.

In the Land, 'tis thine. Piftol, I will double charge thee
With Dignities.

Bard. O jy full day :

I would not take a Knighthood for my Fortune.

Pist. What? I do bring good newes.

Fal. Carrie Maſter Silence to bed : Maſter Shallow, my
Lord Shallow, be what thou wilt, I am Fortunes Steward.
Get on thy Bootes, wee'l ride all night. Oh fweet Piftoll:
Away Bardolſe : Come Piftoll, utter more to mee : and
withall devife ſomething to doe thy ſelſe good. Boote,
boote Maſter Shallow, I know the young King is ſicke for
mee. Let us take any mans Horſſes: The Lawes of Eng-
land are at my command'ment. Happie are they, which
have beene my Friends : and woe unto my Lord Chieſe
Inſuſe.

Pist. Let Vultures viil'd ſeize on his Lungs also :

Where is the life that late I led, ſay they ?

Why here it is, welcome thate plesaant dayes. Exeunt.

## Scæna Quarta.

Enter Hosteſſe Quickly, Dol Teare-ſhecte,
and Beadles.

Hosteſſe. No, thou arrant knave: I would I might dye,
that I might have thee hang'd : Thou haſt drawne my
shoulder out of joynt.

Off. The Conſtables have deliver'd her over to mee :
and free ſhall have Whipping cheere enough, I warrant
her. There hath beene a man or two (lately) kill'd about
her.

Dol. Nut-hooke, nut-hooke, you Lye : Come on, Ile
tell thee what, thou damn'd Tripe-vifag'd Raſcalf, if the
Childe I now go with, do miſearrie, thou had'ſt better
thou had'ſt ſtrooke thy Mother, thou Paper-fac'd Vil-
laine.

Hoſt. O that Sir Iohw were come, hee would make
this a bloody day to ſome body. But I would the Fruite
of her Wombe might miſcarry.

Officer. If it doe, you ſhall have a dozen of Cuffions
againe, you have but eleven now. Come, I charge you
both go with me: for the man is dead, that you and Pi-
ſtoll beate among you.

Dol. Ile tell thee what, thou thin man in a Cenfor ; I
will have you as foundly ſwinding'd for this, you blew-
Bottel'd Rogue: you filthy famli'd Correctioner, if you
be not ſwing'd Ile forſweare half e Kirtles.

Off. Come, come, you ſhee-Knight-arrant, come.

Host. O, that right should thus o're come might. Well
of ſufferance, comesafe.

Dol. Come you Rogue, come :

Bring me to a Inſuſce.

Host. Yes, come you ſtarv'd Blood-hound.

Dol. Goodman death, goodman Bones.

Hoſt. Thou Anatomy, thou.

Dol. Come you thinne Thing :

Come you Raſcalf.

Off. Very well.

Exeunt.

## Scæna Quinta.

Enter two Groomes.

1. Groo. More Ruſhes, more Ruſhes.

2. Groo. The Trumpets have founded twice.

1. Groo. It will be two of the Clocke, ere they come
from the Coronation.

Enter Falſaffe, Shallow, Piftoll, Bardolſe, and Page.

Falſaffe. Stand here by me, M. Robert Shallow, I will
make the King do you Grace. I will leere upon him, as
he comes by: and do but marke the countenance that he
will give me.

Piftoll. Bleſſe thy Lungs, good Knight.

Falſſ. Come here Piftoll, stand behind me. O if I had
had timeto have made new Liveries, I would have be-
flawed the thonſand pound I borrrwed of you. But it is
no matter, this poore ſhew doth better: this doth inferre
the zeale I had to fee him.

Shal. It doth fo.

Falſſ. It ſhewes my earneſtneſſe in affection;

Pist. It doth fo.

Fal. My devotion.

Pist. It doth, it doth, it doth.

Fal. As it were, to ride day and night,

And not to deliberate, not to remember,

Not to have patience to ſhift me.

Shal. It is moſt certaine.

Fal. But to ſand flained with Travaile, and ſwearing
withdeſire to fee him, thinking of nothing eſſe, putting
all affayres in oblivion, as if there were nothing eſſe to be
done, but to fee him.

Pist. 'Tis ſemper idem : for abſque hoc nihil eſt. 'Tis all
in every part.

Shal. 'Tis ſo indeed.

Pist. My Knight, I will enſame thy Noble Liver, and
make thee rage. Thy Dol, and Helen of thy noble thoughts
is in bafe Durance, and contagious prifon : Hall'd thi-
ther by moſt Mechanicall and durty hand. Rowze uppe
Revenge from Ebon den, with ſell Alecto's Snake, for
Dol is in. Piftoll, ſpeakes nought but troth.

Fal. I will deliver her.

Piftoll. There roard the Sea: and Trumpet Clangour
foundes.

The Trumpets found. Enter King Henrie the
Fift, Brothers, Lord Chieſe
Inſuſe.

Falſſ. Save thy Grace, King Hall, my Royall Hall.

Pist. The heavens thee guard, and keepe, moſt royall
Impe of Fame.

Fal. 'Save thee my ſweet Boy.

King. My Lord Chieſe justice, ſpeake to that vaine
man.

Ch. Inſuſt. Have you your wits ?

Know you what'tis you ſpeake ?

Falſſ. My King, my love; I ſpeake to thee, my heart.

King. I know thee not, old man : Fall to thy Prayers :
How ill white haires become a Foole, and leſter ?

I have

I

100

I have long dream'd of such a kinde of man,
So furfeit-fwell'd, so old, and so prophane:
But being awake, I do defpife my dreame.
Make leſe thy body (hence) and more thy Grace,
Leave gourmandizing; Know the Grave doth gape
For thee, thrice wider then for other men.

Reply not to me, with a Foole-borne Ieſt,
Prefume not, that I am the thing I was,
For heaven doth know (so ſhall the world perſive)
That I have turn'd away my former ſelfe,
So will I thofe that kept me Companie.

When thou doſt heare I am, as I have bin,
Approach me, and thou ſhalt be as thou was't

The Tutor and the Feeder of my Riots:
Till then, I baniſh thee, on paine of death,
As I have done the reſt of my Mifleaders,

Not to come neere our Perſon, by ten mile.

For competence of life, I will allow you,

That lacke of meaneſe enforce you not to evill:

And as we heare you do redeemſe your ſelves,
We will, according to your ſtrength, and qualities,
Gieue you advancement. Be it your charge (my Lord)

To ſee perform'd the tenure of our word. Set on.

Exit King.

Fal. After Shallow, I owe you a thouſand pound.

Shal. I marry Sir Iohn, which I beſeech you to let me have home with me.

Fal. That can hardly be. M. Shallow, do not you grieve at this: I ſhall be ſent for in private to him: Looke you, he muſt ſeeme thus to the world: ſeare not your advancement: I will be the man yet, that ſhall make you great.

Shal. I cannot well perceive how, unleſſe you ſhould give me your Dublet, and tuſſe mee out with Straw. I beſeech you, good fir Iohn, let me have five hundred of my thouſand.

Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word. This that you heard, was but a colour.

Shall. A colour I ſeare; that you will dye in, Sir Iohn.
Fal. Feare no colours, go with me to dinner:

Come Lieutenant Piftol, come Bardolſe,
I ſhall be ſent for ſoone at night.

Ch. Inſt. Go carry Sir Iohn Falſaſſe to the Electe,
Take all his company along with him.

Fal. My Lord, my Lord.

Ch. Inſt. I cannot now ſpeake, I will heare you ſoone:
Take them away.

Pifſ. Si fortuna me tormento, ſpera tue contento.
Exit. Manet Lancaſter and Chieſe Inſiſt.

John. I like this faire proceeding of the Kings,
He hath intent his wonted Followers

Shall be very well provided for:

But are baniſht, till their converſations

Apeare more wife, and modeſt in the world.

Ch. Inſt. And for they are.

John. The King hath call'd his Parliament,
My Lord.

Ch. Inſt. He hath.

John. I will lay odds, that ere this yeere expire,
We beare our Civil Swords, and Native fire
As farre as France. I heard a Bird ſo ſing,

Whoſe Muſiſke (to my thinking) pleas'd the King,
Come, will you hence?

Exemm.

FJNJS.

EPILOGUE.

If my Tongue cannot entreate you to acquit me: Will you command mee to use my Legges? And yet that were but light payment, to Dance out of your debt: But a good Conscience, will make any possible satisfaction, and so will J. All the Gentlewomen heere, have forgotten me; if the Gentlewomen will not, then the Gentlemen doe not agree with the Gentlewomen, which was never seene before, in such an Affembly.

One word more, I beseech you: if you be not too much cloid with Fat Meate, our humble Author will continue the story (with Sir John in it) and make you merry with faire Katherine of France: Where (for any thing I know) Falstaffe shall dye of a sweat, unleffe already he bee kill'd with your hard Opinions: For Old-Castle dyed a martyr, and this is not the man. My Tongue is wearie, When my Legs are too, I will bid you good night; and so kneele downe before you: (But indeed) to pray for the Queene.

i2

THE

# The Life of King Henry the Fifth.

## Enter Prologue.

For a Mufe of Fire, that would ascend
The brightest Heaven of Invention
A Kingdome for a Stage, Princes to Act,
And Monarches to behold the Swelling Scene.
Then should the Warlike Harry, like himselfe,
Assume the Port of Mars, and at his heeles
(Leaft in, like bounds) should Famine, Sword, and Fire
Crouch for employment. But pardon, Gentles all:
The flat unraised Spirits, that hash dar'd,
On this unworthy Scaffold, to bring forth
So great an Objeft. Can this Cock-Pit bold
The vallie field of France? Or may we cramme
Within this Woodden O, the very Caskes
That did affright the Ayre at Agincourt ?
O pardon: since a crooked Figure may,
Attest in little place a Million,
And let us, Cyphers to this great Accompt,

On your imaginarie Forces worke.
Suppose within the Girdle of these Walls
Are now confin'd two mightie Monarches,
Whose high, up-reared, and abutting Fronts,
The perillous narrow Ocean parts asunder.
Peecce out our imperfections with your thoughts:
Into a thousand parts deide one Man,
And make imaginario Pniffance.
Thinke when we take of Hor's, that you see them
Printing their proud Hoofes i'th' receiving Earth:
For 'tis your thoughts that now must decke our Kings,
Carry them here and there: Iamping o're Times:
Turning tb' accomplishment of many yeeres
Into an Hour-glasse : for the which supplye,
Admit me Chorus to this Historie :
Who Prologue-like, your humble patience pray,
Gently to heare, kindly to judge our Play.
Exit.

## Actus primus. Scena Prima.

Entor the two Bisbops, of Canterbury and Ely.

Bisb. Cant.

Y Lord, Ile tell you, that felfe Bill is urg'd,
Which in th'cleveth yere of y laft Kings reign
Was like, and had indeed againft us paft,
But that the fcambling and unquie time
Did puſh it out of farther question.

Bisb. Ely. But how my Lord ſhall we refift it now?

Bisb. Cant. It muſt be thought on: if it paffe againſt us,

We loſe the better part of our Poffeffion :

For all the Temporall lands, which men devout
By Teſtament have given to the Church,

Would they ſtrip from us; being valu'd thus,

As much as would maintaine, to the Kings honor,
Full fifteene Earles, and fifteene hundred Knights,

Six thousand and two hundred good Efquires :

And to relieſe of Lazars, and weake age

Of indigent faint Soules, paſt corporall toyle,
A hundred Almes-houſes, right well ſupply'd :

And to the Coffers of the King befide,

A thousand pounds by th'e yeere. Thus runs the Bill.

Bisb. Ely. This would drinke deepe.

Bisb. Cant. 'Twould drinke the Cup and all.

Bisb. Ely. But what prevention ?

Bisb. Cant. The King is full of grace, and faire re-
gard.

Bisb. Ely. And a true lover of the holy Church.

Bisb. Cant. The courſes of his youth promis'd it not.

The breath no sooner left his Fathers body,

But that his wildneſſe mortify'd in him,
Seem'd to dye too: yea at that very moment,

Confideration like an Angell came,

And whipt th'offending Adam out of him;

Leaving his body as a Paradife,

T'invelop and containe Celestiall Spirits.

Never was ſucha ſodaine Scholler made :

Never came Reformation in a Flood,

With ſuch a heady currant ſcowring faults :

Nor never Hidra-headed Wilfulneſſe

So ſoone did loſe his Seat; and all at once;

As in this King.

Bisb. Ely. We are bleſſed in the Change.

Bisb. Cant. Heare him but reaſon in Divinity:
And all-admiring, with au inward wifh

You would defire the King were made a Prelate:

Heare him debate of Common-wealth Affaires;

You would ſay, it hath been all in all his ſtudy :

Lift his diſcourſe of Warre; and you ſhal heare.

A ſcarefull Battaille rendred you in Muſique.

Turne

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

70

Turne him to any Caufe of Pollicy,
The Gordian Knot of it he will unlooke,
Familiar as his Garter : that when he speaks,
The Ayre, a Charter'd Libertine, is still,
And the mute Wonder lurketh in mens eares,
To heale his sweete and honyed Sentences :
So that the Art and Pratique part of Life,
Must be the Miftrefle to this Theorique.
Which is a wonder how his Grace should gleane it,
Since his addiction was to Courfes vaine,
His companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow,
His Houres fill'd up with Ryots, Banquets, Sports;
And never noted in him any ftudie,
Any retyrement, any queſtration,
From open Haunts and Popularitie.

B. Ely. The Strawberry growes underneath the Nettle,
And holefome Berryes thrive and ripen beſt,
Neighbour'd by fruit of baſer qualitie :
And to the Prince obſeur'd his Contemplation
Vnder the Veyle of Wildneſſe, which ( no doubt)
Grew like the Summer Graſſe, faſſed by Night,
Vnſeene, yet creſſiue in his facultie.

B. Cant. It muſt be ſo; for Miracles are ceaſt :
And therefore we muſt needes admit the meaneſ,
How things are perſeſted.

B. Ely. But my good Lord :
How now for mittigation of this Bill,
Vrg'd by the Commons? doth his Majeſtie
Incline to it, or no ?

B. Cant. He ſeemes indifferent :
Or rather ſwaying more upon our part,
Then cheriſhing th'exhibitors againſt us :
For I have made an offer to his Majeſty,
Vpon our Spirituall Convocation,
And in regard of Caufes now in hand,
Which I have open'd to his Grace at large,
As touching France, to give a greater Summe,
Then ever at one time the Clergie yet
Did to his Predeceſſors part withall.

B. Ely. How did this offer ſeeme receiv'd, my Lord?

B. Cant. With good acceptance of his Majeſtie :
Save that there was not time enough to heare,
As I perceiv'd his Grace would ſaine have done,
The feveralls and unhidden paffages
Of his true Titles to ſome certaine Dukedomes,
And generally, to the Crowne and ſeat of France,
Deriv'd from Edward, his great Grandfather.

B. Ely. What was th'impediment that broke this off?

B. Cant. The French Embaſſador upon that inſtant
Craſ'd audience ; and the howre I thinke is come,
To give him hearing : Is it ſoure a Clock?

B. Ely. It is.

B. Cant. Then goe we in, to know his Embaſſe :
Which I could with a ready gueſſe declare,
Before the Frenchman ſpeakes a word of it.

B. Ely. Ile wait upon you, and I long to heare it.

Exeunt.

Enter the King, Humfrey, Bedford, Clarence,
Warwicke, Westmerland, and Exeter.

King. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury ?
Exeter. Not here in prefence.

King. Send for him good Vnkleck.

Westm. Shall we call in th' Ambaſſador, my Liege?

King. Not yet, my Confin : we would be refolu'd,
Before we heare him, of ſome things of weight,
That taske our thoughts, concerning us and France.

Enter two Bishops.

B. Cant. God and his Angels guard you facred Throre,
And make you long become it.

King. Sure we thanke you.
My learned Lord, we pray you to proceed,
And juſtly and religiously unfold,
Why the Law Salike, that they have in France,
Or ſhould or ſhould not barre us in our Clayme :
And God forbid, my deere and faithfull Lord,
That you ſhould fashion, wreſt, or bow your reading,
Or nicely charge your underſtanding Soule,
With opening Titles miſcreate, whole right
Sutes not in native colours with the truth :
For God doth know, how many now in health,
Shall drop their blood, in approbation
Of what your reverence ſhall incite us to.
Therefore take heed how you impawne our Perſon;
How you awake our ſleeping Sword of Warre;
We charge you in the name of God take heed :
For never two ſuch Kingdomes did contend,
Without much fall of blood, whoſe guileſſe drops
Are every one, a Woe, a ſore Complaine,
'Gainſt him, whoſe wrong gives edge unto the Swords,
That makes ſuch waſte in briefe mortalitie.
Vnder this Conjuration, ſpeake my Lord :
For we will heare, note, and beeleve in heart,
That what you ſpeake, is in your Conſcience waſt,
As pare as finne with Baptiſme.

B. Can. Then heare me gracious Soveraign, & you Peers,
That owe your ſelves, your lives, and teraces,
To this Imperiall Throre. There is no barre
To make againſt your Highneſſe Clayme to France,
But this which they produce from Pharamond,
In terram Salicam Multieres ſuccedant,
No Woman ſhall ſucceed in Salike Land :
Which Salike Land, the French unjuſtly gloze
To be the realme of France, and Pharamond
The ſonder of this Law, and female Barre.
Yet their o wnere Authors faithfully aſſirme,
That the Land Salike is in Germanie,
Betweene the Flouds of Sala and of Elve :
Where Charles the Great having ſubdu'd the Saxons,
There left behind and fettled certaine French :
Who holding in diſdaine the German Women,
For ſome diſhonour'd manners of their life,
Eſtablifſh then this Law ; to wit, No Female
Should be Inheritrix in Salike Land :
Which Salike (as I faid) 'twixt Elve and Sala,
Is at this day in Germanie, call'd Meſen.
Then doth it well appeare, the Salike Law
Was not devifed for the Realme of France :
Nor did the French poſſeſſe the Salike Land,
Vntill ſoure hundred one and twentie yceres
After defunction of King Pharamond,
Idly ſuppof'd the founder of this Law,
Who died within the yeere of our Redemption,
Foure hundred twentie fix : and Charles the Great
Subdu'd the Saxons, and did ſeat the French
Beyond the River Sala, in the yeere
Eight hundred ſue. Befides, their writers ſay,
King Pepin, which depofed Childerike,
Did as Heire generall, being deſcended
Of Blithild, which was Daugher to King Clothair,
Make Clayme and Title to the Crowne of France,
Hugh Capet alſo, who uſurpt the Crowne.

Of

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

Of Charles the Duke of Loraine, sole Heire male
Of the true Line and Stocke of Charles the great :
To find his Title with fome fewes of truth,
Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught;
Convey'd himfelfe as th' Heire to th' Lady Lingare,
Daughter to Charlemaine, who was the Sonne
To Lewes the Emperour, and Lewes the Sonne
Of Charles the Great : also King Lewes the Tenth,
Who was fole Heire to the Vfurper Capet,
Could not keepe quiet in his confience,
Wearing the Crowne of France, 'till satisfied;
That faire Queene Ifabel, his Grandmother,
Was Lincall of the Lady Ermengare,
Daughter to Charles the farefaid Duke of Loraine:
By the which Marriage, the Lyne of Charles the Great
Was re-united to the Crowne of France.
So, that as cleare as is the Summers Sunne,
King Pepins Title, and Hugh Capets Clayme,
King Lewes his satisfacion, all appeare
To hold in Right and Title of the Female :
So doe the Kings of France upon this day.
Howbeit, they would hold up this Salique Law,
To barre your Highneſſe clayming from the Female,
And rather chufe to hide them in a Net,
Then amply to imbarre their crooked Titles,
Vfurpt from you and your Progenitors.

King. May I with right and confidence make this claim?

Bifh. Cant. The finne upon my head, dread Soveraigne :
For in the Booke of Numbers is it writ,
When the man dyes, let the Inheritance
Defend unto the Daughter. Gracious Lord,
Stand for your owne, unwind your bloody Flagge:
Looke backe into your mightie Anceftors :
Goe my dread Lord, to your great Grandfures Tombe,
From whom you clayme ; invoke his Warlike Spirit,
And your Great Vncles, Edward the Blacke Prince,
Whoon the French ground play'd a Tragedie,
Making defeat on the full Power of France:
Whiles his moft mighty Father on a Hill
Stood smiling, to behold his Lyons Whelpe
Forrage in blood of French Nobilitie.
O Noble English, that could entertain
With halfe their Forces, the full pride of France,
And let another halfe stand laughing by,
All out of worke, and cold for action.

Bifh. Awake remembrance of theſe valiant dead,
And with your puſſant Arme renew their Feats;
You are their Heire, you fit upon their THRONE :
The Blood and Courage that renowned them,
Runs in your Veines : and my thrice-puſſant Liege
Is in the very May-Morne of his Youth,
Ripe for Exploites and mighty Enterprifes.

Exe. Your brother Kings and Monarches of the Earth
Doe all expeſt, that you should rowſe your ſelfe,
As did the former Lyons of your Blood. (might;
Wesſ. They know your Grace hath cauſe, and means, and
So hath your Highneſſe : neuer King of England
Had Nobles richer, and more loyall Subjects,
Whose hearts have left their bodyes here in England,
And lye pavillion'd in the field of France.

Bifh. Cant. O let their bodyes follow my deare Liege
With Blonds, and Sword and Fire, to win your Right:
Inayde whereof, we of the Spiritualtie
Will rayſe your Highneſſe ſuch a mightie Summe,
As never did the Cleargie at one time
Bring in to any of your Anceſtors.

King. We muſt not onely arme t'invade the French,
But lay downe our proportions, to defend
Aginſt the Scot, who will make roade upon us,
With all advantages.

Bifh. Can. They of thofe Marches, gracious Soveraign,
Shall be a Wall ſufficient to defend
Our in-land from the pilfering Borderers.

King. We do not meane the courſing ſnatchers onely,
But feare the maine intendment of the Scot,
Who hath beene ſtill a giddy neighbour to us:
For you ſhall reade, that my great Grandfather
Never went with his forces into France,
But that the Scot, on his unfurniſt Kingdome,
Came pouring like the Tyde into a breach,
With ample and brim fulneſſe of his force,
Galling the gleaned Land with hot affayes,
Girding with grievous ſiege, Caffles and Townes :
That England being empty of defence,
Hath ſhooke and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood.
B. Can. She hath bin th' more fear'd th' harm'd, my Liege:
For heare her but exampl'd by her ſelfe,
When all her Chevalrie hath been in France,
And ſhe a mourning Widdow of her Nobles,
She hath her ſelfe not onely well defended,
But taken and impounded as a Stray,
The King of Scots : whom ſhe did ſend to France,
To fill King Edwards fame with ſifoner Kings,
And make their Chronicle as rich with prayſe,
As is the Owſe and bottome of the Sea
With ſunken Wrack, and ſum-leſſe Treafuries.

Bifh. Ely. But there's a faying very old and true,
If that you will France win, then with Scotland first begin.
For once the Eagle (England) being in prey,
To her unquarded Neſt, the Weazell (Scot)
Comes sneaking, and to fucker her Princely Egges,
Playing the Mouſe in abſence of the Cat,
To tame and havocke more then ſhe can eate.

Exer. It followes then, the Cat muſt flay at home,
Yet that is but a cruſh' neceſſity,
Since we have lockes to ſafegard neceſſaries,
And pretty traps to catch the petty theeves.
While that the Armed hand doth fight abroad,
Th'aduſted head defends it ſelfe at home :
For Government, though high, and low, and lower,
Put into parts, doth keepe in one confent,
Congreeing in a full and naturall cloze,
Like Muſicke.

Cant. Therefore doth heaven divide
The flate of man in divers functions,
Setting endeavor in continuall motion :
To which is fixed as an ayne or burt,
Obedience : for so worke the Hony Bees,
Creatures that by a rule in Nature teach
The Aſt of Order to a peopled Kingdome.
They have a King, and Officers of forts,
Where ſome like Magiftrats correct at home;
Others, like Merchants venture Trade abroad :
Others, like ſouldiers armed in their ſitings,
Make boote upon the Summers Velvet buddes :
Which pillage, they with merry martch bring home
To the Tent-royall of their Emperor :
Who buſed in his Majeſties ſurveyes
The ſinging Mafon building roofes of Gold,
The civill Citizens kneading up the hony :
The Poore Mechanicke Porters, crowding in
Their heavy burthens at his narrow gate :

The

72

The fad-ey'd Luftice with his furly humme,
Delivering ore to Executors pale
The laze yawning Drone: I this inferre,
That many things having full reference
To one confent,may worke contrarioufly,
As many Arrowes loofed severall wayes
Come to one marke: as many wayes meet in one towne,
As many freth flreames meet in one salt lea;
As many Lynes clofe in the Dials center:
So may a thoufand actions once a foote,
And in one purpofe, and be all well borne
Without defeat. Therefore to France, my Liege,
Divide your happy England into foure,
Whereof,take you one quarter into France,
And you withall fhall make all Gallia fhake.
If we with thrice fuch powers left at home,
Cannot defend our owne doores from the dogge,
Let us be worried, and our Nation lofe
The name of hirdineſſe and policie.

**King.** Call in the Meflengers ſent from the Dolphin.
Now are we well reſolv'd, and by Gods heipe
And yours, the noble finewes of our power;
France being ours, weel bend it to our Awe,
Or breake it all to peeces. Or there wee'l fit,
(Ruling in large and ample Emperie,
Ore France, and all her (almost) Kingely Dukedomes)
Or lay theſe bones in an unworthy Vrne,
Tombleſſe, with no remembrance over them :
Either our Hiftory ſhall with full mouth
Speake freely of our Aſts, or eſſe our grave
Like Turkifh mute, ſhall have a tongueleſſe mouth,
Not worſhipt with a waxen Epitaph.

*Enter Ambassadors of France.*

Now are we well prepar'd to know the pleasure
Of our faire Cofin Dolphin : for we heare,
Your greeting is from him, not from the King.

**Amb.** May't please you Majefte to give us leave
Freely to render what we have in charge :
Or ſhall we sparingly ſhew you farre off
The Dolphins meaning, and our Embaſſe.

**King.** We are no Tyrant, but a Chriſtian King,
Vnto whose grace our paflion is as ſubjeſt
As is our wretches fettred in our prifons:
Therefore with franke and with uncurbed plainneſſe,
Tell us the *Dolphins* minde.

**Amb.** Thus then in few :
Your Highneſſe lately ſending into France,
Did claime ſome certaine Dukedomes, in the right
Of your great Predecessor, King Edward the third.
In anſwer of which claime, the Prince our Maſter
Sayes, that you favour too much of your youth,
And bids you be advis'd: There's nought in France,
That can be with a nimble Galliard wonne :
You cannot revell into Dukedomes there.
He therefore ſends you meeter for your ſpirit
This Tun of Treasure; and in lieu of this,
Defires you let the Dukedomes that you claime
Heare no more of you. This the *Dolphin* ſpeakes.

**King.** What Treſure Vncle?

**Exe.** Tennis balles, my Liege.

**Kin.** We are glad the *Dolphin* is ſo pleafant with us,
His Prefent, and your paines we thanke you for:
When we have matcht our Rackets to theſe Balles,
We will in France (by God's grace) play a fet,
Shall ſtrike his fathers Crowne into the hazard.
Tell him, he hath made a match with ſucha Wrangler,

That all the Courts of France will be diſturb'd
With Chaces. And we undervand him well,
How he comes o're us with our wilder dayes,
Not meaſuring what uſe we made of them.
We never valew'd this poore ſteate of England,
And therefore living hence, did give our ſelſe
To barbarons ſenſice: As't is ever common,
That men are merrief't, when they are from home.
But tell the *Dolphin*, I will keepe my State,
Be like a King, and ſhow my ſaye of Greatneſſe,
When I do rowle me in my Throre of France,
For that I have layd by my Maſjeſtie,
And plodded like a man for working dayes :
But I will rife there with ſo full a glorie,
That I will dazle all the eyes of France,
Yea ſtrike the *Dolphin* blinde to looke on us.
And tell the pleafant Prince, this Mocke of his
Hath turn'd his balls to Gun-stones, and his foule
Shall ſtand ſore charged, for the waſtefull vengeance
That ſhall flye with them: for many a thouſand widowes
Shall this his Mocke, mocke out of their deere husbands,
Mocke mothers from their fonnes, mock Caſtles downe:
And ſome are it ungotten and unborne,
That ſhall have cauſe to curſe the *Dolphins* ſcorne.
But this lyes all within the will of God,
To whom I do appeale, and in whose name
Tell you the *Dolphin*, I am comming on,
To venge me as I may, and to put forth
My rightfull hand in a wel-hallow'd cauſe.
So get you hence in peace: and tell the *Dolphin*,
His Iſt will favour but of ſhallow wit,
When thouſands weepe more then did laugh at it.
Convey them with ſafe conduct. Fare you well.

*Exeunt Ambassadors.*

**Exe.** This was a merry Meflage.

**King.** We hope to make the Sender bluſh at it:
Therefore, my Lords, omit no happy howre,
That may give furth'rance to our Expedition;
For we have now no thought in us but France,
Save thofe to God, that ronne before our buſineſſe.
Therefore let our proportions for theſe Warres
Be ſoone collected, and all things thought upon,
That may with reaſonable ſwiftneſſe adde
More feathers to our Wings : for God before,
Wee'le chide this *Dolphin* at his fathers doore.
Therefore let every man now taske his thought,
That this faire Action may on foot be brought.

*Exequi.*

*Florish. Enter Chorus.*

Now all the Youth of England are on fire,
And ſilken Dalliance in the Wardrobe lyes:
Now thrue the Armorers, and Honors thought
Reignes ſolely in the breaſt of every man.
They ſell the Paſture now, to buy the Horſe;
Following the Mirror of all Chriſtian Kings,
With winged heeles, as English *Mercuries*,
For now fits Expectation in the Ayre,
And hides a Sword, from Hilts unto the Point,
With Crownes Imperiall, Crownes and Coronets,
Promis'd to *Harry*, and his followers.
The French advis'd by good intelligence
Of this moſt dreadfull preparation,
Shake in their ſeare, and with pale Pollicy
Seeke to divert the English purpofes.
O England: Modell to thy inward Greatneſſe,
Like little Body with a mightie Heart:

What

What mightst thou do, that honour would thee doe,
Were all thy children kinde and naturall :
But fee, thy fault France hath in thee found on,
A neft of hollow bofomes, which he filles
With treacherous Crownes, and three corrupted men :
One Richard Earle of Cambridge, and the fecond
Henry Lord Scroope of Mafham, and the third
Sir Thomas Grey Knight of Northumberland,
Have for the Gilt of France (O guilt indeed)
Confirm'd Confriciency with fearefull France,
And by their hands, this grace of Kings muft dye,
If Hell and Treaſon hold their promifes,
Ere he take ship for France; and in Southampton.
Linger your patience on, and wee'l digeft
Th' abufe of diſtance; force a play :
The ſumme is payde, the Traitors are agreed,
The King is ſet from London, and the Scene
Is now tranſported (Gentles) to Southampton,
There is the play-houſe now, there muſt he fit,
And thence to France ſhall we convey you ſafe,
And bring you backe : Charming the narrow feas
To give you gentle Pafe : for if we may,
Wee'l not offend one ſtomacke with our Play.
But till the King come forth, and not till then,
Vnto Southampton do we shift our Scene.

Exit.

Enter Corporall Nym, and Lieutenant Bardolfe.

Bar. Well met Corporall Nym.

Nym. Good morrow Lieutenant Bardolſe.

Bar. What, are Ancient Pisloll and you friends yet?

Nym. For my part, I care not: I ſay little: but when
time ſhall ferue, there ſhall be ſmiles, but that ſhall be as
it may. I dare not fight, but I will winke and hold out
mine yron: it is a ſimple one, but what though? It will
toſe Cheeſe, and it will endure cold, as another mans
ſword will; and there's an end.

Bar. I will beſtow a breakſaft to make you friendes,
and wee'l bee all three ſworne brothers to France : Let't
be ſo good Corporall Nym.

Nym. Faith, I will live ſo long as I may, that's the certaine of it: and when I cannot live any longer, I will doe as I may: That is my reſt, that is the rendezvous of it.

Bar. It is certaine Corporall, that hee is married to Nell Quickly, and certainly ſhe did you wrong, for you were troth-plight to her.

Nym. I cannot tell, Things muſt be as they may : men
may ſleep, and they may have their throats about them
at that time, and ſome ſay, knives have edges: It muſt
be as it may, though patience bee a tyred name, yet ſhee
will plodde, there muſt be Conſulations, well, I cannot
tell.

Enter Pisloll, & Quicquely.

Bar. Heere comes Ancient Pisloll and his wife : good Corporall be patient heere. How now mine Hoaſte Pisloll?

Pisſ. Bafe Tyke, call ſt thou mee Hofte, now, by this
hand I ſware I ſcorne the terme : nor ſhall my Nel kepe
Lodgers.

Hoff. No by my troth, not long: For we cannot lodge
and board a dozen or fourteene Gentlewomen that live
honetly by the pricke of their Needles, but it will bee
thought wee keepe a Bawdy-houſe ſtraight. O welliday
Lady, if he be not hewne now, we shall fee wilſull adulte-
ry and murther committed.

Bar. Good Lieutenant, good Corporall offer nothing heere.

Nym. Pisſh.

Pisſ. Pisſ for thee, Iland dogge: thou prickeard cur of Iland.

Hoft. Good Corporall Nym shew thy valor, and put up your ſword.

Nym. Will you ſhogge off? I would have you folus.

Pisſ. Solus, egregious dog? O Viper vile: The folus in thy moſt mervalous ſace, the folus in thy teeth, and in thy throate, and in thy hatefull Lungs, yea in thy Maw perdy; and which is worſe, within thy naſtie mouth. I do retort the folus in thy bowels, for I can take, and Pislolls cocke is up, and flashing fire will follow.

Nym. I am not Barbafon, you cannot conjure mee: I
have an humor to knocke you indifferently well: If you
grow fowle with me Pisloll, I will ſcoure you with my
Rapier, as I may, in fayre tearmes. If you would walke
off, I would pricke your guts a little in good tearmes, as
I may, and that's the humor of it.

Pisſ. O Braggard vile, and damned furious wight,
The Grave doth gape, and doting death is neere,
Therefore exhale.

Bar. Heare me, heare me what I ſay: He that ſtrikes the firſt ſtroake, Ile run him up to the hilts, as I am a foldier.

Pisſ. An oath of mickle might, and fury ſhall abate.
Give me thy firſt, thy fore-foote to me give: Thy ſpirits
are moſt tall.

Nym. I will cut thy throate one time or other in faire terms, that is the humor of it.

Pisloll. Couple a gorge, that is the word. I defie thee a-
gaine. O hound of Creer, think ſt thou my ſpouſe to get?
No, to the Spittle goe, and from the Pondring tub of in-
famy, fetch forth the Lazar Kite of Griffids kinde, Doll
Teare-sloete, ſhe by name, and her ſpouſe. I have, and I
will hold the Quondam Quickey for the onely ſhe : and
Paucu, there's enough to go to.

Enter the Boy.

Boy. Mine Hoaſte Pisloll, you muſt come to my May-
ſter, and your Hofteſſe: He is very ſicke, & would to bed.
Good Bardolſe, put thy face betweene his ſhectees, and do
the Oſlice of a Warming-pan: Faith, he's very ill.

Bard. Away you Rogue.

Hoft. By my troth he'l yeeld the Crow a pudding one
of theſe dayes: the King has kild his heart. Good Huf-
band come home prefently.

Bar. Come ſhall I make you two friends. Wee muſt
to France together: why the divel ſhould we keepe knives
to cut one anothers throats?

Pisſ. Let floods ore ſwell and fiends for food howle
on.

Nym. You'l pay mee the eight ſhillings I won of you at Betting?

Pisſ. Bafe is the flave that payes.

Nym. That now I will have: that's the humour of it.

Pisſ. As manhood ſhall compound : puſh home. Draw

Bard. By this ſword, hee that makes the firſt thrult,
Ile kill him: By this ſword, I will.

Pi. Sword is an Oath, & Oaths muſt have their courſe

Bar. Coporall Nim, and thou wilt be friends be friends,
and thou wilt not, why then bee enemies with mee too:
prethee put up.

Pisſ. A Noble ſhalthou have, and prefent pay, and
Liquor likewife will I give to thee, and friend[ship]pe
ſhall combine, and brotherhood. Ile live by Nimme, &
Nimme ſhall live by me, is not this juſt? For I ſhall Sut-
ler be unto the Campe, and profits will accrue. Give me
thy hand.

Nym.

["The Life of King Henry the Fifth.", "74", "Nym. I shall have my Noble?", "Pist. In cash, molts juftly payd.", "Nym. Well, then that's the humor of't.", "Enter Hoffeſſe.", "Hoff. As ever you came of women, come in quickly to my lord: A poore heart, he is for ſhak'd of a burning quotidian Tertian, that it is molts lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him.", "Nym. The King hath run bad humors on the Knight, that's the even of it,", "Pist. Nym, thou haſt spok[e] the right, his heart is fraſted and corroborate.", "Nym. The King is a good King, but it muſt bee as it may: he paſſes ſome humors, and carreeres.", "Pist. Let us condole the Knight, for (Lambekins) we will live.", "Enter Exeter, Bedford, & Westmerland.", "Bed. Fore God his Grace is bold to truſt theſe traitors\nExe. They ſhall be apprehended by and by.", "West. How ſmooth and eventhy do beare themſelves, As if allegiance in their boſomes ſare Crowned with faith, and conſtant loyalty.", "Bed. The King hath note of all that they intend, By interception, which they dreame not of.", "Ext. Nay, but the man that was his bedſellow, Whom he hath dull'd and dloy'd with gracious favours; That he ſhould for a forſaigne purſe, ſo fell His Soveraigne life to death and treachery.", "Sound Trumpets.", "Enter the King, Scroope, Cambridge, and Gray.", "King. Now ſits the winde faire, and we will aboord.", "My Lord of Cambridge, and my kinde Lord of Masbam, And you my gentle Knight, give me your thoughts: Thinke you not that the powres we beare with us Will cut their paſſage through the force of France? Doing the execution, and the acte,", "For which we have in head affembled them.", "Scro. No doubt my Liege, if each man do his beſt.", "King. I doubt not that, ſince we are well perſwaded We carry not a heart with us from hence, That growes not in a faire confent with ours: Nor leave not one behinde, that doth not with ſuccesſe and Conqueſt to attend on us.", "Cam. Never was Monarch better fear'd and lou'd, Then is your Majcſtys there's not I thinke a ſubjeſt That fits in heart-greeſe and uneaſinſe.", "Vnder the ſweet ſhade of your government.", "Kai. True: that of you were your Fathers enemies, Have ſteep'd their gauls in honey, and do ſerve you With hearts create of dutie, and of zeale,", "King. We therefore have great cauſe of thankeſuſneſſe, And ſhall forget the office of our hand Sooner then quittance of defert and merit, According to the weight and worthineſſe.", "Sero. So ſervice ſhall with ſteeled finewes toyle, And labour ſhall refresh it ſelſe with hope To do your Grace inſeſtant ſervices.", "King. We ludge no leſſe. Vnkle of Exeter, Inlarge the man committed yefterday, That rayld againſt our perſon: We conſider It was exceſſe of Wine that let him on, And on his more advice, We pardon him.", "Sero. That's merſcy, but too much ſecuſarity: Let him be puniſh'd Soveraigne, leaſt example Breed (by his ſufferance) more of ſuch a kind.", "King. O let us yet be merciſull.", "Cam. So may your Highneſſe, and yet puniſh too.", "Grey. Sir, you ſhew great merſcy if you give him life, After the taſe of much correction.", "King. Alas, your too much love and care of me, Are heavi[e] Orifons 'gainſt this poore wretched: If little faults proceeding on diſtemper, Shall not be wink'd at, how ſhall we flretch our eye When capitall crimes, chew'd, ſwallow'd, and diſſeſt, Appeare before us? We'l yet inlarge that man. Though Cambridge, Scroope, and Gray, in their deere care And tender preſervation of our perſon Wold have him puniſh'd. And now to our French cauſes, Who are the late Commiſſioners?", "Cam. I one my Lord,", "Your Highneſſe bad me aske for it to day:", "Scro. So did you me my Liege.", "Grey. And I my Royall Soveraigne.", "King. Then Richard Earle of Cambridge, there is yours: There yours Lords Scroope of Masbam, and Sir Knight: Gray of Northumberland, this fame is yours:", "Reade them, and know I know your worthineſſe.", "My Lord of Westmerland and Vnkle Exeter,", "We will aboord to night. Why how now Gentlemen?", "What ſee you in thofe papers, that you lobe", "So much complexion? Looke ye how they change:", "Their checkes are paper. Why, what reade you there,", "That have ſo cowarded and chac'd your blood", "Out of appearance.", "Cam. I do conſeſſe my fault,", "And do ſubmit me to your Highneſſe merſcy.", "Grey. Sero. To which we all appeal.", "King. The merſcy that was quicke in us but late, By your owne counſaile is ſuppreſt and kill'd:", "You muſt not dare (for ſhame) to talke of merſcy,", "For your owne reaſons turne into your boſomes,", "As dogs upon their Maſters, worrying you :", "See you my Princes, and my Noble Peeres,", "These English monſters: My Lord of Cambridge here,", "You know how apt our love was, to accord", "To ſurpriſe him with all apertments", "Belonging to his honour ; and this man,", "Hath to a few light Crownes, lightly confip'd", "And two me unto the præſtifes of France", "To kill us here in Hampton. To the which,", "This Knight no leſſe for bounty bound tous", "Then Cambridge is, hath likewife ſworne. But O,", "What ſhall I ſay to thee, Lord Scroope, thou cruell,", "Ingratefull, favage, and inhumane Creature?", "Thou that didſt beare the key of al my conſuſales.", "That knew ſt the very bottome of my ſoule,", "That (almoſt) might ſt have coyn'd me into Golde,", "Would it thou have præſiſt on me, for thy uſe?", "May it be poffible, that ſerraigne hyer", "Could out of thee extraſt one ſparce of evill", "That might annoy my finger? 'Tis ſo ſtrange,", "That though the truth of it ſtand off as groſſe", "As blacke and white, my eye will ſcarcely ſee it.", "Treaſon, and murther, ever kept together,", "As two yoake divels ſworne to eythers purpofe,", "Working ſo groſſely in a naturall cauſe,", "That admiration did not hoope at them.", "But thou (gainſt all proportion) didſt bring in", "Wonder to waite on treaſon, and no murther :", "And whatsoever cunning fiend it was", "That wrought upon thee ſo prepoſteronly,", "Hath got the voyce in hell for excellence :", "And", "And othe", "Do bot", "With p", "From g", "Gaveth", "Vnleſſe", "If that", "Should", "He mi", "And tel", "A foule", "Oh, ho", "The f", "Why f", "Why f", "Why f", "Why f", "Why f", "Why f", "Free fr", "Conſa", "Garniſt", "Not w", {"bbox": [1105, 561, 1148, 58

And other divels that fuggeft with treafons,
Do botch and bungle up damnation,
With patches, colours, and with formses being fetcht
From glift'ring ſemblances of piety :
But he that temper'd thee, bad thee ſtandup,
Gavethee no inſtance why thou ſhouſt do treafon,
Vnleſſe to dub thee with the name of Traitor.
If that fame Damon that hath gull'd thee thus,
Should with his Lyon-gate walke the whole world,
He might returne to valſie Tartar backe,
And tell the Legions, I can never win
A foule ſeafe as that Englishmans.

Oh, how haſt thou with jealousie inſected
The ſweetneſſe of aliance? Shew men dutiſul ?
Why ſo didſt thou : ſeeme they grave and learned?
Why ſo didſt thou. Come they of Noble Family ?
Why ſo didſt thou. ſee me they religious ?
Why ſo didſt thou. Or are they ſpare in diet,
Free from groſſe paſſion, or of mirth, or anger,
Conſant in ſpirit, not ſwerving with the blood,
Garniſt'd and deck'd in modeſt complement,
Not working with the eye, without the care,
And but in purged judgment truſting neither ?
Such and ſo finely boulted didſt thou ſeeme :
And thus thy fall hath left a kinde of blot,
To make the ſo full fraught man, and beſt indued
With ſome ſuſpicion, I will weepce for thee.
For this revolt of thine, me thinkes is like
Another fall of man. Their ſaults are open,
Arreſt them to the anſwer of the Law,
And God acquit them of their præſtles.

Exe. Iarreſt thee of High Treſaon, by the name of Richard Earle of Cambride.

I arreſt thee of High Treſaon, by the name of Thomas Lord Sroope of Marſham.

I arreſt thee of High Treſaon, by the name of Thomas Grot, Knight of Northumberland.

Sero. Our purpofes, God juſtly hath diſcover'd,
And Repent my fault more then my death,
Which I beſeeth your Highneſſe to forgiſe,
Although my body pay the price of it.

Cam. For me, the Gold of France did not ſeduce,
Although I did admit it as a motive,
The ſooner to effect what I intended :
But God be thanked for prevention,
Which I in ſufferance heartily will rejoyce
Befeeching God, and you, to pardon me.

Gray. Never did faithfull ſubject more rejoyce
At the diſcoverie of moſt dangerous Treſaon,
Then I doat this houre joy ore my ſelfe,
Prevented from a damned enterprize;
My fault, but not my body, pardon Soveraigne.

King. God quit you in his mercy: Heare your ſentence
You have confir'd againſt Our Royall perſon.
Ioyn'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his Coffers,
Receyv'd the Golden Earneſt of Our death :
Wherein you would have fold your King to ſlaughter,
His Princes, and his Peeres to ſervitude,
His ſubjects to oppreſſion, and contempt,
And his whole Kingdome into defolation :
Touching our perſon, ſeeke we no revenge,
But we our Kingdomes ſafetie muſt ſo tender,
Whoſe ruine you three ſought, that to her Lawes
We do deliver you. Get you therefore hence,
(Poore miferable wretches) to your death:
The taſe whereof, God of his mercie give

You patience to indure, and true Repentance
Of all your deare offences. Beare them hence.
Now Lords for France : the enterprife whereof
Shall be to you as us, like glorious.
We doubt not of a faire and luckie Warre,
Since God ſo graciously hath brought to light
This dangerous Treſaon, lurking in our way.
To hinder our beginning. We doubt not now,
But every Rubbe is ſmoothed on our way,
Then forth, deare Countrie men: Let us deliver
Our Puſſance into the hand of God,
Putting it ſtraight in expedition.
Chearely to Sea, the ſignes of Warre advance,
No King of England, if not King of France.

Exeunt.

Exeunt.

Enter Piftoll, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hoſſeſſe.

Hoſſeſſe. 'Prythee honey ſwecte Husband, let me bring thee to Staines.'

Piftoll. No: for my manly heart doth erne. Bardolph,
belythe: Nim, rowle thy vaunting Veines: Boy, brifſe
thy Courage up: for Fallſaffe hee is dead, and we muſt
erne therefore.

Bard. Would I were with him, whereſomere hee is,
cyther in Heaven, or in Hell.

Hoſſeſſe. Nay ſure, hee's not in Hell: hee's in Arthur's
Boſome, if ever man went to Arthur's Boſome: a made a
finer end, and went away and it had beene any Chriſtome
Child: a parted ev'n juſt betweene Twelve and One, ev'n
at the turning o'th' Tyde: for after I ſaw him ſumble with
the Sheets, and play with Flowers, and ſmile upon his ſin-
gers end, I knew there was but one way: for his Noſe was
as harpe as a Pen, and a Table of greene fields. How now
Sir Iobn (quoth I?) what man? bee a good cheere: ſo a
cryed out, God, God, God, three or fourie times: now I,
to comfort him, bid him a ſhould not thinke of God; I
hop'd there was no neede to trouble himſelfe with any
fuch thoughts yet: ſo a bad me lay more Cloathes on his
feet: I put my hand into the Bed, and felt them, and they
were as cold as any ſtone: then I ſelt to his knees, and ſo
up-war'd and upward, and all was as cold as any ſtone.

Nim. They ſay he cryed out of Sack.

Hoſſeſſe. I, that a did.

Bard. And of Women.

Hoſſeſſe. Nay, that a did not.

Boy. Yes that a did, and ſayd they were Devils incar-
nate.

Woman. A could never abide Carnation, 'twas a Co-
lour he never lik'd.

Boy. A faid once, the Deule would have him about
Women.

Hoſſeſſe. A did in ſome ſort (indeed) handle Women:
but then hee was rumatique, and talk'd of the Whore of
Babylon.

Boy. Doe you not remember a ſaw a Flea ſtieke upon Bardolph's Noſe, and a faid it was a blacke Soule burning in Hell.

Bard. Well, the fuell is gone that maintain'd that fire:
that's all the Riches I got in his ſervic'e.

Nim. Shall wee ſhogg? the King will bee gone from
Southampton.

Pift. Come, let's away. My Love, give me thy Lippes:
Looke to my Chattels, and my Moveables: Let Sences
rule: The world is, Pitch and pay: truſt none: for Oathes
are: Strawes, mens Faiths are Waſer-Cakes, and hold-ſaſt
is the onely Dogge: My Ducke, therefore Carver to bee
thy Counſailor. Goe, cleare thy Chryſtalls. Yoke-
fellowes in Armes, let us to France, like Horſe-
leeches

76

leeches my Boyes, to fucke, to fucke, the very blood to
fucke.

Boy. And that's but unwholesome food, they say, Piff.
Touch her soft mouth, and march.

Bard. Farewell Hofteffe.

Nim. I cannot kiffe, that is the humour of it: but adieu.

Piff. Let Hufwifrie appeare : keepe close, I thee command.

Hofteffe. Farwell : adieu.

Exeunt.

Enter the French King, the Dolphin, the Dukes of Berry and Britaine.

King. Thus comes the English with full power upon us,
And more then carefully it us concernes,
To anfware Royally in our defences.

Therefore the Dukes of Berry and of Britaine,
Of Brabant and of Orleance shall make forth,
And you Prince Dolphin, with all twifl dispatch
To lyne and new repayre our townes of Warre
With men of courage, and with meanes defendant :

For England his approaches makes as fierce,
As Waters to the fucking of a Gulfe.

It fits us then tobe as provident,
As feare may teach us, out of late examples
Left by the fatall and neglected English,
Vpon our fields.

Dolphin. My moft redoubted Father,
It is moft meet we arme us 'gainft the Foe :
For Peace it ſelſe should not ſo dull a Kingdome,
(Though War nor no knowne Quarrel were in queſtion)
But that Defences, Muſters, Preparations,
Should be maintain'd, affsembled, and collected,
As were a Warre in expeſation.

Therefore I ſay, 'tis meet we all goe forth,
To view the ſicke and feeble parts of France :
And let us doe it with no ſhew of ſeare,
No, with no more, then if we heard that England
Were buſed with a Whitfon Morris-dance :

For, my good Liege, he is ſo idly King'd,
Her Scepter ſo phantastically borne,
By a vaine giddie ſhallow humorous Youth,
That ſeare attends her not.

Conſt. O Peace, Prince Dolphin,
You are too much miſtaken in this King :
Question your Grace the late Embaſſadors,
With what great State he heard their Embaſſie,
How well ſinply'd with Noble Councellors,
How modelt in exception; and withall,
How terrible in conſant reſolution :
And you ſhall find, his Vanities ſore ſpent,
Were but the outſide of the Roman Brutus,
Covering Diſcretion witha Coat of Folly;
As Gardeners doe with Ordure hide thofe Roots
That ſhall firſt ſpring, and be moſt delicate.

Dolphin. Well, 'tis not ſo, my Lord High Conſtable.
But though we thinke it ſo, it is no matter :
In caues of defence, 'tis beſt to weigh
The enemie more mightie then he ſeemes,
So the proportions of defence are fill'd :
Which of a weake and niggardly projection,
Doth like a Mifer ſpoyle his Coat, with ſcanting
A little Cloth.

King. Thinke we King Harry Itrong :
And Princes, looke you Itrongly arme to meet him.
The Kindred of him hath beene fleſt upon us :

And he is bred out of that bloody ſtraine,
That haunted us in our familiar Pathes :
Witneſſe our too much memorable ſhame,
When Creſſy Battell fatally was ſtrucke,
And all our Princes captiv'd, by the hand
Of that blacke Name, Edward, black Prince of Wales:
Whiles that his Mountaine Sire, on Mountaine standing
Vp in the Ayre, crown'd with the Golden Sunne,
Saw his Heroical Seed, and ſmil'd to ſee him
Mangle the Worke of Nature, and deface
The Patterns, that by God and by French Fathers
Had twentie yeeres beene made. This is a Stem
Of that Victorious Stock : and let us ſcare
The Natine mightineſſe and fate of him.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Meff. Embaſſadors from Harry King of England,
Doe crave admittance to your Majeſtyle.

King. Weele give them preſent audience.
Goe, and bring them.

You fee this Chafe is hotly followed, friends.

Dolphin. Turne head, & ſtop purſuit : for coward Dogs
Moſt ſpend their mouths, w'he what they ſeem to threaten
Runs farre before them. Good my Soueraigne
Take up the English ſhort, and let them know
Of what a Monarchie you are the Head :
Seliſe-love, my Liege, is not ſo vile a finne,
As ſelſe-neglecting.

Enter Exeter.

King. From our Brother of England ?

Exe. From him, and thus he greets your Majeſtyle:
He wills you in the Name of God Almightie,
That you deſeft your ſelſe, and lay apart
The borrowed Glories, that by gift of Heaven,
By Law of Nature, and of nations, longs
To him and to his Heires, namely, the Crowne;
And all wide-fretched Honors, that pertained
By Cuſtome, and the Ordinance of Times,
Vnto the Crowne of France : that you may know
'Tis no finifter, nor no awk-ward Clayme,
Pickt from the Worme-holes of long-vanifht dayes,
Nor from the duſt of old Oblivion rakt,
He ſends you this moſt memorable Lyne,
In every Branch truly demonſtrative;
Willing you over-looke this Pedigree :
And when you find him evenly deriv'd
From his moſt fam'd, of famous Anceftors,
Edward the third ; he bids you then reſigne
Your Crowne and Kingdome indirectly held
From him the Native and true Challenger.

King. Or ſelſe what follows?

Exe. Bloody conſtraint : for if you hide the Crowne
Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it.
Therefore in ſierce Tempeſt is he comming,
In Thunder and in Earth-quake, like a love :
That if requiring ſaile, he will compell.
And bids you, in the Bowels of the Lord,
Deliver up the Crowne, and to take mercie
On the poore Soules, for whom this hungry Warre
Opens his vafeſt Iawes : and on your head
Turning the Widdowes Teares, the Orphans Cryes,
The dead-mens Blond, the priuy Maidens Groanes,
For Husbands Fathers and betrothed Lovers,
That ſhall be ſwallowed in this Controverſie.
This is his Clayme, his threatening, and my Meſſage :
Vnleſſe the Dolphin be in preſence here;
To whom expreſſely I bring greeting too.

King. For

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

77

King. For us, we will consider of this further:
To morrow shall you beare our full intent
Back to our Brother of England.

Delph. For the Dolphin,
I fand here for him what to him from England?

Exe. Scorne and defiance, leight regard, contempt,
And any thing that may not miſbecome

And any thing that may not miſbecome
The mighty Sender, doth he prize you at?

Thus fayes my King: and if your Fathers Highneſſe
Doe not, in graunt of all demands at large,

Sweeten the promife of your Mock you ſent his Maſſety;
Hee'le call you to ſo hot an Anſwer of it,

That Caves and Womby Vaultages of France
Shall chide your Trefpas, and returne your Mock
In ſecond Accent of his Ordinance.

Delph. Say: if my Father render faire returne,
It is againſt my will: for I defire

Nothing but Oddes with England,

To that end, as matching to his Youth and Vanty;
I did preſent him with the Paris-Balls.

Exe. Heele make your Paris Loover ſhake for it,

Were it the Miſtreſſe Court of mighty Europe:

And be aſſur'd, you'le find a diff'rence,

As we his Subjeſts have in wonder found,
Betweene the promife of his greener dayes,

And theſe he maſſers now: now he weighs Time
Even to the utmoſt Graine: that you ſhall reade

In your owne Loffes, if he ſtay in France.

King. To morrow ſhall you know my mind at full.

Flourish.

Exe. Diſpatch us with all ſpeed, leaſt that our King
Come here himſelfe to question our delay;
For he is footed in this Land already.

King. You ſhall be ſoone diſpatcht, with faire conditi-
A Night is but ſmall breathe, and little pawſe,
To anſwer matters of this conſequence.
Exeunt.

## Actus Secundus.

### Enter Chorus.

Thus with imagin'd wing our ſwift Seeene flyes,
In motion of no leſſecelerity then that of Thought
Suppofe, that you have ſeene

The well appointed King at Dover Peer,
Embarke his Royality: and his brave Fleet,

With ſilken Streamers, the young Phebus fayning;
Play with your Fancies: and in them behold,

Vpon the Hempen Tackle, Ship-boys climbing;
Heare the ſhrill Whiffle, which doth order give

To founds confus'd: behind the threaden Sayles,
Borne with th'inſible and creeping Wind,

Draw the huge Bottomes through the furrowed Sea,
Breſting the lofty Surge. O, doe but thinke
You ſtand upon the Rivage, and behold

A Citie on th'inconſtant Billowes dauncing:

For ſo appears this Fleet Maſſeſticall,

Holding due courſeto Harſlew. Follow, follow:

Grapple your minds to ſternage of this Nauy,

And leave your England as dead Mid-night, itill

Guarded with Grandfires, Babyes, and old Women,
Either paſt, or not arriv'd to pyth and puſſance:

For who is he, whoſe Chin is but enrich

With one appearing Hayre, that will not follow
Theſe cuſt and choyſe-drawne Cavaliers to France?

Worke, worke your Thoughts, and therein fee a Siege:
Behold the Ordenance on their Carriages,

With fatall mouthes gaping on girded Harſlew,

Suppofe th'Embaſſador from the French comes back:
Teils Harry, That the King doth offer him

Katherine his Daughter, and with her to Dowrie,

Some petty and unprofitable Dukedomes.

The offer likes not: and the nimble Gunner

With Lynſtock now the divellifh Cannon touches.

Alarum, and Chambers goe off.
And downe goes all before them. Still be kind,

And ech out our performance with your mind.

Exit.

Enter the King, Exeter, Bedford, and Glouceſter.

Alarum: Scaling Ladders at Harſlew.

King. Once more unto the Breach,

Deare friends, once more;

Or cloſe the Wall up with our Englifh dead:

In Peace, there's nothing ſo becomes a man,

As moded itillneſſe, and humility:

But when the blaſt of Warre blowes in our eares,

Then imitate the action of the Tyger:

Stiffen the finewes, commune up the blood,

Diſguife faire Nature with hard-favour'd Rage:

Then lend the Eye a terrible aspect:

Let it pry through the portage of the Head,

Like the Braſſe Cannon: let the Brow o'rewhelme it,

As fearefully, as doth a galled Rocke

O're-hang and jutty his confounded Bafe,
Swill'd with the wilde and waſtfull Ocean.

Now fet the Teeth, and ſtretch the Noſthrill wide,

Hold hard the Breath, and bend up every Spirit

To his full height. On, you Nobleſt Englifh,

Whofe blood is fet from Fathers of Warre-proofe:

Fathers, that like ſo many Alexanders,

Have in theſe parts from Morne till Even ſought,

And ſneath'd their Swords, for lack of argument.

Diſhonour not your Mothers: now atteſt,

That thofe whom you call'd Fathers, did beget you.

Be Coppy now to me of groſſer blood,

And teach them how to Warre. And you good Yeomen,

Whofe Lymbes were made in England; ſhew us here

The mettell of your Paſture: let us ſweare,

That you are worth your breeding: which I doubt not:

For there is none of you ſo meane and bafe,

That hath not Noble luſter in your eyes.

I fee you ſtand like Grey-hounds in the slips,

Straying upon the Start. The Game's afoot:

Follow your Spirit; and upon this Charge,

Cry, God for Harry, England, and S. George.

Alarum, and Chambers goe off.

Enter Nim, Bardolſh, Pifſoll, and Boy.

Bard, On, on, on, on, on, to the breach, to the breach.

Nim. 'Pray thee Corporall ſtay, the Knocks are too
hot: and for mine owne part, I have not a Cafe of Lives:
the humor of it is too hot, that is the very plaine-Song
of it.

Pisſ. The plaine-Song is moſt juſt: for humors doe a-
bound: Knocks goe and come: Gods Vaffals drop and
dye: and Sword and Shield, in bloody Field, doth winne
immortall fame.

Boy. Would I were in an Ale-houſe in London, I would
give all my fame for a Pot of Ale, and safety.

k

Pisſ. And

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

Pist. And I: If wishes would prevail with me, my
purpote should not faile with me; but thither would I
high.

Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as Bird doth sing on
bough.

Enter Fluelen.

Fla. Vp to the breach, you Dogges; avant you Cullions.

Fla. Be merciful great Duke to men of Mould : a-
bate thy Rage, abate thy manly Rage ; abate thy Rage,
great Duke. Good Bawcocke bate thy Rage : ufe lenity
fweet Chucke.

Nim. Thefe be good humors : your Honor wins bad
humors. Exit.

Boy. As young as I am, I have obferv'd thefe three
Swafhers. I am Boy to them all three, but all they three,
though they would ferve me, could not be Man to me;
for indeed three fuch Antiques do not amount to a man:
for Bardolph, hee is white-liver'd, and red-fac'd; by the
meanes whereof, a fac'd it out, but fights not: for Piftoll,
hee hath a killing Tongue, and a quiet Sword; by the
meanes whereof, abreakes Words, and keeps whole
Weapons : for Nim, hee hath heard, that men offew
Words are the beſt men, and therefore hee ſornes to ſay
his Prayers, left a should be thought a Coward; but his
few bad Words are matcht with as few good Deeds; for
a never broke any mans Head but his owne, and that was
againſt a Poſt, when he was drunke. They will ſteale any
thing, and call it Purchafe. Bardolph ſtole a Lute-cafe,
bore it twelve Leagues, and fold it for three halfepence.
Nim and Bardolph are ſworne Brothers in filching: and
in Callice they ſtole a fire-shovell. I knew by that peec
of Service, the men would carry Coales. They would
have me as familiar with mens Pockets, as their Gloves
or their Hand-kerchers: which makes much againſt my
Manhood, if I ſhould take from anothers Pocket, to put
into mine; for it is plaine pocketting up of Wrongs. I
muſt leave them, and feeke ſome better Service: their
Villany goes againſt my weake ſtomacke, and therefore
I muſt caſt it up. Exit.

Enter Gower.

Gower. Captaine Fluelen, you muſt come prefently to the Mynes; the Duke of Glouceſter would ſpeake with you.

Fla. To the Mynes ? Tell you the Duke, it is not ſo
good to come to the Mynes: for looke you, the Mynes
are not according to the diſciplines of the Warrethe co-
cavities of it is not ſufficient: for looke you, th'athver-
fary, you may diſcuffe unto the Duke, looke you, is digt
himſelfe ſoure yard under the Countermines: by Cheſbu,
I thinke a will plowe up all, if there is not better direc-
tions.

Gower. The Duke of Glouceſter, to whom the Order of the Siege is given, is altogether directed by an Irith man, a very valiant Gentleman yfaith.

Welch. It is Captaine Makmorrice, is it not?

Gower. I thinke it be.

Welch. By Cheſbu he is an Aſſe, as in the World, I will
veriſe as much in his Beard: he ha's no more directions
in the true diſciplines of the Warres, looke you, of the
Roman diſciplines, then is a Puppy-dog.

Enter Makmorrice, and Captaine Iamy.

Gower. Here a comes, and the Scots Captaine, Captaine
Iamy, with him.

Welch. Captaine Iamy is a mervellous falorous Gen-
tleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and know-

ledge in th'anchiant Warres, upon my particular know-
ledge of his directions : by Cheſbu he will maintaine his
Argument as well as any Militarie man in the World, in
the diſciplines of the Prifline Warres of the Romans.

Scot. I ſay gudday, Captaine Fluelen.

Welch. Godden to your Worſhip, good Captaine
Iames.

Gower. How now Captaine Makmorrice, have you quit
the Mynes ? have the Pioners given ore?

Irise. By Chriſh Law tith ill done: the Worke iſh
give over, the Trompet found the Retreat. By my Hand
I ſware, and my fathers Soule, the Worke iſh ill done
it iſh give over: I would have blowed up the Towne
ſo Chriſh ſave me law, in an houre. O tith ill done, tith
ill done: by my Hand tith ill done.

Welch. Captaine Makmorrice, I beſeech you now,
will, you vontſaſe me, looke you, a few diſputations with
you, as partly touching or concerning the diſciplines of
the Warre, the Roman Warres, in the way of Argument,
looke you, and friendly communication: partly to fatiſe
my Opinion, and partly for the ſatisfaction, looke you, of
my Mind: as touching the direction of the Military di-
cipline, that is the Point.

Scot. It fall be vary gud, gud feith, gud Captens bath,
and I fall quit you with gud leve, as I may pick occafions
that fall I mary:

Irise. It is no time to diſcourſe, ſo Chriſh ſave me;
the day is hot, and the Weather, and the Warres, and the
King, and the Dukes: it is no time to diſcourſe, the Town
is beſeech'd: and the Trumpet call us to the bretch, and
we talke, and be Chriſh do nothing, tis ſhame for us all:
ſo God ſa'me tis ſhame to ſtand it ſill, it is ſhame by
hand: and there is Throats to be cut, and Workes to bee
done, and there iſh nothing done, ſo Chriſh ſa'me law.

Scot. By the Mes, ere theiſe eyes of mine takethem-
felves to ſlomber, ayle de gud ſervice, or Ile ligge it
grund for it; ay, or goe to death: and Ile pay't as val-
rouſly as I may, that fall I fuerly do, that is the breſt and
the long : mary, I wad full faine heard ſome queſtion
tween you tway.

Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, I thinke, looke you,
under your correction, there is not many of your Na-
tion.

Irish. Of my Nation ? What iſh my Nation ? Iha
Villaine, and a Baſterd, and a Knave, and a Raſcall. What
iſh my Nation ? Who talkes of my Nation?

Welch. Looke you, if you take the matter otherſw
then is meant, Captaine Mackmorrice, peradventure I
ſhal thinke you doe not uſe me with that affability, as in
diſcretion you ought to uſe me, looke you, being as good
a man as your ſelfe both in the diſciplines of Warre, and
in the derivation of my Birth, and in other particula-
rities.

Irish. I do not know you, ſo good a man as my ſelſe
ſo Chriſh ſave me, I will cut off your Head.

Gower. Gentlemen both, you will miſtake each other.

Scot. A, that's a foule fault.

A Parley.

Gower. The Towne founds a Parley.

Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, when there is more
better opportunity to be required, looke you, I will bee
ſo bold as to tell you, I know the diſciplines of Warre,
and there is an end. Exit.

Enter the King and all his Traine before the Gates.

King. How yet refolves the Governour of the Town?
This is the lateſt Parle we will admit:
There

Therefore to our best mercy give your selves,
Or like to men proude of deftruction,
Defie us to our work : for as I am a Souldier,
A Name that in my thoughts becomes me beſt;
If I begin the batt'rie once againe,
I will not leave the half-atchieved Harſlew,
Till in her alſes ſhe lye buryed.
The Gates of Mercy ſhall be all ſhut up,
And the fleſh'd Souldier, rough and hard of heart,
In liberty of bloody hand, ſhall raunce.
With Conſcience wide as Hell, mowing like Graſſe
Your fresh faire Virgins, and your flowring Infants.
What is it then to me, if impious Warre,
Arrayed in games like to the Prince of Fiends,
Doe with his ſmyrcht complexion all ſell ſeats;
Elnyckt to waſte and defolation?

What is't to me, when you your ſelves are cauſe,
If your pure Maydens fall into the hand
Of hot and forcing Vio lation?
What Reyne can hold licentious Wickedneſſe,
When downe the Hill he holds his ſierce Carrier?
We may as bootleſe ſpend our vaine Command
Vpon th'enraged Souldiers in their ſpoyle,
As ſend Precepts to the Leviathan to come af Shore.

Therefore, you men of Harſlew,
Take pitty of your Towne and of your People;
Whiles yet my Souldiers are in my Command;
Whiles yet the coole and temperate Wind of Grace
O're-blowes the filthy and contagious Clouds
Of heady Murther, Spoyle, and Vilany.
If not : why in a moment looke to fee
The blind and bloody Souldier, with foule hand
Defire the Locks of your ſhriul-hriking Daughters:
Your Fathers taken by the ſilver Beards,
And their moſt reverer Heads daſt to the Walls:
Your naked Infants ſpitted upon Pykes,
Whiles the mad Mothers, with their howles confus'd,
Doe breake the Clouds; as did the Wives of Iewry,
At Herods bloody-hunting ſlaughter-men.
What ſay you? Will you yeld, and this avoyd?
Or guilty in defence, be thus deſtroy'd.

### Enter Governour.

Govern. Our expeſation hath this day an end:
The Dolphin, whom of Succours we entreated,
Retireurs us, that his Powers are yet not ready,
To rayle ſo great a Siege: Therefore great King,
We yeld our Towne and Lives to thy ſoft Mercy:
Enter our Gates, diſpofe of us and ours,
For we no longer are deſenſible.

King. Open your Gates: Come Vnkleck Exeter,
Got you and enter Harſlew, there remaine,
And fortifi e it strongly 'gainſt the French:
Vſe mercy to them all for us, deare Vnkleck.
The Winter comming on, and Sickneſſe growing
Vpon our Souldiers, we will retyre to Calis.
To night in Harſlew will we be your Gueſt,
To morrow for the Martch are we addreſt.

Flourish, and enter the Towne.

Enter Katheri ne and an old Gentlewoman.

Kath. Alice, su as eſt en Angleterre, & en parlois bien
le Language.

Alice. En peu Madame.

Kath. Ie te prie m'en enfeigner, il ſaue que j' apprenn a parler.
Comment appelé vous la main en Anglais?

Alice. La main, il est appelé, de Hand.

Kath. De Hand.

Alice. Et le doyt.

Kath. Le doyt, ma foy se oublie le doyt, mais ie me ſouwim-
dray le doyt, se penſe qu'ils ont appelle de fingers, ou de ſi gres.

Alice. La main, de Hand, le doyt, le Fingret, le penſe que
se luis le bon escholier.

Kath. I'ay gaigné deux mots d'Anglois viſſement, commenſ
appellé vous les onglets?

Alice. Les onglets, les appellons de Nayles.

Kath. De Nayles eſcombez : diſes moy, ſi se parle bien : de
Hand, de Fingret, de Nayles.

Alice. C'est bien dit Madame, il eſt fort bon Anglais.

Kath. Diſes moy en Anglois le bras.

Alice. De Arme, Madame.

Kath. Et le conde.

Alice. D'Elbow.

Kath. D'Elbow: Ie m'en faitz la repetition de tous les mots
que vous m'avez apprins des aprefent.

Alice. Il eſt trop difficile Madame, comme se penſe.

Kath. Excufe moy Alice, eſ couſi, d' Hand, de Fingre, de
Nayles, d' Arme de Bilbow.

Alice. D' Elbow, Madame.

Kath. O Seigneur Diem, ie uen oublie d'Elbow, commenſ
appellé vous le col.

Alice. De Neck, Madame.

Kath. De Neck, & la mantou.

Alice. de Chin.

Kath. De Sin: le col, de Neck, le mantou, de Sin.

Alice. Ouy. Sauf voſtre honneur en verſié vous prononcés
les mots auffi droiſch, que le Naisſs d' Angleterre.

Kath. Ie ne douſte point d'apprendre par la grace de Diem,
& en peu de temps.

Ali. N'avez vous pas deſta oublie ce que se vous ay enſeigne.

Kath. Nomme, iereciter a vous promptement d'Hand de
Fingre, de Nayles, Madame.

Alice. De Nayles, Madame.

Kath. De Nayles, de Arme, de Ilbow.

Alice. Sans voſtre honneur d'elbow.

Kath. Ainsi dis- ie d'elbow, de Neck, & de Sin: cœment ap-
pellé vous les pieds & de roba.

Alice. Le foot, Madame, & le Count.

Kath. Le Foot, & le Count: O Seigneur Diem, ce font des
mots manuajis, corruptible & impudique, & non pour les Da-
mes d' Honneur d' uſer: Ie ne voudrais promoncer ces mots de-
vant les Seigneurs de France, pour tout le monde, il faſt le Foot
& le Count, neantmoins, le reciter ay un autrefoss ma ſecon en-
ſemble, d' Hand, de Fingre, de Nayles, d' Arme, d' Elbow, de
Neck, de Sin, de Foot, le Count.

Alice. Excelleut, Madame.

Kath. C'est aſſez pour une fois, allons nous en diſner.

Exeunt.

Enter the King of France, the Dolphin, the
Conſtable of France, and others.

King. Tis certaine he hath paf t the River Some.
Conſt. And if he be not fought withall, my Lord,
Let us not live in France: let us quit all,
And give our Vineyards to a barbarous People,

Dolph. O Diem vivant: Shall a few Sprayes of us,
The emptying of our Fathers Luxury,
Our Syens, put in wilde and favage Stock,
Spirt up ſo suddenly into the Clouds,
And over looke their Grafters?

Brit. Normans, but baſtard Normans, Norman baſtards:
Mort de ma vie, if they march along
VnfoUGHT withall, but I will ſell my Dukedome,

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81

up with new-tuned Oathes: and what a Beard of the Generalls Cut, and a horror Sute of the Campe, will do among foming Bottles, and Ale-washt wits, is wonderful to be thought on; but you must learne to know such flanders of the age, or else you may be marvellously mifooke.

Flu. I tell you what, Captaine Gower: I doe perceive hee is not the man that hee would gladly make them to the World hee is: if I finde a hole in his Coat, I will tell him my minde: hearke you, the King is comming, and I must speake with him from the Pridge.

### Drum and Colours. Enter the King and his poore Souldiers.

Flu. God plesse your Majefty.

Kinn. How now Fluelen, cam't thou from the Bridge?

Flu I, so pleafe your Majefty: The Duke of Exeter has very gallantly maintain'd the Bridge; the French is gone off, looke you, and there is gallant and moft prave paflages: marry, th'athverfarie was have poſſeffion of the Bridge, but he is enforced to retyre, and the Duke of Exeter is Mafter of the Pridge: I can tell your Majeſtty, the Duke is a prave man.

King. What men have you loſt, Fluelen?

Flu. The perſond of th'athverſary hath beene very great, reaſonable great: many for my part, I thinke the Duke hath loſt never a man, but one that is like to be executed for robbing a Church, one Bardolph, if your Majeſtty know the man: his face is all bubukles and whelkes, and knobs, and flames a fire, and his lippes blowes at his nose, and it is like a coale of fire, fometimes plew, and fometimes red, but his nose is executed, and his fire's out.

King. Wee would have all such offendors fo cut off: & we give expreſſe charge, that in our Marchoes through the Counſrey, there bee nothing compell'd from the Villages; nothing taken, but pay'd for none of the French upbrayed or abufed in diſdainefull Language; for when Levity and Cruelty play for a Kingdome, the gentler Gameſter is the foonest winner.

### Tucket. Enter Mountjoy.

Mountjoy. You know me by my habit.

King. Well then, I know thee: what shall I know of thee?

Mount. My Maifters mind.

King. Vnfold it.

Mount. Thus fayes my King: Say thou to Harry of England, Though we feem'd dead, we bid but flee: Advantage is a better Souldier then rafneſſe. Tell him, wee could have rebuk'd him at Harſlewe, but that wee thought not good to bruife an injury, till it were full ripe. Now we speake upon our Q, and our voyce is imperiall: England shall repent his folly, see his weakeſſe, and admire our ſufferance. Bid him therefore confider of his ranſome, which muſt proportion the loſſes we have borne, the ſubjects we have loſt, the diſgrace we have diſeſt; which in weight to re-antſwer, his pettineſſe would bow under. For our loſſes, his Exchequer is too poore; for the effuſion of our bloud, the Maſter of his Kingdome too faint a number; and for our diſgrace, his owne perſon kneeling at our feet, but a weake and worthleſſe fatiſaction. To this adde defiance: and tell him for conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose conſdemnation is pronounct: So farre my King and Maſter, to much my Office.

King. What is thy name? I know thy quality.

Mount. Mountjoy.

King. Thou doo'ſt thy Office fairly. Turne thee back, And tell thy King, I do not feeke him now, But could be willing to march on to Callice, Without impeachment: for to fay the footh, Though 'tis no wifdome to conſeſſe so much Vnto an enemie of Craft and Vantage, My people are with fickneſſe much enſeebled, My numbers leſſen'd; and thofe few I have, Almoſt no better then to many French;

Who when they were in health, I tell thee Herald, I thought, upon one payre of English Legges Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgive me God, That I doe bragge thus; this your ayre of France Hath blowne that vice in me. I muſt repent: Goe therefore tell thy Maſter, here I am: My Ranſome, is this frayle and worthleſſe Trunke: My Army, but a weake and ſickly Guard: Yet God before, tell him we will come on, Though France himſelfe, and ſuch another Neighbor Stand in our way. There's for thy labour Mountjoy. Goe bid thy Maſter well adviſe himſelfe, If we may paſſe, we will: if we be hindred, We ſhall your tawny ground with your red blood Difcolour: and fo Mountjoy fare you well. The ſumme of all our Anſwer is but this: We would not feeke a Battaille as we are, Nor as we are, we fay wee will not ſhun it: So tell your Maſter.

Mount. I ſhall deliver fo: Thanks to your Highneſſe.

Glouc. I hope they will not come upon us now.

King. We are in Gods hand, Brother, not in theirs: March to the Bridge, it now draws toward night, Beyond the River wee'le encampe our felves, And on to morrow bid them march away.

Exeunt.

### Enter the Conſtible of France, the Lord Ramburs, Orleance, Dolphin, with others.

Conſt. Tut, I have the best Armour of the World: would it were day.

Orl. You have an excellent Armour: but let my Horſe have his due.

Conſt. It is the best Horſe of Europe.

Orl. Will it never be Morning?

Dolph. My Lord of Orleance, and my Lord High Conſtible, you talke of Horſe and Armour?

Orl. You are as well provided of both, as any Prince in the World.

Dolph. What a long Night is this? I will not change my Horſe with any that treads but on four patterns; ch'ha'he bounds from the Earth, as if his entraies were hayres: le Cheval volant, the Pegasus, ches les marines de ſem. When I beſtryde him, I ſoare, I am a Hawke: he trots the ayre: the Earth fings, when he touches it: the bafeſt horne of his hoofe, is more Muficall then the Pipe of Hermes.

Orl. Hec's of the colour of the Nutmeg.

Dolph. And of the heat of the Ginger. It is a Beaſt for Perſeus: hee is pure Ayre and Fire; and the dull Elemeats of Earth and Water never appeare in him, but only in patient ſtilneſſe while his Rider mounts him: hee is indeed a Horſe, and all other lades you may call Beaſts.

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Conſt. In-

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

*Conſt.* Indeed my Lord, it is a moſt absolute and excellent Horſe.

*Dolph.* It is the Prince of Palfrayes, his Neigh is like the bidding of a Monarch, and his countenance enforces Homage.

*Orl.* No more Couſin.

*Dolph.* Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot from the riling of the Larke to the lodging of the Lambe,vary deferred prayſe on my Palfray: it is a Threame as fluent as the Sea:Turne the Sands into eloquent tongues, and my Horſe is argument for them all: 'tis a ſubject for a Soueraigne to reaſon on, and for a Soveraignes Soveraigne to ride on: And for the World, familiar to us, and unknowne, to lay apart their particular Functions, and wonder at him. I once writ a Sonnet in his prayſe, and began thus, *Wonder of Nature*.

*Orleance.* I have heard a Sonnet begin ſo to ones Miftreſſe.

*Dolph.* Then did they imitate that which I compos'd to my Courſer, for my Horſe is my Miftreſſe.

*Orl.* Your Miftreſſe beares well.

*Well.* Me well, which is the preſcript prayſe and perſection of a good and particular Miftreſſe.

*Conſt.* Nay, for me thought yefterday your Miftreſſe fhrewdly ſhooke your back.

*Dolph.* So perhaps did yours.

*Conſt.* Mine was not bridled.

*Dolph.* O then belike ſhe was old and gentle, and you rode like a Kerne of Ireland,your French Horſe off, and in your ſtrait Stroffers.

*Conſt.* You have good judgement in HorſemanSHIP.

*Dolph.* Be warn'd by me then: they that ride ſo, and ride not warily, fall into foule Boggs: I had rather have my Horſe to my Miftreſſe.

*Conſt.* I had as live have my Miftreſſe a Iade.

*Dolph.* I tell thee Conſtable, my Miftreſſe weares his owne hayre.

*Conſt.* I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a Sow to my Miftreſſe.

*Dolph.* Le chien eſt retourné a ſon propre vomiffements eſt la levée lavée au bouvier: thou mak'ſt uſe of any thing.

*Conſt.* Yet doe I not uſe my Horſe for my Miftreſſe, or any ſuch Proverbe, ſo little kin to the purpofe.

*Ramb.* My Lord Conſtable, the Armour that I faw in your Tent to night, are thofe Starres or Sunnes upon it?

*Conſt.* Starres my Lord.

*Dolph.* Some of them will fall to morrow, I hope.

*Conſt.* And yet my Sky ſhall not want.

*Dolph.* That may be, for you beare a many ſuperfluionſly, and 'twere more honor ſome were away.

*Conſt.* Ev'n as your Horſe beares your prayſes, who would trot as wel, were ſome of your bragges diſmounted.

*Dolph.* Would I were able to loade him with his defert. Will it never be day ? I will trot to morrow a mile, and my way ſhal be paved with Englifh Faces.

*Conſt.* I will not ſay ſo, for ſeare I ſhould be fac't out of my way: but I would it were morning, for I would faire be about the eares of the Englifh.

*Ramb.* Who will goe to Hazard with me for twenty Prifoners?

*Conſt.* You muſt firſt goe your ſelfe to hazard, ere you have them.

*Dolph.* 'Tis Mid-night, Ile goe arme my ſelfe. Exit.
*Orl.* The Dolphin longs for morning.

*Ramb.* He longs to eate the Englifh.

*Conſt.* I thinke he will eate all he kills.

*Orl.* By the white Hand of my Lady, hee's a gallant Prince.

*Conſt.* Sweare by her Foot, that ſhe may tread out the Oath.

*Orleance.* He is simply the moſt active Gentleman of France.

*Conſt.* Doing is activity, and he will ſtill be doing.

*Orl.* He never did harme, that I heard of.

*Conſt.* Nor will he done none to morrow, hee will keepe that good name ſill.

*Orl.* I know him to be valiant.

*Conſt.* I was told that, by one that knowes him better then you

*Orl.* What's hee?

*Conſt.* Marry hee told me ſo himselfe, and hee ſaid he car'd not who knew it.

*Orleance.* He needes not, it is no hidden vertue in him.

*Conſt.* By my faith Sir, but it is: never any body ſaw it, but his Lacquey: 'tis a hooded valour, and when it appears, it will bate.

*Orl.* I'll will never ſayd well.

*Conſt.* I will cap that Proverbe with, There is flattery in friendship.

*Orl.* And I will take up that with, Give the Devill his due.

*Conſt.* Well plac't: there stands your friend for the Devill: have at the very eye of that Proverbe with, A Pox of the Devill.

*Orl.* You are the better at Proverbs, by how much a Fooles Bolt is ſoon eſot.

*Conſt.* You have ſhot over.

*Orl.* 'Tis not the firſt time you were over-ſhot.

### Enter a Messanger.

*Mess.* My Lord high Conſtable, the Englifh lye within fifteene hundred paces of your Tents.

*Conſt.* Who hath meaſur'd the ground?

*Mess.* The Lord Grandpree.

*Conſt.* A valiant and moſt expert Gentleman. Would it were day ? Alas, poore Harry of England: hee longs not for the Dawning, as wee doe.

*Orl.* What a wretched and peeviſh fellow is this King of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers to farre out of his knowledge.

*Conſt.* If the Englifh had any apprehenſion, they would runne away.

*Orl.* That they lack: for if their heads had any intelleſtual Armour, they could never weare ſuch heavy Head-pieces.

*Ramb.* That Iland of England breeds very valiant Creatures; their Maſtiffes are of vnmatchable courage.

*Orleance.* Fooliſh Curres, that runne winking into the mouth of a Ruffian Beare, & have their heads cruſht like rotten Apples: you may as well ſay, that's a valiant Flea, that dare eate his breakeſaft on the Lippe of a Lyon.

*Conſt.* Iuſt, juſt: and the men doe sympathize with the Maſtiffes; in robuſtious and rough comming on, leaving their Wits with their Wives: and then give them great Meales of Beefe, and Iron and Steele; they will eate like Wolves, and fight like Devils.

Orl.I.

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

Orl. I, but these English are shrewdly out of Beeefe.
Confis. Then shall we find to morrow, they have only
flomackes to eate, and none to fight. Now is it time to
arme: come, shall we about it?

Orl. It is now two a Clock: but let me see, by ten
We shall have each a hundred English men. Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

Chorus.

Now entertaine conjecture of a time,
When creeping Murmure and the poring Darke
Fills the wide Veffell of the Univerfe.
From Camp to Camp, through the foule Wob of Night
The Humme of either Army stilly founds,
That the fixt Centinels almoft receive
The secrete Whifpers of each others Watch.
Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames
Each Battaille fees the others umber'd face.
Steed threatens Steed, in high and boatfull Neighs
Piereing the Nights dull Eare; and from the Tents,
The Armourers accomplishing the Knights,
With bufie Hammers clofing Rivets up,
Give dreadfull note of preparation.

The Countrey Cocks doe crow, the Clockes doe towles:
And the third howre of drowfie Morning nam'd,
Prowd of their Numbers, and fecure in Soule,
The confident and over-lufty French,
Doethe low-rated English play at Dice;
And chide the creepe-tardy-gated Night,
Who like a foule and ungly Witch doth limpe
So tediously away. The poore condemned English,
Like Sacrifices, by their watchfull Fires
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate
The Mornings danger; and their geſture ſad,
Inviting lanke-leane Cheeks, and Warre-worne Coats,
Prefented them unto the gazing Moone

So many horror Głoſts. O now, who will behold
The Royall Captaine of this ruin'd Band
Walking from Watch to Watch, from Tent to Tent;

Let him cry, Prayſe and Glory on his head:
For forth he goes, and viſits all his Hoaſt,
Bidſ them good morrow with a modeſt Smyle,
And calls them Brothers, Friends, and Countrie men.

Vpon his Royall Face there is no note,
How dread an Army hath enroounded him;
Nor doth he dedicate one jot of Colour
Unto the weary and all-watched Night:
But ſhredly lookes, and ov er-beares Attaint,
With chearefull femblance, and ſweet Majesty
That every Wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his Lookes.

A Largelle univerſal, like the Sunne,
His liberall Eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold ſcare, that meane and gentle all
Behold, as may unworthineſſe define,
A little touch of Harry in the Night,
And ſo our Scene muſt to the Battaille flye:
Where, O for pitty, we shall much diſgrace,
With ſoure or five moſt vile and ragged ſoyles,
(Right ill diſpos'd, in brawle ridiculous)

The Name of Agincourt. Yet fit and fee,
Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries bee.

Exit.

Enter the King, Bedford, and Gloucester.

King. Gloſter, 'tis true that we are in great danger;
The greater therefore ſhould our Courage be.
God morrow Brother **Bedford**: God Almighty,
There is ſome ſonle of goodneſſe in things evill,
Would men obſervingly diſtill it out.

For our bad Neighbour makes us early fltirrers,
Which is both healthfull, and good husbandry.
Befides, they are our outward Conſtences,
And Preachers to us all; admoniſhing,
That we ſhould dretſe us fairly for our end.
Thus may we gather Honey from the Weed,
And make a Morall of the Divell himselfe.

Enter Erpingham.

Good morrow old Sir Thomas Erpingham:
A good ſoft Pillow for that good white Head,
Were better then a churliſh turfe of France.

Erping. Not ſo my Liege, this Lodging likes me better,
Since I may ſay, now I ye I like a King.

King. 'Tis good for men to love their preſent paine,
Vpon example, ſo the Spirit is eafed:
And when the Mind is quicknèd, out of doubt
The Organs, though deſuſt and dead before,
Breake up their drowſe Grave, and newly move
With called flough, and fresh kegerity.

Lend me thy Cloake Sir Thomas: Brothers both,
Commend me to the Princes in our Campe;
Doe my good morrow to them, and anon
Deſire them all to my Pavillion.

Gloſter. We shall, my Liege.

Erping. Shall I attend you our Grace?

King. No my good Knight:
Goe with my Brothers to my Lords of England;
I and my Boſome muſt debate awhile,
And then I would no other company.

Erping. The Lord in Heauen bleſſe thee, Noble **Harry**.

Exeunt.

King. God a mercy old Heart, thou ſpeak'st chearefully.

Enter Pistoil.

Pistoil. Che vons la?

King. A friend.

Pistoil. Difſuſe unto me, art thou Officer, or art thou
bafe, common, and popular?

King. I am a Gentleman of a Company.

Pistoil. Trayt! ſt thou the puiffant Dyke?

King. Even so: what are you?

Pistoil. As good a Gentleman as the Emperor.

King. Then you are a better then the King.
Pistoil. The King's a Bawcocke, and a Heart of Gold, a
Lad of Life, an Impe of Fame, of Parents good, of Fift
moſt valiant : I kiffle his durty ſhooe, and from heart-
ſtring I love the lovely Bully. What is thy Name?

King. Harry le Roy.

Pistoil. Le Roy? a Corniſh Name: art thou of Corniſh Crew?

King. No, I am a Welchman.

Pistoil. Know'st thou Flueuellen?

King. Yes.

Pistoil. Tell him Ile knock his Leeke about his Pate upon
S. Davies day.

King. Doe not you weare your Dagger in your Cappe
that day, leaſt he knock that about yours.

Pistoil. Are

Enter the Dolphin, Orleance, Rambur, and
Beaumont.

Orleance. The Sunne doth gild our Armour , up my
Lords.

Dolp. Monte Cheual: My Horfe, Tafle Latquay:
Ha.

Orl. Oh brave spirit.

Dolp. Via les ewes & terre.

Orl. Rien puis le air & feu.

Dolp. Cein, Cousin Orleance.

Enter Constable.

Now my Lord Constable?

Conſt. Hearke how our Steedes, for prelent Service
neigh.

Dolp. Mount them, and make incision in their Hides,
That their hot blood may spin in English eyes,
And doubt them with ſuperfluous courage:ha.

Ram. What, will you havethem weep our Horſes blood?
How ſhall we then behold their naturall teares?

Enter Meſſenger.

Mellenger. The English are embattail'd, you French
Peeres.

Conſt. To Horſe you gallant Princes, ſtraight to Horſe.
Doe but behold yond poore and itarued Band,
And your faire ſhew ſhall fuck away their Soules,
Leaving them but the ſhales and huskes of men.

There is not worke enough for all our hands,
Scarce blood enough in all their fickly Veines,

Togive each naked Curtleax a ſtayne,
That our French Gallants ſhall to day draw out,
And death for lack of ſport. Let us but blow on them,
The vapour of our Valour will o're-turne them.

Tis poffitive 'gainſt all exceptions, Lords,
That our ſuperfluous Lacquies, and our Pefants,
Who in unnecessary action ſwarne
About our Squares of Battaile, were enow
To purge this field of ſuch a hilding Foef;
Though we upon this Mountaines Bafis by,
Tooke ſland for idle ſpeculation:
But that our Honours muſt not. What's to ſay?
A very little little let us doe,
And all is done; then let the Trumpets found
The Tocket Sonuance, and the Note to mount:
For our approach ſhall ſo much dare the field,
That England ſhall couch downe in ſcare, and yeeld.

Enter Grandpree.

Grandpree. Why do you ſtay to long, my Lords of France?
Yond Iland Carrions, desperate of their bones,

Ill-favouredly become the Morning field:
Their ragged Curtaines poorly are let looke,

And our Ayre ſhakes them paſſing ſcornefully.

Bigge Mars ſeemes banqu'rout in their begger'd Hoaſt,
And faintly through a ruity Bever peepes.

The Horſemen ſit like fixed Candleſticks,
With Torch-flaves in their hand; and their poore Iades
Lob downe their heads, drooping the hide and hips:
The gumme downe roping from their pale-dead eyes,

And in their pale dull mouthes the Iymold Bitt
Lyes foule with chaw'd graſſe, ſtill and motionleſſe,
And their executors, the knavith Crowes,

Flye o're them all, impatient for their howre.
Deſcription cannot ſute it ſelſe in words,
To demonſtrate the Life of ſuch a Battaile,
In life ſo liveleſſe, as it ſhewes it ſelſe.

Conſt. They have ſaid their prayers,
And they ſtay for death.

Dol. Shall we go ſend them Dinners, and fresh Sutes,

And give their faſting Horſes Provender,
And after fight with them?

Conſt. I ſtay but for my Guard: on
To the field, I will the Banner from a Trumpet take,
And uſe it for my haſe. Come, come away,
The Sunne is high, and we out-weare the day.

Exten.

Enter Glouceſter, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham
with all bis Hoaſt: Salisbury and
Westmerland.

Glouc. Where is the King?

Bedf. The King himſeſe is rode to view their Bat-
taile.

Weſt. Of fighting men they have full threecore thou-
ſand.

Exe. There's ſive to one, bſefides they all are fresh.

Salisb. Gods Arme ſtrike with us, tis a ſearefull oddes.
God buy you Princes all; Ile to my Charge:
If we no more meet, till we meet in Heaven;
Then joyfully, my Noble Lord of Bedford,
My deare Lord Glouceſter, and my good Lord Exeter,
And my kind Kinſman, Warriors all, adieu.

Bed. Farwell good Salisbury, & good luck go with thee;
And yet I doe thee wrong, to mind thee of it,
For thou art fam'd of the firme truth of valour.

Exe. Farewell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day.

Bed. He is as full of Valour as of Kindneſſe,
Princely in both.

Enter the King

Weſt. O that we now had here

But one ten thouſand of those men in England,
That doe no worke to day.

King. What's he that wifhes ſo?

My Cousin Westmerland. No my faire Cousin:

If we are markt to dye, we are enow

To do our Countrey loffe; and if to live,

The fewer men, the greater ſhare of honour.

Gods will, I pray thee, wifh not one man more.

By Iove, I am not covetous for Gold,

Nor care I who doth feed upon my coſt:

It yernes me not, if men my Garments weare;

Such outward things dwell not in my defires.

But if it be a finne to covet Honor,

I am the moſt offending Soule alive.

No' faith, my Couze, wifh not a man from England:

Gods peace, I would not loffe ſo great an Honor,

As one man more me thinkes would ſhare from me,
For the beſt hope I have. O, doe not wifh one more.

Rather proclaime it (Westmerland) through my Hoaſt,
That he which hath no ſtomack to this fight,

Let him depart, his Paſport ſhall be made,

And Crownes for Convoy put into his Purſe:

We would not dye in that mans company,

That ſeares his fellowſhip, to dye with us.

This day is call'd the Feaſt of Crispian:

He that out-lives this day, and comes ſafe home,

Will ſtand a tip-toe when this day is named,

And rowſe him at the Name of Crispian:

He that ſhall fee this day, and live old age,

Will yetrely on the Vigill ſeait his neighbours,

And ſay, to morrow is Saint Crispian:

Then will he ſtrip his ſleeve, and ſhow his skarres:

Old men forget, yet all shall not be forſor:

But hee'le remember, with advantages,

What ſeats he did that day. Then ſhall our Names,

Familiar in his mouth as household words,

Hary

The Life of Henry the Fifth.

87

Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing Cups freshl[y] remembred.
This story shall the good man teach his fonne:
And Crispine Crispin[ian] shall n'ere goe by,
From this day to the ending of the World,
But we in it shall be remembred;

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers:
For he to day that fieds his blood with me,
Shall be my brother: be he ne're so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition.

And Gentlemen in England; now a bed,
Shall thinke the nſelves accurſt they were not here;
And hold their Manhoods cheape, whiles any ſpeakes,
That fought with us upon Saint Crispines day.

Enter Salisbury.

Sal. My Soveraigne Lord, beſtow your ſelfe with ſpeed:
The French are bravely in their battailles ſet,
And will with all expedience charge on us.

King. All things are ready, if our minds be ſo.

Weſt. Perſh the man, whole mind is backward now.

King. Thou doſt not wiſh more helpe from England,
Couze?

Weſt. Gods will, my Liege, would you and I alone,
Without more helpe, could fight this Royall battaille.

King. Why now thou haſt unwiſht five thouſand men:
Which likes me better, then to wiſh us one.
You know your places: God be with you all.

Tacket. Enter Montiot.

Mont. Once more I come to know of thee King Harry,
If for thy Ranſome thou wilt now compound,
Before thy moſt affuſed Overthrow:

For certainly, thou art ſo neere the Gulſe,
Thou needs must be englutted. Beſides, in mercy
The Conſtable defir's thee, thou wilt mind

Thy followers of Repentance; that their Soules

May make a peaceful ſand a ſweet retyre

From off their fields : where (wretches) their poore bo-
Mull lye and fetter.

(dies)

King. Who hath ſent thee now?

Mont. The Conſtable of France.

King. I pray thee beare my former Anſwer back:
Bid them atchieve me, and then ſell my bones.

Good God, why ſhould they mock poore fellowes thus?
The man that once did ſell the Lyons skin

While the beaſt liv'd, was kill'd with hunting him.

A many of our bodies ſhall no doubt

Find Native Graves: upon the which, I truſt

Shall witneſſe live in Braſſe of this days worke.

And thofe that leave their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, though buryed in your Dunghills,
They ſhall be fam'd for there the Sun ſhall greet them,
And draw their honors reeking up to Heaven,
Leaving their earthly parts to choake your Clyme,
The ſmell whereof ſhall breed a Plague in France.

Markethen abounding valour in our English :
That being dead, like to the bullets graſing,
Breake out into a ſecond course of miſchieſe,
Killing in relapſe of Mortality.

Let me ſpeake prowldly : Tell the Conſtable,
We are but Warriors for the working day:

Our Gayneſſe and our Gilt are all beſmyrcht
Withraynny Martchting in the paineſull field:

There's not a piece of feather in our Hoaſt:

Good argument (I hope) we will not flye:

And time hath worne us into ſlovenry.

But by the Maſſe, our hearts are in the trim:

And my poore Souldiers tell me, yet ere Night,

They le be in freſher Robes, or they will pluck

The gay new Coats o're the French Souldiers heads,

And turne them out of ſervice. If they doe this,

As if God pleafe, they ſhall, my Ranſome then
Will foone be levyed.

Herauld, ſave thou thy labour:

Come thou no more for Ranſome, gentle Herald,

They ſhall have none, I ſware, but theſe my joynts:

Which if they have, as I will leave um them,

Shall yeeld them little, tell the Conſiable.

Mont. I ſhall, King Harry. And to fare thee well:

Thou never ſhalt heare Herald any more.

Exeunt.

King. I feare thou wilt once more come againe for a
Ranſome.

Enter York.

Yorke. My Lord, moſt humbly on my knee I begge
The leading of the Vaward.

King. Take it, brave Yorke.

Now Souldiers march away,

And how thou pleafeſt God, diſpofe the day.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Excursions.

Enter Piftoll, French Souldier, Boy.

Piftoll. Yeeld Curre.

French. It penſe que vous eſt le Gentil-home de bone qua-
lité.

Pift. Qualtyne calmy culture me. Art thou a Gentle-
man? What is thy Name? diſcuffe.

French. O Seigneur Dieu.

Pift. O Seigneur Dewe ſhould be a Gentleman : per-
pend my words O Seigneur Dewe, and marke: O Seigneur
Dewe, thou dyeſt on point of Fox, except O Seigneur
thou doe give to me egregious Ranſome.

French. O prennez misericorde ayez pitie de moij.

Pift. Moy ſhall not ſerve, I will have forty Moyes: for
I will fetch thy rymme out at thy Throat, in droppes of
Crimson blood.

French. Eſt-il impoſſible d'efchapper la force de son bras.

Pift. Braſſe, Curre: thou damned and luxurious Moun-
taine Goat, offer it me Braſſe?

French. O pardonne moij.

Pift. Say't thou me ſo ? is that a Tonne of Moyes?
Come hither boy, aske me this ſlave in French what is
his Name.

Boy. Esoute comment eſt es vous appelle?

French. Monsieur le Fer.

Boy. He ſayes his Name is M. Fer.

Pift. M. Fer:lle fer him; and firke him, and ferret him:
diſcuffe the fame in French unto him.

Boy. I doe not know the French for fer, and ferret, &
firke.

Pift. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat.

Freneh. Que dis-il Monsieur?

Boy. It me commande de vous dire que vous vous teniez
preſſ, car ce foldat icy eſt diſpofee tout aſture de couper voſtre
gorge.

Pift. Owy, cuppele gorge parmaſoy pefant, unleſſe
thou give me Crownes, brave Crownes, or mangled ſhalt
thou be by this my Sword.

French. O le vous ſupplie pour l'amour de Dieu: me par-
donner, le (u)sis Gentil-home de bonne maison, gardé ma vie, &
le vous donneray deux cents eſcus.

Pift. What are his words?

Boy. He

88

The Life of Henry the Fift.

Boy. He prayes you to fave his life, he is a Gentleman of a good houſe, and for his ranſom he will give you two hundred Crownes.

Pift. Tell him my fury ſhall abate, and I the Cruſnes will take.

Fren. *Petit Monsieur que dit-il?*

Boy. Encore qu'il eſt contre fon Inſurement, de pardoiner au-
cun prifonnier : neant-mois pour les ſcus que vous luy pro-
mettex, il eſt content de vous donner la liberté de franchise.

Fre. Sur mes genoux ie vous donne willes remerciement, &
le me eſtimo heurcux que ie ne tombe entre les mains d'u
Chevalier, ie penſe le plus brave valiant, & tres deſtiné Si-
gnieur d'Angleterre.

Fift. Expound unto me boy.

Boy. He gives you upon his knees a thousand thanks, and eſſeemes himſelfe happy, that he hath falne into the hands of one(as he thinkes) the moſt brave, valorous and thrice-worthy ſigneur of England.

Pift. As I lunce blood, I will ſome mercy ſhew. Follow mee:

Boy. *Sauve vous le grand Capitaine?*

I did never know fo wofull a voice iſſue from ſo empty a heart: but the ſong is true, The empty veſſell makes the greatest found. Bardalſe and Nim had tenne times more valour, then this roaring divell iſt old play, that every one may payre his nayles with a wooden dagger, and they are both hang'd, and ſo would this be, if hee durſt ſteale any thing adventurouſly. I muſt ſtay with the Lackie, with the luggage of our camp, the French might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it, for there is none to guard it but boyes.

Exit.

Enter Conſtable, Orleance, Burbon, Dolphin,
and Ramburs.

Con. O Diable.

Orl. O ſigneur le iouer & perdia, ſoute & perdie.

Dol. More Dieu ma vie, all is confounded, all,

Reproach, and everlaſting ſhame

Sits mocking in our Plumes.

Alfort Alarum.

O meſchante fortune, do not runne away.

Con. Why all our rankes are broke.

Dol. O perdurable ſhame, let's ſtab our ſelves:

Be theſe the wretches that we plaid at dice for?

Orl. Is this the King we ſent to, for his ſanſome?

Bur. Shame, and eternall ſhame, nothing but ſhame,
Let us flye in once more backe againe,
And he that will not follow Burbon now,
Let him go hence, and with his cap in hand
Like a bafe Pander hold the Chamber doore,
Whilſt by a bafe flave, no gentler then my dogge,
His faireſt daughter is contaminated.

Con. Diforder that hath ſpoyl'd us, friend us now,
Let us on heapes go offer up our lives.

Orl. We are enow yet living in the Field,
To ſmother up the English in our throngs,
If any order might be thought upon.

Bur. The divell take Order now, Ile to the throng;
Let life be ſhort, eſſe ſhame will be too long.

Exit.

Alarum. Enter the King and his trayne,
with Prifoners.

King. Well have we done, thrice-valiant Countrimen,
But all's not done, yet keepe the French the field.

Exe. The D. of York commends him to your Majesty

King. Lives he good Vnckle: thrice within this houre
I faw him downe: thrice up againe, and fighting,
From Helmet to the ſpurre, all blood he was.

Exo. In which array (brave Soldier) doth he lye,
Larding the plane: and by his bloody ſide,
(Yoake-fellow to his honour-owing-wounds)
The Noble Earle of Suffolke also lyes.

Suffolke firſt died, and Yorke all nagled over
Comes to him, where in gore he lay infteeped,
And takes him by the Beard, kifſes the gafhes
That bloodily did yawne upon his face.

He cryes aloud; Tarry my Cofin Suffolke,
My ſoule shall thine keepe company to heaven:
Tarry (ſweet ſoule) for mine, then flye a-breſt:
As in this glorious and well-foughten ſield
We kept together in our Chivalry.

Vpon theſe words I came and cheere'd him up,
He ſmil'd me in the face, raught me his hand,
And with a feeble gripe, ſayces: Deere my Lord,
Commend my ſervice to my Soveraigne,
So did he turne, and over ſuffolkes necke,
He threw his wounded arme, and kif his lippes,
And ſo eſpous'd to death, with blood he ſcal'd
A Teſtament of Noble-ending-love:
The pretty and ſweet manner of it ſor'd
Thofe waters from me, which I would have it ſop'd,
But I had not ſo much of man in mee,
And all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to teares.

King. I blame younot,

For hearing this, I muſt perſorce compound
With miſtfull eyes, or they will iſſue to.

But heare, what new alarum is this fame?

The French have re-enfore'd their ſcatter'd men:

Then every ſouldiour kill his Prifoners,

Give the word through.

Alarum,

Exit.

## Aſtus Quartus.

Enter Fluellen and Gomer.

Flu. Kill the poyes and the luggage, 'Tis expreſſely
againſt the Law of Armes, tis as artant a peecce of knave-
ry marke you now, as can bee offor't in your Conſience
now, is it not?

Gow. Tis certaine, there's not a boy left alive, and the
Cowardly Raſcalls that ranne from the battaille ha'done
this ſlaughte: beſides they have burned and carried a
way all that was in the Kings Tent, wherefore the King
moſt worthily hath cauſ'd every ſouldiour to cut his
prifoners throat. O'tis a gallant King.

Flu. I, hee was porne at Monmonth Captaine Gomer,
what call you the Townes name, where Alexander the
pig was borne?

Gow. Alexander the Great.

Flu. Why I pray you, is not pig, great? The pig, or
the great, or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnani-
mous, are all one reckonings, ſave the phraſe is a little va-
riations.

Gomer. I thinke Alexander the Great was borne in
Macedon, his Father was called Philip of Macedon, as I
take it.

Flu. I thinke it is in Macedon where Alexander is
porne.

porne: I tell you Captaine, if you looke in the Maps of the Orld, I warrant you fall find in the comparifons betweene Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations looke you, is both alike. There is a River in Macedon, and there is also moreover a River at Monmouth, it is call'd Wye at Monmouth: but it is out of my praines, what is the name of the other River: but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is Salmons in both. If you marke Alexanders life well, Harry of Monmouths life is comeafter it indifferent well, for there is figures in all things. Alexander God knowes, and you know, in his rages, and his furies, and his wraths, and his chollers, and his moodes, and his difpleafures, and his indignations, and alfo being a little intoxicates in his praines, did in his Ales and his anger (looke you) kill his beft friend Clynes.

Gow. Our King is not like him in that, he never kill'd any of his friends.

Flu. It is not well done (marke you now) to take the tales out of my mouth, ere it is made and finifhed. I speak but in the figures, and comparifous of it : as Alexander kild his friend Clynes, being in his Ales and his Cuppes; to alio Harry Monmouth being in his right wittes, and his good judgements, turn'd away the fat Knight with the great belly doublet : he was full of jefts, and gypes, and knaveries, and mockes, I have forgot his name.

Gow. Sir John Falstaffe.

Flu. That is he: Ile tell you, there is good men porne at Monmouth.

Gow. Here comes his Majefty.

Alarum. Enter King Harry and Burbon with prisoners. Flourish.

King. I was not angry fince I came to France; Vntill this infant. Take a Trumpet Herald, Riderhou unto the horfemen on yond hill :

If they will fight with us, bid them come downe,
Or voyde the field: they doe offend our fight.

If they'll doe neither, we will come to them,
And make them sker away, as Swifta as Stones

Enforced from the old Afyrian flings :
Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have,

And not a man of them that we fliall take,
Shall tafe our mercy. Goe and tell them to.

Enter Montiot.

Exe. Here comes the Herald of the French, my Liege.
Glow. His eyes are humbler then they us'd to be,

King. How now, what meanes their Herald ? Know we
thou not,

That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransome ?

Com't thou againe for ransome ?

Her. No great King :

I come to thee for charitable Liceffe,

That we may wander ore this bloody field,

To booke our dead, and then to bury them,

To fort our Nobles from our common men.

For many of our Princes (woe the while)

Lye droun'd and foak'd in mercenary blood :

So do our vulgar drench their pealent limbes

In blood of Princes, and with wounded feeds

Fret fet-locke deepe in gore, and with wilde rage

Yerke out their armed heeles at their dead matters,
Killing them twice. O give us leave great King.

To view the field in safety, and diſpofe

Of their dead bodies.

King. I tell thee truly Herald,

I know not if the day be ours or no,

For yet a many of your horfemen peere,
And gallop ore the field.

Her. The day is yours.

King. Praifed be God, and not our ſtrength for it:

What is this Caſtle call'd that ſlands hard by.

Her. They call it Agincourt.

King. Then call we this the field of Agincourt,
Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.

Flu. Your Grandfather of famous memory (an't pleafe your Majeſtly) and your great Uncle Edward the Placke Prince of Wales, as I have read in the Chronicles, fought a moſt prave pattle here in France.

King. They did Fluellen.

Flue. Your Majeſty fayes very true: If your Majeſtles is remembred of it, the Welchmen did good ſervice in a Garden where Leeks did grow, wearing Leekes in their Monmouth caps, which your Majeſty know to this houre is an honorable badge of the ſervice: And I doe believe your Majeſty takes no ſcome to weare the Leeke upon S. Tavies day.

King. I weare it for a memorable honor:

For I am Welch you know good Countriman.

Flu. All the water in Wye, cannot wath your Maje-
flies WELſ blood out of your pody, I can tell you that
God pleſe it, and prieſerve it, as long as it pleafes his
Grace, and his Majeſty too.

King. Thanks good my Countryman.

Flu. By Iefhu, I am your Majeſtles Countryleman, I
care not who know it: I will conſeſſe it to all the Orld,
I need not to be aſhamed of your Majeſty, praifed be God
ſo long as your Majeſty is an honyſt man.

King. Good keepe me ſo.

Enter Williams.

Our Heralds goe with him,

Bring me juſt notice of the numbers dead

On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither.

Exe. Souldier, you muſt come to the King.

King. Souldier, why wear't thou that Glove in thy Cap?

Will. And't pleafe your Majeſtly, 'tis the gage of one that I should fight withall, if he be alive.

King. An Englishman?

Will. And't pleafe your Majeſtly, a Raſcail that ſwag-
ger'd with me laſt night: who if alive, and ever dare to
challenge this Glove, I have ſworne to take him a boxe
a'th eare: or if I can fee my Glove in his cap, which he
ſware as he wasa Souldier hee would weare (if alive) I
will ſtrike it out foundly.

Kin. What thinke you Captaine Fluellen, is it fit this
fouldier keepe his oath?

Flu. He is a Craven and a Villaine elfe, and't pleafe your Majeſtly in my confcience.

King. It may be, his enemy is a Gentleman of great
fort, quite from the anſwer of his degree.

Flu. Though he be as good a Gentleman as the devill is,
as Lucifer and Belzebub himſelfe, it is neceſſary (looke
your Grace) that he keepe his vow and his oath: If he
be perjur'd (fee you now) his reputation is as arrant a
villaine and a lacke fawce, as ever his blacke ſhoo trodd
upon God's ground, and his earth, in my confcience law.

King. Then keepe thy vow firrah, when thou meet'st the fellow,

Will. So, I will my Liege, as I live.

King. Who ſerv't thou under ?

1

Wil.

91

And Gentlemen of blood and quality,
The Names of thofe their Nobles that lye dead :
Charles Delabreth, High Conftable of France,
Jaques of Chatiilion, Admirall of France,
The Maſter of the Croſſe-bowes, Lord Rambures,
Great Maſter of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dolpbin,
John Duke of Alanfon, Anthony Duke of Brabant,
The Brother to the Duke of Burgundy,
And Edward Duke of Barr : of laſty Earles,
Grandpree and Ronſſle, Fanconbridge and Foyes,
Beaumont and Marle, Vandemont and Leftrale.
Here was a Royall fellowſhip of death.
Where is the number of our English dead ?
Edmond the Duke of Torke, the Earle of Suffolke,
Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam Etquire;
None ofle of name : and of all other men,
But five and twenty.

King. O God, thy Arme was here : And not to us, but to thy Arme alone, Afriebe we all : when, without stratagem, But in plaine ſhocke, and even play of Battaile, Wasever knowne fo great and little loffe ? On one part and on thother, take it God, For it is none but thine.

Exeunt.

King. Come, go we in proceſſion to the Village : And be it death proclaime med through our Hoaſt, To boaſt of this, or take that prate from God, Which is his only.

Flu. Is it not lawfull and pleafe your Majety, to tell how many is kill'd.

King. Yes Captaine : but with this acknowledgement, That God fought for us.

Fla. Yes, my confcience, he did us great good.

King. Doe we all holy Rights ;

Let there be ſung Non nobil, and Te deum,
The dead with charity encloſ'd in Clay :
And then to Callice, and to England then,
Where ne're from France arriv'd more happy men.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Chorus.

Vouchſaſe to thofe that have nor read the Story,
That I may prompt them : and of ſuch as have,
I humbly pray them to admit the excufe

Of time, of numbers, and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life,
Be here prefented. Now we beare the King

Toward Callice : grant him there ; And there being ſene,
Heare him away upon your winged thoughts,
Athwart the Sea ; Behold the Englifh beach
Pales in the flood, with Men, with Wives, and Boyes,
Whole ſhouts and claps out-voyce the deepmouth'd Sea,
Which like a mighty Whifſer 'fore the King,
Seems to prepare his way : So let him land,
And folemly fee him ſet on to London.

So Swift a pace hath Thought, that even now
You may imagine him upon Blacke-Heath :

Where, that his Lords defire him, to have borne
His bruſed Helmet, and his bended Sword

Before him, through the City : he forbids it,

Being free from vaine neſſe, and ſelſe-glorious pride;
Giving full Trophee, Signall, and Oſtent,
Quite from him ſelſe, to God. But now behold,
In the quicke Forge and working-houſe of Thought,
How London doth powre out her Citizens,
The Mayor and all his Brethren in beſt fort,
Like to the Senatours of that antique Rome,
With the Plebeians ſwarming at their heeles,
Goe forth and fetch their Conqu'ring Caſar in :

As by a lower, but by loving likely hood,
Were now the Generall of our gracious Empreſſe,
As in good time he may, from Ireland comming,

Bringing Rebellions broached on his Sword ;
How many would the peacefull City quit,
To welcome him ? much more, and much more cauſe,
Did they this Harry. Now in London place him.

As yet the lamentation of the French
Invites the King of Englands ſay at home :

The Emperour's comming in behalfe of France,
To order peace betweene them : and omit

All the occurrences, what ever chanc't,
Till Hareſes backe returne againe to France :

There muſt we bring him ; and my ſelſe have play'd
The Interim, by remembring you 'tis palt.

Then brooke abridgement, and your eyes advance,
After your thoughts, ſtraight backe againe to France.

Exit.

Enter Fluellon and Gower.

Gow. Nay, that's right: but why weare you your
Leeke to day ? Saint Davies day is palt.

Flu. There is occafions and cauſes why and wherefore
in all things : I wil tell you aſſe my friend, Captaine
Gower ; the rafcally, ſcaulſ, beggerly, lowſie, praging
Knave Pisſoll, which you and your ſelſe, and all the World
know to be no petter then a ſollow, looke you now, of no
merits: he is come to mee, and prings me pread and
fault yefterday, looke you, and bid me eate my Leeke :
it was in a place where I could not breed no contention
with him ; but I will be ſo bold as to weare it in my Cap
till I fee him once againe, and then I will tell him a little
piece of my defires.

Enter Pisloll.

Gow. Why here he comes, ſwelling like a Turky-
cocke.

Flue. 'Tis no matter for his ſwellings, nor his Turky-
cocks. God pleſſe you auchient Pisloll : you ſcurvy low-
ſie Knave, God pleſſe you.

Pisſ. Ha, art thou bedlam ? doeſt thou thirſt, bafe
Troian, to have me fold up Parcas fatall Web ? Hence;
I am qualmiſh at the finell of Leeke.

Flu. I pefeeth you heartily, ſcurvy lowſie Knave, at
my defires, and my requeſts, and my petitions, to eate,
looke you, this Leeke, because, looke you, you doe not
love it, nor your affections, and your appetites and your
ditgeſtions doo's not agree with it, I would define you to
eate it.

Pisſ. Not for Cadwallader and all his Goats.

Flu. There is one Goat for you. Strikes him.

Will you be ſo good, ſcaulſ Knave, as eate it ?

Pisſ. Bafe Troian, thou thalt dye.

Flu. You fay very true, ſcaulſ Knave, when God's
will is: I will define you to live in the meane time, and
eate your Vіctuals : come, there is fawce for it. You
call'd me yefterdady Mountaine-Squier, but I will make

you

you to day a fquire of low degree. I pray you fall to, if
you can mocke a Leeke, you can eate a Leee.

Gowr. Enough Captaine, you have aflonifht him.

Flu. I fay, I will make him eate fome part of my leee,
or I will peate his pate foure dayes: bite I pray you, it is
good for your greene wound, and your bloody Coxe-
combe.

Pisf. Muft I bite?

Flu. Yes certainly, and out of doubt and out of que-
ftion too, and ambiguities.

Pisf. By this Lecke, I will moft horribly revenge: I
eate and eate I fweare.

Flu. Eate I pray you, will you have fome more fauce
to your Lecke: there is not enough Lecke to fweare by.

Pisf. Quiet thy Cudgell, thou doft fee I eate.

Flu. Much good doe you fcahd knave, heartily. Nay,
pray you throw none away, the skinne is good for your
broken Coxecombe; when you take occasions to fee
Leekes hereafter, I pray you mocke at 'em, that is all.

Pisf. Good.

Flu. I, Leekes is good: hold you, there is a groat to
heale your pate.

Pisf. Me a groat?

Flu. Yes verily, and in truth you fhall take it, or I have
another Leeko in my pocket, which you fhall eate.

Pisf. I take thy groat in earneft of revenge.

Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in Cud-
gels, you fhall be a Woodmonger, and buy nothing of
me but cudgels: God bu'y you, and keepe you and heale
your pate.

Exit.

Pisf. All hell fhall firre for this.

Gow. Goe, goe, you are a counterfet cowardly Kave,
will you mocke at an ancient Tradition began upon an
honorable refpect, and worne as a memorable Trophee
of predeceafed valor, and dare not avouch in your deeds
any of your words. I have feene you gleek ing and galling
at this Gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, becaufe
he could not ſpeake Englifh in the native garb, he could
not therefore handle an Englifh Cudgell: you find it o-
therwife, and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach
you a good Englifh condition, fare ye well.

Exit.

Pisf. Doeth fortune play the haſwife with me now ?
Newes have I that my Doll is dead i' th'Spittle of a malady of France, and there my rendezvous is quite cut eff:
Old I doe waxe, and from my weary limbes honor is
Cudgeld. Well, Baud Ile turne, and fomething leane to
Cut-purfe of quickie hand: To England will I iteale, and
there Ile iteale;

And patches will I get unto theſe cudgeld ſcarres,

And ſwore I got them in the Gallia warres.

Exit.

Enter at one doore, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Warwick,
and other Lords; At another, Quene Isabel,
the King, the Duke of Bourgoigne, and
other French.

King. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met ;

Vnto our brother France, and to our Sifter

Health and faire time of day; Ioy and good wifhes

To our moſt faire and Princely Cofin Katherine;

And as a branch and member of this Royalty,

By whom this great affemblry is contriv'd,

We doe falute you Duke of Bourgoigne,

And Princes French and Peeres health to you all.

Fra. Right joyous are we to behold your face.

Moſt worthy brother England, faire met.

So are you Princes (Englifh) every one.

Quee. So happy be the Illue brother England

Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting,

As we are now glad to behold your eyes,

Your eyes which hitherto have borne in them

Againſt the French that met them in their bent,

The fatall Balls of murthering Bafilaks:

The venome of ſuch Lookes we fairely hope

Have loft their quality, and that this day

Shall change all griefes and quarrells into love.

Eng. To cry Amento that, thus we appeare.

Que. You Englifh Princes all, I doe falute you.

Emrg. My duty to you both, on equall love.

Great Kings of France and England: that I have labour'd
With all my wits, my paines, and ſtrong endeavours,
To bring your moſt imperiall Majefties

Vnto this Barre, and Royall enterview ;

Your Mightineſſe on both parts beſt can witneſſe.

Since then my Office hath ſo farre prevail'd,

That Face to Face, and Royall Eye to Eye,

Yon have congreeted: let it not diſgrace me,

If I demand before this Royall view,

What Rub, or what impediment there is,

Why that the naked, poore, and mangled Peace,

Deare Nourſe of Arts, Plentyes, and joyfull Births,

Should not in this beſt Garden of the World,

Our fertile France, put up her lovely Viſage?

Alas, the hath from France too long beene chas'd,

And all her Husbandry doth lye on heapes,

Corrupting in it owne fertility.

Her Vine, themerry chearer of the heart,

Vnpruned, dyes: her Hedges even pleach'd,

Like Prifoners wildly over-growne with hayre,

Put forth diſorder'd Twigs: her fallow Leas:

The Darnell, Hemlocke and ranke Femetary,

Doth root upon; while that the Culter ruffs,

That ſhould deracinate ſuch Savagery :

The even Mead, that crſt brought ſwectly forth

The freckled Cowſlip, Burnet, and greene Clover,

Wanting the Sythe, withall uncorrected, ranke;

Conceives by idlenſe, and nothing teemes,

But hatefull Docks, rough Thiftles, Kekſyes, Burres,

Loſing both beauty and vtility;

And all our Vineyards, Fallowes, Meades, and Hedges,

Defective in their natures, grow to wildenſe.

Even ſo our Houſes, and our ſelves, and Children,

Have loft, or doe not learne, for want of time,

The ſciences that ſhould become our Country;

But gow like Savages, as Souldiels will.

That nothing doe, but meditate on Blood,

To ſwearing, and ſterne Lookes, defus'd Attyre,

And every thing that ſeemes un natural.

Which to reduce into our former favour,

You are affembl'd: and my ſpeech entreats,

That I may know the Let. why gentle Peace

Should not expell theſe inconveniences,

And bleſſe us with her former qualities.

Eng. If, Duke of Burgony, you would the Peace

Whole want gives growth to th' imperfections

Which you have cited; you muſt buy that Peace

With full accord to all our juſt demands,

Whofe Tenures and particular effects

You have enfchedul'd briefly in your hands.

Burg. The King hath heard them: to the which, as yet
There is no Anſwer made.

Eng. Well then: the Peace which you before ſo urg'd
Lyes in his Anſwer.

Fran.

France. I have but with a curfelary eye
O're glanc't the Articles: Pleafeth your Grace
To appoint fome of your Councell prefentely,
To fit with us once more, with better heed
To re-furvey them: we will suddenly
Paffe our accept and peremptory Anfwer.

Eng. Brother we ſhall. Goe Vnckle Exeter,
And brother Clarence, and brother Glouſeſter,
Warwicke, and Huntington, goe with the King,
And take with you free power, to ratifie,
Augment, or alter, as your Widomes beſt
Shall fee advantageable for our Dignity,
Any thing in or out of our Demands,
And we'll configne thereto. Will you, faire Sifter,
Goe with the Princes, or ſtay here with us?

Quee. Our gracious Brother, I will goe with them:
Happily a Womans Voyce may doe fome good,
When Articles too nicely urg'd, be flood on.

Eng. Yet leave our Couſin Katheriſe here with us,
She is our capitall Demand, compris'd
Within the fore-ranke of our Articles.

Que. She hath good leave.

Exeunt omnes.

Maner King, and Katherine.

King. Faire Katherine, and moſt faire,
Will you vouchſaſe to teach a Souldier tearmes,
Suchas will enter at a Ladyes eare,
And pleade his Love-ſuit to her gentle heart?

Kath. Your Majefty ſhall mocke at me, I cannot ſpeake
your England.

King. O faire Katherine, if you will love me foundly
with your French heart, I will be glad to heare you con-
ſe it brokenly with your English Tongue. Doe you
like me, Kate?

Kath. Pardonne moy, I cannot tell wat is like me.

King. An Angell is like you Kate, and you are like an
Angell.

Kath. Que dit il, que l'euis ſemblable a les Anges?

Lady. Ouy verament (Jant wofre Grace) aſuſi dit st.

King. I faid fo, deere Katherine, and I muſt not bluſh
to aſſirme it.

Kath. O bon Dien, les langues des hommes font plein de
tromperies.

King. What fayes ſhe, faire one ? that the tongues of
men are full of deceits ?

Lady. Ouy, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of de-
ceits: dat is de Princeſe.

King. The Princeſe is the better English-woman:
ifaith Kate, my wooping is ſit for thy underſtanding, I am
glad thou canſt ſpeak no better English, for if thou
could'ſt, thou would'ſt ſinde me ſuch a plaine King, that
thou wouldſt thinke, I had fold my farme to buy my
Crowne. I know no wayes to mince it in love, but di-
rectly to ſay, I love you; then if you urge me farther,
then to ſay, Doe you in faith ? I weare out my ſuite: Give
me your anſwer, y faith doe, and ſo clap hands, and a bar-
gaine: how ſay you, Lady ?

Kath. Sauf wofre honour, me underſtand well.

King. Marry, if you would put me to Verſes, or to
Dance for your ſake, Kate, why you undid me: for the
one I have neither words nor meaſure; and for the other
I have no ſtrength in meaſure, yet a reaſonable meaſure
inſtrength. If I could winne a Lady at Leape frogge,
or by vawting into my faddle, with my Armor on my back;
under the correction of bragging be it ſpoken. I ſhould
quickly leape into a Wife: Or if I might buſet for my

Love, or bound my Horſe for her favours, I could lay on
like a Butcher, and fit like a lacke an Apes, never off. But
before God Kate, I cannot looke greenely, nor gafpe out
my eloquence, nor I have no cunning in proteſtation ;
onely downe-right Oathes, which I never ſuſe till urg'd,
nor never breake for urging, It thou canſt love a fellow
of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth Sunne-bur-
ning? that never lookes in his Glafſe, for love of any
thing he ſees there? let thine Eye be thy Cooke. I ſpeake
to thee plaine Souldier: If thou canſt love me for this,
take me ? if not? to ſay to thee that I ſhall dye, is true; but
for thy love, by the L. No: yet I love thee too. And
while thou liv'ſt, deare Kate, take a fellow of plaine and
uncoyned Conſtancy, for he perſorce muſt doe thee right,
becauſe he hath not the gift to wooe in other places: for
theſe fellowes of inſiſt tongue, that can ryme themſelves
into Ladyes favours, they doe alwayſe reaſon themſelves
out againe. What ? a ſpeaker is but a prater, a iRyme is
but a Ballad ; a good Legge will fail!, a ſtrait Backe will
ſtoope, a blacke Beard will turne white, a curl'd Pate will
grow bald, a faire Face will wither, a full Eye will wax
hollow : but a good Heart, Kate, is the Sunne and the
Moone, or rather the Sunne, and not the Moone ; for it
ſhines bright, and never changes, but keepes his courſe
truely. If thou would have ſuch a one, take me ? and
take me ; take a ſouldier : take a ſouldier ; take a King.
And what ſay'ſt thou then to my Love ? I ſpeake my faire,
and faireſely, I pray thee.

Kath. Is it poffible dat I ſould love de ennemy of
France?

King. No, it is not poffible you ſhould love the Ene-
my of France, Kate; but in loving me, you ſhould love
the Friend of France : for I love France ſo well, that I
will not part with a Village of it; I will have it all mine
and Kate, when France is mine, and I am yours; then yours
is France, and you are mine.

Kath. I cannot tell wat is dat.

King. No, Kate ? I will tell thee in French, which I am
ſure will hang upon my tongue, like a new-married Wife
about her Husbands Necke, hardly to be ſhooke off; Je
quand ſur le poſſession de Fraunce, & quand vous aues le po-
ſſession de moy, (Let me ſee, what then ? Saint Dennis be
my ſpeed) Donc wofre est Fraunce, & wouſe eſtes mienne.
It is as eſtie for me, Kate, to conquer the Kingdome, as
to ſpeake ſo much more French : I ſhall never move thee
in French, unleſſe it be to laugh at me.

Kath. Sauf wofre honeur, le Francois queus vous parle, il
& melieus quel' Angolis le quel le parle.

Kin. No faith is't not, Kate: but thy ſpeaking of
my Tongue, and I thine, moſt truely falſely, muſt
needs be granted to be much at one. But Kate, doo'ſt
thou underſtand thus much English? Canſt thou love
me?

Kath. I cannot tell.

Kin. Can any of your Neighbours tell, Kate ? He
asketh them, Come I know thou loveſt me: and at night,
when you come into your Cloſet, you'll queſtion this
Gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will to
her diſpraife thoſe parts in me, that you love with your
heart; but good Kate, mocke me merciſully, the rather
gentle Princeſle, becauſe I love thee cruellу. If ever thou
beſt mine, Kate, as I have a faving Faith with this me tels
me thou ſhalt; I get thee with skambling, and thou
muſt therefore needs prove a good Souldier-breeder :
Shall not thou and I, betweene Saint Dennis and Saint
George, compound a Boy, halſe French halſe English,
that

h3

49

that shall goe to Conftantinople, and take the Turke by
the Beard. Shall we not? what fay'ft thou, my faire Flower-de-Luce.

Kate. I do not know dat.

King. No: 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promife: doe but now promife Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of such a Boy; and for my English mory, take the word of a King, and a Batcheler. How anfwer you, La plus belle Katherine du monde mon trefcher & deuin deeffe.

Kath. Your Majeſtce ane faſte Frenche enough to de-
ceive de moſt ſage Damoifeil dat is en Fraunce.

King. Now tye upon my falſe French : by mine honor
in true English, I love thee Kate; by which honor, I dare
not ſweare thou loveſt me, yet my bloud begins to flat-
ter me, that thou doo'ſt; notwithſtanding the poore and
untempering effect of my Viſage. Now beſhrew my
Fathers Ambition, he was thinking of Civill Warres
when he got me, therefore was I created with a ſtub-
borne outſide, with an aspect of Iron, that when I come
to wooe Ladyes, I fright them : but in faith Kate, the el-
der I wax, the better I ſhall appeare. My comfort is, that
Old Age, that ill layer up of Beauty, can doe no more
ſpoyle upon my Face. Thou haſt me, if thou haſt me, at
the worlſt; and thou ſhalt weare me, if thou weare me,
better and better : and therefore tell me, moſt faire Ka-
therine, will you have me? Put off your Maiden Blufhes,
anouch the Thoughts of your Heart with the Lookes of
an Empreſſe, take me by the Hand, and ſay, Harry of
England, I am thine : which word thou ſhalt no ſooner
bleſſe mine Eare withall, but I will tell thee alowd, Eng-
land is thine : Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry
Plantaginet is thine; who, though I ſpeake it before his
Face, if he be not Fellow with the beſt King, thou ſhalt
find the beſt King of Good-fellowes. Come your an-
ſwer in broken Muſſicke; for thy Voyce is Muſſicke, and
thy English broken : Therefore Queene of all, Katherine,
breake thy mind to me in broken English, wilt thou
have me?

Kath. Dat is as it ſhall płaſe de Roy mon pere.

Kin. Nay, it will płaſe him well, Kate; it ſhall płaſe
him, Kate.

Kath. Den it ſall alſo content me.

King. Vpon that I kiffe your Hand, and I call you my
Queene.

Kath. Laisſe mon Seigneur, laiſſe, laiſſe, may ſoy: I ne
veu point que vous abbaſſe voſtre grandeur, en basant le
mais d'une voſtre Seigneur indigne forviiteur, excuſemoy. I
vous ſupply mon tref-pniffant Seigneur.

King. Then I will kiffe your Lippes, Kate.

Kath. Les Dames & Damoisels pour eſtre baſſe devant
leur noceſe il net paſ le coſtume de Fraunce.

King. Madam, my Interpreter, what ſayes ſhe ?

Lady. Dat it is not be de fashion pour le Ladies of
France; I cannot tell wat is buiſſe en Angliſh.

King. To kiffe.

Lady. Your Majeſtice entendre betre que moy.

King. It is not a fashion for the Maids in France to
kiffe before they are married, would the ſay ?

Lady. Ony verayment.

King. O Kate, nice Cuſtomes curſie to great Kings.
Deare Kate, you and I cannot bee confin'd within the
weake Lyſt of a Countrieſe fashion : we are the ma-
kers of Manners, Kate; and the liberty that followes
our places, ſtoppes the mouth of all find-faults, as I will
doe yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your Coun-

try, in denying me a Kiffe : therefore patiently, and
yeelding You have WITCH-craft in your Lippes, Kate:
there is more eloquence in a Suger touch of them; then in
the Tongues of the French Councell : and they ſhould
ſooner perſwade Harry of England, then a generall Petiti-
on of Monarchs. Heere comes your father.

Enter the French Power, and the English
Lords.

Burg. God ſave your Majeſtyle, my Royall Couſin, teach
you our Princesſe English?

Kin. I would have her learne, my faire Couſin, how
perfectly I love her, and that is good English.

Burg. Is ſhe not apt?

King. Our Tongue is rough. Coze, and my Condi-
tion is not smooth: fo that having neither the Voycet
nor the Heart of Flattery about me, I cannot ſo conjure up
the ſpirit of love in her, that he will appeare in his true
likenſe.

Burg. Pardon the frankneſſe of my mirth, if I anſwer
you for that. If you would conjure in her, you muſt
make a Circle: if conjure up love in her in his true
likenſe, he muſt appeare naked, and blind. Can you
blame her then, being a Maid, yet ros'd over with the
Virgin Crimſon of Modesty, if ſhe deny the appearance
of a naked blind Boy in her naked ſeeing ſelfe? It were
(my Lord) a hard Condition for a Maid to configure
to.

King. Yet they doe winke and yeeld, as Love is blind
and enforces.

Burg. They are then excus'd, my Lord, when they fee
not what they doe.

King. Then good my Lord, teach your Couſinto con-
fent to winking.

Burg. I will winke on her to conſent, my Lord, if you
will teach her to know my meaning: for Maides well
Summer'd, and warne kept, are like Flyes at Bartholo-
mew-tyde, blind, though they have their eyes, and then
they will endure handling, which before would not abide
looking on.

King. This Morall eyes me over to Time, and a Hor
Summer, and ſo I ſhall catch the Flye, your Couſin, in
the latter end, and ſhe muſt be blind too.

Burg. As Love is my Lord, before it loves.

King. It is ſo: and you may, ſome of you, thanke
Love for my blindneſſe, who cannot ſee many a faire
French City for one faire French Maid that stands in my
way.

French King. Yes my Lord, you ſee them perſe-
fectively: the Cities turn'd into a Maid; for they are
all gyrdled with Maiden Walls, that Warre hath en-
tred.

King. Shall Kate be my Wife ?

Fran. So płaſe you.

England. I am content, ſo the Maiden Cities you
talk of, may waite on her: ſo the Maid that flood in
the way for my Wifh, ſhall ſhow me the way to my
Will.

France. We have conſented to all tearmes of rea-
ſon.

Eng. Is't ſo, my Lords of England?

West. The King hath granted every Article:
His Daughter firſt; and then in ſequele, all,
According to their firme propoſed natures.

Exet. Onceley

Exeunt. Onely he hath not yet subſcribed this :
Where your Majety demands, That the King of France
having any occation to write for matter of Graunt, ſhall
name your Highneſſe in this forme, and with this additi-
on, in French: *Noſtre trescher filz Henry Roy'd Angleterre*
*Heretere de France*: and thus in Latine; *Praclariffimus*
*Eilius noſter Henricus Rex Anglie & Heres Francia*.

Fran. Nor this I have not Brother ſo deny'd,
But your requeſt ſhall make me let it paſſe.

Engl. I pray you then, in love and deare allyance,
Let that one Article ranke with the reſt,
And thereupon give me your Daughter.

Fran. Take her faire foane, and from her blood rayſe up
If ſue to me, that the contending Kingdomes
Of France and England, whose very ſhoares looke pale,
With envy of each others happineſſe, .

May ceafe their hatred; and this deare Conjunction
Plant Neighbourhood and Chriſtian-like accord
In their sweet ſoſomes: that never Warre advance
His bleeding Sword 'twixt England and faire France.

Lords. Amen.

King. Now welcome Kate: and beare me witneſſe all,
That here I kiffſe her as my Soveraigne Queene.

Flourish.

Quee. God, the beſt maker of all Marriages,
Combine your hearts in one, your Realmes in one :
As Man and Wife being two, are one in love,
Sobe there 'twixt your Kingdomes ſuch a Spouſall,
That never may ill Office, or fell jealouſe,

Which troubles oft the Bed of bleſſed Marriage,
Thruſt in betweene the Pation of theſe Kingdomes,
To make divorce of their incorporate League :
That English may as French, French Englishmen,
Receive each other. God ſpeake this Amen.

All. Amen.

King. Prepare we for our Marriage: on which day,
My Lord of Burgundy we'll take your Oath
And all the Peeres, for ſurety of our Leagues.
Then ſhall I ſweare to Kate, and you to me,
And may our Oathes well kept and prop'rous be.

Sonen.

Exeunt.

Enter Chorus.

Thus farre with rough, and all-unable Pen,
Our bending Author hath puru'd the Story,
In little roome confining mighty men,
Mangling by starts the full courfe of their glory.
Small time: but in that ſmall, moſt greatly lived
This Starre of England. Fortune made his Sword ;
By which, the Works beſt Garden he atchieved :
And of it left his Sonne Imperiall Lord,
Henry the Sixt, in Infant Bands crown'd King
Of France and England, did this King succeed :
Whose State ſo many had the managing,
That they loft France, and make his England bleed :
Which oft our Stage hath ſhowne ; and for their ſake,
In your faire minds let this acceptance take.

FJNJS.

96

The first Part of King Henry the Sixt.

Actus Prima. Scena Prima.

Dead March.

Enter the Funerall of King Henry the Fift, attended on by
the Duke of Bedford, Regent of France; the Duke
of Gloster, Protester: the Duke of Exeter, War-
wicke, the Bishop of Wincheſter, and
the Duke of Somer-
ſet.

Bedford.

Vng be ? heavens with black, yeild day to night;
Comets importing change of Times and States,
Brandifh your cryſtall Trefles in the Sky,
And with them ſcourge the bad revolting Stars,
That have conſented unto Hemries death :
King Henry the Fift, too famous to live long,
England ne're loſt a King of ſo much worth.

Gloſt. England ne're had a King untill his time :
Vertue he had, deferving to command.
His brandifht Sword did blind men with his beames,
His Armes ſpred wider then a Dragons Wings :
His sparkling Eyes, repleat with wrathfull fire,
More dazled and drove backe his Enemies,
Then mid-day ſunne, ſierce bent againſt their faces.
What ſhould I ſay ? his Deeds exceed all ſpeech :
He ne're lift up his hand, but conquered.

Exe. We mourne in blacke, why mourn we not in
Henry is dead, and never ſhall revive :
Vpon a Wooden Coffin we attend ;
And deaths diſhonorable Viſtory,
We with our ſtately prefence gloriſe,
Like Captives bound to a Triumphant Carre.
What ? shall we curſe the Planets of Miſhap,
That plotted thus our Glories overſhew ?
Or ſhall we thinke the ſubtle-witted French,
Conjurers and Sorcerers, that afraid of him,
By Magicke Verſe have contriv'd his end?

Winch. He was a King, bleſt of the King of Kings.
Vnto the French, the dreadfull judgement-Day
So dreadfull will not be, as was his fight.
The Battailles of the Lord of Hoffs he fought :
The Churches Prayers made him ſo profouers.
Gloſt. The Church? Where is it?
Had not Church-men pray'd,
His thred of Life had not ſo foone decay'd.
None doe you like, but an effeminate Prince,
Whom like a Schoole-boy you may over-awe.

Winch. Gloſter, what ere we like, thou art Proteſor,
And lookt to command the Prince and Realme.
Thy Wife is proud, the holdeth thee in awe,

More then God or Religious Church-men may.

Gloſt. Name not Religion, for thou lov'ſt the Fleſh,
And ne're throughout the yeere to Church thungoſt,
Except it be to pray againſt thy foes.

Bed. Ceate, ceate theſe Iarres, and reſt your minds in
Let's to the Altar: Heralds wayt on us; (peace:
In ſtead of Gold, we'll offer up our Armes,
Since Armes avayle not, now that Henri's dead.
Poſterity await for wretched yeeres,
When at their Mothers moſt eyes, Babes ſhall fucke,
Our Ile be made a Nouriſh of ſalt Teares,
And none but Women left to wayle the dead.

Henry the Fift, thy Ghoſt I invocate:
Proſer this Realme, keepe it from Civill Broyles,
Combat with adverſe Planets in the heavens;
A farre more glorious Starre thy foule will make,
Then Julius Caſar, or bright—

Enter a Messenger.

Meſſ. My honorable Lords, health to you all:
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
Of loffe, of ſlaughter, and diſcomſure :
Guyen, Champaigne, Rheimes, Orleance,
Paris, Guyſors, Poſtiers, are all quite loff.
Bed. What ſay'ſt thou man, before dead Henry's Coarſe?
Speake softfly, or the loffe of theſe great Townes
Will make him burſt his Lead, and rife from death.

Gloſt. Is Paris loff ? and is Roan yeelded up?
If Henry were recall'd to life againe,
Theſe nevues would cauſe him once more yeeld the ghoſt.

Exe. How were they loff ? what trechery was us'd?
Meſſ. No trechery, but want of Men and Money.
Amongst the Souldiers this is muttered,
That here you maintaine ſeveral Faſtions:
And whilſt a Field ſhould be diſpatcht and fought,
You are diſputing of your Generals.

One would have lingring Warres, with little coſt;
Another would flye twiſt, but wanteth Wings:
A third man thinkes, without expence at all,
By guilefull ſaire words, Peace may be obtain'd.
Awake, away, English Nobility,

Let not flouth dimme your Honors, new begot;
Cropt are the Flower-de-Luces in your Armes
Of Englands Coat, one halſe is cut away.

Exe. Were our Teares wanting to this Funerall,
Theſe Tidings would call forth her flowing Tides.
Bed. Me they concerne, Regent I am of France:
Give me my ſtealed Coat, Ile fight for France.

Away with theſe diſgracefull wayling Robes;
Wounds will I lend the French, in ſtead of Eyes,
To weepe their intermiſſive Miferies.

Enter

*Enter to them another Meſſenger.*

Meff. Lords view theſe Letters, full of bad miſchance,
France is revolted from the English ſhute,
Except ſome pretty Townes, of no import.
The *Dolphin Charles* is crowned King in Rhemeſ:
The Baſtard of Orleance with him is joyn'd:
Reynold, Duke of Aniou, doth his part,
The Duke of Alantou flyeth to his ſide.
*Exit.*

Exe. The Dolphin crown'd King ? all flye to him ?
O whither ſhall we flye from this reproach ?

Gloſſ. We will not flye, but to our enemſs throats.

Bedford, if thou be ſlacke, Ile fight it out.

Bed. Gloſter, why doubtſt thou of my forwardneſſe ?
An Army have I mutter'd in my thoughts,
Wherewith already France is over-run.

*Enter another Meſſenger.*

Meff. My gracious Lords, to adde to your laments,
Wherewith you now bedew King *Henries* hearte,
I muſt informe you of a diſmall ſright,
Betwixt the ſtout Lord *Talbot*, and the French.

Wm. What ? wherein *Talbot* overcame, is't ſo ?

3. Meſ. O no: wherein Lord *Talbot* was o'rethrowne :
The circumſtance Ile tell you more at large.
The tenth of Auguſt laſt, this dreadfull Lord,
Retyring from the Siege of Orleance,
Having full ſcarce fixt thouſand in his trouſe,
By three and twenty thouſand of the French
Was round incompaſſed; and ſet upon :
No leyſure had he to enranke his men.
He wanted Pikes to ſet before his Archers :
In ſtead whereof, tharpe Stakes pluckt out of Hedges
They pitched in the ground confuſedly,
To keepe the Horſemen off, from breaking in.
More then three houres the fight continued :
Where valiant *Talbot*, above humane thought,
Enaſted wonders with his Sword and Lance.
Hundreds he ſent to hell, and one durſt ſtand him :
Here, there, and every where enrag'd, he flew.
The French exclaym'd, the Devill was in Armes,
All the whole Army flood agaz'd on him.
His ſouldiers ſpying his undaunted Spirit,
A *Talbot*, a *Talbot*, cry'd out amaine.
And rufht into the Bowels of the battaille.
Here had the Conqueſt fully beene ſal'd up,
If Sir *John Falſtaffe* had not play'd the Coward,
Hebeing in the Vauward, plaſt behind,
With purpose to relieve and follow them,
Cowardly ſied, not having trucke one ſirooke.
Hence grew the generall wracke and maffaſere :
Encloſed were they with their Eememies.
A bafe Wallon, to win the Dolpins grace,
Thraſt *Talbot* with a Speare into the Backe,
Whom all France, with their chieſe affembled ſtrength,
Durſt not preſume to looke once in the face.

Bed. Is *Talbot* ſlaſne then ? I will ſlay my ſelſe,
For living idly here, in pompe and eafe,
Whil't ſuch a worthy Leader, wanting ayd,
Vnto his daſtard ſoc-men is betray'd,

3. Meſ. O no, he lives, but is tooke Prifoner,
And Lord *Scales* with him, and Lord *Hungerford*:
Moft of the reſt ſlaughter'd, or tooke likewife.

Bed. His Ranſome there is none but I ſhall pay.
Ile hale the Dolphin headlong from his Throſe,
His Crowne ſhall be the Ranſome of my friend :
Foure of their Lords Ile change for one of ours.

Farewell my Maſters, to my Taske will I,
Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make,
To keepe our great Saint *Georges* Feaſt withall.
Ten thouſand Souldiers with me I will take,
Whofe bloody deeds ſhall make all Europe quake.

3. Meſ. So you had neede, for Orleance is beſieg'd,
The English Army is growne weake and faint :
The Earle of Salisbury craveth ſupply,
And hardly kceepes his men from mutiny,
Since they ſo few, watch ſuch a multitude.

Exe. Remember Lords your Oathes to Henry ſworne;
Eyther to quell the Dolphin utterly,
Or bring him in obedience to your yoake.

Bed. I doe remember it, and here take leave,
To goe about my preparation.
*Exit Bedford.*

Gloſſ. Ile to the Tower with all the haſt I can,
To view th'Artillery and Munition,
And then I will proclaime young Henry King.

Exe. To Eltam will I, where the young King is,
Being ordain'd his ſpeciall Governor,
And for his ſafetye there I beſt deviſe.
*Exit.*

Winch. Each bath his Place and Function to attend :
I am left out; for me nothing remains :
But long I will not be lacke out of Office,
The King from Eltam I intend to ſend,
And fit at chieſe ſterne of publique WEALE.

*Enter Charles, Alantou, and Reaigneir, marching
with Drum and Souldiers.*

Charl. Mars histrue moving, even as in the Heavens
So in the Earth to this day is not knowne.
Late did he ſhine upon the English ſide :
Now we are Vicторs, upon us he ſmiles.
What Townes of any moment, but we have?
At pleafure here we lye, neere Orleance :
Otherwhiles, the famiſht English, like pale ghoſts,
Faintly beſiege us one houre in a moneth.

Al. They want their Porredge, and their fat Bul Beeves
Eyther they muſt be dyeted like Mules.

Reig. Let's raile the Siege: why live we idly here?
And have their Provender ty'd to their mouthes,
Or pitteous they will looke, like drowned Mice.

Talbot is taken, whom we want to ſeare :
Remayneth none but mad-brain'd *Salisbury*;
And he may well in fretting ſpend his gali,
Nor men nor Moneym hath he to make Warre.

Char. Sound, found Alarum, we will rufh on them,
Now for the honour of the forſorne French :
Him I forgive my death, that killeth me;
When he fees me goe backe one ſoot, or ſye.
*Exeunt.*

Heere Alarum, they are beaten backe by the
English, with great loffe.

*Enter Charles, Alantou, and Reaigneir.*

Charl. Who ever ſaw the like ? what men have I ?
Dogges, Cowards, Daſtards: I would ne're have ſled,
But that they left me 'midſt my Enemies.

Reig. Salisbury is a deſperate Homicide,
He fighteth as one weary of his life :
To other Lords, like Lyons wanting ſoode,
Doe rufh upon us as their hungry prey.

*Alanſ.*

98

Alans. Froyfard, a Countrey man of ours, records,
England all Olivers and Rowlands breed,
During the time Edward the third did raigne :
More truely now may this be verified;
For none but Samfons and Goliaffes

It fendeth forth to skirmish : one to tenne?
Leane raw-bon'd Rafcalls, who would e're suppofes,
They had fuch courage and audacity;
Charl. Let's leave this Towne,
For they are hayre-brain'd Slaves,
And hunger will enforce them to be more eager:
Ofold I know them ; rather with their Teeth
The Walls they'll teare downe, then forfale the Siege.

Reig. I thinke by fome odde Gimmalls or device
Their Armes are fet, like Clockes, fit to strike on;
Elfe ne're could they hold out foas they doe :
By my confent, we'll even let them alone.

Alan. Be it so.

Enter the Bastard of Orleance.

Bast. Where's the Prince Dolphin? I have newes for
him.

Dolph. Bastard of Orleance, thrice welcome to us.

Bast. Me thinkes your lookes are fad, your cheare ap-
Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? (pal'd.
Be not difmay'd, for fuccour is at hand :
A holy Maid hither with me I bring,
Which by a Vifion fent to her from Heaven,
Ordained is to raife this tedious Seige,
And drive the English forth the bounds of France :
The fpirit of deepe Propheſe ſhe hath,
Exceeding the nine Sibyls of old Rome :
What's palt, and what's to come, ſhe can defcry.
Speake, ſhall I call her in? beleeve my words,
For they are certaine, and unfailible.

Dolph. Goe call her in: but firſt, to try her skill;
Reignier ſtand thou as Dolphin in my place;
Quetion her powdly, let thy Lookes be ſterne,
By this meanes ſhall we found what skill ſhe hath.

Enter Ioane Puzel.

Reig. Faire Maid, is't then will doe theſe wondrous
feats?

Puz. Reignier, is't thou that thinkeſt to beguile me?
Where is the Dolphin? Come, come from behind,
I know thee well, though never ſene before.
Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me;
In private wil I talke with thee apart:
Stand backe you Lords, and give us leave a while.

Reig. She takes upon her bravely at firſt daſh.

Puz. Dolphin, I am by birth a Shepheards Daughter,
My wit untrain'd in any kind of Art:
Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd
To ſhine on my contemptible eſtate.
Loe, whileſt I wayted on my tender Lambes,
And to Sunnes parching heat diſpla'd my cheekes,
Gods Mother designed to appeare to me,
And in a Vifion full of Majefty,
Will'd me to leave my bafe Vocation,

And free my Countrey from Calamity :
Her ayde ſhe promis'd, and affur'd ſuccofe.
In compleat Glory ſhe reveal'd her ſelfe;
And whereas I was blacke and ſwart before :
With thoſe cleare Rayes, which ſhe infus'd on me,
That beauty am I bieſt with, which you ſee.

Aske me what queſtion thou canſt poffible,
And I will anſwer unpremeditated:
My Courage try by Combat, if thou dar'ſt,
And thou haſt find that I exceed my Sex.
Reſolve on this, thou haſt be fortunate,
If thou receive me for thy Warlike Mate.

Dolph. Thou haſt aſtoniſh me with thy high terms:
Onely this proofe Ile of thy Valour make,
In ſingle Combat thou haſt buckle with me;
And if thou vanquifhest, thy words are true,
Otherwife I renounce all confidence.

Puz. I am prepar'd : here is my keen-edg'd Sword,
Deckt with fine Flower-de-Luces on each ſide,
The which at Touraine, in S. Katherines Church-yard,
Out of a great deale of old Iron, I choſe forth.

Dolph. Then come a Gods name, I feare no woman.

Puzel. And while I live, Ile ne're flye no man.

Here they fight, and Ioane de Puzel overcomes.

Dolph. Stay, ſlay thy hands, thou art an Amazon,
And fighteſt with the Sword of Debera.

Puzel. Chriſts Mother helpes me, eſſe I wereſt
weake.

Dolph. Who e're helps thee, 'tis thou that muſt helpe
Impatiently I burne with thy deſire,
(me:
My heart and hands thou haſt at once ſubdu'd,
Excellent Puzel, if thy name be ſo,
Let me thy ſervant, and not Soveraigne be,
'Tis the French Dolphin ſueth to thee thus.

Puzel. I muſt not yet ſold to any rights of Love,
For my Proſeffion's ſacred from above :
When I have chafed all thy Foes from hence,
Then will I thinke upon a recompence.

Dolph. Meane time Iooke gracious on thy proſtrate
Thraill.

Reig. My Lord me thinkes is very long in talke.

Alan. Doubtlesſe he ſhrives this woman to her ſmooſe
Elfe ne're could he ſo long protraſt his ſpeech.

Reign. Shall wee diſturbe him, ſince he keepeſ no
meane?

Ala. He may mean more then we poore men do know?
Thefe women are ſhrewd tempters with their tongues.

Reig. My Lord, where are you? what devife you on,
Shall we give o're Orleance, or no?

Puzel. Why no, I ſay: diſtruſt full Recreants,
Fight till the laſt gafpe : for Ile be your guard.

Dolph. What ſhe fayes, Ile confirme: we'll fight it
out.

Puzel. Aſſign'd am I to be the English Scourge.
This night the Siege affureldly I ſeife:
Expect Saint Martins Summer, Haleyons dayes,
Since I have entred thus into theſe Warres.

Glory is like a Circle in the Water,
Which never ceaſeth to enlarge it ſelfe,
Till by broad ſpreading, it diſperſe to nought.
With Hewries death, the English Circle ends,
Diſperſed are the glories it included :
Now am I like that prowd infuſing Ship,
Which Cæsar and his fortune bare at once.

Dolph. Was Mahomet infired with a Dove?
Thou with an Eagle art infired then.
Helen, the Mother of Great Conſtantine,
Nor yet S. Philips daughters were like thee.
Bright Starre of Venus, faire downe on the Earth,
How may I reverently worſhip thee enough?

Alan. Leave off delayes, and let us raife the
Siege.

Reignier.

100

And fully even these three dayes have I watcht,
If I could see them. Now Boy doe thou watch,
For I can fly no longer.
If thou fly it any, runne and bring me word,
And thou shalt find me at the Governors.

Boy. Father, I warrant you, take you no care,
Ile never trouble you, if I may flye them.

Exit.

Exit.

Enters Salisbury, and Talbot on the Turrets,
with others.

Salis. Talbot, my life, my joy, againe return'd?
How wert thou handled, being Prifoner?
Or by whai meanes got's thou to be releas'd?
Diffource I prethee on this Turrets top.

Tal. The Earle of Bedford had a Prifoner,
Call'd the brave Lord Ponton de Santraile,
For him was I exchang'd, and ransom'd.
But with a bafer man of Armes by farre,
Once in contempt they would have barter'd me:
Which I difdaming, Icorn'd, and craved death,
Rather then I would be fo pil'd elteem'd;
In fine, redeem'd I was as I defir'd.
But O, the trecherous Falstaffe wounds my heart,
Whom wich my bare filts I would execute,
If I now had him brought into my power.

Salis. Yet tell it thou not, how thou wert enter-
tain'd.

Tal. With Sfoffes and Jcornes, and contumelious taunts,
In open Market-place produc't they me,
To be a publique spectacle to all:

Here, faid they, is the Terror of the French,
The Scar-Crow that affrights our Children to,
Then broke I from the Officers that led me,
And with my nayles digg'd tones out of the ground,
To hurle at the beholders of my flame.
My grifly countenance made others flye,
None durst come neere, for fear of fuddaine death.
In Iron Walls they deem'd me not secure:
So great feare of my Name mongft them were spread,
That they fuppured I could rend Barres of fluele,
And furne in pieces Pofts of Adamant.

Wherefore a guard of choſen Shot I had;
That walkt about me every Minute while :
And if I did but flurre out of my Bed,
Ready they were to fhoot me to the heart.

Enter the Boy with a Linstocke.

Salis. I grieve to heare what torments you endur'd,
But we will be reveng'd sufficiently.

Now it is Supper time in Orleance :
Here, through this Grate, I can count every one,
And view the Frenchmen how they fortifie:
Let us looke in, the fight will much delight thee :

Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William Glansdale,
Let me have your expreſſe opinions,

Where is beſt place to make our Batt'ry next?

Gargr. I thinke at the North Gate, for there ſtand
Lords.

Glanſ. And I heere, at the Bulwarke of the Bridge.

Talb. For ought I fee, this City muſt be famiſht,
Or with light Skirmiſhes enfeebled.

Here they ſhot, and Salisbury falls downe.

Salis. O Lord have mercy on us, wretched finners.

Garg. O Lord have mercy on me, wofull man.

Talb. What chance is this, that suddenly hath croſt us?

Speake Salisbury; at least, if thou canſt, ſpeaketh:

How far'ſt thou, Mirror of all Martiall men?

One of thy Eyes, and thy Cheekes ſide ſtrucke oſſ?
Accurſed Tower, accurſed fatall Hand,
That hath contriv'd this wofull Tragedy.

In thirteenth Battailles, Salisbury o'recame :

Henry the Fifth he firſt trayn'd to the Warres.
Whilft any Trumpe did found, or Drum ſtrucke up,
His Sword did ne're leane ſtriking in the field.

Yet liv't thou Salisbury? though thy ſpeech doth ſayle:
One Eye thou haſt to looke to Heaven for grace.

The Sunne with one Eye vieweth all the World.
Heaven be thou gracious to none alive,

If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands.
Beare hence his Body, I will helpe to bury it.

Sir Thomas Gargrave, haſt thou any life?

Speake unto Talbot, nay, looke up to him.

Salisbury cheare thy Spirit with this comfort,
Thou haſt not dye whiles—

He beckens with his hand, and ſmiles on me:
As who should ſay, When I am dead and gone,
Remember to avenge me on the French.

Plantaginet I will, and Nere like will,
Play on the Lute, beholding the Townes burne:
Wretched ſhall France be only in my Name.

— Here an Alarum, and isit Thunders and Lightens.

What flurre is this? what tumult's in the Heavens?
Whence commeth this Alarum, and the noyle?

Enter a Melfenger.

Meff. My Lord, my Lord, the French have gather'd
The Dolphin, with one Ioane de Puzel joyn'd, (head
A holy Prophetefle, new riſen up,

Is come with a great Power, to ravle the Siege.

Here Salisbury lifteth himſelfe up, and groans.

Talb. Heare, heare, how dying Salisbury doth groane,
It irkes his heart he cannot be reveng'd.

Frenchmen, Jie be a Salisbury to you.

Puzel or Puffel, Dolphin or Dog-fifth,
Your hearts Ile ſtampe out with my Horſes heeles,
And make a Quagmire of your mingled braines.

Convey me Salisbury into my Tent,

And then we'll try what theſe daſtard Frenchmen dare.

Alarum,

Exeunt.

Here an Alarum againe, and Talbot purſueth the Dolphin,
and driveth him: Then enter Ioane de Puzel, driv-
ing Englishmen before her. Then enter,
Talbot.

Talb. Where is my ſtrength, my valour, and my force?
Our ſanglifthe Troupes retyre, I cannot fly them.
A Woman clad in Armour chaſeth them.

Enter Puzel.

Here, here ſhe comes. Ile have about with thee:
Devil, or Devils Dam, Ile conjure thee:
Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a Witch.
And fraightway give thy Soule to him thou fervit.

Puz. Come, come, tis onely I that muſt difgrace thee.

Here they fight.

Talb. Heavens, can you ſuffer Hell ſo to prevaile ?
My breſſe I burſt with ſtraining of my courage,
And from my ſhoulders cracke my Armes aſunder,
But I will chaſtife this high-minded Strumpet.

They fight againe.

Puz. Talbot farewell, thy hour is not yet come,
I muſt goe Viſtuall Orleance for with;
A short Alarum : then enter the Towne
with Souldiers.

O're.

The first Part of Henry the Sixt.

O're-take me ifthou canst, I fcorne thy strength.
Goe, goe, cheare up thy hongry-starved men,

Goe, goe, cheare up thy hongry-starved men,
Helpe Salibury to make his Testament,

Helpe Salibury to make his Testament,
This Day is ours, as many more shall be.

This Day is ours, as many more shall be.
Exit.

Talb. My thoughts are whirled like a Potters Wheel.

I know not where I am, nor what I doe:
A Witch by feare, not force, like Hannibal,

Drives backe our troupes, and conquers as the lifts:

So Bees with fmoake, and Doves with noysome flench,
Are from their Hyves and Houſes driven away.

They call'd us, for our fierceneſſe, Englilh Dogges,
Now like the Whelpes, we crying runne away.

A short Alarum.

Hearke Countrie men, cyther renew the fight,
Or teare the Lyons out of Englands Coat;

Renounce your Soyle, give Sheepe in Lyons Itead:

Sheepe run not half so trecherous from the Wolfe,
Or Horſe or Oxen from the Leopard,

As you flye from your oft-fubdued flaves.

Alarum. Here another Skirmish.

It will not be, retyre into your Trenches:

You all confented unto Salibwries death,

For none would ſtrike a ſtroake in his revenge.

Puzel is entred into Orleance,

In ſight of us, or ought that we could doe.

O would I were to dye with Salisbary,

The fame hereof, will make me hide my head.

Exit Talbot.

Alarum, Retreat, Flourill.

Enter on the Walls, Puzel, Dolphin, Reaigne.

Alanson, and Souldiers.

Puzel. Advance our waning Colours on the Walls,
Reſu'd is Orleance from the Englilh wolves:

Thus Joane de Puzel hath perform'd her word.

Dolph. Divineſt Creature, bright Aftrae's Daughter,
How ſhall I honour thee for this ſuccesse ?

Thy promifes are like Adonis Garden,

That one day bloom'd, and fruitfull were the next.

France, triuſh in thy glorious Prophetteſe,

Recover'd is the Towne of Orleance,

More bleſſed hap did ne're befall our State.

Reigne. Why ring not out the Bells alowd,
Throughout the Towone ?

Dolphin command the Citizens make Bonefires,

And feast and banquet in the open streets,

To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.

Alay. All France will be repleat with mirth and joy,
When they shall heare how we have play'd the men.

Dolph. 'Tis Joane not we, by whom the day is wonne:
For which, I will devide my Crowne with her,
And all the Priefts and Fryers in my Realme,

Shall in proceſſion ſing her endleſſe prayſe.

A flately Pyramis to her He reare,
Then Rhodope's or Memphis ever was.

In memorie of her wen ſhe is dead,
Her Aſhes, in an Vrne more precious

Then the rich-jew'd Coffer of Darius,

Transported, ſhall be at high Feſtivals.

Before the Kings and Queenes of France.

No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry,

But Joane de Puzel, ſhall be France's Saint.

Come in, and let us Banquet Royally,
After this Golden Day of Victorie.

Flourill.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Sergeant of a Band, with two Sentinels.

Ser. Sirs, take your places and be vigilant :

If any noyſe or ſouldier you perceive

Neere to the walles, by ſome apparant ſigne

Let us have knowledge at the Court of Guard.

Sent. Sergeant you ſhall. Thus are poore Servitors
(When others ſleepe upon their quiet beds)

Conſtrain'd to watch in darkeneſſe, raine, and cold.

Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy, with ſcaling Ladders: Their Drummes beating a Dead March.

Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,
By whole approach, the Regions of Artoys,
Wallon, and Picardy, are friends to us:

This happy night, the Frenchmen are ſecure,
Having all day carows'd and banquetted,

Embrace we then this opportunitie,

As fitting beſt to quittance their deceite,

Contriv'd by Art, and balefull Sorcerie.

Bed. Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame,
Defpairing of his owne armes fortitude,

To joyne with Witches, and the helpe of Hell.

Bur. Traitors have never other company.

But what's that Puzel whom they tearme to pure ?

Tal. A Maid, they lay.

Bed. A Maid ? And be ſo martiall ?

Bur. Pray God he prove not maſculine ere long :
If underath the Standard of the French

She carry Armor, as ſhe hath begun.

Tal. Well, let them praſtile and converfe with ſpirits.

God is our Fortreſſe, in whole conquering name

Let us reſolve to ſcale their flinty bulwarkes.

Bed. Aſcend brave Talbot, we will follow thee.

Tal. Not altogether : Better farre I gueſſe,
That we do make our entrance ſeverall wayes:

That if it chance the one of us do ſaile,

The other yet may rife againſt their force.

Bed. Agreed; Ile to yond corner.

Bur. And I to this.

Tal. And heere will Talbot mount, or make his grave.

Now Salisbury for thee and for the right

Of Englilh Henry, ſhall this night appeare

How much in duty, I am bound to both.

Sent. Arme, arme, the enemy doth make affault.

Cry, S. George. A Talbot.

The French leape are the walles in their ſhirts. Enter
Severallwayet, Baslard, Alanſon, Reaigne,
halſe ready, and halſe unready.

Alan. How now, my Lords ? what all unreadie ſo ?

Baſt. Vready ? I and glad we ſcap'd to well.

Reig. 'Twas time (I trow) to wake and leave our beds,
Hearing Alarums at our Chamber doores.

Alan. Of all exploits ſince firſt I follow'd Armes,
Ne're heard I of a walike enterprize

M

More

More venturous, or desperate then this.

Bast. I thinke this Talbot be a Fiend of Hell.

Reig. If not of Hell, the Heavens fire favour him.

Alanf. Here commeth Charles, I marvell how he fped?

Enter Charles and Ioane.

Bast. Tut, holy Ioane was his defensive Guard.

Charl. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitfull Dame ?
Didst thou at first, to flatter us withall,
Make us partakers of a little gayne,
That now our loffe might be ten times so much?

Ioane. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend?
At all times will you have my power alike?

Sleeping or waking, muft I still prevale,
Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?

Improvident Souldiers, had your watch beene good,
This fodaine miſchefte never could have falne.

Charl. Duke of Alanfon, this was your default,
That being Captaine of the Watch to Night,
Did looke no better to that weightie Charge.

Alanf. Had all our Quarters beene as fafile kept,
As that whereof I had the government,
We had not beene thus famefully ſurpriz'd.

Bast. Mine was ſecure.

Reig. And fo was mine, my Lord.

Charl. And for my ſelfe, moſt part of all this Night
Within her Quarter, and mine owne Preincinct,
I was employ'd in paffing to and fro,
About relieving of the Centinels.

Then how, or which way, ſhould they firſt breake in?
Ioane. Quetion (my Lords) no further of the cafe,
How or which way; 'tis ſure they found ſome place,
But weakely guarded, where the breach was made :
And now there reſts no other ſhift but this,

To gather our Souldiers, ſcatler'd and dilperct,
And lay new ſlat-formes to endammage them.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter a Souldier, crying, a Talbot, a Talbot:
they flye, leaving their Cloathes behind.

Sould. Ile be bold to take what they have left:

The Cry of Talbot ſerves me for a Sword,

For I have loaden me with many Spoyles,

Vſing no other Weapon but his Name.

Exit.

Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundie.

Bedf. The day begins to breake, and Night is fled,

Whofe pitchy Mantle over-vayl'd the Earth.

Here found Retreat, and ceafe our hot purſuit,

Talb. Bring forth the Body of old Salisbury,

And here advance it in the Market-Place,
The middle Center of this curſed Towne.

Now have I pay'd my Vow unto his Soule,
For every drop of blood was drawne from him,
There hath at least five Frenchmen dyed to night.

And that hereafter Ages may behold

What mine happened in revenge of him,
Within their chiefest Temple Ile erect

A Tombe, wherein his Corps ſhall be interr'd :
Vpon the which, that every one may reade,
Shall be engrav'd the ſacke of Orleance,
The trecherous manner of his mouneſe ſull death,
And what a terror he had beene to France.

But Lords, in all our bloody Maſacre,
I muſe we met not with the Dolphins Grace,

His new-come Champion, vertuous Ioue of Acre,
Nor any of his falſe Confederates.

Beda. 'Tis thought Lord Talbot, when the fight began,
Rows'd on the fodaine from their drouſe Beds,
They did amongſt the troupes of armed men,
Leape o're the Walls for refuge in the field.

Burg. My ſelfe, as farre as I could well diſcern,
For ſmoake, and duskie vapors of the night,
Am ſure I ſear'd the Dolphin and his Trull,
When Arme in Arme they both came twiflly running,
Like to apaire of loving Turtle-Doves,
That could not live aſunder day or night,
After that things are ſet in order here,
Wee'le follow them with all the power we have.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Meſſ. All hayle, my Lords: w hich of his Princely trayne
Call ye the Warlike Talbot, for his Aſts

So much applauded through the Realme of France ?

Talb. Here is the Talbot, who would ſpeake with him?

Meſſ. The vertuous Lady, Counteffe of Auergne,
With modetric admiring thy Renowne,
By me enreats (great Lord) then would'ſt vouchſafe
To vifit her poore Caſtle where ſhe lyes,
That ſhe may beaſt ſhe hath beheld the man,
Whofe glory ſills the World with lowd report.

Burg. Is it even ſo ? Nay, then I fee our Warres
Will turne onto a peacefull Comick ſport,
When Ladyes crave to be encountered with.

You may not (my Lord) deſpife her gentle ſuit.

Talb. Ne're truſt me then: for when a World of men
Could not prevayle with all their Oratorie,
Yet hath a Womans kindneſſe over-ruſt :
And therefore tell her, I returne great thanks,
And in ſub ſiffion will attend on her.

Will not your Honours beare me company ?

Beda. No, truly, ‚tis more then manners will
And I have heard it ſayd, Vnbidden Gueſts
Are often welcommet when they are gone.

Talb. Well then, alone (since there's no remedie)
I meane to prove this Ladyes courteſe.

Come hither Captaine, you perſence my minde.

Whispari

Capt. I doe my Lord, and meane accordingly.

Exeunt.

Enter Counteffe.

Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge,
And when you have done ſo, bring the Key to me.

Port. Madame, I will.

Exit.

Count. The Plot is layd, if all things fall out right,
I ſhall as famous be by this exploite.

As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus death.

Great is the rumour of this dreadfull Knight,

And his atchievements of no leſſe account :
Faine would mine eyes be witaſſe with mine eares,
To give their cenſure of theſe rare reports.

Enter Meſſenger and Talbot.

Meſ. Madame, according as your Ladyship deſir'd,
By meſſage crav'd, ſo is Lord Talbot come.

Count. And he is welcome: what? is this the man?

Meſſ. Madame, it is.

Count. Is this the Scourge of France ?
Is this the Talbot, so much ſear'd abroad ?
That with his Name the Mothers ſtill their Babes ?

I fee Report is fabulous and falſe.

The first Part of Henry the Sixth.

I thought I should have seene some Hercules,
A second Hector, for his grim aspect,
And large proportion of his strong knit Limbes.
Alas, this is a Child, a filly Dwarfe:

It cannot be, this weake and writhled flrimpe
Should strike such terror to his Enemies.

Talb. Madame, I have beene bold to trouble you:
But since your Ladyship is not at leayre,
Ile fort fome other time to visit you.

Count. What means he now ?
Goe aske him, whither he goes ?

Mell. Stay my Lord Talbot, for my Lady craves,
To know the caufe of your abrupt departure ?

Talb. Marry, for that shee's in a wrong beleefe,
I goe to certifie her Talbot's here.

Enter Porter with Keyes.

Count. If thou be he, then art thou Prifoner.

Talb. Prifoner? to whom?

Count. To me, blood-thirstie Lord :
And for that caufe I train'd thee to my House,
Long timethy shadow hath beene thrall to me,
For in my Gallery thy picture hangs :

But now the substance shall endure the like,
And I will chayne thefe Legges and Armes of thine,
That half by tyrannie thefe many yeeres
Wafed our Countrie, flaine our Citizens,
And fent our Sonnes and Husbands captivate.

Talb. Ha, ha, ha.

Count. Laugheth thou Wretch ?

Thy mirth shall turne to moane.

Talb. I laugh to fee your Ladiship so fond,
To thinke, that you have ought but Talbots shadow,
Whereon to practice your feverity.

Count. Why? art not thou the man?

Talb. I am indeede.

Count. Then have I subftance too.

Talb. No, no, I am but shadow of my selfe:
You are deceiv'd, my subftance is not here ;

For what you fee, is but the Smallest part,
And leaft proportion of Humanitie :

I tell you Madame, were the whole Frame here,
It is of such a spacious loftie pitch,
Your Roofe were not sufficient to contayn't.

Count. This is a Riddling Merchant for the nonce,
He will be here, and yet he is not here :

How can thefe contrarieties agree ?
Talb. That will I few you prefently.

Winds his Horne, Drummes strike up, a Peale
of Ordenance : Enter Souldiers.

How fay you Madame? are you now perfwaded,
That Talbot is but shadow of himfelfe?

There are his subftance, finewes, armes, and strength,
With which he yoaketh your rebellious Neckes,
Razeth your Cities, and fubverts your Townes,
And in a moment makes them defolate.

Count. Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse,
I finde thou art no leffe then Fame hath bruited,
And more then may be gathered by thy shape.
Let my prefumption not provoke thy wrath,
For I am forry, that with reverence
I did not entertaine thee as thou art.

Talb. Be not difmay'd, faire Lady, nor miſconſter
The minde of Talbot, as you did miſtake
The outward compofition of his body.
What you have done, hath not offended me :
Nor other satisfaction doe I crave,

But only with our patience, that we may
Taffe of your Wine, and fee what Cates you have,
For Souldiers ſtomacks always ſerve them well.

Count. With all my heart, and thinke me honored,
To feaſt so great a Warrior in my houſe.

Exeunt.

Enter Richard Plantagenet, Warwick, Somerſet,
Poole, and others.

Yorke. Great Lords and Gentlemen,
What means this ſilence?

Dare no man anſwere in a Cafe of Truth?

Suff. Within the Temple Hall we were too lowd,
The Garden here is more convenient.

Yorke. Then ſay at once, if I maintain'd the Truth :
Or eſſe was wrangling Somerſet in th'error?

Suff. Faith I have beene a Truant in the Law,
And never yet could frame my will to it,
And therefore frame the Law unto my will.

Sons. Iudge you, my Lord of Warwicke, then betweene us.

War. Between two Hawks, which flyes the higher pitch,
Betweene two Dogs, which hath the deeper mouth,
Betweene two Blades, which beares the better temper,
Betweene two Horſes, which doth beare him beſt,
Betweene two Girles, which hath the merriſt eye,
I have perhaps ſome ſhallow ſpirit of judgement:
But in theſe nice ſharpe Quillets of the Law,
Good faith I am no wifer then a Daw.

Yorke. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance :
The truth appearse ſo naked on my ſide,
That any purblind eye may find it out.

Sons. And on my ſide it is ſo well apparrell'd,
So cleare, ſo ſhining, and ſo evident,
That it will glimmer through a blind-mans eye.

Yorke. Since you are tongue-ty'd, and foloth to ſpeake,
In dumbe ſignificants proclayme your thoughts:
Let him that is a true-borne Gentleman,
And ſtands upon the honor of his birth,
If he ſuppofe that I have pleaded truth,
From off this Bryer plucke a white Rofe with me,

Sons. Let him that is no Coward, nor no flatterer,
But dare maintaine the party of the truth,
Pluck a red Rofe from off this Thorne with me.

War. I love no Colours : and without all colour
Of bafe infuinating flatterie,

I pluck this white Rofe with Plantagenet.

Suff. I plucke this red Rofe, with young Somerſet,
And ſay withall, I thinke he held the right.

Vernon. Stay Lords and Gentlemen, and pluck no more
Till you conclude, that he upon whose ſide
The feweſt Rofes are cropt from the tree,
Shall yeeld the other in the right opinion.

Sons. Good Maſter Vernon, it is well objected :
If I have feweſt, I ſubſcribe in ſilence.

Yorke, And I.
Vernon. Then for the truth, and plaineneſſe of the Cafe,
I plucke this pale and Majden Bloſſome here,
Giving my Verdiſt on the white Rofe ſide.

Sons. Prick not your finger as you plucke it off,
Leaſt bleeding, you doe paint the white Rofe red,
And fall on my ſide ſo againſt your will.

Vernon. If I, my Lord, for my opinion bleed,
Opinion ſhall be Surgeon to my hurt,
And keepe me on the ſide where ſtill I am.

Sons. Well, well, come on, who eſſe?

m 3

Lawyer. Vn-

Lawier, Vnleſſe my Studie and my Bookes be ſalſe,
The argument you held, was wrong in you ;
In figne whereof, I plucke a white Rofe too.
Torke. Now Somerſet, where is your argument?
Som. Here in my Scabbard, meditating, that
Shall dye your white Rofe in a bloody red.
Torke. Meane time your cheeks do counterfeit our Rofes:
For pale they looke with ſeare, as witneſſing
The truth on our ſide.

Som. No Plantagenet :
'Tis not for ſeare, but anger, that thy cheekes
Bluſh for pure ſhame, to counterfeit our Rofes,
And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.
Torke. Hath not thy Rofe a Canker, Somerſet?
Som. Hath not thy Rofe a Thorne, Plantagenet?
Torke. I, ſharpe and piercing to maintain his truth,
Whiles thy confuming Canker eates his ſalſe hood.
Som. Well, Ile find friends to weare my bleeding Rofes,
That ſhall maintaine what I have ſaid is true,
Where ſalſe Plantagenet dare not be ſeene.
Torke. Now by this Maiden Bloſſome in my hand,
I ſcorne thee and thy ſalſhion, peeviſh Boy.

Suff. Turne not thy ſcornes this way Plantagenet.
Torke. Prowd Poole, I will, and ſcorne both him and
thee.

Suff. Ile turne my part thereof into thy throat.
Som. Away, away, good William de la Poole,
We grace the Yeoman, by converſing with him.
Warw. Now by Gods will thou wrong it him, Somerſet:
His Grandfather was Lyonel Duke of Clarence,
Third Sonne to the third Edward King of England :
Spring Creſſeſſe Yeomen from ſo deepe a Root ?
Torke. He beares him on the place's Privilege,
Or durſt not for his craven heart ſay thus.

Som. By him that made me, Ile maintaine my words
On any plot of Ground in Chriſtendome.
Was not thy Father, Richard, Earle of Cambridge,
For Treason executed in our late Kings dayes?
And by his Treason, ſland it not thou attainted,
Corrupted and exempt from ancient Gentry?
His treſpalle yet lives guiltie in thy blood,
And till thou be ſerſor'd, thou art a Yeoman.

Torke. My Father was attached, not attainted,
Condemn'd to dye for Treason, but no Traytor ;
And that Ile prove on better men then Somerſet,
Were growing time once ripened to my will.
For your partaker Poole, and you your ſelſe,
Ile note you in my Booke of Memorie.

To ſcourge you for this apprehenſion :
Looke to it well, and ſay you are well warn'd.

Som. Ah, thou ſhalt finde us ready for thee ſtill :
And know us by theſe Colours for thy Foes,
For theſe, my friends in ſpight of thee ſhall weare.

Torke. And by my Soule, this pale and angry Rofe,
As Cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,
Will I for ever, and my ſaction weare,
Vntill it wither with me to my Grave,
Or flouriſh to the height of my Degree.

Suff. Goe forward, and be choak'd with thy Ambition:
And ſo farewell, untill I meete the next. Exit.

Som. Have with thee Poole : Farewell ambitious R-chard. Exit.

Torke. How I am brav'd and muſt perſence endure
it?

Warw. This blot that they objeſt against your houſe,
Shall be wip't out in the next Parliament,

Cal'd for the Truce of Winchefter and Glouſteſer :
And if thou be not then created Torke,
I will not live to be accounted Warwicke.
Meane time, in ſignall of my love to thee,
Against proud Somerſet, and William Poole,
Will I up on thy partie weare this Rofe.
And here I prophecie : this brawle to day,
Growne to this ſaction in the Temple Garden,
Shall ſend betweene the Red-Rofe and the White,
A thousand Soules to Death and deadly Night.

Torke. Good Maſter Vernon, I am bound to you,
That you on my behalſe would plucke a Flower.

Ver. In your behalſe ſtill will I weare the fame.

Lawyer. And ſo will I.

Torke. Thankes gentle Sir.
Come, let us foure to Dinner : I dare ſay,
This Quarrell will drinke Blood another day.

Exeunt.

Enter Mortimer, brought in a Chayre,
and Laylors.

Mort. Kind Keepers of my weake decaying Age,
Let dying Mortimer here reſt himſelſe.
Even like a man new haled from the Wrack,
So fare my Limbes with long Imprifonment :
And theſe gray Lockes, the Purſuivants of death,
Nerſor-like aged, in an Age of Care,
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.
Thes Eves, like Lampes, whoſe waſting Oyle is ſpent,
Waxe dimme, as drawing to their Exigent.

Weake Shoulders, over-borne with burthening Grieſe,
And pyth-leſſe Armes, like to a witherred Vine,
That droupes his ſappe-leſſe Branches to the ground.

Yet are theſe Feet, whoſe ſtrength-leſſe ſtay is numme,
(Vnable to ſupport this Lumpe of Clay.)

Swift winged with deſire to get a Grave,

As witting I no other comſore have.

But tell me Keeper, will my Nephew come ?
Keeper. Richard Plantagenet, my Lord, will come:
We ſent unto the Temple, his Chamber,
And anſwer was return'd, that he will come :

Mort. Enouſh : my ſoule then ſhall be ſatſified.
Poore Gentleman, his wrong doth equal mine,
Since Hem we Monmouth firſt began to reigne,
Before whoſe Glory I was great in Armes,
This loathſome ſequeftration have I had;
And even ſince then, hath Richard beene obſcur'd,
Depriv'd of Honour and Inheritance.
But now, the Arbitrator of Despaires,
Iuſt death, kinde Vmpire of mens miferies,
With whoſe enlargement doth diſmiſſe me hence :
I would his troubles likewiſe were expir'd,
That ſo he might recover what was loft,

Enter Richard

Keeper. My Lord, your loving Nephew now is come.

Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?

Rich. I, Noble Vnckle, thus ignobly us'd,

Your Nephew, late deſpiled Richard, comes.
Mort. Direct mine Armes, I may embrace his Necke,
And in his Bofome ſpend my latter gafpe.

Oh tell me when my Lippes do touch his Cheekes,
That I may kindly give one fainting Kiffe,
And now declare (weet Stem from Torkes great Stock,
Why didſt thou ſay of late thou wert deſpis'd?

Rich. Firſt

Rich. First, leane thine aged Back againft mine Arme,
And in that cafe, Ile rell thee my Difcafe.

This day in argument upon a Cafe,
Some words there grew 'twixt Somerſet and me :
Amongst which tearmes, he us'd his lavifh tongue,
And did upbrayd me with my Fathers death ;
Which obloque fet barres before my tongue,
Elſe with the like I had requited him.
Therefore good Vnkle, for my Fathers ſake,
In honour of atrue Plantagenet,

And for Alliance ſake, declare the cauſe
My Father, Earle of Cambridge, loſt his Head.

Mort. That cauſe (faire Nephew) that imprifon'd me,
And hath detayn'd me all my flowring Youth,
Within a loathfome Dungeon, there to pyne,
Was curſed inſtrument of his deccafe.

Rich. Difcover more at large what cauſe that was,
For I am ignorant, and cannot gueſſe.

Mort. I will, if that my fading breath permit,
And death approach not, ere my Tale be done.
Heny the Fourth, Grandfather to this King,
Depos'd his Nephew Richard, Edwards Sonne,
The firſt begotten, and the lawfull Heire
Of Edward King, third of that Deſcent.

During whose Reigne, the Percies of the North,
Finding his Vfurpation moſt unjuſt,
Endeavor'd my aduancement to the THRONE.
Thereafter mov'd theſe Warlike Lords to this,
Was, for that (young King Richard) thus remov'd,
Leaving no Heire begotten of his Body)
I was the next by Birth and Parentage :
For by my Mother I derived am
From Lionel Duke of Clarence, the third Sonne
To King Edward the Third; whereas hee,
From John of Gaunt doth bring his Pedigree,
Being but the fourth of that Heroick Lyne.
But marke : as in this haughtie great attempts,
They laboured to plant the rightfull Heire,
I loſt my Libertie, and they their Lives.

Long after this, when Henry the Fifth
(Succeeding his Father Bullingbrook) did reigne ;
Thy Father, Earle of Cambridge, then deriv'd
From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of Yorke,
Matrnying my Sifter, that thy Mother was ;
Againe, in pity of my hard diſtreſſe,
Levied an Army, weening to redeeme,
And have inſtall'd me in the Diademe :
But as the reſt, I ſo fell that Noble Earle,
And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimer's,

In whom the Title reſted, were ſuppreſſt.
Rich. Of which, my Lord, your Honor is the laſt.
Mort. True; and thou ſeeſt, that I no Iſſue have,
And that my fainting words doe warrant death :
Thou art my Heire; the reſt, I wifh thee gather :
But yet be wary in thy ſtudious care.

Rich. Thy grave admoniſhments prevail with me :
But yet me thinkes, my Fathers exſcription
Was nothing leſſe then bloody Tyranny.
Mort. With ſilence, Nephew, be thou politick,
Strong fixed is the Houſe of Lancastor,
And like a Mountaine, not to be remov'd.
But now thy Vnkle is removing hence,
As Princes doe their Courts, when they are cloy'd
With long continuance in a fetled place.

Rich. O Vnkle, would ſome part of my young yceres
Might but redeeme the paſſage of your Age.

Mort. Thou doſt then wrong me, as yflaughterer doth,
Which giveth many Wounds, when one will kill.

Mourne not, except thou forrow for my good,
Onely give order for my Funerall.

And to farewell, and faire be all thy hopes;

And proſperous be thy Life in Peace and Warre. Dyes.

Rich. And peace, no Warre, befall thy parting Soule.
In prifon haſt thou ſpent a Pilgrimage,
And like a Hermite over-paſt thy dayes.
Well, I will locke his Counſell in my Breſt,
And what I doe imagine, let that reſt.

Keepers convey him hence, and I my ſelfe

Will fee his Buriall better then his Life.

Here dyes the duskie Torch of Mortimer,

Choak't with Ambition of the meaner fort.

And for thofe Wrongs, thofe bitter injuries,

Which Somerſet hath offer'd to my Houſe,

I doubt not, but with honor to redreſſe.

And therefore haſte I to the Parliament,
Eyther to be reſtored to my Blood,

Or make my will th'advantage of my good.

Exit.

Exit.

Atus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Flourith. Enter King, Exeter, Gloſter, Winchefter, Warwick
Somerſet, Suffolk, Richard, Plantagenet. Gloſter offers
to put up a Bill: Winchefter (matches it, tearres it.

Winch. Com't thou with deepe premeditated Lines ?
With written Pamphlets, ſtudionſly devis'd ?

Humphrey of Gloſter, if thou canſt accuſe,
Or ought intend'ſt to lay unto my charge,

Doe it without invention, ſuddenſly,
As I with ſudden, and extemporall ſpeech,
Purpofe to anſwer what thou canſt objeſt.

Glo. Prefumptuous Prief, this place comands my patièce,
Or thou ſi uld'ſt find thou haſt dis-honor'd me.

Thinke not, although in Writing I preferr'd

The manner of thy vile outragious Crimes,

That therefore I have ſorg'd, or am not able

Verbatim to rehearſe the Methode of my Penne.

No prelate, ſuch is thy audacious wickedneſſe,

Thy lewd, peſtiferous and diſſenſious pranks,

As very infants prattle of thy pride.

Thou art a moſt pernicious Vfurer,

Froward by nature, Enemy to peace,

Lafcivious, wanton, more then well beſeemes

A man of thy profefſion, and Degree.

And for thy Trecherie, what's more manifeſt ?

In that thou layd'ſt a Trap to take my Life,

As well at London Bridge, as at the Tower.

Befide, I feare me, if thy thoughts were ſiſed,

The King, thy ſoveraigne, is not quite exempt

From envious malice of thy ſwelling heart.

Winch. Gloſter, I doe deſe thee. Lords vouchſake
To give me hearing what I ſhall reply.

If I were covetous, ambitious or perverſe,

As he will have me: how am I to poore ?

Or how haps it, I feeke not to advance

Or rayſe my ſelfe ? but keepe my wonted Calling.

And for Diffention, who preferreth Peace

More then I doe? except I be provok'd.

No, my good Lords, it is not that offends,

It is not that, that hath incens'd the Duke:

It is becauſe no one ſhould ſway but he,

No one, but he, ſhould be about the King ;

And that engenders Thunder in his breſt,

m 2

And

And makes him rore these Accufations forth.

But he shall know I am as good—

Gloſt. As good?

Thou Baſtard of my Grandfather.

Winch. I, Lordly Sir: for what are you, I pray,

But one imperious in anothers Throne ?

Gloſt. Am I not Protector, lawcie Prieft ?

Winch. And am not I a Prelate of the Church?

Gloſt. Yes, as an Out-law in a Caſtle keepes,

And ueth it, to patronage his Theft.

Winch. Vnreverent Gloſeſter.

Gloſt. Thou art reverent,

Touching thy Spiritnall Function, not thy Life.

Winch. Rome shall remedie this.

Warw. Roame thither then.

My Lord, it were your dutie to forbeare.

Som. I, fee the Bifhop be not over-borne:

Me thinkes my Lord ſhould be Religious,

And know the Office that belongs to ſuch.

Warw. Me thinkes his Lordſhip ſhould be humbler,
It fitteth not a Prelate ſo to plead.

Som. Yes, when his holy State is toucht ſo neere.

Warw. State holy, or unhallow'd, what of that?

Is not his Grace Protector to the King ?

Rich. Plantagenet I fee muſt hold his tongue,

Leaſt it be faſt, Speake Sirrha when you ſhould :

Muſt your bold Verdiſt enter talke with Lords?

Elſe would I have a fling at Winchesteſ.

King. Vnckles of Gloſter, and of Winchesteſ,

The ſpeciall Watch-men of our English Weale,

I would prevayle, if Prayers might prevayle,

To joyne your hearts in love and amitie.

Oh, what a Scandall is it to our Crowne,

That two ſuch Noble Peeres as ye ſhould iarre ?

Beleeve me, Lords, my tender yeeres can tell,

Civill diffention is a viſerous Worme,

That gnawes the Bowels of the Common-wealth.

A noſſe within. Downe with the

Tawny-Coats.

King. What tumult's this?

Warw. An Vprore, I dare warrant,

Begun through malice of the Bifhops men.

A noſſe againe, Stones, Stones.

Enter Mayor.

Mayor. Oh my good Lords, and vertuous Henry,
Pitty the Cittie of London, pitty us :

The Bifhop, and the Duke of Gloſters men,

Forbidden late to carry any Weapon,

Have fill'd their Pockets full of peeble ſtones;

And banding them ſelves in contrary parts,

Doe pelt ſo faſt at one anothers Pate,

That many have their giddy braynes knockt out :

Our Windows are broke downe in every Street,

And we, for feare, compell'd to ſhut our Shops.

Enter in skirmiſh with bloody Pates.

King. We charge you, on allegeance to our ſelves,
To hold your flaughtring hands, and keepe the Peace :

Pray' Vnckle Gloſter mittigate this ſtrife.

1. Serving. Nay, if we be forbidden Stones, wee'le fall to it with our Teeth.

2. Serving. Doe what ye dare, we are as refolute;

skirmiſh againe.

Gloſt. You of my household, leave this peeviſh broyle,
And fet this unaccuſom'd fight afide.

3. Seru. My Lord, we know your Grace to be a man
Luſt, and upright ; and for your Royall Birth,
Inferior to none, but to his Majeftie :
And ere that we will ſuffer ſuch a Prince,

Sokinde a Father of the Common-weale,

To be diſgraced by an Inke-horne Mate,

Wee and our Wives and Children all will fight,

And have our bodies ſlaughtred by thy foes.

1. Seru. I, and the very parings of our Nayles
Shall pitch a Field when we are dead,

Begin againe,

Gloſt. Stay, ſlay, I lay :

And if you love me, as you ſay you doe,

Let me perſwade you to forbeare a while.

King. Oh, how this diſcord doth afflict my ſoule.

Can you, my Lord of Winchefeſt, behold

My ſighes and teares, and will not once relent?

Who ſhould be pittifull, if you be not?

Or who ſhould ſtudy to preferre a Peace,

If holy Church-men take delight in broytes ?

Warw. Yeeld my Lord Protector, yeeld Winchesteſ,
Except you meane with obſtinate repulſe
To ſlay your Soveraigne, and deftroy the Realme.
You fee what miſchieſe, and what Murther too,
Hath beene enaſtied through your emitiſe :
Then be at peace, except ye thirſt for blood.

Winch. He ſhall ſubmit, or I will never yeeld.

Gloſt. Compaſſion on the King commands me ſtoupe,
Or I would fee his heart our, ere the Prieft
Should ever get that privilege of the fame.

Warw. Behold my Lord of Winchefeſt, the Duke
Hath baniſt moodie diſcontented ſury,
As by his ſmoothed Browes it doth appear:
Why looke you ſtill ſo ſterne, and tragicall ?

Gloſt. Here Winchefeſt, I offer thee my Hand.

King. Fie Vnckle Beausford, I have heard you preach,
That Malſice was a great and grievous finne :
And will not you maintraine the thing you teach?
But prove a chieſe offender in the fame.

Warw. Sweet King: the Bifhop hath a kindly gyrd:
For ſhame my Lord of Winchefeſt relent;
What, ſhall a Child inſtruct you what to doe ?

Winch. Well, Duke of Gloſter, I will yeeld to thee
Love for thy Love, and Hand for Hand I give.

Gloſt. I, but I feare me with a hollow Heart.
See here my friends and loving Countrie men,
This token ferveth for a Flagge of Truce,
Betwixt our ſelves, and all our followers :
So help me God, as I diſſemble not.

Winch. So help me God, as I intend it not.

King. Oh loving Vnckle, kinde Duke of Gloſter,
How joyfull am I made by this Contraſt,
Away my Maſters, trouble us no more,

But joyne in ſriendſhip, as your Lords have done.

1. Seru. Content, Ile to the Surgeons.

2. Seru. And ſo will I.

3. Seru. And I will fee what Phyſicke the Taverne affords. Exeunt.

Warw. Accept this Scrowle, moſt gracious Soveraigne,
Which in the Right of Richard Plaſtagenet,
We doe exhibite to your Majeftie.

Glo. Wel ung'd, my Lord of Warwick: for sweet Prince,
And if your Grace marke every circumſtance,
You have great reaſon to doe Richard right,

Eſpecially for thofe occasions
At Eltam Place I told your Majeftie.

King. And

108

Talb. Dare yee come forth, and meet us in the field?
Pucell. Belike your Lordship takes us then forfooles,
To try if that our owne be ours, or no.

Talb. I speake not to that rayling Hecate,
But unto thee Alansom, and thereft.

Will ye, like Souldiers, come and fight it out?

Alans. Seignior no.

Talb. Seignior hang: bafe Muleters of France,
Like Pefant foot-Boyes doe they keepe the Walls,
And dare not takeup Armes, like Gentlemen.

Pucell. Away Captaines, let's get us from the Walls,
For Talbot means no goodneſſe by his Lookes,
God b'uy my Lord, we came fir but to tell you.

That we are here. Exeunt from the Walls.
Talb. And there will we be too, ere it be long,
Or eſſe reproach be Talbors greateſt fame.
Vow Burgonie, by honor of thy houſe,
Prickt on by publike Wrongs ſuſtain'd in Erance,
Either to get the Towne againe, or dye.
And I, as ſure as English Henry lives,
And as his Father here was Conqueror;
As ſure as in this late betrayed Towne,
Great Cordelions Heart was buryed;
So ſure I ſware, to get the Towne, or dye.

Burg. My Vowes are equal partners with thy
Vowes.

Talb. But ere we goe, regard this dying Prince,
The valiant Duke of Bedford: Come my Lord,
We will beſtow you in ſome better place,
Fitter for ſickneſſe, and for craſe age,

Bedf. Lord Talbot, doe not ſo diſhonour me:

Here will I ſit, before the Walls of Roan,
And will be partner of your weale or woe.

Burg. Couragious Bedford, let us now perſwade you.
Bedf. Not to be gone from hence, for once I read,
That ſtout Pendragon, in his Litter ſick,
Came to the field, and vanquifhed his foes.
Me thinkes I should reviue the Souldiers hearts,

Because I ever found them as my ſelſe.

Talb. Vndaunting ſpirit in a dying breſt,
Then be it ſo: Heavens keepe old Bedford ſafe.
And now no more adoe, brave Burgonie,

But gather we our Forces out of hand,
And ſet upon our boafing Enemie.

Exit.

An Alarum: Excursions. Enter Sir John
Falſtaffe, and a Captaine.

Capt. Whither away Sir John Falſtaffe, in ſuch haſter?

Falſt. Whither away? to ſave my ſelſe by flight,
We are like to have the overthrow againe.

Capt. What? will you flye, and leave Lord Talbot?

Falſt. I, all the Talbors in the World, to ſave my life.

Exit.

Capt. Cowardly Knight, ill fortune follow thee.

Exit.

Retreat. Excursions. Pucell, Alanson, and
Charles flye.

Bedf. Now quiet Soule, depart when Heauen pleyſe,
For I have ſeene our Enemies overthrow.

What is the truſt or ſtrength of ſoolſh man?
They that of late were daring with their ſcoſſes,
Are glad and faine by flight to ſave themſelves.

Bedford dyers, and is carried in by two in his Chaire.

An Alarum. Enter Talbot, Burgonie, and
the rest.

Talb. Loft, and recovered in a day againe,
This is a double Honor, Burgonie:

Yet Heavens have glory for this Victory.

Burg. Warlike and Martiall Talbot, Burgonie
Inſhrines thee in his heart, and there erects
Thy NobleDeeds, as Valors Monuments.

Talb. Thankes gentle Duke: but where is Pucel now?
I thinke her old Familiar is aſſlee.

Now where's the Baſtards braves, and Charles his glikes?
What all amight ? Roan hangs her head for grieſe,
That ſuch a valiant Company are ſled.

Now will we take ſome order in the Towne,
Placing therein ſome expert Officers,
And then depart to Paris, to the King,
For there young Henry with his Nobles lye.

Burg. What wills Lord Talbot, pleafeth Burgonie.

Talb. But yet before we goe, let's not forget
The Noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,
But fee his Exequies fulfill'd in Roan,

A braver Souldier never couched Launce,
A gentler heart did never ſway in Court,
But Kings and mightieſt Potentates muſt die,

For that's the end of humane miferie.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Charles, Baſtard, Alanson, Pucell.

Pucell. Difmay not (Princes) at this accident,
Nor grieve that Roan is ſo recovered:
Care is no cure, but rather corraſine,
For things that are not to be remedy'd.
Let frantike Talbot triumph for a while,
And like a Peacocke weeppe along his ſayle,
Wee'le pull his Plumes, and take away his Trayne,
If Dolphin and the reſt will be but rul'd.

Charles. We have beene guided by thee hitherto,
And of thy Cunning had no diſtidence,
One ſudden Foyle shall never breed diſtruſt.

Baſtard. Search out thy wit for ſecreſt polliſies,
And we will make thee famous through the World.

Alans. Wee'le ſet thy Statue in ſome holy place,
And have thee reverenc't like a bleſſed Saint.

Employ thee then, Iweet Virgin, for our good.

Pucell. Then thus it muſt be, this doth Ioane devife:
By faire perſwafions, mixt with ſugred words,
We will inſice the Duke of Burgonie
To leave the Talbot, and to follow us.

Charles. I marry Sweeting, if we could do that,
France were no place for Henries Warriors,
Nor should that Nation boaſt it ſo with us,
But be extirped from our Provinces.

Alans. For ever should they be expulſ'd from France,
And not have Title of an Earledome here.

Pucell. Your Honors ſhall perceive, how I will worke,
To bring this matter to the wifned end.

Drumme founds a farre off.

Hearke, by the found of Drumme you may perſerve
Their Powers are marching unto Paris-ward.

Here found an English March.

There goes the Talbot with his Colours ſpred,
And all the Troupes of English after him.

French.

French Masch.

Now in the Rereward comes the Duke and his:
Fortune in favour makes him lagge behinde.
Summon a Parley, we will talke with him.

Trumpets found a Parley.

Charles. A Parley with the Duke of Burgonie ?

Burg. Who craves a Parley with the Burgonie ?

Puell. The Princely Charles of France, thy Countrey-
man.

Burg. What fay'lt thou Charles? for I am marching
hence.

Charles. Speake Puell, and enchant him with thy
words.

Puell. Brave Burgonie, undoubted hope of France,
Stay, let thy humble hand-maid Speake to thee.

Burg. Speake on, but be not over-tedions.

Puell. Looke on thy Countrey, looke on fertile France,
And fee the Cities and the Townes defac'd;
By wafting Ruine of the cruell Foe,

As lookest the Mother on her lowly Babe,

When Death doth clothe his tender-dying Eyes,

See, fee the pining Malady of France :

Behold the Wounds, the moft unnaturall Wounds,

Which thy felfe haft given her wofull Breft.

Oh turne thy edged Sword another way,

Strike thofe that hurt, and hurt not thofe that helpe :

One drop of Blood drawne from your Countries Boſome,
Should grieve thee more then ſtreames of forraigne gore.

Returne thee therefore with a flood of Teares,

And waſh away thy Countries ſlayned Spots.

Burg. Either the hath bewitch me with her words,
Or Nature makes me fuddenly relent.

Puell. Befides, all French and France exclaimes on thee,
Doubting thy Birth and law full Progenie.

Whom joyn't thou with, but with a Lordly Nation,
That will not truſt thee, but for Profits ſake?

When Talbot hath fet footing once in France,

And fashion'd thee that Influmion of Ill,

Whot then, but English Henry, will be Lord,

And thou be truſt out, like a Fugitive ?

Call we to minde, and marke but this for proofe:

Was not the Duke of Orleance thy Foe?

And was he not in England Prifoner ?

But when they heard he was thine Enemie,
They fet him ſee, wíthout his Ranſome pay'd,

In fight of Burgonie and all his friends.

See then, thou fight'ft againſt thy Countreymen,

And joyn't with them will be thy floughter-men.

Come, come, returne; returne thou wandring Lord,

Charles and the reſt will take thee in their armes.

Burg. I am vanquified :

Theſe haughty words of hers

Have battred me like roaring Cannon-thot,

And made me almoſt yeeld upon my knees.

Forgive me Countrey, and ſweet Countreymen :

And Lords accept this heartie kind embrace.

My Forces and my Power of men are yours.

Sofarewell Talbot, Ile no longer truſt thee.

Puell. Done like a Frenchmarr: turre and turne a-
gaine.

Charles. Welcome brave Duke, thy friendſhip makes
us fresh.

Bailard. And doth beget new Courage in our
Breſts.

Alaſt. Puell hath bravely play'd her part in this,
And doth deferve a Coronet of Gold.

Charles. Now let us on, my Lords,

And ioyne our Powers,

And feeke how we may preiudice the Foe.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter the King, Glouceſter, Winchefter, Yorke, Suffolke
Somerset, Warwicke, Exeter: To them, with
his Southdors, Talbot.

Talb. My gracious Prince, and honorable Peeres,
Hearing of your arrival in this Realme,
I have a while given Truce unto my Warres,
To doe my dutie to my Soveraigne.

In ſigne whereof, this Arme; that hath reclaim'd

To your obedience, fifſtie Fortrefſes,

Twelve Cities, and ſeven walled Townes of ſtrength,

Befide five hundred Prifoners of ſeſleeme :

Lets fall his Sword before your Highneſſe ſeet :

And with ſubmiſſive loyaltie of heart

Aſcribes the Glory of his Conqueſt got,

Firſt to my God, and next unto your Grace.

King. Is this the Lord Talbot, Vuckle Glouſeſter,

That hath ſolong beene ſ confident in France ?

Gloſt. Yes, if it please your Majeftie, my Liege.

King Welcome brave Captaine, and victerious Lord
When I was young (as yet I am not old)

I do remember how my Father ſaid,

A ſouter Champion never handled Sword.

Long ſince we were resolved of your truth,

Your faithfull ſervice, and your toyle in Warre :

Yet never have you taſted our reward,

Or beene reguerdon'd with ſo much as Thankes,

Becauſe till now, we never ſaw your ſace,

Therefore ſtand up, and for theſe good deferts,

We here create you Earle of Shrewsbury,

And in our Coronation take your place.

Exeunt.

Manent Vernon and Baffet.

Vern. Now Sir, to you that were ſo hot at Sea,

Difgracing of theſe Colours that I weare,

In honor of my Noble Lord of Yorke,

Darſt thou maintaine the former words thou ſpak'ſt?

Baff. Yes Sir, as well as you dare patronage

The envious barking of your ſawcie Tongue,

Aginſt the Duke of Somerſet.

Vern. Sirrha, thy Lord I honor as he is.

Baff. Why what is he ? as good a man as Torke.

Vern. Hearke ye : not to : in witneſſe take ye that.

Strikes him.

Baff. Villaine, thou knoweſt

The Law of Armes is ſuch,

That who ſo drawes a Sword, 'tis prefent death,
Or eſſe this Blow ſhould broach thy dearſt Bloud.

But I unto his Majeftie, and crave,

I may have liberty to venge this Wrong,

When thou ſhalſt fee, Ile meet thee to thy coſt.

Vern. Well miſcreant, Ile be there as ſoon as you,
And after meete you, sooner then you would.

Exeunt.

Enter

110

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter King, Gloucester, Winchesteſer, Torke, Suffolke, Somerſet, Warwicke, Talbot, and Governor Exeter.

Glo. Lord Bisbop, let the Crowne upon his head.

Win. God fave King Henry of that name the fixt.

Glo. Now Governour of Paris take your oath,
That you cleſt no other King but him;
Eſteme none friends, but ſuch as are his Friends,
And none your Foes, but ſuch as ſhall pretend
Malicious praeſtifes againſt his State:
This ſhall ye do, ſo helpe you righteouſ God.

Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. My gracious Soveraigne, as I rode from Calice,
To haſte unto your Coronation:
A Letter was deliver'd to my hands,
Writ to your Grace, from th' Duke of Burgundy.

Tal. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy, and thee :
I vow'd (bafe Knight) when I did meet thee next,
To teare the Garter from thy Cravens legge,
Which I have done, becaufe (unworthily)
Thou was't inſtalled in that High Degree.

Pardon me princely Henry, and the reſt :
This Daſtard, at the battell of Poitiers,
When (but in all) I was fixe thouſand ſtrong,
And that the French were almoſt ten to one,
Before we met, or that a ſtroke was given,
Like to a truſtie ſquire, did run away.
In which aſſaunt, we loft twelue hundred men.
My ſelfe, and divers Gentlemen beſide,
Were there ſurpriz'd, and taken prifoners.

Then iudge (great Lords) if I have done amiſe:
Or whether that ſuch Cowards ought to weare
This Ornament of Knighthood, yea or no?

Glo. To ſay the truth, this fact was infamous,
And ill beſeeming any common man:
Much more a Knight, a Captaine, and a Leader.

Tal. When firſt this Order was ordain'd my Lords,
Knights of the Garter were of Noble birth;
Valiant, and Vertuous, full of haughty Courage,
Such as were growne to credit by the warres:
Not fearing Death, nor ſhrinking for Difſtreſe.
But alwayse refolute, in moſt extreames.
He then, that is not furniſh'd in this ſort,
Doth but vſurp the Sacred name of Knight,
Prophaning this moſt Honourable Order,
And ſhould (if I were worthy to be Iudge)
Be quite degraded, like a Hedge-Borne Swaine,
That doth prefume to boaſt of Gentle blood.

Be quite degraded, like a Hedge-Borne Swaine,
That doth prefume to boast of Gentle blood.

K. Stainet to thy Country men, thou hearſt thy doom;
Be packing therefore, thou that waſt a knight:
Henceforth we baniſh thee on paine of death.
And now my Lord Proteſor view the Letter,
Sent from our Vncle Duke of Burgundy.

Glo. What meaneſs his Grace, that he hath chaung'd
his Stile?

No more but plaine and bluntly? (To the King.)
Hath he forgot he is his Souveraigne?
Or doth this churliſh Superſcription
Pretend ſome alteration in good will?
What's heere? I have upon eſſeiall cauſe,
Mov'd with compassion of my Countries wrackes,
Together with the pittifull complaints
Of ſuch as your oppreſſion feedes upon,

Forſaken your pernitiouſ Faſtion,
And soyn'd with Charles, the righteouſ king of France.

O monſtrous Treachery: Can this be ſo?

That in alliance, amity, and oathes,

There ſhould be found ſuch ſalſe diſlembing guile?

King. What? doth my Vncle Burgundy revolt?

Glo. He doth my Lord, and is become my foe.

King. I is that the work that this letter doth containe?

Glo. It is the work, and all (my Lord) he writes.

King. Why then Lord Talbot there ſhal take with him,
And giue him chafVICement for this abufe.

How ſay you (my Lord) are you not content ?

Tal. Content my Liege? Yes: but that I am prevented,
I ſhould have begg'd I might have bene employ'd.

King. Then gather ſtrength, and march into him
ſtraight:

Let him perceive how ill we brooke his Treſaon,
And whatoffence it is to flout his Friends.

Tal. I go my Lord, in heart defiring full
You may behold conſuſion of your foes.

Enter Vernon and Baſſer.

Ver. Grant me the Combate, gracious Soveraigne.

Baf. And me (my Lord) grant me the Combate too.

Torke. This is my Servant, heare him Noble Prince.

Som. And this is mine (sweet Henry) favour him.

King. Be patient Lords, and give them leave to ſpeake,
Say Gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaine

And wherefore crave you Combate? Or with whom?

Ver. With him (my Lord) for he hath done me wrong.

Baf. And I with him, for he hath done me wrong.

King. What is that wrong whereon you both complain?
Firſt let me know, and then I anſwer you.

Baf. Croſſing the Sea, from England into France,
This Fellow here with carping tongue,
Vpbraided me about the Roke I weare,

Saying, the fanguine colour of the Leaves

Did preſent my Maſters binſhing checkes :

When ſtubbornly he did repugne the truth,
About a certaine question in the Law,

Argu'd betwixt the Duke of Yorke, and him :
With other vile and ignominious tarmes.

In conſutation of which rude reproach,
And in defence of my Lords worthineſſe,
I craue the benefit of Law of Armes.

Ver. And that is my petition (Noble Lord):
For though he ſeeme with ſorged quent conceite
To ſet a gloſſe upon his bold intent,

Yet know (my Lord) I was provok'd by him,
And he firſt tooke exceptions at this badge,
Pronouncing that the palenſe of this Flower,
Bewray'd the fainteneſſe of my Maſters heart.

Torke. Will not this malice Somerſet be left?

Som. Your private grudge my Lord of Yorke, will out,
Though ne're to cunningly you ſmother it.

King. Good Lord what madneſſe rules in braine-
ficke men,

When for so flight and frivolous a cauſe,
Such faſtions ſemulations ſhallarife ?

Good Couſins both of Yorke and Somerſet,

Quiet your ſelves, and be at peace,

Torke. Let this diſſention firſt be tried by fight,
And then your Highneſſe ſhal command a Peace.

Som. The quarrell toucheth none but us alone,
Betwixt our ſelves let us decide it then.

Torke. There is my pledge, accept it Somerſet.

Ver. Nay, let it reſt where it began at firſt.

Baff.

III

Bajf. Confirme it so, mine honourable Lord.
Glo. Confirme it so ? Confounded be your trife,
And perifh ye with your audacious prate,
Prefumptious vassals, are you not afham'd
With this immodeft clamorous outrage,
To trouble and difturbe the King, and Ys?
And you my Lords, me thinkes you do not well
To bare with their perverfe Objections :
Much leffe to take occafion from their mouthes,
To raife a mutiny betwixt your selvess:
Let me perſwade you take a better courſe.
Ext. It grieves his Highneſſe,
Good my Lords, be friends.

King. Come hither you that would be Combatants:
Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favour,
Quite to forget this Quarrell, and the caufe.

And you my Lords: Remember where we are,
In France, amongft a fickle wavering Nation :

If they perceive diffention in our lookes,
And that within our ſelves we difagree ;

How will their grudging ſtomacks be provok'd
To wilſull Difobedience, and Rebell?

Befide, What ifanby will there drife,

When Forraigne Princes ſhall be certified,
That for a toy, a thing of no regard,

King Hiewes Peeres, and chieſe Nobility,

Deſtroy'd themselves, and loft the Realme of France?

Oh thinke upon the Conqueſt of my Father,
My tender yeares, and let us not forſoge

That for a trifle, that was bought with blood.

Let me be Vmper in this doubtfull ſtrife :

If ee no reaſon if I wearre this Rofe,

That any one ſhould therefore be ſuſpitions

Imore incline to Somerſet, then Yorke :

Both are my kinfmen, and I love them both.

As well they may upbray'd me with my Crowne,

Because (forſtooth) the King of Scots is Crown'd.

But your diſcretions better can perſwade,
Then I am able to inſtruct or teach :

And therefore as we hither came in peace,
So let us fill continue peace and love.

Colin of Yorke, we inſtitute your Grace

To be our Regent in the ſide parts of France :

And good my Lord of Somerſet, unite

Your troopes of horſemen, with his Bands of ſoſte,

And like true Subjects, ſonnes of your Progenitors,

Go cheerefully together, and diſſeft

Your angry Choller on your Enemies.

Our ſelſe, my Lord Proteſor, and the reſt,

After ſome refpit will returne to Calice ;

From thence to England, where I hope ere long
To be prefented by your Vicories,

With Charles, Alanſon, and that Traiterous rout.

Exeunt. Manet Yorke, Warwickes, Exeter, Vernon.

War. My Lord of Yorke, I promife you the King

Prettly (me thought) did play the Orator.)

Torke. And ſo he did, but yet I like it not,

In that he weares the badge of Somerſet.

War. Tuſh, that was but his fancie, blame him not,

I dare preſume (ſweet Prince) he thought no harme.

Torke. And if I will he did. But let it reſt,

Other affayres muſt now be managed.

Floribut. Manet Exeter.

Exeunt.

War. Well didſt thou Richard to ſuppreſſe thy voyce:

For had the paffions of thy heart burſt out,

I ſeare we should have ſee ne decipher'd there

More rancorous ſpight, more furious raging broyles,
Then yet can be imagin'd or ſuppos'd :

But howſoere, no ſimple man that fees

This iarring diſcord of Nobilitie,

This shouldering of each other in the Court,

This factious bandying of their Favourites,

But that it doth prefage ſome ill event.

Tis much, when Scepters are in Childrens hands :

But more, when Envy breeds unkinde devifion.

Then comes the ruine, there begins confusion.

Exit.

Enter Talbot with Trumpet and Drumme,
before Burdeaux.

Talb. Go to the Gates of Burdeaux, Trumpeter,
Summon their Generall unto the Wall.
Enter Generall aloft.
Sounds.

Englifh John Talbot (Captaines) calls you forth,
Servant in Armes to Harry King of England,

And thus he would. Open your City Gates,

Be humbled to us, call my Soveraigne yours,

And do him homage as obedient Subjects,

And Ile withdraw me, and my bloody power.

But if you frowne upon this proffer'd Peace,

You tempt the fury of my three attendants,

Leane Famine, quartering Steele, and climbing Fire,

Who in a moment, even with the earth,

Shall lay your ſtately, and ayre-braving Towers,

If you forſake the offer of their love.

Cap. Thou ominous and fearefull Owle of death!

Our Nations terror, and their bloody ſcourge,

The period of thy Tyranny approacheth,
On uſthou canſt not enter but by death :

For I proteſt we are well fortified,

And ſtrong enough to ilſue out and fight.

If thou retire, the Dolphin well appointed,

Stands with the ſhares of Warre to tangle thee.

On either hand thee, there are ſquadrons pitcht,

To wall thee from the liberty of Flight;

Ten thouſand French have tane the Sacrament,

And no way canſt thou turne thee for redreſſe,

But death doth front thee with apparant ſpoyle,

And pale deſtruction meetes thee in the face :

To ryue their dangerous Artillerie

Vpon no Chriſtian foule but Englifh Talbot:

Loe, there thou standt a breathing valiant man

Of an invincible unconquer'd ſpirit :

This is the lateſt Glorie of thy prayſe,

That I thy enemy dew thee withall :

For ere the Glaſſe that now begins to runne,

Finifh the proceſſe of his ſandy houre,

Theſe eyes that fee thee now well coloured,

Shall fee thee witherred, bloody, pale, and dead.

Drum a farre off.

Harke, harke, the Dolphins drumme, a warning bell,

Sings heavy Muſicke to thy timorous foule,

And mine ſhall ring thy dire departure out.

Exit.

Tal. He Fables not, I heare the enemie :

Out ſome light Horſemen, and perſufe their Wings.

O negligent and heedeſſe Diſcipline,

How are we park'd and bounded in a pale ?

A little Heard of Englands timorous Deere,

Maz'd with a yelping kennell of French Curres.

If we be Englifh Deere, be then in blood,

Not Raſcaſllike to fall downe with a pinch,

But rather moodie mad : Aud desperate Stagges,

Turne

["The first Part of Henry the Sixt.", "113", "And shall I flye? O, if you love my Mother,\nDifonor not her Honorable Name,", "Difonor not her Honorable Name,\nTo make a Baftard, and a Slave of me:", "The World will fay, he is not Talbots blood,\nThat safely fled, when Noble Talbot flood.", "Talb. Flye, to revenge my death, if I be flaine.", "Iohn. He that flyes to, will ne're returne againe.", "Talb. If we both flyay, we both are fure to dye.", "Iohn. Then let me flyt, and Father doe you flye:", "Your lofe is great, to your regard should be;\nMy worth unknowne, no lofe is knowne in me.", "Vpon my death, the French can little boat;\nIn yours they will, in you all hopes are loft.", "Flight cannot flyayne the Honor you have wonne,", "But mine it will, that no Exploit have done.", "You fled for Vantage, every one will fware:\nBut if I bow, they'le fly it was for fear.", "There is no hope that ever I will flyay,", "If the firft howre I fhrinkle and run away:", "Here on my knee I begge Mortality,", "Rather then Life, preferv'd with Infamy.", "Talb. Shall all thy Mothers hopes lye in one Tombe?", "Iohn. I, rather then Ile flame my Mothers Wombe.", "Talb. Vpon my Bleffing I command thee goe.", "Iohn. To fight I will, but not to flye the Foe.", "Talb. Part of thy Father may be fav'd in thee.", "Iohn. No part of him, but will be flame in me.", "Talb. Thou never hadt Renowne, nor canft not lofe it.", "Iohn. Yes, your renowned Name: shall flight abuse it?", "Tal. Thy Fathers charge Thal cleare thee from ſtaine.", "Iohn. You cannot wittneſſe for me, being flaine.", "If Death be ſo apparant, then both flye.", "Talb. And leave my followers here to fight and dye?", "My Age was never tainted with ſuch flame.", "Iohn. And shall my Youth be guilty of ſuch blame?", "No more can I be fevered from your fide,", "Then can your ſelfe, your ſelfe in twaine divide:", "Stay, goe, doe what you will, the like doe I;", "For live I will not, if my Father dye.", "Talb. Then here I take my leave of thee, faire Sonne,", "Borne to eclipſe thy Life this afternoone:", "Come, ſide by ſide, together live and dye,", "And Soule with Soule from France to Heaven flye.", "Exeunt.", "Alarum: Excursions, wherein Talbots Sonne\nis hemm'd about, and Talbot\nrefcues him.", "Talb. Saint George, and Victory; fight Souldiers, fight:\nThe Regent hath with Talbot broke his word,", "And left us to the rage of France his Sword.", "Where is John Talbot? pawle, and take thy breath,\nI gave thee Life, and reſcued thee from Death.", "Iohn. O twice my Father, twiceam I thy Sonne:", "The Life thou gav'ft me firſt, was loſt and done,", "Till with thy Warlike Sword, deſpight of Fate,", "To my determin'd time thou gav'it new date.", "Talb. When from the Dalpbins Creft thy Sword ſtruck\nIt warm'd thy Fathers heart with proude defire (fire,\nOf bold fac't Viſtory. Then Leaden Age,\nQuicken'd with Youthfull Spleene, and Warlike Rage,\nBeat downe Alainſon, Orleance, Burgundie,", "And from the Pride of Gallia reſcued thee.", "The irefull Baſtard Orleance, that drew blood\nFrom thee my Boy, and had the Maidenhood", "Of thy firſt fight, I foone encountered,", "And interchanging blowes, I quickly ſhed", "Some of his Baſtard blood, and in diſgrace", "Befpoke him thus: Contaminated, bafe,", "And mis-begotten blood, I ſpill of thine,", "Meane and right poore, for that pure blood of mine,", "Which thou didſt force from Talbot, my brave Boy.", "Here purpofing the Baſtard to deſtroy,", "Came in ſtrong reſcue. Speake thy Fathers care:", "Art thou not weary Iohn? How doſt thou fare?", "Wilt thou yet leave the Battaille, Boy, and flie,", "Now thou art ſeal'd the Sonne of Chivalry?", "Flye, to revenge my death when I am dead,", "The helpe of one ſtands me in little ſtead.", "Oh, too much foily is it, well I wot,", "To hazard all our lives in one ſmall Boat.", "If I to day dye not with Frenchmens Rage,", "To morrow I ſhall dye with mickle Age.", "By me they nothing gaine, and if I ſtay,", "'Tis but the ſhortning of my Life one day.", "In thee thy Mother dyes, our Houſeholds Name,", "My Deaths Revenge, thy Youth, and Englands Fame:", "All theſe, and more, we hazard by thy ſtay;", "All theſe are fav'd, if thou wilt flye away.", "Iohn. The Sword of Orleance hath not made me ſmart,\nTheſe words of yours draw Life-blood from my Heart.", "On that aduantage, bought with ſuch a ſhame,", "To fave a paltry Life, and ſtay bright Fame,", "Before young Talbot from old Talbot flye,", "The Coward Horſe that beares me, fail and dye:", "And like me to the pefant Boyes of France,", "To be Shames ſcorne, and ſubject of Mitchance.", "Surely, by all the Glory you have wonne,", "And if I flye, I am not Talbots Sonne.", "Then talke no more of flight, it is no boot,", "If Sonne to Talbot, dye at Talbots foot.", "Talb. Then follow thou thy deſp'rate Syre of Creet\nThou Icarus, thy Life to me is ſwect:", "If thou wilt fight, fight by thy Fathers ſide,", "And commendable prov'd, let's dye in pride.", "Exit.", "Alarum. Excursions. Enter old\nTalbot led.", "Talb. Where is my other Life? mine owne is gone.", "O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant Iohn?", "Triumphant Death, linear'd with Captivity,", "Young Talbots Valour makes me ſmile at thee.", "When he perceiv'd me ſhrinkle, and on my Knee,", "His bloody Sword he brandifht over mee,", "And like a hungry Lyon did commence", "Rough deeds of Rage, and ſterne Impatiences", "But when my angry Guardant flood alone,", "Tendring my ruine, and aſſay'd of none,", "Dizzie-ey'd Fury, and great rage of Heart,", "Suddenly made him from my ſide to ſtart", "Into the cluſtring Battaille of the French:", "And in that Sea of Blood, my Boy did drench", "His over-mounting Spirit; and there di'd", "My Icarus, my Bloſtome, in his pride.", "Enter with John Talbot, borne.", "Serv. O my deare Lord, loe where your Sonne is borne.\nTa. Thou antique Death, which laugh ſt us here to ſcorn,", "Anon from thy infulting Tyrannie,", "Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,\nTwo Talbots winged through the lither Skie,", "In thy deſpight ſhall ſcapc Mortality.", "O thou wholeſe wounds become hard ſavoured death,", "n", {"bbox": [767, 1317, 817, 1338], "category": "

114

The first Part of King Henry the Sixth.

Speake to thy father,ere thou yeeld thy breath,
Brave death by speaking,whither he will or no:
Imagine him a Frenchman,and thy Foe.

Poore Boy,he smiles,me thinkes,as who should fay,
Had Death bene French,then Death had dyed to day.
Come,come,and lay him in his Fathers armes,
My spirit can no longer beare thefe harmes.

Souldiers adieu : I have what I would have,
Now my old armes are yong John Talbots grave.

Dyes

## Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Charles, Alanfon, Burgundie, Bajtard, and Pucell.

Char. Had Yorke and Somerfet brought refcue in,
We should have found a bloody day of this.

Baft. How the yong whelpe of Talbots raging wood,
Did flesh his pany-word in Frenchmens blood.

Puc. Once I encountered him, and thus I laid:
Thou Maiden youth, be vanquifit by a Maide.
But with a provd Majesticall high Corne
He anfwer'd thus: Yong Talbot was not borne
To be the pillage of a Giglot Wench,
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.

Bur. Doubtlesse he would have made a noble Knight:
See where he lies inherced in the armes.

Of the moft bloody Nurſer of his harmes.

Baſt. Hew them to peeces, hack their bones aflunder,
Whofe life was Englands glory, Gallia's wonder.

Char. Oh no forbeare: For that which we have fled
During the life, let us not Wrong it dead.

Enter Lucy.

Lu. Herald, conduct me to the Dolphins Tent,
To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.

Char. On what submiſſive meſlage art thou ſent?

Lucy. Submiſſion Dolphin? Tis a meere French word:
We English Warriours wot not what it meanes.
I come to know what Prifoners thou haft tane,
And to ſurvey the bodies of the dead.

Char. For prifoners askſt thou? Hell our prifon is.
But tell me whom thou feek'ft?

Lue. But where's the great Aleides of the field,
Valiant Lord Talbot Earle of Shrewsbury?

Created for his rare ſucceſſe in Armes,
Great Earle of Walsford, Waterford, and Valence,
Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Vrcbinfield,
Lord Strange of Blackmore, Lord Vardon of Alcon,
Lord Cromwell of Wingefield, Lord Furnivall of Sheſſeild,
The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge,
Knight of the Noble Order of S. George,
Worthy S. Michael, and the Golden Fleece,
Great Marſhall to our King Henry the fixt,
Of all his Warres within the Realme of France.

Puc. Here's a filly flately ſtile indeede:
The Turke that two and fifty Kingdomes hath,
Writes not ſo tedious a Stile as this.

Him that thou magnifiſt with all theſe Titles,
Stinking and fly-blowne lyes heere at our freeſe,

Lucy. Is Talbot flaine, the Frenchmens only Scourge,
Your Kingdomes terror, and blacke Nemesis?
Oh were mine eye-balles into Bullets turn'd,
That I in rage might ſhoot them at your faces.

Oh, that I could but call theſe dead to life,
It were enough to fright the Realme of France.

Were but his Picture left amongſt you here,
It would amaze the prowdeſt of you all.
Give me their Bodies, that I may beare them hence,
And give them Buriall, as beſeemes their worth.

Puc. I thinke this upstart is old Talbots Ghoſt,
He ſpeakes with ſuch a proud commanding ſpiriſt:
For Gods ſake let him have him; to keepe them here,
They would but ſinke, and putrifiſe the ayre.

Char. Go take their bodies hence.

Lucy. He beare them hence; but from their affaires shall
be reard.

A Phoenix that ſhall make all France affear'd.

Char. So we be rid of them, do with them what ſy wilt.
And now to Paris in this conquering vaine,
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's flaine.

Exii.

## Scena Secunda.

Enter King, Gloceſter, and Exeter.

King. Have you perſu'd the Letters from the Pope,
The Emperor, and the Earle of Arminack?

Glo. I have my Lord, and their intent is this,
They humbly ſue vato your Excellence,
To have a godly peace concluded of,
Betweene the Realmes of England, and of France.

King. How doth your Grace affect their motion?

Glo. Well(my good Lord) and as the only means
To ſtop effuffion of our Chriſtian blood,
And ſtablish quietneſſe on every ſide.

King. I marry Vnkleck, for I alwayes thought
It was both impious and unnaturally,
That ſuch immanity and bloody ſtrife
Should reigne among Proſeffors of one Faith.

Glo. Befide my Lord, the ſooner to effect,
And ſurer binde this knot of amitie,
The Earle of Arminacke neere knit to Charles,
A man of great Authority in France,

Proſeffers his only daughter to your Grace,
In marriage, with a large and ſumptuous Dowry.

King. Marriage Vnkleck? Alas my yeares are yong:
And fitter is my fludy, and my Bookes,
Than wanton dalliance with a Paramour.
Yet call th'Embaſſadors, and as you pleafe,
So let them have their anſweres every one:
I ſhall be well content with any choyce
Tends to God's glory, and Countries weale.

Enter Winchefter, and three Ambaſſadors.

Exet. What, is my Lord of Winchefter inſtall'd,
And call'd unto a Cardinalls degree?
Then I perceive, that will be verified
Henry the Fifth did ſometime propheſie.
If once he come to be a Cardinall,
Hee'l make his cap coequall with the Crowne.

King. My Lords the Ambaſſadors, your ſeveral ſuites
Have bin confider'd and debated on,
Your purpofe is both good and reaſonable:
And therefore we are certainly reſolv'd,
To draw conditions of a friendly peace,

Which

Which
Shall be

Glo.
I have a

As likin
Her Be
He dot
King

Beare
And for
And fat
Comm
Win.

The tur
Should
For clo
Leg
Or be in
Hum
That ne
The Bi
He eith
Or fac

The second Part of King Henry the Sixt.

Which by my Lord Winchefter we meane
Shall be transported prefentely to France.

Glo. And for the proffer of my Lord your Mailter,
I have inform'd his Highneffle to at large,
As liking of the Ladies vertuous gifts,
Her Beauty, and the valew of her Dower,
He doth intend he shall be Englands Queene,

King. In argument and proofe of which contract,
Beare her this Iewell, pledge of my affection.
And for my Lord Protector fee them guarded,
And fadly brought to Dover, wherein fhip'd
Commit them to the fortune of the fea.

Win. Stay my Lord Legate, you shall firft receive

The tumme of money which I promifed
Should be delivered to his Holinesse,

For cloathing me in thefe grave Ornaments.

Legat. I will attend upon your Lordships ley fure,

Win. Now Winchefter will not fubmit, I trow,

Or be inferior to the proude Peere;

Hunfrey of Glofter, thou fhalt well perceive,

That neither in birth, or for authority,

The Bifhop will be over-borne by thee:

He either make thee ftoope, and bend thy knee,

Or facke this Country with a mutiny.

Exeunt.

Exeunt.

## Scena Tertia.

Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alanson, Baufard,
Reignsner, and Ione.

Char. These newes (my Lords) may cheere our drooping spirits:

Tis faid, the fout Parifians do revolt,

And returne againe unto the warlike French.

Alan. Then march to Paris Royall Charles of France,
And keepe not backe your power in dalliance.

Puc. Peace be amongft them if they turne to us,
Eſleruine combate with their Pallaces.

Enter Scout.

Scout. Succeſſe unto our valiant Generall,

And happineſſe to his accomplices.

Char. What tidings ſend our Scouts? I prethee ſpeak,

Scout. The English Army that divided was

Into two parties, is now conjoyn'd in one,
And meanes to give you battell prefentely.

Char. Somewhat too fofaine Sirs, the warning is,

But we will prefentely provide for them.

Bar. I truſt the Ghoſt of Talbot is not there:

Now he is gone my Lord, you need not feare.

Puc. Of all bafe paffions, Feare is moſt accuſt.

Command the Conqueſt Charles, it ſhall be thines:

Let Henry fret, and all the world repine.

Char. Then on my Lords, and France be fortunate.

Exeunt.

Alarum.

Excursions.

Enter Ione de Pucell.

Puc. The Regent conquers, and the Frenchmen flye.
Now helpe ye charming Spelles and Periaps,
And ye choyſe ſpirits that admoniſh me,

And give me fignes of future accidents.

You ſpeedy helpers, that are fubſtitutes

Vnder the Lordly Monarch of the North,
Appeare, and ayde me in this enterprize.

Enter Fiends.

This ſpeedy and quicke appearance argues proofe
Of your accuſtom'd diligence to me.

Now ye Familiar Spirits, that are cull'd

Out of the powerfull Regions under earth,

Helpe me this once, that France may get the field.

They walke, and ſpeak not.

Oh hold me not with ſlence over-long:

Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,

Ile lop a member off, and give it you,

In earneſt of a further benefit:

So you do conſeſſd to helpe me now.

They hang their heads.

No hope to have redreſſe? My body ſhall

Pay recompence, if you will graunt my ſuite,

They make their heads.

Cannot my body, nor blood-facrifice,

Intreat you to your wonted furtherance?

Then take my ſoule; my body, ſoule, and all,

Before that England give the French the ſoyle.

They depart.

See, they for fake me. Now the time is come,
That France muſt vale her loſſy plumed Creſt,
And let her head fall into Englands lappe.

My ancient Incantations are too weake,

And hell too ſtrong for me to buckle with:

Now France, thy glory droopeth to the duſt.

Exit.

Excursions. Burgundy and Torke fight hand to
hand. French flye.

Torke. Damſell of France, I thinke I have you ſaſt,
Vnchaine your ſpirits now with ſpelling Charmes,
And try if they can gaine your liberty.

A goodly prize, fit for the divels grace.

See how the vgly Witch doth bend her browes,

As if with Cire, ſhe would change my ſhape.

Puc. Chang'd to a worſer ſhape thou canſt not be:

Tor. Oh, Charles the Dolphin is a proper man,

No ſhape but his can pleafe your dainty eye.

Puc. A plaguing miſcheefe light on Charles, and thee,

And may ye both be ſodainly turpriz'd

By bloudy hands, in fleeping on your beds.

Torke. Fell banning Hagge, Inchantreſſe hold thy
tongue.

Puc. I prethee give me leave to curſe awhile.

Tor. Curſe Mifcreant, when thou comſt to the ſake

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Suffolke with Margaret
in his hand.

Suff. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prifoner.

Gazes on her.

Oh Faireſt Beauty, do not feare, nor flye:

For I will touch thee but with reverend hands,

I kiffe theſe fingers for eternal peace,

And lay them gently on thy tender ſide.

Who art thou, lay that I may honor thee.

Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a King,

The King of Naples, who ſore ere thou art.

Suf. And Earle I am, and Suffolke am I call'd.

Be not offendeſd Natures myracle,

Thou art allotted to be tane by me:

So doth the Swan her downy Cignets ſave,

n 2

Keep-

116

Keeping them prifoner underneath hir wings:
Yet if this fervile usage once offend,
Go, and be free againe, as Suffolkes friend.
She is going.
Oh iay: I have no power to let her paffe,
My hand would bee her, but my heart fayes no.
As playes the Sunne upon the glaffie streames,
Twinkling another counterfetted beame,
So feemes this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes,
Paine would I wooe her, yet I dare not fpeak:
Ile call for Pen and Inke, and write my minde:
Fye De la Pole, difable not thy felfe:
Haft not a Tongue? Is fhe not heere thy prifoner?
Wilt thou be daunted at a Womans fight?
I:Beauties Princely Majefty is fuch,
Confounds the tongue, and makes the fenſes rough.
Mar. Say Earle of Suffolke, if thy name be fo,
What ranſome muſt I pay before I paffe?
For I perceive I am thy prifoner.
Suf. How canft thou tell the will deny thy ſuite,
Before thou make a triall of her love?
M. Why ſpeak'ft thou not? What ranſom muſt I pray?
Suf. She's beautifull; and therefore to be Wcoed:
She is a Woman, therefore to be Wonne.
Mar. Wilt thou accept of ranſome, yea or no?
Suf. Fond man, remember that thou haſt a wife,
Then how can Margaret be thy Paramount?
Mar. I were belt to leave him, for he will not heare.
Suf. There all is marr'd: there lies a cooling card.
Mar. He talkes at randon: ſure the man is mad.
Suf. And yet a diffipation may be had.
Mar. And yet I would that you would anſwer me:
Suf. Ile win this Lady Margaret. For whom?
Why for my King: Tuſh, that's a wooden thing.
Mar. He talkes of wood: It is ſome Carpenter.
Suf. Yet fo my fancy may be satisfied,
And peace eſtablifhed betweene theſe Realmes.
But there remaines a ſuple in that too:
For though her Father be the King of Naples,
Duke of Anjou and Mayne, yet is he poore,
And our Nobility will ſcorne the match.
Mar. Heare ye Captaine? Are you not at leaſure?
Suf. It ſhall be ſo, diſdaine they ne're ſo much:
Henry is youthfull, and will quickly yeeld.
Madam, I have a ſecret to reveale.
Mar. What though I be inthral'd, he ſeems a knight,
And will not any way diſhonor me.
Suf. Lady, vouchſaſe to lioſen what I ſay.
Mar. Perhaps I ſhall be reſeu'd by the French,
And then I need not crave his curteſe.
Suf. Sweet Madam, give me hearing in a caufe.
Mar. Tuſh, women have bene captivate ere now.
Suf. Lady, wherefore talke you for?
Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but Quid for Quo.
Suf. Say gentle Princeſe, would you not ſuppofe
Your bondage happy, to be made a Queene?
Mar. To be a Queene in bondage, is more vile,
Than is a flave, in bafe fervility:
For Princes should be free.
Suf. And fo ſhall you,
If happy Englands Royall King be free.
Mar. Why what concerns his freedome unto me?
Suf. Ile undertake to make thee Henries Queene,
To put a Golden Scepter in thy hand
And fet a precious Crowne upon thy head,
If thou wilt conſeſſend to be my
Mar. What?

Suf. His love.
Mar. I am unworthy to be Henries wife.
Suf. No gentle Madam, I unworthy am
To wooe ſo faire a Dame to be his wife,
And have no portion in the choice my ſelfe.
How ſay you Madam, are ye ſo content?
Mar. And if my Father płaſe, I am content.
Suf. Then call our Captaines and our Colours forth,
And Madam, at your Father's Catle walles,
Wee'l crave a parley, to conferre with him.
Sound. Enter Reignser on the Wall.
See Reignier ſee, thy daughter prifoner.
Reig. To whom?
Suf. To me.
Reig. Suffolke, what remedy?
I am a Souldier, and unapt to weepe,
Or to exclaim on Fortunes ſicklenſe.
Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough my Lord,
Conſent, and for thy Honor give conſent,
Thy daughter ſhall be wedded to my King,
Whom I with paine have wooed and wonne thereto;
And this her eafe held imprifonment,
Hath gair'd thy daughter Princely liberty.
Reig. Speakes Suffolke as he thinkes?
Suf. Faire Margaret knowes,
That Suffolke doth not flatter, ſace, or faire.
Reig. Vpon thy Princely warrant, I deflect,
To give thee anſwer of thy juſt demand.
Suf. And heere I will expect thy comming.
Trumpets found. Enter Reignier.
Reig. Welcome brave Earle into our Territories,
Command in Anjou what your Honor płaſes.
Suf. Thankes Reignier, happy for ſo ſweet a Child,
Fito be made companion with a King:
What anſwer makes your Grace unto my ſuite?
Reig. Since thou doſt daigne to wooe her little worth,
To be the Princely Bride of ſuch a Lord:
Vpon condition I may quietly
Enjoy mine owne, the Country Maine and Anjou,
Free from oppreſſion, or the ſtroke of Warre,
My daughter ſhall be Henries, if he płaſe.
Suf. That is her ranſome, I deliver her,
And thofe two Counties I will undertake
Your Grace ſhall well and quietly enjoy.
Reig. And I againe in Henries Royall name,
As Deputy unto that gracious King,
Give thee her hand for ſigne of plighted faith.
Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee Kingly thanks,
Because this is in Traileſke of a King.
And yet me thinkes I could be well content
To be mine owne Atturney in this caſe.
Ile over then to England with this newes,
And make this marriage to be ſolemniz'd:
So far ewell Reignier, ſet this Diamond ſafe
In Golden Pallaces as it becomes.
Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace
The Chrilthan Prince King Henry were he heere.
Mar. Farewell my Lord, good wifhes, pRAſe, & prayers,
Shall Suffolke ever have of Margaret. Shee is going.
Suf. Farewell wſeet Madam: but heare you Margaret,
No Princely commendations to my King?
Mar. Such commendations as becomes a Maide,
A Virgin, and his Servant, ſay to him.
Suf. Words wſeetly pla'd, and modelſtly directed,
But

117

But Madame, I must be trouble you againe,

No living Token to his Majestye?

Mar. Yes, my good Lord, a pure unspotted heart,
Never yet taint with love, I tend the King.

Suf. And this withall.

Kisse her.

Mar. That for thy selfe, I will not so prefume,
To fend such peeveith tokens to a King.

Suf. Oh wert thou for my selfe: but Suffolk feay,
Thou mayest not wander in that Labyrinth,
There Minotauris and ugly Treaufons lurne.

Solicite Henry with her wonderous praisè,
Bethinke thee on her Vertues that furmount,
Made naturall Graces that extinguish Art,
Repeate their semblance often on the Seas,

That whenthou com't to kneele at Henries feete,
Thou mayest bereave him of his wits with wonder, Exit.

Enter Yorke, Warwicke, Shepheard, Pucell.

Tor. Bring forth that Sorcereſſe condemn'd to burne.
Shep. Ah Ione, this kils thy Fathers heart out-right,

Have I fought every Countrey farre and neere,

And now it is my chance to finde thee out,
Muſt I behold thy timeleſſe cruell death:

Ah Ione, sweet daughter, Ile die with thee.

Puc. Decrepit Mifter, bafe ignoble Wretch,
I am defend'd of a gentler blood.

Thou art no Father, nor no Friend of mine.

Shep. Out, out: My Lords, and pleafe you, 'tis not so,
I did beget her all the Parish knowes:

Her Mother liveth yet, can telesſiue

She was the firſt fruite of my Bach'-ler-ſhip,

War. Graceleſſe, wile: thou deny thy Parentage?

Tor. This argues, what her kind of life hath beene,
Wicked and vile, and fo her death concludes.

Shep. Fye Ione, that thou wilt be fo obstacle:
God knowes, thou art a collop of my ſlesh,
And for thy ſake have I ſhed many a teare:
Deny me not, I prythee, gentle Ione.

Puc. Pezant avant. You have ſuborn'd this man
Of purpofe, to obſcure my Noble birth.

Shep. 'Tis true, I gave a Noble to the Prieſt,
The morne that I was wedded to her mother.

Kneele downe and take my bleſſing, good my Gyrlle.
Wilt thou not ſtoop? Now curſed be the time
Of Thy nativity: I would the Milke

Thy mother gave thee when thou fuck'dt her breſt,
Had bin a little Rats-bane for thy ſake.

Or ſelſe, when thou didſt keepe my Lambes a field,
I with ſome ravenous Wolfe had eaten thee.

Doeſt thou deny thy Father, curſed Drab?

O burne her, burne her, hanging is too good.

Exit.

Tor. Take her away, for ſhe hath liv'd too long,
To fill the world with vicious qualities.

Puc. First let me tell you whom you have condemn'd;
Not me, begotten of a Shepheard Swaine,
But influed from the Progeny of Kings.

Vertuous and Holy, choſen from above,
By Imagination of Celeſtall Grate,

To worke exceeding miracles on earth.

I never had to do with wicked Spirits,

But you that are polluted with your luſes,
Stain'd with the guiltleſſe blood of Innocents,

Corrupt and tainted with a thouſand Vices:
Because you want the grace that others have.

You judge it ſtraight a thing impoffible

To compaſſe Wonders, but by helpe of divels.

No mifconceived, Ione of Aire hath beene

A Virgin from her tender infancy,

Chaſte, and immaculate in very thought,

Whole Maiden-blood thus rigorouſly effus'd,

Will cry for Vengeance, at the Gates of Heaven.

Tor. I, I; away with her to execution.

War. and hearke ye first becauſe ſhe is a Maide,
Spare for no Faggots, let there be enow:

Place barneles of pitch upon the fatall flake,

That fo her torture may be ſhortned.

Puc. Will nothing turne your unrelenting hearts?
Then Ione diſcover thine infirmity,

That warranteth by Law, to be thy privilege.

I am with childe ye bloody Homicides:

Murther not then the Fruite within my Wombe,

Although ye hale me to a violent death.

Tor. Now heaven forfend, the holy Maid with child?

War. The greatest miracle that ere ye wrought:

Is all your ſtrict precifeneſſe come to this?

Tor. She and the Dolphin have bin jugling,

I did imagine what would be her refuge.

War. Well go to, we will have no Baſtards live,
Efpecially ſince Charles muſt Father it.

Puc. You are deceiv'd, my childe is none of his,
It was Alanſon that injoy'd my love.

Tor. Alanſon that notorious Maſchevile?

It dyes, and if it had a thouſand lives.

Puc. Oh give me leave, I have deluded you,
'Twas neither Charles, nor yet the Duke I nam'd,
But Reaignier King of Naples that prevail'd.

War. A married man that's moſt intollerable.

Tor. Why here's a Gyrlle: I thinke ſhe knowes not wel
(There were ſo many) whom ſhe may accuſe.

War. It's ſigne ſhe had beene liberall and free.

Tor. And yet forfooth ſhe is a Virgin pure.

Strumpet, thy words condemne thy Brat, and thee.

Vſe no treaty, for it is in vaine.

Puc. Then lead me hence: with whom I leave my curſe.

May never glorious Sunne reflex his beames
Vpon the Countrey where you make abode:

But darkneſſe, and the gloomy ſhade of death
Inviron you, till Mifcheeſe and Delpaire,

Drive you to break your necks, or hang your ſelves. Exit.

Enter Cardinall.

Tor. Breake thou in peeces, and conſume to afhes,
You fowle accuſed minifter of Hell.

Car. Lord Regent, I do greete your Excellence

With Letters of Commiffion from the King.

For know my Lords, the States of Chriſtendome,

Mov'd with remorſe of theſe out-ragious broyleſ,

Have earneſtly implor'd a generall peace,

Betwixt our Nation, and that affpyring French;

And heere at hand, the Dolphin and his Traine

Approacheth, to conferre about ſome matters.

Tor. Is all our travell turn'd to this effect,

After the ſlaughter of ſo many Peeres,

So many Captaines, Gentlemen, and Souldiers,

That in this quarrell have beene overthrowe,

And fold their bodies for their Countries benefit,
Shall we at laſt conclude effeminate peace?

Have we not loft moſt part of all the Towne,

By treaſon, Falfhood, and by Treachery,

Our great Progenitors had conquered?

Oh Warwicke, Warwicke, I foreſee with greeſe

The utter loffe of all the Realme of France.

War. Be patient Yorke, if we conclude a Peace

n 3

It

It shall be with such strict and severe Covenants,
As little shall the Frenchmen gaine thereby.

Enter Charles, Alanson, Baftard, Reignier.

Char. Since Lords of England, it is thus agreed,
That peacefull truce shall be proclaime'd in France,
We come to be informed by your felves,
What the conditions of that league muft be.

Tor. Speake Winchefter, for boyling choller chokes
The hollow paflage of my poyfon'd voice,
By fight of thefe our balefull enemies.

Win. Charles, and the reft, it is enafted thus:
That in regard King Henry gives confent,
Of meere compaffion, and of lenity,
To cafe your Country of diſtrefſe full Warre,
And ſuffer you to breathe in fruitfull peace,
You ſhall become true Liefemen to his Crowne.
And Charles, upon condition thou wilt ſwcre
To pay him tribute, and ſubmit thy ſelſe,
Thou ſhalt be plac'd as Viceroy under him,
And ſtill enjoy thy Regall dignity.

Alan. Muſt he be then as ſhadow of himſelfe?
Adorne his Temples with a Coronet,
And yet in ſubſtance and authority,
Retaine but privilege of a private man?
This proffer is abſur'd, and reaſonleſſe.

Char. 'Tis knowne already that I am poſſeſt
With more then halſe the Gallian Territories,
And therein reverenc'd for their lawfull King.
Shall I for lucre of the reſt un-vanquifht,
Detraſt ſo much from that prerogative,
As to be cal'd but Viceroy of the whole?
No Lord Ambaſſador, Ile rather keepe
That which I have, than coveting for more
Be caſt from poſſibility of all.

Tor. Influting Charles, haſt thou by ſecreſt means
Vs'd interſection to obtaine a league,
And now the matter growes to compremize,
Stand'ſt thou aloofe upon Comparilon.
Either accept the Title thou uſurp'ſt,
Of benefit preeceeding from our King,
And not of any challenge of Deteſt,
Or we will plague thee with inceſſant Warres.

Reig. My Lord, you do not well in obſtinacy,
To cavill in the courſe of this Contraſt:
If onceit be neglected, ten to one
We ſhall not finde like opportunity.

Alan. To ſay the truth, it is your policy,
To ſave your Subjeſts from ſuch maſſacre
And ruthleſſe ſlaughters as are daily ſeen e
By our proceeding in Hottility.
And therefore take this compact of a Truce,
Although you breake it, when your pleasure ſerves.

War. How ſayſt thou Charles?
Shall our Condition stand?

Char. It shall:
Onely reſerv'd, you claime no intereſt
In any of our Townes of Garrifon.

Tor. Then ſwcre Allegeance to his Majefty,
As thou art Knight, never to diſobey.

Nor be Rebellious to the Crowne of England,
Thou nor thy Nobles, to the Crowne of England.

So, now diſmiffe your Army when ye pleaſe:

Hang up your Enſignes, let your Drummes be full,
For heere we entertaine a folkmane peace.

Exenunt.

Enter Snuffolo in conference with the King,
Gloſſer, and Exeter.

King. Your wondrous rare deſcription (noble Earle)
Of beauteous Margaret hath aftonifh'd me:
Her vertues graced with externall gifts,
Do breed Loves fetled paſſions in my heart,
And like as rigour of tempeſtuous guſtes
Provokes the mightieſt Hulke againſt the tide,
So am I driven by breath of her Renowne,
Either to ſuffer Sphipwracke, or arrive
Where I may have fruition of her Loue.

Suf. Tuff my good Lord, this ſuperficial ſtall,
Is but a preface of her worthy praiſe:
The cheeſe perfections of that lovely Dame,
(Had I ſufficient skill to utter them)
Would make a volume of enticing lines,
Able to raviffh any dull conceit.
And which is more, ſhe is not to Divine,
So full repleate with choice of all delights,
But with as humble lowlineſſe of minde,
She is content to be at your command:
Command I meane, of Vertuous chaſte intentes,
To love, and Honor Henry as her Lord.

King. And other wife, will Henry ne're preſume:
Therefore my Lord Proteſor, give confent,
That Marg yet may be Englands Royall Queene.

Glo. So should I give confent to flatter finne,
You know (my Lord) your Highneſſe is betroath'd
Vnto another Lady of eſteeme,
How ſhall we then diſpence with that contraſt,
And not deface your Honor with reproach?

Suf. As doth a Ruler with unlawfulſt Oathes,
Or one that at a Triumph, having vow'd
To try his ſtrength, forfaketh yet the Liftes
By reaſon of his Adverſaries oddes.
A poore Earles daughte r is unequal oddes,
And therefore may be broke without offence.

Glo. Why what (I pray) is Margaret more than that?
Her Father is no better than an Earle,
Although in glorious Titles he excell.

Suf. Yes my good Lord, her Father is a King,
The King of Naples, and Ierusalem,
And of ſuch great Authority in France,
As his alliance will confirme our peace,
And keepe the Frenchmen in Allegeance.

Glo. And of the Earle of Arminacke may doe,
Because he is neere Kineſman unto Charles.

Exet. Befide, his wealth doth warrant liberall dower,
Where Reignier ſooner will receive, than give.

Suf. A Dowre my Lords? Difgrace nor to your King,
That he ſhould be ſo abjeſt, bafe, and poore,
To cheeſe for wealth, and not for perſect Love.

Henry is able to enrich his Queene,
And not to feeke a Queene to make him rich:
So worthleſſe Pezants bargaine for their Wives,
As Market men for Oxen, Sheepe, or Horſe.
But marriage is a matter of more worth,
Then to be dealt in by Atturney-ſhip:
Not whom we will, but whom his Grace affects,
Muſt be companion of his Nuptiall bed.
And therefore Lords, ſince he affects her moſt,
Moft of all theſe reaſons binderth us,
In our opinions ſhe ſhould be preferr'd.
For what is wedlocke forced, but a Hell,
An age of diſcord and continuall ſtrife?

Whereas

119

Whereas the contrary bringeth forth blithe,
And is a patterne of Celestiall peace,
Whom should we match with Henry being a King,
But Margaret, that is daughter to a King?
Her peerelefie feature, joyned with her birth,
Approves her fit for none, but for a King.
Her valiant courage, and undaunted Ipirit,
(More then in women commonly is feene)
Will anfwer our hope in ille of a King:
For Henry, fonne unto a Conqueror,
Is likely to beget more Conquerors,
If with a Lady of fo high refolve,
(As is faire Margaret) he be link'd in love.
Then yeeld my Lords, and heere conclude with mee,
That Margaret shall be Queene, and none but thee.

King. Whether it be through force of your report,
My Noble Lord of Suffolke: Or for that
My tender youth was never yet attaint
With any paffion of inflaming love,
I cannot tell: but this I am aflur'd,
I feele ſuch ſharpe diffention in my breast,
Such fierce alarums both of Hope and Feare,
As I am ſicke with working of my thoughts.

Take therefore ſhipping, poſte my Lord to France,
Agree to any covenants, and procure
That Lady Margaret do vouchtafe to come
To croſſe the Seas to England, and be crown'd
King Henries faithfull and annointed Queene.
For your expences and ſufficient charge,
Among the people gather up a tenth.
Be gone I lay, for till you do returne,
I reſt perplexed with a thouſand Cares.
And you (good Vnckle) banisſh all offence:
If you do cenſure me, by what you were,
Not what you are, I know it will excufe
This ſodaine execution of my will.

And fo conduct me, where from company,
I may revolve and ruminate my greeſe.

Glo. I, greeſe I feare me, both at first and laſt.

Exit.

Exit Gloster.

Suf. Thus Suffolke hath prevail'd, and thus he goes
As did the youthfull Paris once to Greece,
With hope to finde the like event in love,
But proper better than the Trojan did:
Margaret shall now be Queene, and rule the King:
But I will rule both her, the King, and Realme.

Exit.

## FINIS.

The

The second Part of King Henry the Sixth.

To keepe by policy what Henry got:
Have you your felves, Somerſet, Buckingham,
Brave Torke, Salisbury, and victorious Warwicke,
Received deepe ſcarres in France and Normandy:
Or hath mine Vncke Beanſord, and my ſelfe,
With all the Learned Counſell of the Realme,
Studied ſo long, ſat in the Counſell houſe,
Early and late, debating too and fro
How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe,
And hath his Highneſſe in his infancy,
Crowned in Paris in deſpight of foes,
And shall theſe Labours, and theſe Honours dye?
Shall Henriſes Conqueſt, Bedfordes vigilance,
Your Deeds of Warre, and all our Counſell dye?
O Pecers of England, famefull is this League,
Fatall this Marriage, cancelling your Fame,
Blotting your names from Bookes of memory,
Racing the Charaſters of your Renowne,
Defacing Monuments of Conquer'd France,
Vndoing all as all had never bin.

Car. Nephew, what means this paſſionate diſcourſe?

This perſoration with ſuch circumſtance:

For France, 'tis ours; and we will keepe it full,

Glo. I Vnckle, we will keepe it, if we can:
But now it is impoſſible we ſhould.

Suffolke, the new made Duke that rules the roſt,

Hath given the Dutchy of Anjou and Maine,

Vnto the poore King Reſignier, w hofe large ſtyle

Agrees not with the leanneſſe of his purſe.

Sal. Now by the death of him that dyed for all,

Theſe Counties were the Keyes of Normandie:

But wherefore weepes Warwicke, my valiant ſonne?

War. For greeſe that they are paſt recovery.

For were there hope to conquer them againe,

My ſword ſhould ſhed hot blood, mine eyes no teares.

Anjou and Maine? My ſelfe did w in them both:

Thoſe Provinces, theſe Armes of mine did conquer,

And are the Citties that I got with wounds,

Deliver'd up againe with peacefull words?

Mort. Dieu.

Tor. For ſuffolkes Duke, may he be ſuffocate,

That dimns the Honor of this Warlike ſle:

France ſhould have torne and rent my very heart,

Before I would have yceded to this League.

I never read but Englands Kings have had

Large ſummes of Gold, and Dowries with their wives,

And our King Henry gives away his owne,

To match with her that brings no vantages.

Hum. A proper jeſt, and never heard before,

That Suffolke ſhould demand a whole Fifteenth,

For Colts and Charges in tranſporting her:

She ſhould have ſlaid in France, and ſterv'd in France

Before—

Car. My Lord of Glofter, now ye grow too hot,

It was the pleasure of my Lord the King.

Hum. My Lord of Winchefter I know your minde.

Tis not my ſpeeches that you do miſlike:

But 'tis my prefence that doth trouſe ye,

Rancour will out, proud Prelate, in thy face

I fee thy fury: If I longer ſtay,

We ſhall begin our ancient bickerings:

Lordings farewell, and ſay when I am gone,

I propheſed, France will be loft ere long. Exit Humſrey.

Car. So, there goes our Protector in a rage:

Tis knowne to you he is mine enemy:

Nay more, an enemy unto you all,

And no great ſriend, I ſeare me to the King:

Conſider Lords, he is the next of blood,

And theyre apparant to the English Crowne:

Had Henry got an Empire by his marriage,

And all the wealthy Kingdomes of the West,

There's reaſon he ſhould be diſpleas'd at it:

Looke to it Lords, let not his ſmoothing words

Bewitch your hearts, be wife and circumſpect.

What though the common people favour him,

Calling him, Humſrey the good Duke of Gloſter,

Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice,

Ieſu maintaine your Royall Excellence,

With God preferve the good Duke Humſrey.

I ſeare me Lords, for all this flattering gloſſe,

He will be found a dangerous Protector.

Buc. Why ſhould he then proteſt our Soveraigne?

He being of age to governe of himſelfe.

Cofin of Somerſet, joyne you with me,

And altogether with the Duke of Suffolke,

Wee'l quickly houſe Duke Humſrey from his ſeat.

Car. This weighty buſineſſe will not brooke delay,

Ile to the Duke of Suffolke prefently. Exit Cardinall.

Som. Cofin of Buckingham, though Humſfryes pride

And greatneſſe of his place be greeſe to us,

Yet let us watch the haughty Cardinall,

His infolence is more intollerable

Then all the Princes in the Land beſide,

If Gloſter be diſpla'd, hee'l be Protector.

Bnc. Or thou, or I Somerſet will be Protector,

Defpite Duke Humſrey, or the Cardinall.

Exit Buckingham, and Somerſet.

Sal. Pride went before, Ambition follows him.

While theſe do labour for their owne preferment,

Behooves it us to labor for the Realme.

I never faw but Humſrey Duke of Gloſter,

Did beare him like a Noble Gentleman:

Oſt have I ſeene the haughty Cardinall.

More like a ſouldier then a man o' th Church,

As ſlout and proud as he were Lord of all,

Sweare like a Ruſjian, and demeane himſelfe

Vnlike the Ruler of a Common-weale.

Warwicke my ſonne, the comfort of my age,

Thy deeds, thy plainneſſe, and thy houſe-keeping,

Hath wonne the greatest favour of the Commons,

Excepting none but good Duke Humſrey.

And Brother Yorke, thy Aſts in Ireland,

In bringing them to civill Diſcipline:

Thy late exploits done in the heart of France,

When thou wert Regent for our Soveraigne,

Have made thee fear'd and honor'd of the people,

Ioyne we together for the publicke good,

In what we can, to bridle and ſuppreſſe

The pride of Suffolke, and the Cardinall,

With Somerſets and Buckinghams Ambition,

And as we may, cheriſh Duke Humſries deeds,

While they do tend the profit of the Land.

War. So God helpe Warwicke, as he loves the Land,

And common profit of his Counſtrey.

Tor. And ſo ſayes Yorke,

For he hath greateſt caufe.

Sal. Then lets make hafte away,

And looke unto the maine,

Warn. Vnto the maine?

Oh Father, Maine is loft,

That Maine, which by maine force Warwicke did winne

And would have kept, ſo long as breath did laſt:

Main

["The second Part of King Henry the Sixt.", "Main-chance father you meant, but I meant Maine,\nWhich I will win from France, or else be flaine.", "Exit Warwicke, and Salisbury. Maret Torke.", "To ke. Anjou and Maine are given to the French,\nParis is loft, the state of Normandy", "Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone:", "Suffolke concluded on the Articles,", "The Peeres agreed, and Henry was well pleas'd,", "To change two Dukedomes for a Dukes faire daughter.", "I cannot blame them all, what is't to them?", "'Tis thine they give away, and not their owne.", "Pirates may make cheape penyworths of their pillage,", "And purchase Friends, and give to Curtezans,", "Still revelling like Lords till all be gone:", "While as the filly Owner of the goods", "Weepes over them, and wrings his hapleffe hands,", "And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloofe,", "While all is fhard and all is borne away,", "Ready to ferre, and dare not touch his owne.", "So Yorke muft fit, and fret, and bite his tongue,", "While his owne Lands are bargain'd for, and fold:", "Methinkes the Realme of England, France, and Ireland,", "Beare that proportion to my flesh and blood,", "As did the fatall brand Althas burnt,", "Vnto the Princes heart of Calidon:", "Anjou and Maine both given unto the French?", "Cold newes for me: for I had hope of France,", "Even as I have of fertile Englands foile.", "A day will come, when Yorke shall claime his owne,", "And therefore I will take the Nevills parts,", "And make a few of love to proud Duke Humfrey,", "And when I fy advantage, claime the Crowne,", "For that's the Golden marke I feeke to hit:", "Nor shall proud Lancafter ulfure my right,", "Nor hold the Scepter in his childdith Fift,", "Nor weare the Diadem upon his head,", "Whofe Church-like humors fits not for a Crowne.", "Then Yorke be fitill a while, till time do ferve:", "Watch thou, and wake when others be affleepe,", "To prie into the ſecrets of the State,", "Till Henry furfetting in joyes of love,", "With his new Bride, & Englands decre bought Queene,", "And Humfrey with the Peeres be falne at jarres", "Then will I raife aloft the Milke-white-Rofe,", "With whole sweet smell the Ayre fhall be perfum'd,", "And in my Standard beare the Armes of Yorke,", "To grapple with the house of Lancafter,", "And force perforce I make him yeeld the Crowne,", "Whofe bookilsh Rule, hath pull'd faire England downe.", "Exit Yorke.", "Enter Duke Humfrey and his wife, Elianor.", "Elia. Why droopes my Lord like over-ripen'd Corn,\nHanging the head at Ceres plen'rous load?", "Why doth the Great Duke Humfrey knit his browes,\nAs frowning at the Favours of the world?", "Why are thine eyes fixt to the fullen earth,", "Gazing on that which fecmes to dimmethy fight?", "What feeth thou there? King, Hemries Diadem,", "Inchad' with all the Honors of the world?", "If fo, gaze on, and grovell on thy face,", "Vntill thy head be circled with the fame.", "Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious Gold.", "What is't too short? Ile lengthen it with mine.", "And having both together heav'd it up,", "Wee'le both together lift our heads to heaven,", "And never more abafe our fight so low,", "As to vouchſaſe one glance unto the ground.", "Hum. O Nell, Iweet Nell, if thou doſt love thy Lord,\nBanifh the Canker of ambitious thoughts:", "And may that thought, when I imagine ill", "Againſt my King and Nephew, vertuous Henry,", "Be my laſt breathing in this mortall world.", "My troublous dreames this night, doth make me ſad.", "Elia. What dream'd my Lord, tell me, and Ile require it\nWith ſweet rehearſal of my mornings dreame?", "Hum. Me thought this ſtaffe mine Oſlice-badge in\nCourt", "Was broke in twaine: by whom, I have forgot,", "But as I thinke, it was by' th Cardinal,", "And on the peeces of the broken Wand", "Were plac'd the heads of Edmond Duke of Somerſet,", "And William de la Pole firſt Duke of Suffolke.", "This was my dreame, what it doth bode God knowes?", "Elia. Tut, this was nothing but an argument,\nThat he that breakes a ſlicke of Glofters grove,\nShall loſe his head for his preſumption.", "But lift to me my Humſrey, my ſwete Duke:", "Me thought I fate in Seate of Majeſty.", "In the Cathedral. Church of Westminſter,", "And in that Chaire where Kings & Queens wer crowd,", "Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneeled to me,", "And on my head did fet the Diadem.", "Hum. Nay, Elianor, then muſt I chide outright:", "Prefumptious Dame, ill-nurter'd Elianor,", "Art thou not ſecond Woman in the Realme?", "And the Protectors wife beſov'd of him?", "Haſt thou not worldly pleafure at command,", "Above the reach or compaſſe of thy thought?", "And wilt thou ſtill be hammering Treachery,", "To tumble downe thy husband, and thy ſelfe,", "From top of Honor, to Difgraces feeſte?", "Away from me, and let me heare no more.", "Elia. What, what, my Lord? Are you ſo chollericke\nWith Elianor, for telling but her dreame?", "Next time Ile kepe my dreames unto my ſelfe,", "And not be check'd.", "Hum. Nay, benot angry, I am pleas'd againe.", "Enter Meſſenger.", "Meſſ. My Lord Protector, 'tis his Highnes pleafure,\nYou do prepare to ride unto S. Albons,", "Where as the King and Queene do meane to Hawke.", "Hu. I go. Come Nell, thou wilt ride with us? Ex. Hu.", "Elia. Yes my good Lord, Ile follow prefently.", "Follow I muſt, I cannot go before,", "While Glofter beares this bafe and humble minde.", "Were I a Man, a Duke, and next of blood,", "I would remove the ſethed tedious flumbling blockes,", "And ſmooth my way upon their headleſſe neckes.", "And being a woman, I will not be ſlacke", "To play my part in Fortunes Pageant.", "Where are you there? Sir Johns, may ſcare not man,", "We are alone, here's none but thee, & I.", "Enter Hume.", "Hume. Iefus preferye your Royall Majeſty.", "Elia. What faſt thou? Majeſty: I am but Grace.", "Hume. But by the grace of God, and Humes advice,", "Your Graces Title ſhall be multiplied.]\n\nElia. What faſt thou man? Haſt thou as yet confer'd", {"bbox": [705,

That shall make anſwere to ſuch Queſtions,
As by your Grace ſhall be propounded him.

Eliabor. It is enough, Ile thinke upon the Queſtions:
When from Saint Albons we make returne;
Weele fee thofe things eſected to the full.
Here Hume, take this reward, make merry man
With thy Confederates in this weighty caufe.

Exit Eliabor.

Hум. Hume must make merry with the Duchefte Gold:
Marry and ſhall but how now, Sir John Hume?
Seale up your Lips, and give no words but Mum,
The buſineſſe asketh ſilent fecrecy.
Dame Eliabor gives Gold, to bring the Witch:
Gold cannot come amiffle, were ſhe a Devill.
Yet have I Gold flyes from another Coaſt:
I dare not ſay, from the rich Cardinall,

And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolke;
Yet I doe finde it ſo for to be plaine,
They (knowing Dame Eliabor's aspiring humor)

Have hyred me to under-mine the Duchefſe,
And buzze theſe Conjurations in her brayne.

They ſay, A crafty Knave do's need no Broker.
Yet am I Suffolk and the Cardinalls Broker.

Hume, if you take not heed, you ſhall goe neere
To call them both a payre of crafty Knaves.

Well, ſo it ſlands; and thus I feare at laſt.

Humes Knavery will be the Duchefſe Wracke,
And her Attainture, will be Humphreyes fall.

Sort how it will, I ſhall have Gold for all.

Exit.

Enter three or ſoure Petitioners, the Armorsers
Man being one.

1. Pet. My Maifters, let's ſtand cloſe, my Lord Pro-
tector will come this way by, and by, and then wee may
deliver our Supplications in the Quill.

2. Pet. Matry, the Lord protect him, for hee's a good man, Ieſu bleſſe him.

Enter Suffolk, and Queene.

Peter. Here a comes me thinkes, and the Queene with
him: Ile be the firſt ſure.

2. Pet. Come backe ſoole, this is the Duke of Suffolk,
and not my Lord Protector.

Suff. How now fellow: would it any thing with me?

1. Pet. I pray my Lord pardon me, I tooke ye for my
Lord Protector.

Quee. To my Lord Protector? Are your Supplications
to his Lordship? Let me fee them: what is thine?

1. Pet. Mine is , and't pleaſe your Grace, againſt John
Goodman, my Lord Cardinall Ma, for keeping my Houſe,
and Lands, and Wife and all, from me.

Suff. Thy Wife too ? that's ſome Wrong indeede.
What's yours? What's heere? Againſt the Duke of Suffo-
ſoke, for encloſing the Commons of Melforde. How
now, Sir Knave?

2. Pet. Alas Sir, I am but a poore Petitioner of our
whole Towneſhip.

Pet. Againſt my Maſter Thomas Horner, for faying,
That the Duke of Yorke was rightfull Heire to the
Crowne.

Quee. What ſayt thou ? Did the Duke of Yorke ſay,
hee was rightfull Heire to the Crowne?

Pet. That my Miftreſſe was? No forſooth: my Maſter
ſaid, That he was; and that the King was an V ſurper.

Suff. Who is there?

Enter Servant.

Take this fellow in, and fend for his Maſter with a Purſ-
vant prefently : wee'll heare more of your matter before
the King.

Exit.

Quee. And as for you that love to be protected
Vnder the Wings of our Protectors Grace,
Begin your Suites auew, and ſue to him.

Teare the Supplication.

Awaſo, bafe Cullions: Suffolke let them goe.

All. Come, let's be gone.

Exit.

Quee. My Lord of Suffolke, ſay, is this the guifed
Is this the ſashions in the Court of England?

Is this the Governement of Britaines Ile?
And this the Royalty of Albions Kinge.

What, ſhall King Henry be a Pupill ſtill.

Vnder the ſurly Gloſters Governance?

Am I a Queene in Title and in Stile,

And muſt be made a Subject to a Duke?

I tell thee Poole, when in the Citie Tours

Thou ranſt a-tilt in honor of my Love,

And ſtol't away the Ladies hearts of France?

I thought King Henry had reſembled thee,

In Courage, Courtſhip, and Proportion.

But all his minde is bent to Holineſſe,

To number Ave-Maries on his Beades:

His Champions, are the Prophets and Apoſſiles,

His Weapons, holy Sawes of facred Writ,

His Study is his Tilt-yard, and his Loves

Are brazen Images of Canonized Saints.

I would the Colledge of the Cardinalls

Would chufe him Pope, and carry him to Rome;

And fet the Triple Crowne upon his Head;

That were a State fit for his Holineſſe.

Suff. Madame be patient: as I was cauſe
Your Highneſſe came to England, ſo will I

In England worke your Graces full content.

Quee. Befide the haught Protector, have we Beauford
The imperious Churchman; Somerſet, Buckingham,
And grumbling Torke; and not the leaſt of theſe,
But can doe more in England then the King.

Suff. And he of theſe, that can doe moſt of all,
Cannot doe more in England then the Neviſs.

Salisbury and Warwick are no ſimple Peeres.

Quee. Not all theſe Lords do vex me halſe so much,
As that prowd Dame, the Lord Protectors Wife:

She fweepes it though the Court with trouſes of Ladies,
More like an Empreſſe, then Duke Humphreyes Wife.

Strangers in Court, doe take her for the Queene:

She beares a Dukes Revenewes on her backe,

And in her heart ſhe ſcornes our Poverty:

Shall I not live to beавeng'd on her?

Contemptuous bafe-borne Callot as ſhe is,

She vaunted 'mongſt her Minions t'other day,

The very trayne of her worſt wearing Gowne,

Was better worth then all my Fathers Lands,

Till Suffolk gave two Dukedomes for his Daughte.

Suff. Madame, my ſelfe have lym'd a Buſh for her,
And plac't a Quier of ſuch enticing Birds,

That ſhe will light to liffen to the Layes,

And never mount to trouble you againe.

So let her reſt: and Madame lift to me,

For I am bold to counſaile you in this;

Although we fancy nor the Cardinall,

Yet muſt we joyne with him and with the Lords,

Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in diſgraces.

A

["The second Part of Henry the Sixt.", "Card. I thought as much, he would be above the\nClouds.", "Gloft. I my Lord Cardinall, how thinke you by that?", "Were it not good your Grace could flye to Heaven ?", "King. The Treasury of everlafting Loy.", "Card. Thy heaven is on Earth, thine Eyes and Thoughts\nBeat on a Crowne, the Treasure of thy heart,", "Pernicious Protector, dangerous Peere,", "That smooth'ft it so with King and Commonweale.", "Gloft. What Cardinall?", "Is your Priest-hood growne peremptory ?", "Tantane animis Calestibus iva, Church-men so hot ?", "Good Vnkleck hide such mallice :", "With such Holyneſſe can you doe it?", "Suff. No mallicie Sir, no more then well becomes", "So good a Quarrell, and so bad a Peere.", "Gloſt. As who, my Lord ?", "Suff. Why, as you, my Lord,", "An't like your lordly Lords Protectorship.", "Gloſt. Why Suffolk, England knowes thine infolence,", "Quee. And thy Ambition, Gloſter.", "King. I prethee peace, good Queene,", "And whet not on theſe too-too ſarious Peeres,", "For bleſſed are the Peace-makers on Earth", "Card. Let me be bleſſed for the Peace I make", "Againſt this prowd Protector with my Sword.", "Gloſt. Faith holy Vnkleck, would'c were come to that.", "Card. Marry, when thou dar'ſt.", "Gloſt. Make up no faſtious numbers for the matter,", "In thine owne perſon anſwer thy abufe.", "Card. I, where thou dar'ſt not peepe :", "And if thou dar'ſt, this Evening,", "On the Eaſt ſide of the Grove.", "King. How now, my Lords ?", "Card. Beleve me, Couſin Gloſter,", "Had not your man put up the Foule ſo ſuddenly,", "We had had more ſport.", "Come with thy two-hand Sword,", "Gloſt. True Vnkleck, are ye advis'd?", "The Eaſt ſide of the Grove :", "Cardinall, I am with you.", "King. Why how now, Vnkleck Gloſter ?", "Gloſt. Talking of Hawking; nothing eſſe, my Lord.", "Now by Gods Mother, Priekſt,", "Ile have your Crowne for this,", "Or all my Fence ſhall faile.", "Card. Medice teipſum, Protector ſee to't well, proteſt your ſelfe.", "King. The Windes grow high,", "So doe your Stomackes Lords :", "How irkeſome is this Muſicke to my heart ?", "When ſuch Strings jarre, what hope of Harmony ?", "I pray my Lords let me compound this ſtrife,", "Enter one crying a Miracle.", "Gloſt. What meanes this noyſe ?", "Fellow, what Miracle do'ſt thou proclaime ?", "One. A Miracle, a Miracle.", "Suffolke. Come to the King, and tell him what Mira-\ncle.", "One. Forſtooth, a blind man at Saint Albones Shrine.\nWithin this halſe houre hath receiv'd his fight,\nA man that ne're ſaw in his life before.", "King. Now God be prais'd, that to beleeving Sonles\nGives Light in Darkeneſſe, Comfort in Defpaire.", "Enter the Mayor of Saint Albones, and his\nBrethren, bearing the man betweene\ntwo in a Chayre.", "Card. Here comes the Towneſ-men, on Proſeption,\nTo prefent your Highneſſe with the man.", "King. Great is his comfort in this Earthly Vale,\nAlthough by his fight his finne be multiplied.", "Gloſt. Stand by, my Maſters, bring him neere the King,\nHis highneſſe pleasure is to talk with him.", "King. Good-fellow, tell us here the circumſtance,\nThat we for thee may gloriſe the Lord.", "What, haſt thou beene long blind, and now reſtor'd?", "Simp. Borne blind, and't pleafe your Grace.", "Wife. I indeed was he.", "Suff. What Woman is this?", "Wife. His Wifc, and't like your Worſhip.", "Gloſt. Hadst thou beene his Mother, thou could'ſt\nhave better told.", "King. Where wert thou borne ?", "Simpc. At Barwicke in the North, and't like your\nGrace.", "King. Poore foule,", "Gods goodneſſe hath beene great to thee :", "Let never Day nor Night unballowed pafie,", "But ſtill remember what the Lord hath done.", "Quee. Tell me, good-fellow,", "Cam'ſt thou here by Chance, or of Devotion,", "To this holy Shrine ?", "Simp. God knowes of pure Devotion,", "Being call'd a hundred times, and ofnſer,", "In my ſleepe, by good Saint Albon :", "Who faid ; Symon, come : come offer at my Shrine,", "And I will helpe thee.", "Wife. Moſt true, forſtooth :", "And many time and oft my ſelfe have heard a Voyce,\nTo call him ſo.", "Card. What, art thou lame ?", "Simp. I, God Almighty helpe me.", "Suff. How cam'ſt thou ſo ?", "Simp. A fall off of a Tree.", "Wife. A Plum-trre, Maſter.", "Gloſt. How long haſt thou beene blind ?", "Simpc. O borne ſo, Maſter.", "Gloſt. What, and would'ſt climbe a Tree ?", "Simpc. But that in all my life, when I was a youth.", "Wife. Too true, and bought his climbing very dear,", "Gloſt. 'Maffe, thou lov'd Plummes well, that would'ſt\nventure ſo.", "Simp. Alas, good Maſter, my Wifc defired ſome\nDamions, and made mee climbe, with danger of my\nLife.", "Gloſt. A ſubtill Knave, but yet it ſhall not serve :", "Let me fee thine Eyes; winck now, now open them,", "In my opinion, yet thou ſeet not well.", "Simpc. Yes Maſter, cleare as day, I thanke God and\nSaint Albon.", "Gloſt. Say'ſt thou me ſo : what Colour is this Cloake\nof?", "Simpc. Red Maſter, Red as blood.", "Gloſt. Why that's well ſaid : What Colour is my\nGowne of ?", "Simp. Blacke forſtooth, Coale-blacke, as Ict.", "King. Why then, thou know'ſt what Colour Iet is\nof?", "Suff. And yet I thinke, Iet did he never ſee.", "Gloſt", "Gloſt\nmany.\nWife\nGloſt\nSimp.\nGloſt\nSimp.\nGloſt

127

Gloſt. But Cloakes and Gownes, before this day, a many.

Wife. Never before this day, in all his life,

Gloſt. Tell me Sirrha, what's my Name ?

Simp. Alas Maſter, I know not,

Gloſt. What's his Name ?

Simp. I know not,

Gloſt. Nor his ?

Simp. No indeed, Maſter.

Gloſt. What's thine owne Neme ?

Simp. Saunder Simpcoxe, and if it pleaſe you, Maſter,

Gloſt. Then Saunder, fit there,

The lying'it Knave in Christendome.

If thou hadt beene borne blind,

Thou might'it as well have knowne all our Names,
As thus to name the feverall Colours we doe weare.

Sight may diſtinguish Colours :

But suddenly to nominate them all,
It is impoffible.

My Lords, Saint Albome here hath done a Miracle : And would ye not thinke it, Cunning to be great,

That could restore this Cripple to his Legges againe?

Simp. O Maſter, that you could ?

Gloſt. My Maſters of Saint Almons,

Have you not Beadles in your Towne,
And things call'd Whippes ?

Mayer. Yes, my Lord, if it pleaſe your Grace.

Gloſt. Then ſend for one prefentely.

Mayer. Sirrha, goe fetch the Beadle hither ſtraight.

Exis.

Gloſt. New fetch me a Stoole hither by and by.

Now Sirrha, if you meane to fave your ſelfe from Whipping, leape me over this Stoole, and runne away.

Simp. Alas Maſter, I am not able to ſtand alone :

You goe about to torture me in vaine.

### Enter a Beadle with Whipper.

Gloſt. Well Sir, we muſt have you find your Legges.

Sirrha Beadle, whippe him till he leape over that fame Stoole.

Bead. I will, my Lord.

Come on Sirrha, off with your Doublet, quickly.

Simp. Alas Maſter, what ſhall I doe ? I am not able to ſtand.

After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leapes over the Stoole, and runnes away: and they follow, and ery, A Miracles.

King. O God, feelt thou this, and beareſt ſo long ;

Quee. It made me laugh, to ſee the Villaine runne.

Gloſt. Follow the Knave, and take this Drab away.

Wife. Alas Sir, we did it for pure need.

Glo. Let them be whipt through every Market Towne
Till they come to Barwicke, from whence they came.

Exis.

Card. Duke Humſrey ha's done a Miracle to day.

Suff. True : made the Lame to leape and flye away.

Gloſt. But you have done more Miracles then I :

You made in a day, my Lord, whole Townes to flye.

### Enter Buckingham.

King. What Tidings with our Cousin Buckingham?

Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold :

A fort of naughty perſons, lewdly bent,

Vader the Countenance and Confederacy

Of Lady Elianor, the Protectors Wife,

The Ring-leader and head of all this Rout,
Have practis'd dangerously against your State,
Dealing with Witches and with Conjurers,
Whom we have apprehended in the Fact,
Rayling up wicked Spirits from under ground,
Demanding of King Henries Life and Death,
And other of your Highneſſe Privy Councill,
As more at large your Grace shall understand.

Card. And to my Lord Protector, by this means
Your Lady is forth-comming, yet at London.
This Newes I thinke hath turn'd your Weapons edge ;
'Tis like, my Lord, you will not keepe your houre.

Gloſt. Ambitious Church-man, leave to afflict my heart:
Sorrow and griefe have vanquiſht all my powers;
And vanquiſht as I am, I yeeld to thee,
Or to the meaneſt Groome.

King. O God, what milchefes worke the wicked ones?
Heaping confuſion on their owne heads thereby.

Quee. Gloſter, fee here the Taincture of thy Neſt,
And looke thy ſelfe be faultſleſſe, thou wert beſt.

Gloſt. Madam, for my ſelfe, to heaven I doe appeale,
How I have lov'd my King, and Common-weale :
And for my Wife, I know not how it ſtands,
Sorry I am to heare what I have heard.

Noble ſhe is: but if ſhe have forgot
Honor and Vertue, and converſ't with ſuch,

As like to Pytch, defile Nobility ;

I banifh her my Bed, and Company,

And give her as a Prey to Law and Shame,

That hath dis-honored Gloſters honelt Name.

King. Well, for this Night we will repofe us here:
To morrow toward London, backe againe,

To looke into this Bufineſſe thorowly,
And call theſe foule Offendors to their Anſweres ;

And poyte the Caufe in Iuſtice equall Scales,
(vailes,
Whofe Beame ſtands ſure, whole rightfull caufe pre-

Exemns.

### Enter Torke, Salisbury, and Warwicke.

Torke. Now my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwicke,

Our ſimple Supper ended, give me leave,

In this cloſe Walke, to satisfie my ſelfe,

In craving your opinion of my Title,

Which is infallible, to Englands Crowne.

Salis. My Lord, I long to heare it at full.

Warw. Sweet Torke begin : and if thy clayme be good,
The Nevills are thy Subjects to command.

Torke. Then thus :

Edward the third, my Lords, had ſeven Sonnes :

The firſt, Edward the Blacke-Prince, Prince of Wales;

The ſecond, William of Hatfield ; and the third,

Zionel, Duke of Clarence : next to whom,

Was Iohn of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaſter ;

The firſt, was Edward Langley. Duke of Tenke ;

The firſt, was Thomas of Woodſtocke, Duke of Gloſter,

William of Windsor was the ſeventh, and laſt,

Edward the Blacke-Prince dyed before his Father,

And left behind him Richard, his only Sonne,

Who after Edward the third's death, raign'd King,

Till Henry Bullingbrooke, Duke of Lancaſter,

The eldeſt Sonne and Heire of Iohn of Gaunt,

Crown'd by the Name of Henry the fourth,

Seiz'd on the Realme, depos'd the rightfull King,

Sent his poore Queene to France, from whence he came,

02

And

The second Part of Henry the Sixth.

Enter at one Door: the Armorer and his Neighbors, drinking to him so much, that he is drunk; and he enters with a Drumme before him, and his Staffe, with a Sand-bagge fainted to it; and at the other Door: his Man, with a Drumme and Sand-bagge, and Prentices drinking to him.

1. **Neighbor.** Here Neighbour Horner, I drinke to you in a Cup of Sacke; and feare not Neighbor, you shall doe well enough.

2. **Neighbor.** And here Neighbour, here's a Cup of Charneco.

3. **Neighbor.** And here's a Pot of good Double-Beere Neighbor: drinke, and feare not your Man.

Armorer. Let it come ifaith, and Ile pledge you all, and a figge for Peter.

1. **Pren.** Here Peter, I drinke to thee, and be not a-fraid.

2. **Pren.** Be merry Peter, and feare not thy Mafter, Fight for credit of the Prentices.

Peter. I thank you all: drinke, and pray for me, I pray you, for I thinke I have taken my laft Dranght in this World. Here Robin, and if I dye, I give thee my Aporne; and Will, thou shalt have my Hammer: and here Tom, take all the Money that I have. O Lord bleffe me, I pray God, for I am never able to deale with my Mafter, he hath learnt so much fence already.

Salis. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blowes. Sirra, what's thy Name:

Peter. Peter forfooth.

Salis. Peter? what more?

Peter. Thumpe.

Salis. Thumpe? Then see thou thumpe thy Mafter well.

Armorer. Mafters, I am come hither as it were upon my Mans inf litigation, to prove him a Knave, and my felfe an honest man: and touching the Duke of Torke, I will take my death, I never meant him any ill, nor the King, nor the Queene: and therefore Peter have at thee with a downe-right blow.

Tork. Dispatch, this Knaves tongue begins to double. Sound Trumpets, Alarum to the Combattants.

Toc fight, and Peter strikes him downe.

Armorer. Hold Peter, hold, I confefle, I confefle Treason.

Tork. Take away his Weapon: Fellow thanke God, and the good Wine in thy Mafters way.

Paur. O God, have I overcome mine Enemie in this prefence? O Peter, thou haft prevay'd in right.

King. Goe, take hence that Traytor from our fight, For by his death we doe perceive his guilt, And God in Iuſtice hath reveal'd to us The truth and innocence of this poore fellow, Which he had thought to have murther'd wrongfully. Come fellow, follow us for thy Reward.

Exenunt.

Enter Duke Humfrey and his Men in
Morning Cloak's.

Gloſſ. Thus sometimes hath the brighteſt day a Cloud: And after Summer, evermore ſucceds Barren Winter, with his wrathfull nipping Cold; So Cares and Ioyes abound, as Seaſons fleet.

Sirs, what's a Clocke?

Serv. Tenne, my Lord.

Gloſſ. Tenne is the houre that was appointed me. To watch the comming of my puniſht Duchefle: Vnneath may ſhe endure the Flinty Streets, To treade them with her tender-feeling feet. Sweet Nell, ill can thy Noble Mind abrooke The abject People, gazing on thy face, With envious Lookes ſtill laughing at thy ſhame, That erſt did follow thy prowd Chariot-Wheeleſ, When thou didſt ride in triumph through the ſtreets. But ſoft, I thinke ſhe comes, and Ile prepare My teare-ſtayn'd eyes, to ſee her Miferies.

Enter the Duchefle in a white Sheet, and a Taper
burning in her hand, with the Sherife
and Officers.

Serv. So pleafe your Grace, we'll take her from the
Sherife.

Gloſſer. No, ſirre not for your lives, let her paſſe by.

Elian. Come you, my Lord, to fee my open ſhame? Now thou doſt Penance too. Looke how they gaze, See how the giddy multitude doe point, And nodde their heads, and throw their eyes on thee.

Ah Gloſter, hide thee from their hatefull looks, And in thy Cloſet pent up, rue my ſhame,

And banne thine Enemies, both mine and thine.

Gloſſ. Be patient, gentle Nell, forget this griekie.

Elian. Ah Gloſter, teach me to forget my ſelſe:

For whileſt I thinke I am thy married Wife, And thou a Prince, Protector of this Land:

Me thinkes I should not thus be led along, Mayl'd up in ſhame, with Papers on my backe, And follow'd with a Rabble, that joyce

To fee my teares, and heare my deepe ſet groanes. The ruthleſleſe Flint doth cut my tender feet, And when I ſtart, the envious people laugh, And bid me be advifed how I treade.

Ah Humeſrey, can I beare this ſhamefull yoake? Troweſt thou, that ere I looke upon the World, Or count them happy, that enjoyest the Sunne?

No: Darke ſhall be my Light, and Night my Day. To thinke upon my Pompe, ſhall be my Hell.

Sometime Ile lay, I am Duke Humſreyes Wife, And he a Prince, and Ruler of the Land:

Yet to he rul'd, and such a Prince he was, As he food by, whileſt I, his forlorne Duchefle, Was made a wonder, and a pointing flocke

To every idle Rafter ſollower.

But be thou milde, and bluſh not at my ſhame, Nor ſirre at nothing, till the Axe of Death Hang over thee, as ſure it ſhortly will.

For ſuffolke, he that can doe all in all With her, that hateth thee and hates us all, And Torke, and impious Beauford, that falſe Prief, Have all lym'd Buſhes to betray thy Wings, And flye thou how thou canſt, they'le tangle thee. But feare not thou, untill thy foot be ſnar'd, Nor never ſeeke prevention of thy foes.

Gloſſ. Ah Nell, forbeare: thou symeſt all awry. I muſt offend, before I be attainted:

And had I twenty times so many foes, And each of them had twenty times their power, All theſe could not procure me any ſcathe, Solong as I am loyall, true, and crimeleſſe.

Would it have me reſcue thee from this reproach?

Why

130

Why yet thy scandall were not wipt away,
But I in danger for the breach of Law.
Thy greatest helpe is quiet, gentle Nell:
I pray thee for thy heart to patience,
These few dayes wonder will be quickly worne.

*Enter a Herald.*

Her. I fummon your Grace to his Majesties Parliament
Holden at Bury, the firft of this next Moneth.

Gloster. And my consent ne're ask'd herein before ?

This is cleofe dealing. Well, I will be there.

My Nell, I take my leave; and Master Sherife,

Let not her Penance exceed the Kings Commission.

Sher. And' pleafe you Grace, here my Commiflion

And Sir John Stanly is appointed now, (layes:
To take her with him to the Isle of Man.

Gloster. Muft you, Sir John, protec't my Lady here?

Stanly. So am I given in charge, may't pleafe your
Grace.

Gloster. Entreat her not the worfe, in that I pray

You ufe her well: the World may laugh againe,
And I may live to doe you kindneſſe, if you doe it her.
And to Sir John, farewell.

Elias. What, gone my Lord, and bid me not fare-
well?

Gloster. Witneſſe my teares, I cannot fly to ſpeak.

*Exit Gloster.*

Elias. Art thou gone too ? all comfort goe with thee,
For none abides with me: my Ioy, is Death :
Death, at whose Name I oft have beene aſtre'd,
Because I wifd this World's eternitie.

Stanley, I prethee goe, and take me hence,
I care not whither, for I begge no favour;
Onely convey me where thou art commanded.

Stan. Why, Madam, that is to the Isle of Man,
There to beus'd according to your State.

Elias. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach :
And ſhall I then be us'd reproachfully ?

Stan. Like to a Duchefte, and Duke Humſreyes Lady,
According to that State you ſhall be us'd.

Elias. Sherife farewell, and better then I fare,
Although thou haſt beene Conduct of my ſhame.

Sheri. It is my Office, and Madam pardon me.

Elias. I, I, farewell, thy Office is diſcharg'd:
Come Stanley, ſhall we goe ?

Stan. Madam, your Penance done,

Throw off this Sheet,
And goe to attyre you for our Iourney.

Elias. My ſhame will not be shifted with my Sheet :
No, it will hang upon my richet Robes,
And ſhew it ſelſe, attyre me how I can.

Goe, leade the way, long to fee my Prifon. Exeunt.

*Enter King, Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke, Torke, Buckingham, Salisbury, and Warwick, to the Parliament.*

King. I mufe my Lord of Gloſter is not come:
'Tis not his want to be the hindmost man,
What e're occasion keepe him from us now.

Quee. Can you not fee ? or will ye not obſerve
The strangeness of his alter'd Countenance?

With what a Majety he beares himſelfe,
How infolent of late he is become,
How prowd, how preemptory, and unlike himſelfe.

We know the time ſince he was milde and affable,
And if we did but glance a farre-off Looke,
Immediately he was upon his Knee,

That all the Court admir'd him for ſubmiſſion.

But meet him now, and be it in the Morne,
When every one will give the time of day,
He knits his Brow, and ſhewes an angry Eye,
And paffeth by with ſtiffe unbowed Knee,
Did daiming duty to that us belongs.

Small Curres are not regarded when they grinne,
But great men tremble when the Lyon rores,
And Humſrey is no little Man in England.

Firstnote, that he is neere you in deſcent,
And should you fall, he is the next will mount.'

Me ſeemeth then, it is no Pollicy,
Reſpecting what a rancorous mind he beares,
And his advantage following your deſcaſe,
That he should come about your Royall Perſon,

Or be admitted to your highneſſe councell.
By flattery hath he wonne the Commons hearts:
And when he pleafe to make Commotion,

'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him.

Now 'tis the Spring, and Weedes are shallow-rooted,
Suffer them now, and they'le ore-grow the Garden,
And choake the Herbes for want of husbandry.

The reverent care I beare unto my Lord,
Made me collect theſe dangers in the Duke.

If it be fond, call it a Womans ſcare :

Which ſcare, if better Reafons can ſupplant,
I will ſubſcribe, and ſay I wrong'd the Duke.

My Lord of Suffolke, Buckingham, and Torke.

Reſolve my allegation, if you can,

Or eſſe conclude my words effectuall.

Suff. Well hath your highneſſe ſeene into this Duke:
And had I firſt beene put to ſpeak me your mind,
I thinke I ſhould have told your Graces Tale.

The Duchefle, by his ſubornation,

Vpon my Life began her divellifh practicſes :

Or if he were not privy to thate Faults,
Yet by reputing of his high deſcent,

As next the King, he was ſucceffuie Heire,

And ſuch high vaunts of his Nobility,

Did inflitigate the Bedlam braine-ficke Duchefle,

By wicked meanes to frame our Soveraignes fall.

Smooth runneth the Water, where the Brooke is deepe,

And in his ſimple ſhew the harbours Treaſon.

The Fox barkes not, when he would ſteal the Lambe
No, no, my Soveraigne, Gloſter is a man

Vnfounded yet, and full of depeſe deede.

Cards. Did he not, contrary to forme of Law,
Devife ſtrange deaths, for ſmall offences done?

Torke. And did he not, in his Proteſorſhip,

Levy great ſummes of Money through the Realme,
For Souldiers pay in France, and never ſent it?

By means whereof, the Townes each day revolts.

Buck. Tut, there are petty faults to faults unknowne,
Which time will bring to light in ſmooth Duke Humſrey

King. My Lords at once: the care you have of us,
To mowe downe Thornes that would annoy our Foot,
Is worthy praire: but ſhall I ſpeak me, my confience,

Our Kinfman Gloſter is as innocent,

From meaning Treaſon to our Royall Perſon,

As is the fucking Lambe, or harmeleſſe Dove :

The Duke is vertuous, milde, and too well given,

To dreame on evill, or to worke my downeſtall

Quee. Ah what's more dangerous, then this ſond affi-
Seemes he a Dove? his feathers are but borrow'd, (ance
For he's diſpoſed as the hatefull Raven.

Is he a Lambe ? his Skinne is ſurely lent him,

For

For he's enclin'd as is the ravenous Wolves.
Who cannot feale a shape, that meanes deceit ?
Take heed, my Lord, the welfare of us all,
Hangs on the cutting short that fraudfull man.

*Enter SomerSET.*

*Sons.* All health unto my gracious Soveraigne.
*King.* Welcome Lord SomerSET: What Newes from France?
*Sons.* That all your Interest in those Territories,
Is utterly bereft you: all is lost.

*King.* Cold Newes, Lord SomerSET: but Gods will be done.
*Torke.* Cold Newes for me: for I had hope of France,
As firmly as I hope for fertile England.
Thus are my Bioslomes blatted in the Bud,
And Caterpillers eate my Leaves away;
But I will remedy this geare ere long,
Or fell my Title for a glorious Grave.

*Enter Gloeſter.*

*Gloeſt.* All happineſſe unto my Lord the King:
Pardon, my Liege, that I have lay'd so long.
*Suff.* Nay Gloeſter, know that thou art come too ſoon,
Vnlleſſe thou wert more loyal then thou art:
I doarearſt thee of high Treason here.

*Gloeſt.* Well Suffolke, yet thouSHALT not fee me bluſh,
Nor change my Countenance for this Arreſt:
A heart unſpotted, is not easily daunted.
The pureſt Spring is not to free from mud,
As I am cleare from Treafon to my Soveraigne.
Who can accuſe me ? wherein am I guilty?

*Torke.* 'Tis thought, my Lord,
That you tooke Tribes of France,
And being Protector, lay'd the Souldiers pay,
By meanes whereof, his highneſſe hath loft France.
*Gloeſt.* Is it but thought so ?
What are they that thinke it?

I never rob'd the Souldiers of their pay,
Nor ever had one penny Bribe from France.
So helpe me God, as I have watcht the Night,
I, Night by Night, in ſtudying good for England.
That Doyt that ere I wreſted from the King,
Or any Groat I hoorded to my life,
Be brought againſt me at my Tryall day.

No: many a Pound of mine owne proper ſtore,
Because I would not taxe the needy Commons,
Have I diſpurchased to the Garrifons,
And never ask'd for reſtitution.

*Card.* It ſerves you well, my Lord, to ſay so much.
*Gloeſt.* I ſay no more then truth, to helpe me God.
*Torke.* In your Protectorship, you did devife
Strange Tortures for Offenders, never heard of,
That Enſolard was defam'd by Tyranny.
*Gloeſt.* Why't is well knowne, that whiles I was Pro-
Pitty was all the fault that was in me: (tector,
For I should melt at an Offendorsteares,
And lowly words were Ranſome for their fault:
Vnlleſſe it were a bloody Murtherer,
Or foule ſelonious Theſe, that fleec'd poore paſſengers,
I never gave them condigne puniſhment.
Murther indeed, that bloody ſinne, I tortar'd
Above the Felon, or what Treſpas ſelſe.

*Suff.* My Lord, theſe faults are eafie, quickly anſwer'd:
But mightier Crimes are lay'd unto your charge,
Whereof you cannot eafily purge your ſelſe.

I doe arreſt you in his highneſſe Name,
And here commit you to my Lord Cardinall
To keepe, untill your further time of Tryall.

*King.* My Lord of Gloeſter, 'tis my ſpeciall hope,
That you will cleare your ſelſe from all ſuſpence,
My Conſcienceth tells me you are innocent.

*Gloeſt.* Ah gracious Lord, theſe dayes are dangerous:
Vertue is choake with ſoule Ambition,
And Charity echas'd hence by Rancours hand;
Foule Subornation is predominant,
And Equitie exil'd your highneſſe Land.
I know, their Complot is to have my Life:
And if my death might make this Iland happy,
And prove the Period of their Tyranny,
I would expend it with all willingneſſe.

But mine is made the Prologue to their Play:
For thoulands more, that yet ſuſpect no perill,
Will not conclude their plotted Tragedy.

*Beauſords* red ſparkling eyes blab his hearts malice,
And *Suffolkes* cloudy Brow his ſtormy hate;
Sharpe *Buckingham* unburthens with his tongue,
The envious *Load* that lyes upon his heart:
And dogged *Torke*, that reaches at the Moone,
Whose over-weening Arme I have pluckt backe,
By ſalſe accuſe doth levell at my life.

And you, my Soveraigne Lady, with the reſt,
Caueſſe have lay'd diſgraces on my head,
And with your beſt endeavour have flirr'd up
My lieſeſt Liege to be mine Enemy:

I, all of you have lay'd your heads together,
My ſelſe had notice of your Conventicles,
And all to make away my guittleſe life.

I shall not want ſalſe Witneſſe, to condemne me,
Nor ſtore of Treafons, to augment my guilt:
The ancient Proverbe will be well eſtined,
A ſtaſſe is quickly found to beat a Dogge.

*Card.* My Liege, his rayling is intollerable.
If that of that care to keepe your Royall Perſon
From Treafons ſecret Knipe, and Traytors Rage,
Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,
And the Offender granted ſcope of ſpeech,
'T will make them coole in zeale unto your Grace,
*Suff.* Hath he not twit our Soveraigne Lady here
With ignominious words, though Clarkely ſoicht?
As if he had ſuborned ſome to ſware
Falſe allegations, to o'rethrow his ſtate.

*Que.* But I can give the loſer leave to chide,
*Gloeſt.* Farre truer ſpoke then meant: I loſe indeed,
Behrew the winners, for they play'd me ſalſe,
And well ſuch loſers may have leave to ſpeak.

*Buck.* He'll wreſt the ſence, and hold us here all day.
Lord Cardinall, he is your Prifoner.

*Card.* Sirs, take away the Duſe, and guard him ſure.
*Gloeſt.* Ah, thus King Henry throwes away his Crutch
Before his Leggess be firme to beare his body.

Thus is the ſhepheard beaten from thy ſide,
And Wolves are gnanling, who shall gnaw thee firſt.
Ah that may ſcare were ſalſe, ah that it were;

For good King Henry, thy decay I ſcare. *Exit Gloeſter.*
*King.* My Lords, what to your wifdomes ſemeth beſt,
Doc, or undoe, as if our ſelſe were here.

*Queene:* What, will your highneſſe leave the Parlia-
ment?

*King.* I *Margareſt*: my heart is drown'd with griefe,
Whole ſlond begins to flowe within mine eyes;
My body round engyrt with miſery:

For

For what's more miferable then Discontent?
Ah Vnckle Humfrey, in thy face I fee
The Map of Honor, Truth, and Loyalty:
And yet, good Humfrey, is the houre to come,
That ere I prov'd that felfe, or fear'd thy faith.
What lowring Starre now envies thy eftate ?
That thefe great Lords, and Margaret our Queene,
Doe fecke subverſion of thy harmeleſſe Life.
Thou never didſt them wrong, nor no man wrong :
And as the Butcher takes away the Calfe,
And bindſthe Wretch, and beats it when it ſrayes,
Bearing it to the bloody Slaughter-houſe;
Even ſo remorſeleſſe have they borne him hence:
And as the Damme runnes lowing up and downe,
Looking the way her harmeleſſe young one went,
And can doe nought but wayle her Darlings loſſe ;
Even ſo my ſelfe bewayles good Gloſters cafe
With ſad unhelpefull teares, and with dimn'd eyes ;
Looke after him, and cannot doe him good :
So mighty are his vowed Enemies.
His fortunes I will weepe, and 'twixt each groane,
Say, who's a Traytor ? Gloſter he is none.
Exit.

Quee. Free Lords:

Cold Snow melts with the Sunnes hot Beames :
Henry, my Lord, is cold in great Affaires,
Too full of foolish pitty: and Gloſters ſhew
Beguile's him, as the mournefull Crocodile
With forrow ſnares relenting paffengers ;
Or as the Snake, roll'd in a flowring Banke,
With ſhining checker'd flough doth flting a Child,
That for the beauty thinkes it excellent.
Belceve me Lords, were none more wife then I,
And yet herein I judge mine owne Wit good :
This Gloſter should be quickly rid the World,
To rid us from the feare we have of him.

Card. That he ſhould dye, is worthy pollicy,
But yet we want a Colour for his death :
'Tis meet he be condemn'd by courſe of Law.

Suff. But in my mind, that were no pollicy :
The King will labour ſtill to ſave his Life,
The Commons haply rife, to ſave his Life ;
And yet we have but triviall argument,
More then miſſuſt, that ſhewes him worthy death.
Torke. So that by this, you would not have him dye.
Suff. Ah Torke, no man alive, ſo faine as I.
Torke. 'Tis Torke that hath more reaſon for his death.
But my Lord Cardinall, and you my Lord of Suffolke,
Say as you thinke, and Ipeake it from your Soules :
Wer't not all one, an empty Eagle were ſet,
To guard the Chicke from a hungry Kyte,
As place Duke Humſrey for the Kings ProteCTOR ?

Quee. So the poore Chicken ſhould be ſure of death,
Suff. Madam 'tis true : and wer't not madneſſe then,
To make the Fox ſurveyor of the Fold ?
Who being accus'd a crafty Murtherer,
His guilt ſhould be but idly poſted over,
Becaufe his purpofe is not executed.
No : let him dye, in that he is a Fox,
By nature prov'd an Enemy to the Flocke,
Before his Chaps be ſtaynd with Crimſon blood,
As Humſrey prov'd by Reaſon to my Liege.
And doe not ſland on Quillets how to ſlay him :
Be it by Gynnes, by Snares, by Subtlety,
Sleeping, or Waking, 'tis no matter how,
So he be dead ; for that is good deceit.

Which mates him firſt, that firſt intends deceit.

Quee. Thrice Noble Suffolke, 'tis reſolutely ſpoke.
Suff. Not reſolute, except ſo much were done,
For things are often ſpoke, and ſeldome meant,
But that my heart accordeth with my tongue,
Seeing the deed is meritorious,
And to preferve my Soveraigne from his Foe,
Say but the word, and I will be his Prieft.

Card. But I would have him dead, my Lord of Suffolke,
Ere you can take due Orders for a Prief :
Say you conſent, and cenſure well the deed,
And Ile provide his Executioner,
I tender ſo the ſafety of my Liege.

Suff. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing.

Quee. And ſo ſay I.

Torke. And I : and now we three have ſpoke it,
Its skills not greatly who impugnes our doome.

Enter a Poste.

Poſt. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amaine,
To ſignify, that Rebels there are up,
And put the Englishmen unto the Sword,
Send Succours (Lords) and ſtop the Rage betime,
Before the Wound doe grow uncurable;
For being greene, there is great hope of helpe.

Card. A Breach that craves a quicke expedient ſtop,
What counſaile give you in this weighty caufe ?

Torke. That Somerſet be ſent a Regent thither :
'Tis meet that luckye Ruler be imploy'd,
Witneſſe the fortune he hath had in France.

Som. If Torke, with all his farre-feet pollicy,
Had beene the Regent there, in ſlead of me,
He never would have ſtay'd in France ſo long.

Torke. No, not to ſole it all, as thou haſt done.
I rather would have loft my life betimes,
Then bring a burthen of dis-honour home,
By ſaying there ſo long, till all were loft.
Shew me one skarre, character'd on thy skinde.
Mens fleſh preferv'd ſo whole, doe ſeldome winne.

Quee. Nay then, this ſparke will prove a raging fire,
If Wind and Fuell be brought, to feed it with :
No more, good Torke; ſweet Somerſet be ſtill.
Thy fortune, Torke, had ſhou the Regent there,
Might haply have prov'd farre worſe then his.

Torke. What, worſe then naught ? nay, then a ſhame
take all.

Somerſet. And in the number, thee, that wiſhelt
ſhame.

Card. My Lord of Torke, try what your fortune is,
Th' uncivill Kernes of Ireland are in Armes,
And temper Clay with blood of Englishmen.
To Ireland will you leade a Band of men,
Collected choycely, from each County home,
And try your hap againſt the Irifhmen ?

Torke. I will, my Lord, ſo pleafe his Majefly.
Suff. Why, our Authority is his conſent,
And what we doe eſtabliſh, he confirmes ;
Then, Noble Torke, take thou this Taske in hand.

Torke. I am content : Provide me Souldiers, Lords.
Whiles I take order for mine owne affaires.

Suff. A charge, Lord Torke, that I will fee perform'd,
But now returne we to the falſe Duke Humſrey.

Card. No more of him : for I will deale with him,
Thathenceforth he ſhall trouble us no more :
And ſo breake off, the day is almost ſpent,
Lord Suffolke, you and I muſt talke of that event.

Torke. My

I would be blind with weeping, fickle with grones,
Looke pale as Prim-rose with blood-drinking fighes,
Al to have the Noble Duke alive.

What know I how the world may deeme of me?
For it is knowne we were but hollow Friends :
It may be judg'd I made the Duke away.

So fhall my name with Slanders tongue be wounded,
And Princes Courts be fill'd with my reproach:
This get I by his death : Aye me unhappy,
To be a Queene, and Crown'd with infamy.

King. Ah woe is me for Gloster, wretched man.

Quee. Be woe for me, more wretched then he is.
What, Doft thou turne away, and hide thy face ?
I am no loathfome Leaper, looke on me.

What ? Art thou like the Adder waxen deafe?
Be poyfonous too, and kill thy forlome Queene.

Is all thy comfort flut in Glosters Tombe ?
Why then Dame Elianor was ne're thy joy.

Erect his Statue, and worſhip it,
And make my Image but an Ale-houſe ſigne.

Was I for this nye wrack'd upon the Sea,
And twice by ankuward winde from Englands banke
Drove backe againe unto my Native Clime.

What boaded this ? but well fore-warning winde
Did feeme to fay, ſeeke not a Scorpions Neſt,
Nor fet no footing on this unkind Shore.

What did I then ? But curſt the gentle guſts,
And he that loos'd them forth their Brazen Caves,
And bid them blow towards Englands bleſſed ſhore,
Or turne our Sterne upon a dreadfull Rocke :

Yet Eolus would not be a murtherer,
But left that hatefull ſoffice unto thee.

The pretty vaulting Sea refus'd to droune me,
Knowing that thou wouldſt have me droun'd on ſhore
With teares as ſalt as Sea, through thy unkindneſſe.

The ſplitting Rockes cowr'd in the ſinking ſands,
And would not daſh me with their ragged ſides,
Because thy flinty heart more hard then they,

Might in thy Pallace, perſish Elianor,

As farre as I could ken thy Chalky Cliffes,
When from thy Shore, the Tempeſt beate us backe,
I ſlood upon the Hatches in the ſtorme :

And when the dusky sky, began to rob
My carneſt-gaping-fight of the Lands view,

I tooke a cottly lewell from my necke,

A Heart it was bound in with Diamonds,
And threw it towards thy Land : The Sea receiv'd it,
And so I wif'd thy body might my Heart :

And even with this, I loft faire Englands view,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart,
And call'd them blind and dusky ſpec ſtacles,

For loſing ken of Albions wifned Coaſt,

How often have I tempted Suffolkes tongue
(The agent of thy foule inſonſtancy)

To ſit and watch me as Aſcanius did,

When he to madding Dido would unfold

His Fathers Aſts, commen'd in burning Troy,

Am I not w itselfe like her ? Or thou not fal ſe like him ?
Aye me, I can no more : Dye Elmer,

For Henry weepes, that thou doſt live ſo long.

Noyſe within. Enter Warwicke, and many
Commons.

War. It is reported, mighty Soveraigne,
That good Duke Humſrey Traiterouſly is murdered

By Suffolkes, and the Cardinall Beaufords meanes :

The Commons like an angry hive of Bees
That want their Leader, Icatter up and slowne,
And care not who they ſting in his revenge.
My ſelfe have calm'd their Ipleenfull mutiny,
Vintill they hare the order of his death.

King. That he is dead good Warwicke, 'tis too true,
But how he dyed, God knowes, not Henry :
Enter his Chamber, view his breathleſſe Corpors,
And comment then upon his fodaine death.

Warw. That ſhall I doe my Liege : Stay Salisbury
With the rude multitude, till I returne.

King. O thou that judgeſt all things, ſlay my thoughts:
My thoughts, that labour to perſwade my ſoule,
Some violent hands were laid on Humſfryes life :

If my ſuſpect be falſe, forgiue me God,

For judgement onely doth belong to thee :

Faine would I goe to chafe his paly lips,

With twenty thouſand kiffles, and to draine

Vpon his face an Ocean of ſalt teares,

To tell my love unto his dumbe deafe trunke,

And with my fingers ſeele his hand, unfeeling :

But all in vaine are theſe meane Obſequies,

Bed put forth.

And to ſurvey his dead and earthly Image :

What were it but to make my forrow greater ?

Warw. Come hither gracious Soveraigne, view this
body.

King. That is to fee how deepe my grave is made,
For with his ſoule fled all my worldly ſolace;
For feeding him, I fee my life in death.

War. As ſurely as my ſoule intends to live
With that dread King that tooke our ſlate upon him,
To free us from his Fathers wrathfuln curſe,
I doe beleee that violent hands were laid
Vpon the life of this thrice-famed Duke.

Suff. A dreadfull Oath, ſworne with a ſolemne tongue:
What inſtance gives Lord Warwicke for his vow?

War. See how the blood is fetled in his face.

Oft have I ſeen a timely-parted Ghoſt,

Of aſhy ſembiance, meager, pale, and bloodleſſe,

Being all deſcended to the labouring heart,

Who in the Confl ict that it holds with death,

Attraſts the fame for aydance 'gainſt the enemy.

Which with the heart there cooles, and ne're returneth,
To bluſh and beautifue the Cheeke againe.

But ſee, his face is blacke, and full of blood :

His eye-balles further out, than when he lived,

Staring full gaffly, like a ſtrangled man :

His hayre up rear'd, his noſtris ſtretc h with ſtrugling :

His hands abroad dſplay'd, as one that graſt

And tugg'd for Life, and was by ſtrength ſubdude.

Looke on the ſheets his haire (you ſee) is ſlicking,
His well proportion'd Beard, made ruffe and rugg'd,
Like to the Summers Corne by Tempeſt lodged :

It cannot be but he was murdred here,

The leaſt of all theſe ſignes were probable.

Suf. Why Warwicke, who ſhould doe the D. to death?
My ſelfe and Beauford had him in protection,
And we, I hope fir, are no murtherers.

War. But both of you were vowed D. Humſfries death.
And you (for ſooforth) had the good Duke to keepe :
Tis like you would not feaſt him like a friend,
And 'tis well ſeene, he found an enemy.

Queen. Then you belike ſuſpect theſe Noblemen,
As guilty of Duke Humſfries timeleſſe death.

W. A.

The Second Part of Henry the Sixt.

Warw. Who finds the Heyfer dead, and bleeding freth,
And fees faft-by, a Butcher with an Axe,
But will funſpect, 'twas he that made the flaunder ?
Who finds the Partridge in the Puttockes Neſt,
But may imagine how the Bird was dead,
Although the Kyte foare with unbloudied Brake ?
Even to ſuſpitius is this Tragedy.

Qve. Are you the Butcher, Suffolk? where's your Knife?
Is Beauford teard a Kyte? where are his Tallons?

Suff. I wear e no Knife, to flaunder ſleeping men.
But here's a vengefull Sword, rulſed with cale,
That shall be ſowred in his rancorous heart,
That flanders me with Murthers Crimson Badge.
Say, if thou dar it, prow'd Lord of Warwickshire,
That I am faulty in Duke Humfryes death.

Warw. What dares not Warwicke, if false Suffolk dare
him?

Qut. He dares not calme his contumelious Spirit,
Nor ceafe to be an arrogant Controller,
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thouſand times.
Warw. Madam be ſtill: with reverence may I ſay,
For every word you ſpeake in his behalſe,
Is ſlander to your Royall Dignity.

Suff. Blunt-witted Lord, ignoble in demeanor,
If ever Lady wrong'd her Lord so much,
Thy Mother tooke into her blamefull Bed,
Some ſterne untutor'd Churle; and Noble Stocke
Was graft with Crab-tree ſlip, whoſe Fruit thou art,
And never of the Nevils Noble Race.

Warw. But that the guilt of Murther bucklers' thee,
And I thought rob the death-men of his Fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thouſand ſhames,
And that my Sovraigne's prefence makes me mild,
I would, falſe murd'rous Coward, on thy Knee
Makethee beg pardon for thy paſſed ſpeech,
And ſay, it was thy Mother that thou meant it.
That thou thy ſelſe waſt borne in Baſtardy;
And after all this ſeaſeull Homage done,
Give thee thy byre, and thy Soule to hell,
Pernicious blood-fucker of ſleeping men.

Suff. Thou ſhalt be waking, while I ſhed thy blood,
Iffrom this prefence thou dar't goe with me.

Warw. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence,
Vnworthy though thou art, Ile cope with thee,
And doe ſome ſervice to Duke Humfreys Ghoſt.

Execunt.

King. What ftrönger Brefſ-plate then a heart untainted?
Thrice is hearm'd, that hach his Quarrell juſt;
And he but naked, though lockt up in Steele,
Whole conſciencie with injuſtice is corrupted.

A noſe within.

Quee. What noſe is this?

Enter Suffolk and Warwicke, with their Weapons drawne.

King. Why how now Lords ?
Your wrathfull Weapons drawne,

Here in our prefence ? Dare you be ſo bold ?
Why what tumultuous clamor have we here?

Suff. The trayt rous Warwicke, with the men of Bury,
Set all upon me, mighty Sovraigne.

Enter Salisbury.

Salis. Sirs stand apart, the King shall know your
mind.

Dread Lord, the Commons ſend you word by me,
Voleſſe Lord Suffolk, ſtraight be done to death,
Or banifhed faire Englands Territories,
They will by violence teare him from your Pallace,
And torture him with grievous lingring death.
They ſay, by him the good Duke Humſreſ dy'de :
They ſay, in him they feare your Highneſſe death ;
And meere inſtinct of Love and Loyalty,
Free from a ſtubborne oppoſite intent,
As being thought to contradict your likings,
Makes them thus forward in his Banifhment.
They ſay, in care of your moſt Royall Perſon,
That if your Highneſſe should intend to ſleepe,
And charge, that no man should diſturbe your reſt,
In paine of your diſlike, or paine of death ;
Yet notwithstanding ſuch a ſtrait Edict,

Were there a Serpent ſeene, with forked Tongue,
That flyly glyded towards your Maſelyt,
It were but neceſſary you were wak't:

Left being ſuffer'd in that harmeleſſe flumber,
The mortall Worme might make the ſleepe eternall,
And therefore doe they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, where you will, or no,
From ſuch ſelſed Serpents as false Suffolk is ;

With whoſe invenomed and farall ſting,
Your loving Vnkle, twenty times his worth,
They ſay is ſhamefully bereſt of life.

Commons within. An Anſwer from the King, my Lord
of Salisbury.

Suff. 'Tis like the Commons, rude unpoliſht hinds,
Could ſend ſuch Meſſage to their Sovraigne :
But you, my Lord, were glad to be imploy'd,
To ſhow how queint an Orator you are.
But all the Honor Salisbury hath wonne,
Is, that he was the Lord Embaſſador,
Sent from a ſort of Tinkers to the King.

Within. An anſwer from the King, or wee will all
breake in.

King. Goe Salisbury, and tell them all from me,
I thanke them for their tender loving care;
And had I not beene cited ſo by them,
Yet did I purpofe as they doe entreat :
For ſure, my thoughts doe hourly prophecy,
Mifchance unto my State by Suffolke meanes.
And therefore by his Maſelyt I ſware,
Whoſe farre-unworthy Deputy I am,
He ſhall not breathe infection in this ayre,
But three dayes longer, on the paine of death.

Que. Oh Henry, let me pleade for gentle Suffolk.
King. Vngentle Queene, to call him gentle Suffolk.

No more I ſay : if thou doſt pleade for him,
Thou wilt but adde encreafe unto my Wrath.
Had I but ſaid, I would have kept my word ;
But when I ſware, it is irrevocable :
If after three dayes ſpace thou here beſt found,
On any ground that I am Ruler of,
The World ſhall not be Ranſome for thy Life.
Come Warwicke, come good Warwicke, goe with me,
I have great matters to impart to thee.

Exit.

Que. Mifchance and Sorrow goe along with you,
Hearts Diſconent, and ſowre Affliction,
Be play-fellowes to keepe you company :
There's two of you, the Devill made a third,
And three-fold Vengeance tend upon your ſteps.

Suff. Ceafe, gentle Queene, theſe Execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.

Queene.

Luige. Eye Coward woman, and 'oft hearted wretch,
Haft thou not fpirit to curfe thine enemy?

Suff. A plague upon them : wherefore should I curſe
them?

Would curſes kill, as doth the Mandrakes grone,
I would invent as bitter fearching termes,
As curſt, as harſh, and horrible to heare,
Deliver'd ſtrongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many fignes of deadly hate,
As leane-fac'd envy in her loathome cave.
My tongue ſhould ſtumble in mine earneſt words,
Mine eyes ſhould ſparkle like the beaten Flint,
Mine haire be fixt an end, as one diſtraſt :
I, every joynt ſhould ſeeme to curſe and ban,
And even now my burthen'd heart would breake
Should I not curſe them. Poyſon be their drinke;
Gall, worſe then Gall, the daintieſt that they taſte :
Their ſweeſteſt ſhade, a grove of Cyprefte Trees :
Their cheeſeſt Proſpect, murd'ring Bafliſkes :
Their ſoſteſt Touch, as finart as Lyzards ſtings :
Their Muſſicke, frightfull as the Serpents hille,
And boading ſcreech-Owles, make the Confort ſull.
All the foule terrors in darke feared hel

Luie. Enough (weer Suffolke, thou torment'ſt thy ſelfe,
And theſe dread curſes like the Sunne) 'gainſt graſſe,
Or like an over-charged Gun, recoile,
And turnes the force of them upon thy ſelfe.

Suff. You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave ?
Now by the ground that I am banifh'd from,
Well could I curſe away a Winters night,
Though ſtanding naked on a Mountaine top,
Where byting cold would never let graſſe grow,
And thinke it but a minute ſpent in ſport.

Luie. Oh, let me intreat thee ceaſe, give me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournfull teares :
Nor let the raine of heaven wet this place,
To waſh away my woofull Monuments.
Oh, could this kiffe be printed in thy hand,
That thou might'ſt thinke upon theſe by the Seale,
Through whom a thouſand ſfighes are breath'd for thee,
So get thee gone, that I may know my griefe,
'Tis but ſurmiz'd, whiles thou art ſtanding by,
As one that ſurſets, thinking on a want :
I will repeale thee, or be well affur'd,
Adventure to be banifhed my ſelfe :
And banifhed I am, if but from thee.
Goe, ſpeake not to me; even now be gone,
Oh goe not yet. Even thus, two friends condemn'd,
Embrace, and kiffe, and take ten thouſand leaves,
Loather a hundred times to part then dye;
Yet now farewell, and farewell life with thee.

Suff. Thus is poore Suffolke ten times banifhed,
Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee.
'Tis not the Land I care for, wer't thou hence,
A Wilderneſſe is populous enough,
So Suffolke had thy heavenly company :
For where thou art, there is the World it ſelfe,
With every ſeverall pleafure in the World :
And where thou art not, Defolation.
I can no more: Livethou to joy thy life;
My ſelfe no joy in nought, but that thouliv'ſt.

Enter Vaux.

Luue. Whither goes Vaux so faſt? what newes I
prethee?

Vaux. To ſignify unto his Majefty,
That Cardiuall Beauſord is at point of death :
For ſodainely a greivous fickeneſſe tooke him,
That makes him gaspe, and ſtare, and catch the ayre,
Blapheming God, and curling men on earth.
Sometime he talkes, as it Duke Humeſty Ghoſt
Were by his ſide: Sometime, he calles the King,
And whiſpers to his pillow, as to him,
The ſecrets of his over-charged ſoule,
And I am ſent to tell his Majefty,
That even now he cries alowd for him.

Luue. Goe tell this heavy Meſſage to the King. Exil,
Aye me! What is this World? What newes are there?
But wherefore greeve I at an hours poore loſſe,
Omitting Suffolkes exile, my ſonſes Treſure?
Why onely Suffolke mourne I not for thee?
And with the Southerne clouds, contend in teares?
Thers for the earths encreaſe; mine for my ſorrowes.
Now get thee hence, the King thou know'ſt is comming
If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.

Suff. If I depart from thee, I cannot live,
And in thy fight to dye, what were it ſelfe,
But like a pleafant ſlumber in thy lap?
Heere could I breathe my ſoule into the ayre,
As milde and gentle as the Cradle-babe,
Dying with mothers dugge betweene it's lips,
Where from thy fight, I ſhould be raging mad,
And cry out for thee to cloſe up mine eyes:
To have thee with thy lippes to ſtop my mouth :
So ſhould'ſt thou either turne my flying ſoule,
Or I ſhould breathe it ſo into thy body,
And then it liv'd in ſweet Elizium.
To dye by thee, were but to dye in jeſt,
From theſe to dye, were torture more then death :
Oh let me ſay, befall what may befall.

Luue. Away: Though parting be a fretfull coroſive,
It is applied to a deathfull wound.
To France fweet Suffolke: Let me heare from thee:
For whereofever thou art in this worlds Globe,
Ile have an Iris that ſhall find thee out.

Suff. I goe.

Luue. And take my heart with thee.

Suff. A Jewell lockt into the wotſoul Caskes,
That ever did containe a thing of worth,
Even as a ſplitted Barke, ſo ſunder we :
This way fall I to death.

Luue. This way for me.

Exembl.

Enter the King, Salisbury, and Warwick, to the
Cardinal in bed.

King. How fare's my Lord ? Speake Beauford to thy
Soveraigne.

Ca. If thou beef death, Ile give thee England's Treſure,
Enough to purchase ſuch another Ifland,
So thou witt let me live, and feele no paine.

King. Ah, what a ſigne it is of evill life,
Where death's approach is ſeene ſo terrible.
War. Beauford, it is thy Soveraigne ſpeakes to thee.

Beau. Bring me unto my Triall when you will.
Dy'de he not in his bed ? Where should he dye?
Can I make men live where they will or no ?
Oh torture me no more, I will conſeue.

Alive againe? Then ſhew me where he is,
Ile give a thouſand pound to looke upon him,
He hath no eyes, the duſt hath blinded them.

Combe

Combe downe his haire; looke, looke, it stands upright,
Like Lime-twigs fet to catch my winged foule :
Give me fome drinke, and bid the Apothecarie
Bring the ftrong payfon that I bought of him.

King. Oh thou eternall moover of the heavens,
Looke with a gentie eye upon this Wretch,
Oh beate away the buſe medling Fiend,
That layes ftrong ſiege unto this wretches foule,
And from his boſome purge this blacke defpaire.

War. See how the pangs of death do make him grin.
Sal. Difturbe him not, let him paffe peaceably.
King. Peace to his foule, if Gods good pleasure be.
Lord Card'nall, if thou think'st on heavens bliffe,
Hold up thy hand, make ſignall of thy hope.

He dyes and makes no ſigne: Oh God forgive him.

War. So bad a death, argues a monſtrous life.
King. Forbeare to judge, for we are finners all.

Cloſe up his eyes, and draw the Curtaine cloſe,
And let us all to Meditation.

Exeunt.

Alarums.

Fight at Sea. Ordenance goes off.

Enter Lieutenant, Suffolke, and others.

Lieu. The gaudy blabbing and remorſe full day,
Is crept into the boſome of the Sea :

And now loud houling Wolves ouroue the Iades
That dragge the Tragicke melancholy night :
Who with their drowſe, flow, and flagging wings
Cleap dead-mens graves; and from their mifty lawes,
Breathe foule contagious darkneſſ in the ayre:

Therefore bring forth the Souldiers of our prize,
For whilf our Pinnace Anchors in the Downes,
Here ſhall they make their ranſome on the land,
Or with their blood ſtaine this diſcoloured ſhore.
Mafter, this Prifoner freely give I thee.

And thou that art his Mate, make boote of this :
The other Walter Whitmore is thy ſhare.

1. Gent. What is my ranſome Mafter, let me know.

Mn. A thouſand Crowne, or eſſe lay down your head
Mate. And for moch ſhall you give, or off goes yours.

Lieu. What thinke you much to pay 2000. Crowne,
And beare the name and port of Gentlemen ?

Cut both the Villaines throat, for dye you ſhall :
The lives of thate which we have loft in fight,
Be counter-poys'd with such a pettie ſumme.

1. Gent. Ile give it fir, and therefore ſpare my life.

2. Gent. And for will I, and write home for it ſtraight.

Wom. I loft mine eye in laying the prize aboord,
And therefore to revenge it, ſhalt thou dye,
And for should theſe, if I might have my will.

Liu. Be not ſo rafh, take ranſome, let him live.

Saf. Looke on my George, I am a Gentleman,
Rate me at what thou wilt, thou ſhalt be payed.

Whit. And for am I: my name is Walter Whitmore.

How now? why ſtarts thou ? what doth death affright?

Saf. Thy name affrights me, in whole found is death :
A canning man did calculate my Birth,

And told methat by water I should dye :

Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded,
Thy name is Gualier, being rightly founded.

Vis. Gualier or VValter, which it is I care not,
Never yet did bafe diſhonour blurre our name,
But with our ſword we wip'd away the blot.
Therefore, when Merchant-like I fell revenge,
Broke my ſword, my Armestorne and defac'd,
And I proclaim'd a Coward through the world,

Suf. Stay Whitmore, for thy Prifoner is a Prince,
The Duke of Suffolke, William de la Pole.

Whit. The Duke of Suffolke, mufſed up in ragges?

Saf. I, but theſe raggs are no part of the Duke.

Lieu. But Iove was never ſaine as thou ſhalt be,
Obſcure and lowſe Swaine, King Hemries blood.

Suf. The honourable blood of Lancaſter

Munt not be ſhed by ſuch a jaded Groome:

Haſt thou not kiſt his hand, and held my ſtirrop ?

Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth Mule,

And thought theſe happy when I ſhooke my head.

How often haſt thou waited at my cup,

Fed from my Trencher, kneel'd downe at the boord,

When I have feaſt with Queene Margaret?

Remember it, and let it make thee Creſt-falne,

I, and alay this thy abortive Pride:

How in our voiding Lobby haſt thou tood,

And duly waited for my comming forth?

This hand of thine hath writ in thy behalfe,

And therefore ſhall it charme thy riotous tongue.

Whit. Speake Captaine, ſhall I ſtab the forlorn Swain?

Lieu. Firſt let my words ſtab him, as he hath me.

Saf. Bafe ſlave, thy words are blunt, and ſo art thou.

Lieu. Convey him hence, and on our long boats ſide,
Strike off his head. Suf. Thou dar't not for thy owne.

Lien. Poole, Sir Poole ? Lord,

I kennell, puddle, finke, whole filth and durt

Troubles the filver Spring, where England drinks:

Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth,

For ſwallowing the Treasure of the Realme.

Thy lips that kiſt the Queene, ſhall ſweepe the ground :

And thou that ſmil'd at good Duke Humfries death,

Against the ſenſeleſſe windes ſhalt grin in vaine,

Who in contempt ſhall hihſe at thee againe.

And wedded be thou to the Hagges of hell.

For daring to affye a mighty Lord

Vnto the daughter of a worthleſſe King,

Having neither Subject, Wealth, nor Diadem :

By divelſh policy art thou growne great,

And like ambitious Syllaover-gor'd,

With gobbets of thy Mother-bleeding heart.

By thee Anion and Maine were ſold to France.

The ſalſe revolting Normans thorough thee,

Difdaine to call us Lord, and Piccardie

Hath ſaine their Governors, ſurpriz'd our Forts,

And ſent the ragged Souldiers wounded home:

The Princely Warwicke, and the Nevils all,

Whose dreadfull ſwords were never drawne in vaine,

As hating thee, and riling up in Armes.

And now the Houſe of Yorke thrut from the Crowne,

By ſhamefull murther of a guiltleſſe King.

And lofty proud incroaching tyranny,

Burnes with revenging ſire, whole hopefull colours

Advance our halſe-fac'd Sunne, striving to ſhine;

Vnder the which is writ, Inuitis nubibus.

The Commons heere in Kent are up in armes,

And to conclude, Reproach and Beggerie,

Is crept into the Pallace of our King,

And all by thee saway convey him herice.

Suf. O that I were a God, to shoot forth Thunder:

Vpon theſe paltry, ſervile, abject Drudges:

Small things make bafe men proud. This Villaine heere,

Being Captaine of a Pinnace, threats more

Then Bargalus the ftrong Illyrian Pyrate.

Drones fucke not Eagles blood, but rob Bee-hives ;

It is impoffible that I ſhald dye.

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138

By such a lowly Vassall as thy selfe.

Thy words move Rage, and not remorfe in me :

I goe of Meflage from the Queene to France :

I charge thee waft me safely croſſe the Channell.

Lieu. Water : W. Come Suffolke, I muſt waſt thee to thy death.

Suf. Gelidus timor oſcupat artus, it is thee I feare.

Wal. Thou ſhalt have cauſe to ſcare before I leave thee.
What, are ye danted now? Now will ye ſtoope?

1. Gent. My gracious Lord intreat him, ſpeak him fair.

Suf. Suffolkes Imperiall tongue is ſterne and rough ;
Vs'd to command, untaught to pleade for favour.

Farre be it, we ſhould honour ſuch as theſe

With humble ſuite: no, rather let my head

Stoope to the blocke, then theſe knees bow to any,

Save to the God of heaven; and to my King,

And fooner dance upon a bloody pole,

Then ſtand uncover'd to the Vulgar Groome.

True Nobility, is exempt from ſcare :

More can I beare, then you dare execute.

Lieu. Hale him away, and let him talke no more :

Come Souldiers, ſhew what cruelty ye can.

Suf. That this my death may never be forgot.

Great men oft dye by vilde Bezorians.

A Romane Sworder, and Bandetto flave

Murder'd ſweet Tully. Brutus Baſſand hand

Stab'd Iulius Caſar. Savage Ilanders

Pompey the Great, and Suffolke dyes by Pyrats.

Exit Walter with Suffolke.

Lieu. And as for theſe whoſe ranſome we have ſet,
It is our pleafure one of them depart :

Therefore come you with us, and let him go.

Exit Lieutenant, and the reſt.

Mant the first Gent. Enter Walter with the body.

Wal. There let his head, and liveleſſe bodie lye.

Vntill the Queene his Miftris bury it.

Exit Walter.

1. Gent. O barbarous and bloody ſpectacle,

His body will I beare unto the King :

If he revenge it not, yet will his Friends,

So will the Queene, that living, held him deere.

Exit.

Enter Benis, and Iohn Holland.

Benis. Come and get thee a ſword, though made of a
Lath, they have bene up theſe two dayes.

Hol. They have the more neede to ſleep now then :

Benis. I tell thee, Jacke Cade the Cloathier, means to
dreſſe the Common-wealth and turne it, and ſet a new
nap upon it.

Hol. So he had need, 'tis thred-bare. Well, I ſay,
it was never merrie world in England, ſince Gentlemen
came up.

Benis. O miſerable Age: Vertue is not regarded in
Handy-crafts men.

Hol. The Nobilitie thinke ſcorne to goe in Leather
Aprons.

Benis. Nay more, the Kings Councell are no good
Workemen.

Hol. True: and yet it is ſaid, Labour in thy Vocation : which is as much to ſay, as let the Magiſtrates be la-bouring men, and therefore ſhould we be Magiſtrates.

Benis. Thou haſt hit it: for there's no better ſigne of a
brave minde, then a hard hand.

Hol. If fee them, I fee them: There's Befſt Sonne, the
Tanner of Wingham.

Benis. He shall have the skinnes of our enemies, to

make Dogges Leather of.

Hol. And Dicke the Butcher.

Benis. Then is ſin trucke downe like an Oxe, and ini-
quities throate cut like a Calfe.

Hol. And Smith the Weaver.

Ben. Argo, their thred of life is ſpun.

Hol. Come, come, let's fall in with them.

Drumme. Enter Cade, Dicke Butcher, Smith the Weaver,
and a Sawyer, with infinite numbers.

Cade. We John Cade, to term'd of our ſuppoſed Father.

But. Or rather of ſrealing a Cade of Herrings.

Cade. For our enemies ſhall taile before us, inſpired
with the ſpirit of putting down Kings and Princes. Com-
mand ſilence.

But. Silence.

Cade. My Father was a Mortimer.

But. He was an honest man, and a good Bricklayer.

Cade. My mother a Plantagenet.

Butch. I knew her well, ſhe was a Midwife.

Cade. My wife defcended of the Lacieſ.

But. She was indeed a Pedlers daughter, and ſold many
Laces.

Weaver. But now of late, not able to travell with her
furr'd Packe, ſhe waſhes buckes here at home.

Cade. Therefore am I of an honorable houſe.

But. I by my faith the field is honourable, and there
was he borne, under a hedge : for his Father had nevera
houſe but the Cage.

Cade. Valiant I am.

Weaver. A muſt needs, for beggery is valiant.

Cade. I am able to endure much.

But. No question of that : for I have ſeene him whipt
three Market dayes together.

Cade. I ſcare neither ſword, nor fire.

Wea. He need not ſcare the ſword, for his Coate is of
proofe.

But. But methinkes he ſhould ſtand in ſeare of fire, be-
ing burnt i'th hand for ſtaling of Sheepe.

Cade. Be brave then, for your Captaine is Brave, and
Vowes Reformation. There ſhall be in England, ſeven
halfe peny Loaves ſold for a peny: the three hoop'd pot,
ſhall have ten hoopes, and I will make it Felony to drink
finall Beer. All the Realme ſhall be in Common, and in
Cheapſide ſhall my Palfrey go to graſſe : and when I am
King, as King I will be.

All. God ſave your Majeſtie.

Cade. I thanke you good people. There ſhall bee no
mony, all ſhalleate and drinke on my ſcore, and I will
apparrell them all in one Livery, that they may agree like
Brothers, and worſlip me their Lord.

But. The firſt thing we do, let's kill all the Lawyers.

Cade. Nay, that I meane to do. Is not this alamenta-
ble thing, that of the ſkin of an innocent Lambe ſhould
be made Parchment; that Parchment being ſeribeld on,
ſhould undoe a man. Some ſay the Bee ſtings, but I ſay,
'tis the Bees wax : for I did but ſeale once to a thing, and
I was never my owne man ſince. How now? Who's
there ?

Enter a Clearke.

Weaver. The Clearke of Chattam : hee can write and
reade, and caſt accompt.

Cade. O monſtrous

Wen. We tooke him fetting boyes Coppies.

Cade.

Cade. Here's a Villaine.

Wea. Ha's a Boone in his pocket with red Letters in't.

Cade. Nay then he is a Conjurer.

But. Nay, he can make Obligations, and write Court
hand.

Cade. I am forry for't: The man is a proper man of
mine Honor: unless I finde him guilty, he shall nordie.
Come hither firrah, I must examine thee: What is thy
name?

Clearke. Esmannell.

But. They use to write it on the top of Letters: 'Twill
go hard with you.

Cade. Let me alone: Doff thou use to write thy named
Or haft thou a marke to thy selfe, like an honest plain
dealing man?

Clearke. Sir I thanke God, I have bin so well brought
up, that I can write my name.

All. He hath confest: away with him; he is a Villaine
and a Traitor.

Cade. Away with him I say: Hang him with his Pen
and Inke-horne about his necke.

Exit one with the Clearke

Enter Michael.

Mish. Where's our Generall?

Cade. Heere I am thou particular fellow.

Mich. Fly, fly, fly, Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother
are hard by, with the Kings Forces.

Cade. Stand villaine, fand, or Ile fell thee downe: he
shall be encountered with a man as good as himfelfe. He
is but a Knight, is a?

Mich. No.

Cade. To equall him I will make my selfe a knight pre-
fendy; Rife up Sir John Mortimer. Now have at him.

Enter Sir Humphrey Stafford, and his Brother,
with Drum and Soldiers.

Staf. Rebellious Hinds, the filth and scum of Kent,
Mark'd for the Gallowes; Lay your Weapons downe,
Home to your Cottages: forfake this Groome.
The King is merciful, if you revolt.

Bro. But angry, wrathfull, and inclin'd to blood,
If you go forward: therefore yeeld, or dye.

Cade. As for these filken-coated flaves I paffe not,
It is to you good people, that I speake,
Over whom (in time to come) I hope to reigne:
For I am rightfull heyre unto the Crowne.

Staf. Villaine, thy Father was a Playsterer,
And thou thy selfe a Sheareman, art thou not?

Cade. And Adams was a Gardiner.

Bro. And what of that ?

Cade. Marry, this Edmond Mortimer Earle of March,
married the Duke of Clarence daughter, did he not?

Staf. I fir.

Cade. By her he had two Children at one birth.

Bro. That's falle.

Cade. I, there's the queftion; But I say, 'tis true:
The elder of them being put to nurfe,
Was by a begger-woman flone away,
And ignorant of his birth and parentage,
Became a Bricklayer, when he came to age.

His fomme am I, deny it if you can.

But. Nay, 'tis too true, therefore he shall be King.

Wea. Sir, I made a Chimney in my Fathers houfe, and
the brickes are alive at this day to testifie it: therefore
deny it not.

Staf. And will you credit this bafe Drudges Wordses,
that fpeakes he knowes not what?

All. I marry will we, therefore get you gone.

Bro. Iacke Cade, the D. of Yorke, hath taught you this.

Cade. He lyes, for I invented it my selfe. Go too Sir-
rah, tell the King from me, that for his Fathers fake Hen-
ry the fift, (in whole time boys went to Span-counter
for French Crownes) I am content he shall reigne, but Ile
be Protector over him.

Butcher. And furthermore wee'le have the Lord Sayes
head, for felling the Dukedome of Maine.

Cade. And good reafon: for thereby is England main'd
And faire to goe with a ftaffe, but that my puissance holds
it up, Fellow-Kings, I tell you, that that Lord Say hath
gelded the Commonwealth, and made it an Eunuch: and
more then that, he can fpeake French, and therefore he is
a Traitor.

Staf. Ogroffe and miferable ignorance.

Cade. Nay anſwer if you can: The Frenchmen are our
enemies: go too then: I ask but this: Can he that ſpeaks
with the tongue of an enemy, be a good Councillour, or
no?

All. No, no, and therefore wee' have his head.

Bro. Well, feeing gentle words will not prevayle,
Aflayle them with this Army of the King.

Staf. Herald away, and throughout every Towne,
Proclaime them Traytors thatare up with Cade,
That thofe which flye before the battell ends,
May even in their wives and Childrens fight,
Be hang'd up for example at their doores:
And you that be the Kings friends follow me.

Exit.

Cade. And you that love the Commons follow me:
Now flew your felves men, 'tis for Liberty.

We will not leave one Lord, one Gentleman :

Spare none, but such as go in clouted fltoen,

For they are thrifty honest men, and fuch

As would (but that they dare not) take our parts.

But. They are all in order, and march toward us.

Cade. But then are we in order, when we are moſt out
of order. Come, march forward.

Alarums to the fight, wherein both the Staffords are flaine.
Enter Cade and the rest.

Cade. Where's Dicke, the Butcher of Ashford ?

But. Heere fir.

Cade. They fell before thee like fheepe and Oxen, and
thou behaved'ft thy selfe, as if thou hadt beene in thine
owne Slaughter-houfe: Therefore thus wil I reward thee,
the Lent ſhall bee as long againe as it is, and thou ſhalt
have a Liceſe to kill for a hundred lacking one.

But. I defire no more.

Cade. And to speake truth, thou deferv'ft no leſſe.
This Monument of the victorie will I beare, and the bo-
dies ſhall be dragg'd at my horſe heeleſ, till I do come to
London, where we will have the Maiors ſword born be-
fore us.

But. If we meane to thrive, and do good, breake open
the Gaoles, and let out the Puffoners.

Cade. Feare not that I warrant thee. Come, let's march
towards London.

Enter Count.

Enter the King with a Supplication, and the Queene with Staf-
fodles head, the Duke of Buckingham, and the
Lord Say.

Queene. Oft have I heard that greeſe softens the mind,

And

140

And makes it fearefull and degenerate,
Thinke therefore on revenge, and ceafe to weepe.
But who can ceafe to weepe, and looke on this?
Here may his head lye on my throbbing breft:
But where's the body that I should imbrace?

Buc. What anfwer makes your Grace to the Rebels
Supplication?

King. Ile fend fome holy Bifhop to intreat ;
For God forbid, so many limple foules
Should perifh by the Sword. And I my ſelfe,
Rather then bloody warre ſhall cut them ſhort,
Will parly with Iacke Cade their Generall.
But flay, Ile reade it over once againe.

Qu. Ah barbarous villaines: Hath this lovely face,
Ruſd like a wandring Plannet over me,
And could it not inforce them to relent,
That were unworthy to behold the fame?

King. Lord Say, Iacke Cade hath ſworne to have thy
head.

Say, I, but I hope your Highneſſe ſhall have his.

King. How now Madam?

Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolkes death?
I feare me (Love) if that I had beene dead,
Thou would'it not halfe have mourn'd ſo much for me.

Qu. No my Love, I should not mourne, but dye for
thee.

Enter a Meſſenger.

King. How now ? What newes? Why com'ſt thou in
fuch haſte ?

Mef. The Rebels are in Southwarke: Fly my Lord:
Iacke Cade proclaimes himſelfe Lord Mortimer,
Defended from the Duke of Clarence houſe,
And calls your Grace Vnſurper, openly,
And vowes to Crowne himſelfe in Westminſter.

His Army is a ragged multitude
Offinds and Pezants, rude and merciſſe:
Sir Flumſrey Stafford, and his Brothers death,
Hath given them heart and courage to proceede:
All Schollers, Lawiers, Courtiers, Gentlemen,
They call ſalſe Catterpillers, and intend their death.

Kin. Oh graceleſſe men: they know not what they do.
Buck. My gracious Lord, retire to Killingworth,
Vntill a power be raiſ'd to put them downe.

Qu. Ah were the Duke of Suffolk now alive,
Theſe Kentiſh Rebels should be ſoonne appears'd.

King. Lord Say, the Traitors hate thee,
Therefore away with us to Killingworth.

Say. So might your Graces perſon be in danger:
The fight of me is odious in their eyes:
And therefore in this City will I ſtay,
And live alone as ſecret as I may.

Enter another Meſſenger.

Mef. Iacke Cade hath gotten London-bridge,
The Citizens flye him and forſake their houſes:
The Raſcal people, thirſting after prey,
Ioyne with the Traitor, and they joynſtly ſware
To ſpoyle the City, and your Royall Court.

Bue. Thenlinger not my Lord, away, take horſe.

King. Come Margaret, God our hope will ſuccour us.

Qu. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is decaſt.

King. Farewell my Lord, truſt not to Kentiſh Rebels.

Buc. Truſt no body for feare you be betraid.

Say. The truſt I have, is in mine innocence,

And therefore am I bold and refolute.

Exeunt.

Enter Lord Scales upon the Tower walking. Then enter two or thee Citizens below.

Scales. How now ? Is Iacke Cade ſlaſne ?

1. Cit. No my Lord, nor likely to be ſlaſne:
For they have wonne the Bridge,
Killing all thatof that withſtand them:
The L. Maior craves ayd of your Honor from the Tower
To defend the City from the Rebels.

Scales. Such ayd as I can ſpare you ſhall command,
But I am troubled here with them my ſelfe.
The Rebels have aſſay'd to win the Tower,
But get you into Smithfield, and gather head,
And thither I will ſend you Mathew Goffe.
Fight for your King, your Country, and your Lives,
And ſo farewell, for I muſt hence againe.

Exeunt.

Enter Iacke Cade and the reſt, and strikes bis
ſtaſſe on London ſone.

Cade. Now is Mortimer Lord of this City,
And here sitting upon London Stone,
I charge and command, that of the Cities coſt
The piling Conduit run nothing but Clarret Wine.
The firſt yeere of our raigne,
And now henceforward it ſhall be Treason for any,
That calls me other then Lord Mortimer.

Enter a ſouldiv running.

Soul. Iacke Cade, Iacke Cade.

Cade. Knecke him downe there.

They kill him.

But. If this Fellow be wife, hee' never call yee Iacke
Cade more, I thinke he hath a very faire warning.

Dicke. My Lord, there's an Army gathered together
in Smithfield.

Cade. Come, then let's go fight with them:
But firſt, go and fet London Bridge on fire,
And if you can, burne downe the Tower too.

Come, let's away.

Exeunt omen.

Alarums. Mathew Goffe is ſlaſne, and all there rest.
Then enter Iacke Cade, with his Company,

Cade. So firſs: now go ſome and pull down the Savoy:
Others to'th Innes of Court, downe with them all.

But. I have a ſuit unto your Lordship.

Cade. Be it a Lord ſhippe, thou ſhalt have it for that
word.

But. Onely that the Lawes of England may come out
of your mouth.

John. Maffe 'twill be fore Law then, for he was truſt
in the mouth with a Speare, and 'tis not whole yet.

Smith. Nay John, it will be ſtinking Law, for his breath
ſtinkes with toſted Cheeſe.

Cade. I have thought upon it, it ſhall bee ſo. Away,
burne all the Records of the Realme, my mouth ſhall bee
the Parliament of England.

John. Then we are like to have biting Statutes
Vnleſſe his teeth be pull'd out.

Cade. And hence-forward all things ſhall be in Com-
mon. Enter a Meſſenger.

Mef. My Lord, a prize, a prize, heere's the Lord Say,
which fold the Townes in France, He that made us pay
one and twentie Fifteenes, and one ſhilling to the pound,
the laſt Subſidie.

Enter

Enter George with the Lord Say.

Cade. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times:
Ah thou Say, thou Surge, nay thou Buckram Lord, now
art thou within point-blanke of our Iurisdiction Regall.
What canst thou anwer to my Majety, for giving up of
Normandie unto Mounfier Basimecu, the Dolphin of
France? Be it knowne unto thee by thefe prefence, even
the prefence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the Beefome
that must fweepe the Court cleane of such filth as thou
art: Thou haft moft traitoroufly corrupted the youth of
the Realme, in eresting a Grammar Schoole: and where-
as before, our Fore-fathers had no other Bookes but the
Score and the Tally, thou haft caufed printing to be us'd,
and contrary to the King, his Crowne, and Dignity, thou
haft built a Paper-Mill. It will bee proved to thy Face,
that thou haft men about thee, that uufually talke of a
Nowne and a Verbe, and such abominable wordes, as
no Chriftian eare can endure to heare. Thou haft appoin-
ted Inſtices of Peace, to call poore men before them, a-
bout matters they were not able to anſwere. Moreover,
thou haſt put them in prifon, and becauſe thy could not
reade, thou haſt hang'd them, when (indeed) onely for
that cauſe they have beene moſt worthy to live. Thou
doſt ride on a foot-cloth, doſt thou not?

Say. What of that?

Cade. Marry, thou ought'st not to let thy horſe weare
a Cloake, when honeſter men then thou go in their Hoſe
and Doubles.

Dicke. And worke in their ſhirt too, as my ſelfe for ex-
ample, that am a butcher.

Say. You men of Kent.

Dic. What ſay you of Kent.

Say. Nothing but this: 'Tis bona terra, malæ gens.

Cade. Away with him, away with him, he ſpeakes La-
tine.

Say. Heare me but ſpeake, and beare me where you
will:

Kent in the Commentaries Caſor writes:

Isterm'd the civel'ft place of all this Iſle:

Sweet is the Country, becauſe full of Riches,

The People Liberall, Valiant, Active, Wealthy,

Which makes me hope thou art not void of pitty.

I fold not Maine, I loſt not Normandie,

Yet to recover them would Iofe my life :

Inſtice with favour have I always done,

Prayers and Teares have mov'd me, Gifts could never;

When have I ought exacted at your hands ?

Kent to maintaine the King, the Realme and you,

Large gifts have I beſtow'd on learned Clearkes,

Because my Booke preferr'd me to the King.

And feeing Ignorance is the curſe of God,

Knowledge the Wing wherewith we flye to heaven,

Vnſkife you be poſſed with divellish ſpirits,

You cannot but forbeare to murther me :

This Tongue hath parlied unto Forraigne Kings

For your behoofe.

Cade. Tut, when ſtruck't thou one blow in the field ?

Say. Great men have reaching hands: oft have I ſtruck
Thoſe that I neve faw, and ſtrucke them dead.

Geo. O monſtrous Coward ! What, to come behinde
Folkes?

Say. These cheeks are pale with watching for your good.

Cade. Give him a box o'th' ear, and that will make em
red againe.

Say. Long fitting to determine poore mens caufes,
Hath made me full of fickneſſe and diſeales.

Cade. Ye ſhall have a hempen Candle then, & the help
of a hatchet.

Dicke. Why doſt thou quiver man ?

Say. The Paliſe, and not ſeare provokes me.

Cade. Nay he noddes at us, as who should ſay, Ile be
even with you. Ile fee if his head will stand ſeddier on
a pole, or no : Take him away and behead him.

Say. Tell me: wherein have I offendeſt moſt ?

Have I affected wealth, or honor ? ſpeake.

Are my Cheſts ſi'd up with extorted Gold ?

Is my apparrell ſumptious to behold?

Whom have I injur'd, that ye feeke my death?

Theſe hands are free from guilt ſeſſe bloodſhedding,

This breſt from harbouring foule deceitfull thoughts,

O let me live.

Cade. I feele remorſe in my ſelfe with his words: but
Ile bridle it: he ſhall dye, and it be but for pleading ſo
well for his life. Away with him, he ha's a Familiar un-
der his Tongue, he ſpeake not a God's name. Goe, take
him away I ſay, and ſtrike off his head prefentely, and then
breake into his Sonne in Lawes houſe, Sir James Cromer,
and ſtrike off his head, and bring them both upon two
poles hither.

All. It ſhall be done.

Say. Ah Countrimen! If when you make your prai'rs,

God ſhould be ſo obdurate as your ſelves :

How would it fare with your departed ſoules ?

And therefore yet relent, and ſave my life.

Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye: the
proudeſt Peere in the Realme, ſhall not weare a head on
his shoulders, unleſſe he pay me tribute: there ſhall not
a maid be married, but ſhe ſhall pay to me her Mayden-
head ere they have it: Men ſhall hold of mee in Capite.
And we charge and command, that their wives be as free
as heart can wifh, or tongue can tell.

Dicke. My Lord,

When ſhall we go to Cheapſide, and take up commodi-
tics upon our billes ?

Cade. Marry preſently.

All. O brave.

Enter one with the heads.

Cade. But is not this braver :

Let them kiffe one another: For they lov'd well

When they were alive. Now part them againe,

Leaſt they conſult about the giving up

Of ſome more Townes in France, Soldiers,

Deferre the ſpoyle of the Citie untill night ;

For with theſe borne before us, in ſleſt of Maces,

Will we ride through the ſtrects, and at every Corner

Have them kiffe. Away.

Exit.

Alarum, and Retreat. Enter againe Cade,
and all his rabblement.

Cade. Vp Fifeſtreete; downe Saint Magnes corner,
kill and knocke downe, throw them into Thames :

Sound a parley.

What noyſe is this I heare ?

Dare any be ſo bold to found Retreat or Parley

When I command them kill ?

Enter

Enter Buckingham, and old Clifford.

Buc. I heere they be, that dare and will difturb thee:
Know Cade, we come Ambassadors from the King
Vnto the Commons, whom thou haft mifled,
And heere pronounce free pardon to them all,
That will forfake thee, and go home in peace.

Clif. What fay ye Countrimen, will ye relent
And yeeld to mercy, whilft't is offered you,
Or let a rabble leade you to your deaths.
Who loves the King, and will imbrace his pardon,
Fling up his cap and fay, God fave his Majeflic;
Who hateth him, and honors not his Father,
Henry the fifth, that made all France to quake,
Shake he his weapon at us, and paffe by.

All. God fave the King, God fave the King,

Cade. What Buckingham and Clifford are ye fo brave?
And you bafe Pezants, doe ye beleeve him, will you needs
be hang'd with your Pardons about your neckes? Hath
my fword therefore broke through London gates, that
you ſhould leave me at the white-heart in Southwarke.
I thought ye would never have given out thefe Armes til
you had revovered your ancient Freedome: but you are
all Recreants and Daftards, and delight to live in flaverie
to the Nobility. Let them breake your backes with bur-
thens, take your houſes over your heads, ravifh your
Wives and Daughters before your faces. For me, I will
make shift for one, and ſo Gods Curiſe light upon you
all.

All. Wee'l follow Cade,

Wee'l follow Cade.

Clif. Is Cade the ſonne of Henry the fifth,
That thus you do exclaine you'l go with him.
Will he conduct you through the heart of France,
And make the meaneſt of you Earles and Dukes ?
Alas, he hati no home, no place to flye too :
Nor knowes he how to live, but by the ſpoyle,
Vnleſſe by robbing of your Friends, and us.
Wer't not a ſhame, that whilft you live at iarre,
The fearfull French, whom you late vanquifhed
Should make a flart ore-feas, and vanquifh you?
Me thinkes alreadie in this civill broyle,
I fee them Lording it in London freets,
Crying Villingage unto all they meete.

Better ten thouſand bafe-bor ne Cades miſcarry,
Then you ſhould ſtoope unto a Frenchmans mercy.
To France, to France, and get what you have loſt :
Spare England, for it is your Native Coaſt:
Henry hath mony, you are ſtrong and manly :
God on our fide, doubt not of Victorie.

All. A Clifford, a Clifford,
Wee'l follow the King and Clifford.

Cade. Was ever Feather ſo lightly blowne too & fro,
as this multitude? The name of Henry the fifth, hales them
to an hundred miſchiefes, and makes them leave me de-
folate. I fee them lay their heads together to ſurprize
me. My ſword make way for me, for heere is no ſtaying:
in deſpight of the divels and hell, have through the verie
middeſt of you, and heavens and honor be witneſſe, that
no want of reſolution in mee, but onely my Followers
bafe and ignominious treaſons, make me betake mee to
my heeles.

Buck. What, is he fled ? Go ſome and follow him,
And he that brings his head unto the King,
Shall have a thouſand Crownes for his reward.

Exeunt ſome of them.

Follow me ſouldiers, wee'l devife a meane,
To reconcile you all unto the King.

Exeunt omnes.

Sond Trumpets. Enter King, Queene, and
Somerset on the Tarras.

King. Was ever King that joy'd an earthly Throne,
And could command no more content then I ?
No ſooner was I crept out of my Cradle,
But I was made a King, at nine moneths olde.
Was never ſubject long'd to be a King,
As I do long and wifh to be a Subjeſt.

Enter Buckingham and Clifford.

Buc. Health and glad tydings to your Majefty.

Km. Why Buckingham, is the Traitor Cade ſurpris'd?
Or is he but retir'd to make him ſtrong?

Enter Multitudes with Halters about their
Nooks.

Clif. He is fled my Lord, and all his powers do yeeld,
And humbly thus with halters on their neckes,
Expect your Highneſſe doome of life, or death.

King. Then heaven fet ope thy everlaſting gates,
To entertaine my vowes of thankes and prate.
Souldiers, this day have you redeem'd your lives,
And ſhew'd how well you love your Prince & Country:
Continue fill in this ſo good a minde,
And Henry though he be inſortunate,
Aſure your ſelves will never be unkinde :
And ſo with thankes, and pardon to you all,
I do diſmiſſe you to your ſeverall Countries.

All. God fave the King, God fave the King.

Enter a Meſſenger.

Mef. Pleafe it your Grace to be advertified,
The Duke of Yorke is newly come from Ireland,
'And with a puifiant and a mighty power
Of Gallow-glaſſes and ſtout Kernes,
Is marching hitherward in proud array,
And ſtill proclaimeth as he comes along,
His Armies are onely to remove from thee
The Duke of Somerſet, whom he tearmes a Traitor.

King. Thus stands my ſtate, 'twixt Cade and Yorke
diſtrefſt,

Like to a Ship, that having ſcap'd a Tempeſt,
Is ſtraight way claim'd, and boorded with a Pyrate,
But now is Cade driven backe, his men diſpierc'd,
And now is Yorke in Armes, to ſecond him.
I pray thee Buckingham go and meet him,
And aske him what's the reaſon of theſe Armes :
Tell him, Ile ſend Duke Edmund to the Tower,
And Somerſes we will commit thee thither,
Vntill his Army be diſmift from him.

Somerset. My Lord,

Ile yeeld my ſelfe to prifon willingly,
Or unto death, to do my Countray good.

King. In any cafe, be not too rough in terms,
For he is fierce, and cannot brooke hard Language.

Buc. I will my Lord, and doubt not ſo to deale,
As all things shall redound unto your good.

King. Come wife, let's in, and learne to govern better,
For yet may England curſe my wretched reigne.

Exeunt,
Enter

## Enter Cade.

Cade. Eye on Ambition: fie on my felfe, that have a
fword, and yet am ready to famifh. These five dayes have
I hid me in thefe Woods, and durft not pepe out, for all
the Country is laid for me: but now am I hungry, that
if I might have a Leafe of my life for a thousand yeares, I
could thay no longer. Wherefore on a Bricke wall have
I climb'd into this Garden, to fee if I can eate Graffe, or
pique a Sallet another while, which is not amiffle to coole
a mans ſtomacke this hot weather: and I think this word
Sallet was borne to do me good; for many a time but for
a Sallet, my braine-pan had beene cleft with a brown Bill;
and many a time when I have beene dry, & bravely mart-
ching, it hath ferv'd me inſteede of a quart pot to drinke
in: and now the word Sallet muſt ſerve me to feed on.

## Enter Iden.

Iden. Lord who would live turmoildy in the Court,
And may enjoy ſuch quiet walkes as theſe?
This ſmall inheritance my Father left me,
Contenſeth me, and worth a Monarchy.
I feeke not to waxe great by others warning,
O gather wealth I care not with what evyne:
Sufficeth, that I have maiotaines my ſtate,
And ſends the poore well plesed from my gate.

Cade. Heere's the Lord of the foile come to ſeize mee
for a ſtray, for entring his Fee-fimple without leave. A
Villaine, thou wilt betray me, and get a 1000. Crownes
of the King by carrying my head to him, but Ile make
thee eate Iron like an Oſtridge, and ſwallow my Sword
like a great pin, ere thou and I part.

Iden. Why rude Companion, whatſoere thou be,
I know thee not, why then ſhould I betray thee?
Is't not enough to breake into my Garden,
And like a theſe to come to rob my grounds:
Climbing my walles in ſight of me the Owner,
But thou wilt brave me with theſe ſawcie tearmes?

Cade. Brave thee? I by the beſt blood that ever was
broach'd, and beard thee to. Looke on me well, I have
eate no meare theſe five dayes, yet come thou and thy
five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead as a doore
nailes, I pray God I may never eate graſſe more.

Iden. Nay, it ſhall ne're be ſaſt, while England flands,
That Alexander Iden an Eſquire of Kent,
Tooke oddeſs to combate a poore famifh ſman.
Oppoſe thy ſtredaſt gazing eyes to mine,
See if thou canſt out-face me with thy lookes:
Set limbe to limbe, and thou art farre the leſſer:
Thy hand is but a ſinger to my ſilt,
Thy legge a ſticke compared with this Truncheon,
My foote ſhall fight with all the ſtrength thou haſt,
And if mine arme be heaved in the Ayre,
Thy grave is digg'd alreadye in the earth:
As for words, whoſe greatneſſe anſwer's words,
Let this my ſword report what ſpech forbeares.

Cade. By my Valour: the moſt compleate Champi-
on that ever I heard. Steele, if thou turne the edge, or,
cut not out the burly bon'd Clowne in chaines of Beeſe,
ere thou ſeepe in thy Sheath, I beſeeth love on my knees
thou mayſt be turn'd to Hebnailes.

## Heere they fight.

O I am flaine, Famine and no other hath flaine me, let ten

thousand divelles come againſt me, and give me but the
ten meales I have loſt, and I deſeſe them all. Wither
Garden, and be heneſtforth a burying place to all that do
dwell in this houſe, becaſe the unconquered ſoule of
Cade is ſled.

Iden. Is't Cade that I have flain, that monſtrous traitor?
Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy decede,
And hang thee o're my Tombe, when I am dead.
Ne're ſhall this blood be wiped from thy point,
But thou ſhalt weare it as a Heralds coate,
To emblaze the Honor thy Maſter got.

Cade. Iden farewell, and be proud of thy victory: Tell
Kent from me, the hath loſt her beſt man, and exhort all
the World to be Cowards: for I that never feared any,
am vanquifhed by famine, not by Valour.

Dyes.

Id. How much thou wrongſt me heaven be my judge;
Die damned Wretch, the curſe of her that bare thee:
And as I thrust thy body in with my ſword,
So wifh I, I might thrust thy ſoule to hell.
Hence will I dragge thee headlong by the heeles
Vato a dunghill, which ſhall be thy grave,
And there cut off thy moſt ungracions head,
Which I will beare in triumph to the King,
Leaving thy trunke for Crowes to feed upon.

Exit.

## Enter Yorke, and his Army of Irifh, with
Drumme and Colours.

Tor. From Ireland thus comes Yorke to claim his right,
And plucke the Crowne from feeble Hemries head.
Ring, Belles alowd, burne Bonfires cleare and bright
To entertaine great Englands lawfull King.
Ah Sanſta Majestas ! who would not buy thee deere?
Let them obey, that knowes not how to Rule.
This hand was made to handle nought but Gold.
I cannot give due action to my words,
Except a Sword or Scepter ballance it.
A Scepter ſhall it have, have I a ſoule,
On which Ile toſſe the Fleure-de-Luce of France.

## Enter Buckingham.

Whom have we heere? Buckingham to diſturbe me
The king hath ſent him ſure: I muſt diſſemble.
Buc. Yorke, if thou meanſt well, I greets thee well.
Tor. Humſrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting.

Art thou a Meſſenger, or come of pleasure.
Buc. A Meſſenger from Henry, our dread Liege,
To know the reaſon of theſe Armes in peace.
Or why, thou being a Subject, as I am,
Agaifh thy Oath, and true Allegiance Iworne,
Should raſe ſo great a power without his leave?
Or dare to bring thy Force to neere the Court?

Tor. Scarſe can I ſpeake, my Choler is to great.
Oh I could hew up Rockes, and fight with Flint,
I am to angry at theſe abject terms.

And now like *Aixas Telamonius*,
On Sheepe or Oxen could I ſpend my ſurie:
I am farre better borne then is the King:
More like a King, more Kingely in my thoughts.
But I muſt make faire weather yet a while,
Till Henry be more weake, and I more ſtrong.
O Buckingham, I prethee pardon me,
That I have given no anſwer all this while :
My minde was troubled with deepe Melancholy.
The cauſe why I have brought this armie hither,

Is

144

Is to remove proud Somerfet from the King,
Seditious to his Grace; and to the State.

Buc. That is too much prefumption on thy part:
But if thy Armes be to no other end,
The King hath yeelded unto thy demand:
The Duke of Somerfet is in the Tower.

Torke. Vpon thine Honor is he Prifoner ?

Buc. Vpon mine Honor he is Prifoner ?

Torke. Then Buckingham, I do difmitſe my Powers
Souldiers I thanke you all: diſperſe your ſelves:
Meet me to morrow in S. George's Field,
You ſhall have pay, and every thing you with:
And let my Soveraigne, vertuous Hemrié,
Command my eldeſt ſonne, nay all my ſonnes;
As pledges of my Fealtie and Love,
He ſend them all as willing as I live:
Lands, Goods, Horſe, Armor, any thing I have
Is his to uſe, to Somerſet may dye.

Buc. Yorke, I commend this kinde submiſſion,
We twaine will go into his Highneſſe Tent.

Enter King and Ateendants.

King. Buckingham, doth Yorke intend no harme to us,
That thus he marcheth with thee Arme in Arme ?

Torke. In all submiſſion and humility,

Yorke doth preſent himſelfe to your Highneſſe.

K. Then what intends theſe forces thou doſt bring ?

Tor. To heave the Traitor Somerſet from hence,
And fight againſt that monſtrous Rebell Cade,
Whom ſince I heard to be diſcomſt.

Enter Iden with Cades hedd.

Iden. If one ſo rude, and of ſo meane condition

May paffe into the prefence of a King :

Loe, I prefent your Grace a Traitors head,
The head of Cade, whom I in combate flew.

King. The head of Cade? Great God, how juſt art thou?

Oh let me view his Viſage being dead,

That living wrongt me ſuch exceeding trouble.

Tell me my Friend, art thou the man that flew him ?

Iden. I was, an't like your Maſejtie.

King. How art thou call'd? And what is thy degree ?

Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name,

A poore Eſquire of Kent, that loves the King.

Buc. So pleafe it you my Lord, 'twere not amiffie

He were created Knight for his good ſervice.

King. Iden, kneele downe, rite up a Knight:
We give thee for reward a thouſand Markes,
And will, that thou henceforth attend on us.

Idan. May Iden live to merit ſuch a bountie,
And never live but true unto his Liege.

Enter Queens and Somerſet.

K. See Buckingham, Somerſet comes with th' Queens,
Go bid her hide him quickly from the Duke.

Qu. For thouſand Yorkes he ſhall not hide his head,
But boldly stand, and front him to his face,

Tor. How now ? is Somerſet at libertie ?

Then Yorke unloofe thy long imprifonéd thoughts,
And let thy tongue be equall with thy heart.

Shall I endure the fight of Somerſet ?

Fafle King, why haſt thou broken faith with me,
Knowing how hardly I can brooke abufe?

King did I call thee? no, thou art no King:

Not fit to governe and rule multitudes,

Which durſt not, no nor canſt not rule a Traitor.

That Head of thine doth not become a Crowne :

Thy hand is made to graſpe a Palmers ſtaffe,

And not to grace an awefull Princely Scepter.

That Gold, muſt round engiſt the browes of mine,
Whofe ſmile and Frowne, like Achilles Speare
Is able with the change, to kill and cure.

Heere is a hand to hold a Scepter up,

And with the fame to acte controlling Lawes:

Give place: by heaven thou ſhalt rule no more
O're him, whom heaven created for thy Ruler.

Soms. O monſtrous Traitor ! I arreſt thee Yorke
Of Capitall Treſaon 'gainſt the King and Crowne:
Obey audacious Traitor, kneele for Grace.

Tor. Wold I have me kneele? First let me aske of thee,
If they can brooke I bow a knee to man :
Sirra, call in my ſonnes to be my bailes:
I know ere they will let me goe to Ward,
They'l pawne their Swords for my inſanchifement.

Qu. Call hither Clifford, bid him come amaine,
To faſy, if that the Baſtard boyes of Yorke
Shall be the Surety for their Traitor Father.

Torke. O blood-beſpotted Neapolitan,
Out-craft of Naples, Englands bloody Scourge:
The ſonnes of Yorke, thy betters in their birth,
Shall be their Fathers baile, and bane to thofe
That for my Surety will refuſe the Boyes.

Enter Edward and Richard.

See where they come, Ile warrant they'l make it good.

Enter Clifford.

Qu. And here comes Clifford to deny their baile.

Clif. Health and all happineſſe to my Lord the King.

Tor. I thanke thee Clifford. Say, what newes with thes?
Nay, do not fright me with an angry looke :

We are thy Soveraigne Clifford, kneele againe;

For thy miſtaking ſo, We pardon thee.

Clif. This is my King Yorke, I do not miſtake,
But thou miſtakeſ me much to thinke I do,
To Bedlem with him, is the man growne mad?

King. I Clifford, a Bedlem and ambitious humor

Makes him oppoſe himſelfe againſt his King.

Clif. He is a Traitor, let him to the Tower,
And crop away that faſtious pate of his.

Qu. He is arreſted, but will not obey :
His ſonnes (he ſayes) ſhall give their words for him.

Tor. Will you not ſonnes ?

Edw. I Noble Father, if our words will ferue.

Rich. And if words will not, then our Weapons ſhall.

Clif. Why what a brood of Traitors have we here?

Tor. Looke in a Glaſſe, and call thy Image ſo.

I am thy King, and thou a falſe-heart Traitor :

Call hither to the ſtake my two brave Beares,

That with the very ſhaking of their Chaines,

They may aſtoniſh theſe fell-lurking Curres:

Bid Salisbury and Warwicke come to me.

Enter the Earles of Warwicke, and
Salisbury.

Clif. Are theſe thy Beares? Wee'l baſtethy Bears to death,
And manacle the Berard in their Chaines,
If thou darſt bring them to the bayting place.

Rich. Oft have I feene a hot ore-wening Curre:
Run backe and bite, becauſe he was with-held,
Who being ſuffer'd with the Beares ſell paw,
Hath clapt his taile, betweene his legges and cride,
And ſuch a peece of ſervice will you do,

If

145

If you oppose your felves to match Lord Warwicke.

Clif. Hence heape of wrath, foule indigested lumpe,
As crooked in thy manners, as thy shape.

Torke. Nay we that heate you thoroughly anon.

Clif. Take heede leaft by your heate you burne your
felves.

King. Why Warwicke, hath thy knee forgot to bow?
Old Salisbury, fhape to thy filver haire,
Thou mad mifleader of thy brain-ficke fonne,
What wilt thou on thy death-bed play the Ruffian?
And feeke for forrow with thy fpectacles?
Oh where is Faith? Oh, where is Loyalty?
If it be banifht from the froſtly head,

Where shall it finde a harbour in the earth?
Wilt thou go digge a grave to finde out Warre,
And fhape thine honourable age with blood?
Why art thou old, and want it experience?
Or wherefore doeft abuse it, if thou haſt it?
For fhape in dutie bend thy knee to me,
That bowes unto the grave with milckie age.

Sal. My Lord, I have confidered with my felfe
The Title of this moſt renowned Duke,

And in my confidence, do repute his grace

The rightfull heire to Englands Royall feate.

King. Halt thou not (worne Allegence unto me)?

Sal. I have.

Ki. Canft you diffenpe with heaven for ſuch an oath?

Sal. It is great finne, to ſwcare unto a finne :

But greater finne to keepe a ſinfull oath :

Who can be bound by any ſolemne Vow
To doe a murd'rous deedee, to rob a man,

To force a ſpotleſſe Virgins Chaſtitie,
To reave the Orphan of his Patrimonie,

To wring the Widdow from her cuſtom'd right,
And have no other reaſon for this wrong,

But that he was bound by a ſolemne Oath ?
Qu. A subtle Traitor needs no Sophifter.

King. Call Buckingham, and bid him arme him ſelfe.

Torke. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou haſt,
I am refolv'd for death and dignity.

Old Clif. The firſt I warrant thee, ifdreames prove true.

War. You were beſt to go to bed, and dreame againe,
To keepe thefeet the Tempeſt of the field.

Old Clif. I am refolv'd to beare a greater ſtorme,

Then any thou canſt conjure up to day :

And that I leaue write upon thy Burgonet,

Might I but know thee by thy houſes Badge.

War. Now by my Fathers badge, old Newils Creſt,
The rampant Beare chain'd to the ragged ſhaffe,
This day Ile weare aloft my Burgonet,

As on a Mountaine top, the Cedar ſhewes,
That keepeſ his leaves in ſpight of any ſtorme,
Even to affright thee with the view thereof.

Old Clif. And from thy Burgonet Ile rend thy Beare,
And tread it under foot with all contempt,
Defight the Bearard, that protecſ the Beare.

To Clif. And to Armes viſtorious noble Father,
To quell the Rebels, and their Complices.

Rich. Eie, Charitie for ſhame, ſpeake not in ſpight,
For you ſhall ſup with Iefu Chriſt to night.

To Clif. Foule ſtigmaticke, that's more then thou
canſt tell.

Rich. If not in heaven, you'l surely ſup in hell. Exeunt.
Enter Warwicke.

War. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwicke calles :
And if thou doſt not hide thee from the Beare,

Now when the angrie Trumpet founds alarum,
And dead mens cries do fill the empty ayre,
Clifford I ſay, come forth and fight with me,
Proud Northerne Lord, Clifford of Cumberland,
Warwicke is hoarſe with calling thee to armes.

Enter Torke.

War. How now my Noble Lord? What all a-foot?

Tor. The deadly handed Clifford flew my ſeed :
But match to match I have encountred him,
And made a prey for Carrion Kytes and Crowes
Even of the bonnie beaſt he loved so well.

Enter Clifford.

War. Of one or both of us the time is come.

Tor. Hold Warwicke: feek thee out ſome other chace,
For I my ſelfe muſt hunt this Deere to death.

War. Then nobly Yorke, 'tis for a Crown thou fight'st:
As I intend Clifford to thrive to day,
It greeves my ſoule to leave thee unaffaɪld.

Exit War.

Clif. What feeſt thou in me Yorke?

Why doſt thou paufe ?

Torke. With thy brave bearing ſhould I be in love,
But that thou art ſo faſt mine enemie.

Clif. Nor ſhould thy prowſeſſe want prieſe and eſſeme,
But that 'tis ſhewne ignobly, and in Treason.

Torke. So let it helpe me againſt thy ſword,

As I in juſtice, and true right expreſſe it,

Clif. My ſoule and bodie on the action both.

Torke. A dreadfull lay, addreſſe thee inſtantly.

Clif. La fin Corvonne les oeuvres.

Dies.

Tor. Thus Warre hath given thee peace, for ſyart still,
Peace with thy ſoule, heaven if it be thy will.

Enter young Clifford.

Clif. Shame and Conſuſion all is on the route,
Feare frames diſorder, and diſorder wounds
Where it ſhould guard. O Warre, thou ſonne of hell,
Whom angry heavens do make their minifter,
Throw in the frozen boſomies of our part,
Hot Coales of Vengeance. Let no ſouldiers flye.

He that is truely dedicated to Warre,

Hath no ſelfe-love : nor he that loves him ſelfe,

Hath not eſſentially, but by circumſtance

The name of Valour. O let the vile world end,

And the premiſed Flames of the Laſt day,

Knit earth and heaven together.

Now let the generall Trumpet blow his blaſt,
Particulars, and petty ſounds

To ceaſe. Was't thou ordained (O deere Father)

To love thy youth in peace, and to atchieve

The Silver Livery of adviſed Age,

And in thy Reverence, and thy Chayre-dayes, thus

To dye in Ruffian battell ? Even at this fight,

My heart is turn'd to ſtone : and while 'tis mine,

It ſhall be ſtony. Yorke, not our old men ſpares ;

No more will I their Babes, Teares Virginall,

Shall be to me, even as the Dew to Fire,

And Beautie, that the Tyrant oft reclaimes,

Shall to my flaming wrath, be Oyle and Flax :

Henceforth, I will not have to doe with pitty,

Meet I an infant of the houſe of Yorke,

Into as many gobbits will I cut it

As wilde Medea yong Abſtiris did.

In cruelty, will I feeke out my Fame.

Come thou new ruine of olde Cliffsorſs houſe :

As did Æneas old Anchises beare,

So beare I thee upon my manly ſhouldiers ;

But then, Æneas bare a living loades ;

Nothing

Nothing so heavy as thee woes of mine.

Enter Richard, and Somerset to fight.

Rich. So Iye thou there:
For underneath an Ale-houfe paltry figne,
The Catle in S. Albons, Somerset
Hath made the Wizard famous in his death :
Sword, hold thy temper ; Heart, be wrathfull full still:
Priefts pray for enemies, but Princes kill.

Fight.

Excursions.

Enter King, Queen, and others.

Qu. Away my Lord, you are flow, for flame away.
King. Can we out-run the Heavens ? Good Margaret
fly.

Qu. What are you made of? You'l nor fight nor flye :
Now is it manhood, wifedome, and defence,
To give the enemy way, and to fecure us
By what we can, which can no more but flye.

Alarum afarre off.

If you be tane, we then should fee the bottome
Of all our Fortunes : but if we haplyfcape,
(As well we may, if not through your neglect)
We fhall to London get, where you are lov'd,
And w here this breach now in our fortunes made
May readily be Stopt.

Enter (lifford.

Clif. But that my heart's on future miechefe fet,
I would fpeake blaphemy cre bid you fly :
But flye you muft : Uncureable difcomfite
Reignes in the hearts of all our prefent parts.
Away for your reliefe, and we will live
To fee their day, and them our Fortune give.

Away my Lord, away.

Excuse.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Yorke, Richard, Warwick,
and Souldiers, with Drum & Colours.

Torke. Of Salsbury, who can report of him,
That winter Lyon, who in rage forgets
Aged contusions, and all bruit of Time :
And like a Gallant, in the brow of youth,
Repaires him with Occafion. This happy day
Is not it felfe, nor have we wohne one foot,
If Salsbury be loft.

Rich. My Noble Father :
Three times to day I hope him to his horfe,
Three times beſtrid him : Thrice I led him off,
Perſwaded him from any further aſt :
But ſtill where danger was, ſtill there I met him,
And like rich hangings in a homely houſe,
So was his will, in his old feeble body.
But Noble as he is, looke where he comes.

Enter Salisbury.

Sal. Now by my Sword, well haſt thou fought to day:
By'th' Maffe I did we all. I thanke you Richard.

God knowes how long it is I have to live :
And it hath pleas'd him that three times to day
You have defended me from imminent death.
Well Lords, we have not got that which we have,
'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled,
Being oppofites of ſuch repaying Nature.

Torke. I know our safety is to follow them
For (as I heare) the King is fled to London,
To call a prefent Court of Parliament.
Let us purfue him cre the Writs go forth.

What fayes Lord Warwick, that we after them?

War. After them I may before them if we can :
Now by my hand (Lords) 'twas a glorious day.
Saint Albons battell wonne by famous Yorke,
Shall be eterniz'd in all Age to come.

Sound Drumme and Trumpets, and to London all,
And more ſuch dayes as theſe, to us befall.

Excuse.

FFNJS.

# The third Part of King Henry the Sixt,
## with the death of the Duke of
### YORKE.

Actus Primus. Scena Prima.

Alarum.
Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Norfolk, Mount-
ague, Warwicke, and Souldiers.

Warwicke.

Wonder how the King ecap'd our hands ?

PL. While we purf'd the Horfmen of þ North,

He flyt flote away, and left his men :

Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,

Whofe Warlike cares could never brooke retreat,
Cheard up the drouping Army, and himfelfe.

Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford all a-breft

Charg'd our maine Battalres Front : and breaking in,
Were by the Swords of common Souldiers flaine.

Edw. Lord Stafford's Father, Duke of Buckingham,
Is either flaine or wounded dangerous.

I deft his Beaver with a down-right blow :

That this is true (Father) behold his blood.

Mount. And Brother, here's the Earle of Wilflires

Whom I encountr'd as the Battels joyn'd. (blood,

Ricb. Speake thou for me, and tell them what I did.

Plan. Richard hath beſt deferv'd of all my ſonnes :

But is your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerſet ?

Nor. Such hope have all the line of Iohn of Gaunt.

Rich. Thusdo I hope to ſhake King Henries head.

Warw. And for doe I, victorious Prince of Torke.

Before I fee the feate in that THRONE,

Whichnow the Houſe of Lancaſter uſurpes,

I vow by Heaven, theſe eyes ſhall never cloſe.

Thisithe Pallace of the ſeaſeull King,

And this the Regall ſeat : poſſeſſe it Yorke,

For this is thine, and not King Henries Heires.

Plan. Affift me then, ſweet Warwicke, and I will,

For hither we have broken in by force.

Norf. Wee'le all affift you : he that flyes, ſhall dye.

Plant. Thanks gentle Norfolk, ſtay by me my Lords,
And Souldiers ſtay and lodge by me this Night.

They goe up.

Warw. And when the King comes, offer him no violence,
Vnleſſe he feeke to thrutſ you out perſorce.

Plant. The Queene this day here holds her Parliament,
But little thinkes we ſhall be of her counſaille,

By words or blows here let us winne our right.

Rich. Arm'd as we are, let's ſtay within this Houſe.

Warw. The bloody Parliament ſhall this be call'd,
Vnleſſe Plantagenet, Duke of Yorke, be King,

And bafthful Henry depos'd, whole Cowardize,
Hath made us by-words to our enemies.

Plant. Then leave me not, my Lords be reſolute,
I meane to take poſſeſſion of my right.

Warw. Neither the King, nor he that loves him beſt,
The prowdeſt he that holds up Lancaſſer,

Dares fire a Wing, if Warwicke ſhake his Bells.

Ile plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares :

Reſolve thee Richard, clayme the English Crowne.

Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland,
Westmerland, Exeter, and the rest.

Henry. My Lords, looke where the flturdy Rebell fits,
Even in the Chayre of State : belike he meanes,
Backt by the power of Warwicke, that falſe Peere,
To afpire unto the Crowne, and reigne as King.
Earle of Northumberland, he flew thy Father,
And thine, Lord Cluſſord, & you both have vow'd revenge
On him, his ſonnes, his favorites, and his friends.

Northumb. If I be not, Heavens be reveng'd on me.

Cluſſord. The hope thereof, makes Clifford moure in
Steele.

Westm. What, ſhall we ſuffer this?let's pluck him down,
My heart for anger burnes, I cannot brooke it.

Henry. Be patient, gentle Earle of Westmerland.

Cluſſord. Patience is for Poulroones, and ſuch is he :
He durſt not ſit there, had your Father liv'd.

My gracious Lord, here in the Parliament

Let us affayle the Family of Yorke.

North. Well haſt thou spoken, Couſin be it so.

Henry. Ah, know you not the City favours them,
And they have troops of Souldiers at their becke?

Westm. But when the Duke is flaine, they'le quickly
flye.

Henry. Farre be the thought of this from Henries heart,
To make a Shambles of the Parliament Houſe.

Couſin of Exeter, frownes, words, and threats,

Shall be the Warre that Henry meanes to uſe:

Thou faſtious Duke of Yorke defcend my Throre,

And kneele for grace and mercie at my ſeet,

I am my Soveraigne.

Yorke. I am thine.

Exet. For ſhame come downe, he made thee Duke of
Yorke.

Yorke. It was my Inheritance, as the Earledome was.

Exet. Thy

The third Part of King Henry the Sixth.

Exet. Thy Father was a Traytor to the Crowne.

Warw. Exeter thou art a Traytor to the Crowne.
In following this ufurping Henry.

Clifford. Whom should hee follow, but his naturall
King?

Warw. True Clifford, and that's Richard Duke of Yorke.

Henry. And shall I stand, and thou fit in my Throne?

Torke. It maft and shall be so, content thy felfe.

Warw. Be Duke of Lancafter, let him be King.

Westm. He is both King, and Duke of Lancafter,
And that the Lord of Westmerland fhall maintaine.

Warw. And Warwicke shall difprove it. You forget,
That we are thofe which chas'd you from the field,
And flew your Fathers, and with Colours I spread
Martcht through the Citie to the Pallace Gates.

Northumb. Yes Warwick, I remember it to my griek,
And by his Soule, thou and thy Houfe fhall rue it.

Westm. Plantagenet, of thee and thefe thy Sonnes,
Thy Kinfmen, and thy Friends, Ile have more lives
Then drops of bloud were in my Fathers Veines.

Cliff. Vrge it no more, left that in flood of words,
I fend thee, Warwickicke, fuch a Meffenger,
As fhall revenge his death, before I itirre.

Warw. Poore Clifford, how I fcorne his worthleſſe
Threats.

Plant. Will you we flew our Title to the Crowne?

If not, our Swords ſhall pleade it in the field.

Henry. What Title haſt thou Traytor to the Crowne ?
My Father was as thou art, Duke of Yorke,

Thy Grandfather Roger Mortimer, Earle of March.

I am the Sonne of Henry the Fift,

Who made the Dolphin and the French to floupe,
And feiz'd upon their Townes and Provinces.

Warw. Talke not of France, fith thou haſt loft it all.

Henry. The Lord Proteſtor loft it, and not I :

When I was crown'd I was but nine moneths old.

Rich. You are old enough now,

And yet me thinkes you loſe :

Father teare the Crowne from the Vfurpers Head.

Edward. Sweet Father doe fo, let it on your Head.

Mount. Good Brother,

A sthon lov'ft and honoreſt Armes,

Let's figlit it out, and not ſtand cavilling thus.

Richard. Sound Drummes and Trumpets, and the
King will flye.

Plant. Sonnes peace.

Henry. Peace thou, and give King Henry leave to
ſpeake.

Warw. Plantagenet ſhall ſpeake firſt: Heare him Lords,
And be you filent and attentive too,

For he that interrupts him, ſhall not live.

Hen. Think'ft thou, that I will leave my Kingely Thronc,
Wherein my Grandfire and my Father fat ?

No: firſt ſhall Warreunpeople this my Realme ;

I, and their Colours often borne in France,

And now in England, to our hearts great forfowr,

Shall be my Winding-sheet. Why faint you Lords ?

My Title's good, and better farre then his.

Warw. But prove it Henry, and thou haſt be King.

Hen. Henry the Fourth by Conqueſt got the Crowne.

Plant. 'Twas by Rebellion against his King.

Henry. I know not what to ſay, my Titles weake :

Tell me, may not a King adopt an Heire ?

Plant. What then ?

Henry. And if he may, then am I lawfull King :
For Richard, in the view of many Lords,

Reſign'd the Crowne to Henry the Fourth,
Whofe Heire my Father was, and I am his.

Plant. He roſe againſt him, being his Soveraigne,
And made him to reſigne his Crowne perſorce.

Warw. Suppofe, my Lords, he did it unconftray'd,
Thinke you 'twere prejudicial to his Crowne?

Exet. No: for he could not ſo reſigne his Crowne,

But that the next Heire ſhould ſucceed and reigne.

Henry. Art thou againſt us, Duke of Exeter ?

Exet. His is the right, and therefore pardon me.

Plant. Why whifper you, my Lords, and anſwer not?

Exet. My Conſcience tells me he is lawfull King.

Henry. All will revolt from me, and turne to him.

Northumb. Plantagenet, for all the Clayme thonlay'ſt,
Thinkenor, that Henry ſhall be ſo depos'd.

Warw. Depos'd he ſhall be, in deſpight of all.

Northumb. Thou art deceiv'd :

Tis not thy Southerne power

Of Eſſes, Norfolke, Suffolk, nor of Kent,

Which makes thee thus preſumptious and proude,
Can fet the Duke up in deſpight of me.

Clifford. King Henry, be thy Title right or wrong,
Lord Clifford vowes to fight in thy defence:
May that ground gape, and I wallow me alive,
Where I ſhall kneele to him that flew my Father.

Henry. Oh Clifford, how thy words revive my heart,
Plant. Henry of Lancafter, reſigne thy Crowne :

What mutter you, or what confpire you Lords ?

Warw. Doe right unto this Princely Duke of Yorke,

Or I will fill the houſe with armed men,

And ore the Chayre of State, where now he ſits,

Write up his Title with ufurping blood.

He ſtampes with his foot, and the Souldiers
ſhow themselves.

Henry. My Lord of Warwick, heare but one word,
Let me for this time reigne as King.

Plant. Conſirme the Crowne to me and to mine Heires,
And thou haſt reigne in quiet while thou liv'ſt.

Henry. I am content : Richard Plantagenet

Enjoy the Kingdome after my deceaſe.

Clifford. What wrong is this unto the Prince, your
Sonne ?

Warw. What good is this to England, and him ſelfe?

Westm. Bafe, tearefull, and deſpairing Henry.

Clifford. How haſt thou injur'd both thy ſelfe and us?

Westm. I cannot ſtay to heare theſe Articles.

Northumb. Nor I.

Clifford. Come Couſin, let us tell the Queene theſe
Newes.

Westm. Farewell faint-hearted and degenerate King,
In whoſe cold blood no ſparke of honor bides.

Northumb. Be thou a prey unto the houſe of Yorke,
And dye in Bands, for this unmansly deed.

Clif. In dreadſull Warre may'ſt thou be overcome,
Or live in peace abandon'd and deſpis'd.

Warw. Turne this way Henry, and regard them not.
Exeter. They ſeeke revenge, and therefore will not
yeeld.

Henry. Ah Exeter.

Warw. Why should you ſigh, my Lord ?

Henry. Not for my ſelfe Lord Warwick, but my Sonne,
Whom I unnaturally ſhall dif-inherit.

But be it as it may : I here entayle

The Crowne to thee and to thine heires for ever,

Conditionally, that here thou take an Oath,

To ceaſe this Civill Warre : and whil'ſt I live,

To

To honor meas thy King, and Soveraigne:
Neither by Treason not Hooltility,
To fecke to put me downe, and reigne thy felfe.

Plant. This Oath I willingly take, and will performe.

War. Long live King Henry: Plantagenet embrace him.

Henry. And long live thou, & thefe thy forward Sonnes.

Plant. Now Torke and Lancaster are reconcil'd.

Exet. Accurſt be he that feekes to make them foes.

Sonen. Here they come downe.

Plant. Farewell my gracious Lord, Ile to my Caffle.

War. And I leefe London with my Souldiers.

Norf. And I to Norfolkle with my followers.

Mount. And I unto the Sea, from whence I came.

Hm. And I with griefe and forrow to the Court.

Enter the Queene.

Exet. Heere comes the Queene,

Whole Lookes bewray her anger:

Ile feale away.

Heny. Exeter, to will I.

Queene. Nay, goe not from me, I will follow thee.

Hou. Be patient gentle Queene, and I will flay.

Quee. Who can be patient in fuch extreames?

Ah wretched man, would I had dy'd a Maid,
And never feene thee, never borne thee Sonne,
Seeing thou haft prov'd ſo unnaturall Father.

Hath he deferv'd to lobe his Birth-right thus?
Hadithou but lov'd him halfe so well as I,

Or felt that paine which I did for him once,
Or nourifht him, as I did with my blood;

Thou would'ſt have left thy deareft heart-blood there,
Rather then made that favage Duke thine Heire,

And dif-inherited thine oneiy Sonne.

Prin. Father, you cannot dif-inherite me:

If you be King, why should I fucceed?

Hen. Pardon me Margaret, pardon me sweet Sonne,

The Earle of Warwick and the Duke enferr't me.

Que. Enforc't thee? Art thou King, and wilt be forct?

I flame to heare thee ſpeake: ah timorous Wretch,
Thou haſt undone thy ſelfe, thy Sonne, and me,
And giv'n unto the Houſe of Torke ſuch head,
As thou haſt reigne but by their ſufferance.

To entaile him and his Heires unto the Crowne,

What is it, but to make thy Sepulcher,
And creepe into it farre before thy time?

Warwick is Chancelor, and the Lord of Callicle,
Sterne Falconbridge commands the Narrow Seas,

The Duke is made Protector of the Realme,
And yet that thou be faſe? Such ſafetie finds

The trembling Lambe, invironned with Wolves.

Had I beene there, which am a filly Woman,

The Souldiers should have toſt'd me on their Pikes,
Before I would have granted to that Act.

But thou preferr't thy life, before thine Honor.
And feeing thou do'ſt, I here divorce my ſelfe,

Both from thy Table Henry, and thy Bed,

Vntill that Act of Parliament be repealed,
Whereby my Sonne is dif-inherited.

The Northerne Lords, that have forſworne thy Colours,
Will follow mine, if once they fee them ſpread:

And ſpread they ſhall be, to thy foule diſgrace,
And utter ruine of the Houſe of Torke.

Thus doe I leave thee: Come Sonne, let's away,
Our Army is ready, come, weeele after them.

Henry. Stay gentle Margaret, and heare me ſpeake.

Queene. Thou haſt ſpoke too much already: get thee gone.

Hen. Gentle Sonne Edward, thou wilt ſlay with me?

Que. I, to be murther'd by his Enemies.

Prin. When I returne with victory from the field,
Ile fee your Grace: till then, Ile follow her.

Que. Come Sonne away, we may not linger thus.

Hen. Poore Queene,

How love to me, and to her Sonne,

Hath made her breake out into termes of Rage.

Reven'd may the be on that hatefull Duke,

Whole haughty ſpirit, winged with deſire,

Will coſt my Crowne, and like an empty Eagle,

Tyre on the ſleth of me, and of my Sonne.

The lobe of thofe three Lords torments my heart:

Ile write unto them, and entreat them faire;

Come Conſin, you ſhall be the Meſlenger.

Exet. And I hope, ſhall reconcile them all.

Exit.

Enter Richard, Edward, and
Mountague.

Richard. Brother, though I bee youngeſt, give mee leave.

Edw. No, I can better play the Orator.

Morn. But I have reaſons ſtrong and forceable.

Enter the Duke of Torke.

Tor. Why how now Sonnes, and Brother, at a ſtrife?

What is your Quarrell? how began it firſt?

Edw. No Quarrell, but a flight Contention.

Tor. About what?

Rich. About that which concernes your Grace and us,
The Crowne of England, Father, which is yours.

Tor. Mine Boy, not till King Henry be dead.

Rich. Your Right depends not on his life, or death.

Edw. Now you are Heire, therefore enjoy it now:

By giving the Houſe of Laneafter leave to breathe,

It will out-runne you, Father, in the end.

Tor. I tooke an Oath, that he ſhould quietly reigne.

Edw. But for a Kingdome any Oath may be broken:
I would breake thouand Oathes, to reigne one yeere.

Richard. No: God forbid your Grace ſhould be forſworne.

Tor. I ſhall be, if I claime by open Warre.

Richard. Ile prove the contrary, if you'l heare mee ſpeake.

Tor. Thou canſt not, Sonne: it is impoffible.

Rich. An Oath is of no moment, being not tooke
Before a true and lawfull Magiftrate,
That hath authority over him that ſweares.

Henry had none, but did uſurpe the place.

Then feeing'twas he that made you to depofe,
Your Oath, my Lord, is vaine and frivolous.

Therefore to Armes; and Father doe but thinke,

How weef't a thing it is to weare a Crowne,

Within whose Circuit is Elzium,

And all that Poets faime of Bliffe and Joy.

Why doe we linger thus? I cannot reſt,

Vntill the White Rofe that I weare, be dy'd

Even in the luke-warme blood of Henries hearts.

Tor. Richard ynough: I will be King, or dye.

Brother, thou haſt to London prefently,

And whet on Warwick to this Enterprize.

q

Thou

Thou Richard shall to the Duke of Norfolke.
And tell him privily of our intent.
You Edward shall unto my Lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentifhmen will willingly rife.
In them I truft: for they are Souldiers,
Witty, courteous, liberall, full of spirit.
While you are thus imploy'd, what refleth more?
But that I feeke occasion how to rife,
And yet the King not privy to my Drift,
Nor any of the Houfe of Lancafter.

Enter Gabriel.

But flay, what Newes? Why comm'ft thou in fuch
pofte?

Gabriel. The Queene,

With all the Northern Earles and Lords,
Intend heere to befiege you in your Castle.
She is hard by, with twenty thoufand men:
And therefore fortifie your Hold, my Lord.

Tor. I, with my Sword.

What think'ft thou, that we feare them?
Edward and Richard, you shall flay with me,
My Brother Mountague shall poſte to London.
Let Noble Warwick, Cobham, and the reſt,
Whom we have left Protectors of the King,
With powrefull Pollicy ſtrengthen them ſelv'es,
And truſt not ſimple Henry, nor his Oathes.

Moun. Brother, I goe: Ile winne them, feare it not.
And thus moſt humbly I doe take my leave.

Exit Mountague.

Enter Mortimer, and his Brother.

Tor. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine Vnckles,
You are come to Sandall in a happy houre.

The Armie of the Queene meane to befiege us.

John. Shee shall not neede, wee'le meete her in the field.

Tor. What, with five thoufand men?

Rich. I, with five hundred, Father, for a neede.

A Woman's Generall: what should we feare?

A March of arre off.

Edw. I heare their Drummes:

Let's fet our men in order,

And influence forth, and bid them Battaille ſtraight.

Tor. Five men to twenty: though the oddes be great,

I doubt not, Vnckle, of our Viftory.

Many a Battaille have I wonne in France,

When as the Enemy hath beene tennet to one:

Why should I not now have the like ſucceſſe?

Alarum. Exit,

Enter Rutland, and his Tutor.

Rutl. Ah, whither ſhall I flye, to ſcape their hands?
Ah Tutor, looke where bloody Clifford comes.

Enter Clifford.

Clifford. Chaplaine away, thy Priefhood ſaves thy life.
As for the Brat of this accufed Duke,

Whofe Father flew my Father, he ſhall dye.

Tutor. And I, my Lord, will beare him company.

Cliff. Souldiers, away with him.

Tutor. Ah Clifford, murther not this innocent Child,
Leaſt thou be hated both of God and Man.

Exits

Clifford. How now? is he dead already?
Or is it feare, that makes him cloſe his eyes?
He open them.

Rutl. So looks the pent-up Lyon o're the Wretch,
That tridmbles under his devouring Pawes:
And ſo he walkes, infuſing o're his Prey,
And ſo he comes, to rend his Limbes aſunder.
Ah gentle Clifford, kill me with thy Sword,
And not with ſuch a cruell threatening Looke:
Sweet Clifford heare me ſpeake, before I dye:
I am too meane a ſubieſt for thy Wrath,
Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live.

Cliff. In vaine thou ſpeak'ſt, poore Boy:
My Fathers blood hath ſtopt the paſſage
Where thy words ſhould enter.

Rutl. Then let my Fathers blood open it againe,
He is a man, and Clifford cope with him.

Cl. Had I thy Brethren here, their lives and thine
Were not revenge ſufficient for me:
No, if I digg'd up thy fore-fathers Graves,
And hung their rotten Coſtins up in Chaynes,
It could not flake mine ire, nor caſe my heart.
The fight of any of the Houſe of Torke,
Is as a Fury to torment my Soule:
And till I root out their accuſed Line,
And leave not one alive, I live in Hell.
Therefore—

Rutl. Oh let me pray, before I take my death:
To thee I pray; ſwet Clifford pitty me.

Clifford. Such pitty as my Rapiers pointaſtords.

Rut. I never did thee harme: why wilt thou flay
me?

Cliff. Thy Father hath.

Rut. But 'twas ere I was borne:

Thou haſt, one Sonne, for his fake pitty me,
Leaſt in revenge thereof, fifth God is juſt,
He be as miferably ſlaine as I.

Ah, let me live in Prifon all my dayes,

And when I give occasion of offence,
Then let me dye, for now thou haſt no cauſe.

Cl. No cauſe? thy Father flew my Father; therefore
dye.

Rutl. Diſ faciant laudis ſummam ſit iſta tua.

Cl. Plantagenets, I come Plantagenets:

And this thy Sonnes blood cleaving to my Blade,

Shall ruſt upon my Weapon, till thy blood

Congeal'd with this, doe make me wipe off both Exit.

Alarum. Enter Richard, Duke of Torke.

Tor. The Army of the Queene hath got the field:
My Vnckles both are ſlaine, in reſcuing me,
And all my followers, to the eager foe
Turne back, and flye, like, Ships before the Winde,
Or Lambes purfu'd by hunger-ſtarued Wolves.

My Sonnes, God knowes what hath bechanced them:

But this I know, they have demean'd them ſelv'es

Like men borne to Renowne, by Life or Death.

Three times did Richard make a Lane to me,

And thice cry'd, Courage Father, fight it out:

And full as oft came Edward to my side,

With Purple Fauſchion, painted to the Hilt,

In blood of thofe that had encountred him:

And when the hardy ſe Warriors did retyre,

Richard cry'd, Charge, and give no foot of ground,

And cry'd, A Crowne, or eſſe a glorious Tombe,

A

A Scepter, or an Earthly Sepulcher.
With this we charg'd againe; but out alas,
We bodg'd againe, as I have feene a Swan
With boothleſſe labour fwimme againſt the Tyde,
And ſpend her ſtrength with over-matching Waves.

A short Alarum within.

Ah hearke, the farrell followers doe purſue,
And I am faint; and cannot flye their ſury:
And were I ſtrong, I would not ſhunne their ſury.
The Sands are numbred, that make up my Life,
Here muſt I ſtay, and here my Life muſt end.

Enter the Queene, Clifford, Northumberland,
the young Prince, and Souldiers.

Come bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,

I dare your quenchleſſe ſury to more rage:

I am your But, and I abide your Shot.

North. Yeeld to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.

Cliff. I, to ſuch mercy, as his ruthleſſe Arme

With downe-right payment, ſhew'd unto my Father.

Now Phaeston hath tumbled from his Carre,

And made an Evening at the Noone-tide Prick.

Tor. My affhes, as the Phœnix, may bring forth

A Bird, that will revenge upon you all:

And in that hope, I throw mine eyes to Heaven,
Scorning what ere you can afflіſt me with.

Why come you not? what, multitudes, and ſteare?

Cliff. So Cowards fight, when they can flye no further,
So Doves doe peck the Faulcons piercing Tallons,
So desperate Theeves, all hopeleſſe of their Lives,
Breathe out Inveſtives' gainſt the Officers.

Tor. Oh Clifford, but bethinke thee once againe,

And in thy thought ore-run my former time:

And if thou canſt, for bluſhing, view this face,

And bite thy tongue, that flanders him with Cowardice,
Whof frowne hath made his faint and flye ere this.

Cliff. I will not bandy with thee word for word,

But buckler with thee blowes twice two for one.

Que. Hold valiant Clifford, for a thouſand cauſes

I would prolong a while the Traytors Life.

Wrath makes him deafe; ſpeake thou Northumberland.

North. Hold Clifford, doe not honor him so much,

To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart.

What valour were it, when a Curre doth grinne,
For oneto thrust his Hand betweene his Teeth, i

When he might ſpurne him with his Footaway?

It is Warres prize, to take all Vantages,

And tenne to one, is no impeach of Valour.

Clifford. I, I, so ſtrives the Woodcooke with the
Gynne.

Northumberland. So doth the Conny ſtruggle in the

Tor. So triuſph Theeves upon their conquer'd Booty,
So True men yeeld, with Robbers ſo o're-matcht.

Norb. What would your Grace have done unto him
now?

Que. Brave Warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,

Come make him ſtand upon this Mole-hill here,

That raught at Mountaines with out-stretched Armes,

Yet parted but the ſhadow with his Hand.

What, was it you that would be Englands King?

Was't you that revell'd in our Parliament,

And made a Preachment of your high Deſcent?

Where are your Mefle of Sonnes, to back you now?

The wanton Edward, and the luſty George?

And where's that valiant Crook-back Prodigy,
Dicky, your Boy, that with his gtumbling voyce
Was wont to cheare his Dad in Mutinies?

Or with the reſt, where is your Darling, Rutland?

Looke Torke, I ſtayn'd this Napkin with the blood
That valiant Clifford, with his Rapiers point,

Mad ilſue from the boſome of the Boy,

And if thine eyes can water for his death,

I give thee this to dry thy Checkes withall.

Alas poore Torke, but that I hate thee deadly,

I should lament thy miſerable ſtate.

I prythe grieve, to make me merry, Torke.

What, hath thy ſiery heart to parcht thine entrayles,
That not a Teare can fall, for Rutlands death?

Why art thou patient, man? thou should'ſt be mad:

And I, to make thee mad, doe mock thee thus.

Stampe, rave, and fret, that I may fing and dance.

Thou would'ſt be fee'd, I fee, to make me ſport:

Torke cannot ſpeake, unleſſe he weare a Crowne.

A Crowne for Torke; and Lords, bow lowe to him:

Hold you his hands, whileſt I doe fet it on.

I marry Sir, now lookes he like a King:

I, this is he that tooke King Henries Chaire,

And this is he, was is adopted Heire.

But how is it, that great Plantagenet

Is crown'd ſo foone, and broke his ſolemne Oath?

As I bethinke me, you should not be King,

Till our King Henry had ſhooke hands with Death.

And will you pale your head in Henries Glority,

And rob his Temples of the Diademe,

Now in his Life, againſt your holy Oath?

Oh 'tis a fault too too unpardonable.

Off with the Crowne; and with the Crowne, his Head,
And whileſt we breathe, take time to doe him dead.

Clifford. That is my Office, for my Fathers ſake.

Queene. Nay ſlay, let's heare the Orizons hee
makes.

Torke. Shee, Wolfe of France,

But worſe then Wolves of France,

Whose Tongue more poiforms then the Adders Tooths

How ill-befeeming is it in thy Sex,

To triumph like an Amazonian Trull,

Vpon their Woes, whom Fortune captivates?

But that thy Face is Vizard-like, unchanging,

Made impudent with uſe of evill deedes,

I would affay, prowd Queene, to make thee bluſh.

To tell thee whence thou cam'ſt, of whom deriv'd,

Were flame enough, to ſhame thee,

Wert thou not ſhameleſſe,

Thy Father beares the type of King of Naples,

Of both the Sicils, and Ieruſalem,

Yet not ſo wealthy as an English ſyeoman.

Hath that poore Monarch taught thee to infult?

It needs not, nor it bootes thee not, prowd Queene,

Vnleſſe the Adage muſt be verify'd,

That Beggers mounted, runne their Horſe to death.

'Tis Beauty that doth oft make Women prowd,

But God he knowes, thy ſhare thereof is ſmall.

'Tis Vertue, that doth make them moſt admir'd,

The contrary doth make thee wondred at.

'Tis Government, that makes them ſeeme Divine,

The want thereof, makes thee abhominable.

Thou art as oppoſite to every good,

As the Antipodes are unto vs,

Or as the South to the Septentrion.

Oh Tygres Heart, wrapt in a Womans Hide,

How

How could't thou drayne the Life-blood of the Child,
To bid the Father wipe his eyes withall;
And yet be feene to beare a Womans face?
Women are loft,milde,pittiful,and flexible;
Thou fterne,obdurate,flinty,rough,remorleffe.
Bidft thou me rage? why now thou haft thy wifh.
Would't have me weepe? why now thou haft thy will.
For raging wind blowes up inceflant flowers,
And when the Rage allayes,the Raine begins.
Thefe Teares are my sweet Rutlands Obfequies,
And every drop cryes vengeance for his death,
Gainft thee fell Clifford,and thee falfe French-woman.
Northumb. Behrew me, but his paffions move me fo,
That hardly can I check my eyes from Teares.

Tor. That face of his,

The hungry Caniballs would not have toucht,
Would not have flyt'n'd the roles juft with blood;
But you are more inhumane,more innexorable,
Oh,tenne times more then Tygers of Hyrcania.
See, ruthleffe Queene, a hapleſe Fathers Teares:
This Cloth thou dipd't in blood of my sweet Boy,
And I with Teares doe waſh the blood away.
Keepe thou the Napkin,and goe boaſt of this,
And if thou tell't the heavy ſtory right,
Vpon my Soule,the hearers will ſhed Teares:
Yea,even my Foes will ſhed faſt-falling Teares,
And fay,Alas, it was a pittious deed.
There, take the Crown,and with the Crowne,my Curſe,
And in thy need,fuch comfort come to thee,
As now I reape at thy too cruell hand.
Hard-hearted Clifford,take me from the World,
My foule to Heaven,my Blood upon your Heads.
Norb. Had he been ſlaughter-man to all my Kinne,
I ſhould not for my Life but weepe with him,
To fee how inly Sorrow gripes his Soule.

Quee. What weeping ripe, my Lord Northumberland?
Thinke but upon the wrong he did us all,
And that will quickly dry thy melting Teares.
Clifford. Heere's for my Oath, heere's for my Fathers
Death.

Queene. And heere's to right our gentle-hearted
King.

Tor. Open thy Gate of Mercy,gracious God.

My Soule flies through theſe wounds, to ſeeke out thee.

Quee. Off with his Head,and ſet it on Yorke Gates,
Sp Torke may over-looke the Towne of Yorke.

Exenunt.

A Martch. Enter Edward, Richard,
and their power.

Edw. I wonder how our Princely Father ſcap't:
Or whether he be ſcap't away,or no,
From Cliffs and Nothumberland purſuit?
Had he been t'ane, we ſhould have heard the newes:
Had he beene ſaine, we ſhould have heard the newes:
Or had he ſcap't, we thinkes we ſhould have heard
The happy tidings of his good eſcpe.
How fares my Brother? why is he ſo fad?
Rich. I cannot joy, untill I be refolv'd
Where our right valiant Father is become.
I faw him in the Battaille range about,
And watcht him how he ſingled Clifford forth,
Methought he bore him in the thickeſt troupe,
As doth a Lyon in a Heard of Neat,
Or as a Beare encompaſs'd round with Dogges:

Who having pincht a few, and made them cry,
Theret stand all aloofe, and barke at him.
So far'd our Father with his Enemies,
So fled his Enemies my Warlike Father:
Me thinkes 'tis prize enough to be his Sonne.
See how the Morning opes her golden Gates,
And takes her farewell of the glorious Sunne.
How well reſembles it the prime of Youth,
Trimm'd like a Yonker, prauancing to his Love?
Edw. Dazle mine eyes, or doe I fee three Sunnes?
Rich. Three glorious Sunnes, each one a perfect Sunne,
Not separated with the racking Clouds,
But fever'd in a pale cleare-shining Skie.
See, fee they joyne, embrace, and ſeeme to kiffe,
As if they vow'd ſome League inviolable.
Now are they but one Lampe, one Light, one Sunne:
In this, the Heaven figures ſome event.

Edw. 'Tis wondrous ſtrange,
The like yet never heard of.
I thinke it cites us (Brother) to the field,
That wee, the Sonnes of brave Plantagenet,
Each one already blazing by our meedes,
Should notwithstanding joyne our Lights together,
And over-shine the Earth as this the World.
What ere it bodes, hence-forward will I beare
Vpon my Target three faire flinching Sunnes.

Rich. Nay, beare three Daughters:
By your leave, I ſpeake it,
You love the Breeder better then the Male.

Enter one blowing.

But what art thou, whoſe heavy Lookes fore-tell
Some dreadfull ſtory hanging on thy Tongue?
--Mell. Ah, one that was a wofull looker on
When as the Noble Duke of Yorke was ſaine,
Your Princely Father, and my loving Lord.
Edw. Oh ſpeake no more, for I have heard too
much.

Rich. Say how he dy'd, for I will heare it all.

Mell. Environed he was with many foes
And flood againſt them, as the hope of Troy
A gainſt the Greekeſ, that would have had ſ Entry
But Hercules himſelfe muſt yeeld to odds:
And many ſroakes, though with a little Axe,
Hewes downe and fells the hardeſt-tymber'd Oake.
By many hands your Father was ſubſu'd,
But only ſlaught'rd by the irefull Arme
Of un-relenting Clifford, and the Queene:
Who crown'd the gracious Duke in high deſpight,
Laugh'd in his face: and when with griſe he wept,
The ruthleſſe Queene gave him, to dry his Cheeke,
A Napkin, ſeeped in the harmeleſſe blood
Of fweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford ſaine:
And after many ſcornes, many foule taunts,
They tooke his Head, and on the Gates of Yorke
They ſet the fame, and there it doth remaine,
The faddeſt ſpectacle that ere I view'd.

Edw. Sweet Duke of Yorke, our Prop to leane upon,
Now thou art gone, wee have no Staffe, no Stay.
Oh Clifford, boyſt'rous Clifford, thou haſt ſaine
The flowre of Europe, for his Chevalry,
And trecherouſly haſt thou vanquifh't him,
For hand to hand he would have vanquifh't thee.
Now my Soules Pallace is become a Priſon:
Ah, would the breake from hence, that this my body

Might

Rich. I like a Daftard, and a treacherous Coward,
As thou didst'it kill our tender Brother Rutland,
But ere Sunset, Ile make thee curfe the deed.

King. Have done with words (my Lords) and heare
me fpeake.

Qq. Defie them then, or els hold cloſe thy lips.

King. I prythee give no limits to my Tongue,
I am a King, and priviledg'd to ſpeake.

Claf. My Liege, the wound that bred this meeting herre,
Cannot be cur'd by Words, therefore be full.

Rich. Then Executioner vnſheath thy ſword:
By him that made us all, I am reſolv'd,
That Cliffsorſs Manhood, lyes upon his tongue.

Ed. Say Henry, shall I have my right, or no:
A thouſand men have broke their Faſts to day.
That ne're ſhall dine, unleſſe thou yeeld the Crowne,
War. If thou deny, their Blood upon thy head.

For Yorke in juſtice put his Armour on.

Pr. Ed. If that be right, which Warwick faies is right,
There is no wrong, but every thing is right.

Alay tar. Who ever got thee, there thy Mother ſtands,
For well I wot, thou haſt thy Mothers tongues.

Qq. But thou art neither like thy Sire nor Damme,
But like a foule miſhapen Stygmaticke,

Mark'd by the Deſtinies to be avoided,
As venome Toades, or Lizards dreadfull ſtings.

Rich. Iron of Naples, bid with English gilt,
Whole Father beares the Title of a King,
(As if a Channell ſhould be call'd the Sea)
Sham't thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught,
To let thy tongue deteſt thy bafe-borne heart.

Ed. A wiſe of ſtraw were worth a thouſand Crowns,
To make this ſhameleſſe Callet know her ſelfe:

Helen of Greece was fairer farre then thon,

Although thy Husband may be Menelaus;
And ne're was Agamemnon Brother wrong'd

By that falſe Woman, as this King by thee.

His Father reyel'd in the heart of France,

And tam'd the King, and made the Dolphin ſtoope:

And had he match'd according to his State,

He might have kept that glory to this day.

But when he tooke a begger to his bed,
And grac'd thy poore Sire with his Bridall day,
Even then that Sun-like brew'd a ſhowre for him,

That waſt his Fathers fortunes forth of France,

And heſp'd ſedition on his Crowne at home:

For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy Pride?

Had it thou bene meeke, our Title ſtill had ſlpt,

And we in pitty of the Gentle King,

Had flap't myCLAime, untill another Age.
Cla. But when we faw, our Sunſhine made thy Spring:

And that thy Summer bred us no increafe,

We fet the Axe to thy unſpning Roote:

And though the edge hath ſomething hit our ſelves,

Yet know thou, ſince we have begun to ſtrike,

We'never leave, till we have hewne thce downe,

Or bath'd thy growing, with our heated bloods.

Ed. And in this refolution, I defie thee,

Not willing any longer Conference,

Since thou denied't the gentle King to ſpeak.

Sound Trumpets, let our bloody Colours wave,

And either Victory, or else a Grave.

Qq. Stay Edwards.

Ed. No wrangling Woman, wee'l no longer ſlay,
Thefe words will coſt ten thouſand lives this day.

Exeunt omnes.

Alarum. Excusions. Enter Warwickes.

War. Fore ſpent with Toile, as Runners with a Rare,
I lay me downe a little while to breath:

For ſkroſes receiv'd, and many blowes repaid,

Have robb'd my ſtrong knit finewes of their ſtrength,

And ſpight of ſpight, needs muſt I reſt a while.

Enter Edward running.

Ed. Smile gentle heaven, or ſtrike ungentle death,
For this world frownes, and Edwards Sunne is clowded.

War. How now my Lord, what happe? what hope of good?

Enter Clarence.

Cla. Out hap is loffe, our hope but fad deſpaire,
Our ranks are broke, and ruine followes us.

What counſaille give you? what other ſhall we flye?

Ed. Bootleſſe is flight, they follow us with Wings,
And weake we are, and cannot ſhun purſuite.

Enter Richard.

Rich. Ah Warwicke, why haſt y' withdrawn thy ſelfe?

Thy Brothers blood the thirtſy earth hath drunk,

Broach'd with the Steely point of Cliffsorſs Launce:

And in the very pangs of death, he cryde,

Like to a diſmall Clangor heard from farre,

Warwicke, revenge; Brother revenge my death.

So underneath the belly of their Steeds,

That ſlain'd their Fetlockes in his ſmoaking blood,
The Noble Gentleman gave up the ghoſt.

War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood:

Ile kill my Horſe becauſe I will not flye:

Why ſtand we like ſoft-hearted women heere,

Wayling our loffes, whiles the Foe doth Rage,

And looke upon, as if the Tragedy

Were plaid in jeſt, by counterfetting Actors.

Heere on my knee, I'vow to God above,

Ile never Pawſe againe, never ſtand ſtill,

Till either death hath clos'd theſe eyes of mine,

Or Fortune given me meaſure of Revenge.

Ed. Oh Warwicke, I do bend my knee with thine,

And in this vow do chaine my foule to thine,

And ere my knee rife from the Earths cold face,

I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,

Thou fetter up, and plucker downe of Kings,

Befeeching thee (if with thy will it ſtands)

That to my Foeſ this body muſt be prey,

Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope,

And give ſweet paſſage to my ſinfull foule.

Now Lords, take leave untill we meete againe,

Where ere it be, in heaven, or in earth.

Rich. Brother,

Give me thy hand, and gentle Warwicke,

Let me embrace thee in my weariy armes:

I that did never weepe, now inelt with wo,

That Winter ſhould cut off our Spring-time ſo.

War. Away, away:

Once more, ſweet Lords farewell.

Cla. Yet let us altogether to our Troopes.

And give them leave to flye, that will not flye:

And call them Pillars that will ſtand to us:

And if we thrive, promiſe them ſuch rewards

As Vicors weare at the Olympian Games.

This may plant courage in their quilasing breaſt,

For yet is hope of Life and Victory:

Fore-

["The third Part of King Henry the Sixth.", "Mif-thinke the King, and not be satisfied?", "Sons. Was everfonne, so rew'd a Fathers death?", "Fath. Was ever Father so bemoan'd his Sonne?", "Hen. Was ever King so greev'd for Subjects woe?", "Much is your forrow; Mine, ten times so much.", "Son. Ile beare thee hence, where I may weepe my fill.", "Fath. These armes of mine shall be thy winding shee:", "My heart (sweet Boy) shall be thy Sepulcher,\nFor from my heart, thine Image ne're shall go.", "My fighting breft, shall be thy Funeral bell;", "And so obsequious will thy Father be,", "Men for the loffe of thee, having no more,", "As Priam was for all his Valiant Sonnes,", "Ile beare thee hence, and let them fight that will,", "For I have murthered where I should not kill.", "Exit.", "Hen. Sad-hearted-men, much overgone with Care;", "Heere fits a King, more wofull then you are.", "Alarums. Excursions. Enter the Queen, the Prince, and Exeter.", "Prin. Fly Father, flye for all your Friends are fled.", "And Warwicke rages like a chafed Bull:", "Away, for death doth hold us in pur Suite.", "Que. Mount you my Lord, towards Barwicke poft a-\nmaine:", "Edward and Richard like a brace of Grey-hounds,", "Having the fearfull flying Hare in fight,", "With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath,", "And bloody fteele graſt in their yrefull hands", "Are at our backes, and therefore hence amaine.", "Exe. Away: for vengeance comes along with them.", "Nay, itay not to expoftulate, make speed,", "Or eſcome after, Ile away before.", "Hen. Nay take me with thee, good (sweet Exeter:", "Not that I feare to fly, but love to goe", "Whither the Queene intends. Forward, away.", "Exeunt.", "Alowd alarum. Enter Clifford Wounded.", "Cliff. Heere burnes my Candle out; I, heere it dies,", "Which whiles it lafted, gave King Henry light.", "O Lancafter! I feare thy overthrow,", "More then my Bodies parting with my Soule:", "My Love and Feare, gew'd many Friends to thee,", "And now I fall. Thy tough Commixtures melt,", "Impairing Henry, strengthe'ning mifproud Yorke;", "And whither flye the Gnats, but to the Sunne?", "And who thines now, but Hemries Enemies?", "O Phœbus I had it thou never given content,", "That Phaeston should cheeke thy fiery Steds,", "Thy burning Carre never had fcorch'd the earth.", "And Henry, had it thou fway'd as Kings should do,", "Or as thy Father, and his Father did,", "Giving no ground unto the houſe of Yorke,", "They never then had Sprung like Sommer Flyes:", "I, and ten thonſand in this luckleſle Realme,", "Had left no mourning Widdowes for our death,", "And thou this day, had it kept thy Chaire in peace.", "For what doth cherriſh Weeds, but gentle ayre?", "And what makes Robbers bold, but too much lenity?", "Bootleſſe Plaints, and Curreleſse are my Wounds?", "No way to flye, nor ſtrength to hold out flight:", "The Foe is merciſſe, and will not pitty:", "For at their hands I have deferv'd no pitty.", "The ayre hath got into my deadly Wounds,", "And much effuſe of blood, doth make me faint:", "Come Torke, and Richard, Warwicke, and the reſt,", "I ſtab'd your Fathers boſomes; Split my breſt.", "Alarum & Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, and\nSouldiers, Montague, & Clarence.", "Ed. Now breathe we Lords, good fortune bids us paſſe,", "And smooth the frownes of War, with peacefull lookse:", "Some Troopes purſue the bloody-minded Queene,", "That led calme Henry, though he were a King,", "As doth a Saile, fill'd with a fretting Guſt", "Command an Argofie to ſtemme the Waves:", "But thinke you (Lords) that Clifford fled with them?", "War. No, 'tis impoffible he ſhould eſcape:", "(For though before his face I ſpeake the word)", "Your Brother Richard markt him for the Grave.", "And wherefore he is, hee's ſurely dead. Clifford grones", "Rich. Whofe ſoule is that which takes his heavy leave?", "A deadly groane, like life and deaths departing.", "See who it is.", "Ed. And now the Battaille's ended,", "If Friend or Foe, let him be gently uſed.", "Rich. Revoke that doome of mercy, for'tis Clifford,", "Who not contented that he lopp'd the Branch", "In hewing Rutland, when his leaves put forth,", "But fet his murth'ring knife unto the Rooſe,", "From whence that tender spray did flowe'th spring,", "I meane our Princely Father, Duke of Yorke.", "War. From off the gates of Yorke, fetch down § head,", "Your Fathers head, which Clifford placed there:", "In flead whereof, let this fupply the roome,", "Meaſure for meaſure, muſt be anſWERED.", "Ed. Bring forth that fatall Schreechowle to our houſe,", "That nothing ſung but death, to us and ours:", "Now death ſhall ſtop his diſinall threatening found,", "And his ill-boading tongue, no more ſhall ſpeake.", "War. I thinke his understanding is bereſt:", "Speake Clifford, doth thou know who ſpeakes to thee?", "Darke cloudy death ore-shades his beames of life,", "And he nor fees, nor heares us, what we ſay.", "Rich. O would he did, and ſo (perhaps) he doth,\n'Tis but his policy to counterfet,", "Becaufe he would avoid ſuch bitter taunts", "Which in the time of death he gave our Father.", "Cla. If to thou think'it,", "Vex him with eager Words.", "Rich. Clifford, aske mercy, and obtaine no grace.", "Ed. Clifford, repent in bootleſſe penitence.", "VVar. Clifford, deviſe excufes for thy faultes.", "Cla. While we deviſe ſell Tortures for thy faultſs,", "Rich. Thou didd'it love Yorke, and I am ſon to Yorke.", "Edw. Thou pittied'it Rutland, I will pitty thee.", "Cla. Where's Captaine Margaret, to fence you now?", "VVar. They mocke thee Clifford,", "Sweare as thou was't wont.", "Ric. What, not an Oath! Nay then the world go's hard,", "When Clifford cannot ſpare his Friends an oath:", "I know by that he's dead, and by my Soule.", "If this right hand would buy but two how

159

This Ladyes Husband, Sir Richard Grey, was flaine,
His Land then feiz'd on by the Conqueror,
Her fuit is now, to repofſe thate Lands,
Which wee in Juſtice cannot well deny,
Because in Quarrell of the House of Torke,
The worthy Gentleman did loſe his Life.

Rich. Your Highneſſe ſhall do well to graunt her ſuit:
It were diſhonor to deny it her.

King. It were no leſſe, but yet Ile make a pawle.

Rich. Yea, is it to:

I fee the Lady hath a thing to graunt,

Before the King will graunt her humble ſuits.

Cla. Hee knowes the Game, how true hee keepes the
winde?

Rich. Silence.

King. Widow, we will confider of your ſuit,
And come ſome other time to know our minde.

Wid. Right gracious Lord, I cannot brooke delay,
May it pleafe your Highneſſe to refolve me now,
And what your pleafure is, shall faſſiſe me.

Rich. I Widow then Ile warrant you all your Lands,
And if what pleafes him, shall pleafe you:

Fight cloſer, or good faith you'll catch a Blow.

Cla. I feare you, unleſſe he chance to fall.

Rich. God forbid that, for hee'le take vantage.

King. How many Children haſt thou, Widow ? tell me,

Cla. I thinke he meanes to begge a Child of her.

Rich. Nay then whip me: hee'le rather give her two.

Wid. Three, my moſt gracious Lord.

Rich. You shall have ſoure, if you'll be rul'd by him.

King. 'Twere pitty they should loſe their Fathers
Lands.

Wid. Be pittifull, dread Lord, and graunt it then.

King. Lords give us leave, Ile trye this Widowes

wit.

Rich. I, good leave have you, for you will have leave,
Til Youth take leave, and leave you to the Crutch.

King. Now tell me, Madame, doe you love your

Children?

Wid. I, full as clearely as I love my ſelfe.

King. And would you not doe much to doe them
good?

Wid. To doe them good, I would ſultayne ſome
harme.

King. Then get your Husbands Lands, to doe them
good.

Wid. Therefore I came unto your Majefty.

King. Ile tell you how theſſe Lands are to be got.

Wid. So ſhall you bind me to your Highneſſe ſervicę.

King. What ſervicę wilt thou doe me, if I give them?

Wid. What you command, that reſts in me to doe.

King. But you will take exceptions to my Boone.

Wid. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot doe it.

King. I, but thou canſt doe what I meane to aske.

Wid. Why then I will doe what your Grace com-
mands.

Rich. Hee plyes her hard, and much Raine weares the
Marble.

Cla. As red as fire? may then, her Wax muſt melt.

Wid. Why ſtoppes my Lord ? shall I not heare my
Taske?

King. An eſſie Taske, 'tis but to love a King.

Wid. That's ſoon performance, because I am a Subject.

King. Why then, thy Husbands Lands I freely give
thee.

Wid. I take my leave with many thouſand thanke.

Rich. The Match is made, the ſeales it with a Curtſie.

King. But ſay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I meane.

Wid. The fruits of Love, I meane, my loving Liege.

King. I, but I feare me in another fence.

What Love, think't thou, I ſue so much to get?

Wid. My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers,
That love which Vertue begges, and Vertue grauets.

King. No, by my troth, I did not meane ſuch love.

Wid. Why then you meane not as I thought you did.

King. But now you partly may perceive my minde.

Wid. My minde will never graunt what I perceive
Your Higneſſe aymes at, if I ayme aright.

King. To tell thee plaine, I ayme to lye with thee.

Wid. To tell you plaine, I had rather lye in Prifon.

King. Why then thou ſhalt not have thy Husbands
Lands.

Wid. Why then mine Honeſty shall be my Dower,
For by that loſſe, I will not purchase them.

King. Therein thou wrong'ſt thy Children mightily.

Wid. Herein your Highneſſe wrongs both them & me:
But mighty Lord, this merry inclination

Accords not with the ſadneſſe of my ſuit:

Pleafe you diſmiſſe me, either with I, or no.

King. I, if thou wilt fay I to my requeſt:
No, if thou do'ſt fay No to my demand.

Wid. Then No, my Lord, my ſuit is at an end.

Rich. The Widow likes him not, ſhes knits her
Browes.

Clarence. Hee is thee blunteſt Wooer in Chriften-
dome.

King. Her Looks doe argue her replete with Modeſtly,
Her Words doe ſhew her Wit incomparable,

All her perfections challenge Soveraignty,

One way, or other, ſhe is for a King,

And ſhee shall be my Love, or eſſe my Queene.

Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queene?

Wid. 'Tis better faid then done, my gracious Lord:
I am a ſubjeſt fit to jeaſt withall,

But farre unfit to be a Soveraigne.

King. Sweet Widow, by my State I ſweare to thee,
I Ipeake no more then what my Soule intends,

And that is, to enjoy thee for my Love.

Wid. And that is more then I will yeeld unto:

I know, I am too meane to be your Queene,

And yet too good to be your Concubine.

King. You cavill, Widow, I did meane my Queene.

Wid. 'Twill grieve your Grace, my fonnes should call
you Father.

King. No more, then when my Daughters

Call thee Mother.

Thou art a Widow, and thou haſt ſome Children,

And by Gods Mother, I being but a Batchelor,

Have other ſome. Why, 'tis a happy thing,

To be the Father unto many Sonnes:

Anſwer no more, for thou ſhalt be my Queene.

Rich. The Ghoſtly Father now hath done his Shriſt.

Cla. When hee was made a Shriver, 'twas for ſhift.

King. Brothers, you muſe what Chat wee two have
had.

Richard. The Widow likes it not, for ſhee lookes
fad.

King. You'd thinke it ſtrange, if I should marry
her.

Cla. To whom my Lord?

King. Why Clarence, to my ſelfe.

Rich. That

The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.

161

Our people, and our Peeres, are both mis-led,
Our Treasure feiz'd, our Souldiers put to flight,
And (as thon feet) our felves in heavy plight.

Lew. Renowed Queene,
With patience calme the Storme,
While we bethinke a means to breake it off.

Marg. The more we fly, the stronger growes our
Foe.

Lew. The more I flyt, the more I succour thee.
Marg. O, but impatience waiteth on true forrow.
And fee where comes the breeder of my forrow.

Euter Warwicke.

Lew. What's he approacheth boldly to our pre-
fence?

Marg. Our Earle of Warwickes, Edwards greatest
friend.

Lewis. Welcome brave Warwicke, what beings thee
to France? He defends. She ariseth.

Marg. I, now begins a second Storme to rife,
For this is he that moves both Winde and Tyde.

Warw. From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
My Lord and Soveraigne, and thy vowed Friend,
I come (in Kindneſſe, and unfaynd Love)
Firſt, to doe greetings to thy Royall Perſon,
And thento crave a League of Amity :
And laſtly, to confirme that Amity
With Nuptiall Knot, if thou vouchſafe to graunt
That vertuous Lady Bona, thy faire Sifter,
To Englands King, in lawfull Marriage.

Marg. If that goe forward, Henries hope is done.

Warw. And gracious Madam, Speaking to Bona.
In our Kings behalſe,

I am commanded, with your leave and favour,
Humbly to kiffie you Hand, and with my Tongue
To tell the paſſion of my Soveraignes Heart ;
Where Fame, late entring at his heedeſt Eares,
Hath plac'd thy beauties Image, and thy Vertue.

Marg. King Lewis, and Lady Bona, heare me ſpeake,
Before you anſwer Warwicke. His demand
Springs not from Edwards well-meant honest Love,
But from Deceit, bred by Necessity :

For how can Tyrants safely governe home,
Vnleſſe abroad they purchase great allyance ?
To prove him Tyrant, this reaſon may ſuſſeſſe,
That Henry liveth ſtill : but were he dead,

Yet here Prince Edward ſlands, King Henries Sonne.
Looke then for Lewis, that by this League and Marriage
Thou draw not on thy Danger, and Dis-honor :
For though Vſurpers ſway the rule a while,
Yet Heavens are juſt, and Time ſupſuſſeth Wrongs.

War. Injurious Margaret.

Edw. And why not Queene?

War. Because thy father Henry did ſurſe,
And thou no more art Prince, then ſhe is Queene.

Oſ. Then Warwicke diſanuils great Iohn of Gaunt,
Which did ſubdue the greatest part of Spaine ;
And after Iohn of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
Whose Wifdome was a Mirror to the wifefl :

And after that wife Prince, Henry the Fift,
Who by his Proweſſe conquered all France :
From theſe, our Henry linearly deſcends,

War. Oxford, how haps it in this smooth diſcourſe,
You told not, how Henry the Sixt hath loft
All that, which Henry the Fift had gotten ;

Me thinkes chefe Peeres of France ſhould ſmile at that
But for the reſt : you tell a Pedigree.

Of threecore and two yceers, a filly time

To make preſcription for a Kingdomes worth.

Oſ. Why Warwicke, canſt thou ſpeake againſt thy Liege
Whom thon obeyd't thirty and ſix yceers,
And not bewray thy Treaſon with a bluſh ?

War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right,
Now buckler falſchood with a Pedigree ?
For ſhame leave Henry, and call Edward King.

Oſ. Call him my King, by whoſe injurious doome
My elder Brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere

Was done to death ? and more then ſo, my Father,
Even in the downe-fall of his mellow'd yceers,

When Nature brought him to the doore of Death ;

No Warwicke, no : while Life upholds this Arme,

This Arme upholds the Houſe of Lancaster.

Warw. And I the houſe of Torke.

Lew. Queene Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford
Vouchſafe at our requeſt, to ſland afide,
While I uſe further conference with Warwicke.

They ſtand aloofe.

Mar. Heavens grant, that Warwickes words bewitch
him not.

Lew. Now Warwicke, tell me even upon thy conſcienc
Is Edward your true King ? for I were loth
To linke with him, that were not lawfull choſen.

Warw. Thereon I pawne my Credit, and mine Ho-
nors.

Lew. But is he gracious in the peoples eye ?

War. The more, that Henry was unfortunate.

Lew. Then further : all diſſembling ſet afide,

Tell me for truth, the meaſure of his love,
Vnto our Sifter Bona.

War. Such it ſeemes,

As may beſeeme a Monarch like himſelfe.

My ſelfe have often heard him ſay, and ſweare,
That this his Love was an externall Plant,

Whereof the Root was fixt in Vertues ground,

The Leaves and Fruit maintain'd with Beauties Sunne,
Exempt from Envy, but not from Difdaine,

Vnleſſe the Lady Bona quit his paine.

Lew. Now Sifter, let us heare your firme reſolve.

Bona. Your graunt, or your deny, ſhall be mine,
Yet I conſeſſe, that often ere this day, Speaks to War.

When I have heard your Kings deſert recounted,

Mine eare hath tempted judgement to deſire.

Lew. Then Warwicke, this :

Our Sifter ſhall be Edwards.

And now forthwith ſhall Articles be drawne,
Touching the Ioynture that your King muſt make,
Which with her Dowry ſhall be counter-poys'd :
Draw neere, Queene Margaret, and be a wittneſſe,

That Bona ſhall be Wife to the English King.

Prim. Edw. To Edward, but not to the English King.

Marg. Deceitfull Warwicke, it was thy device,

By this alliance to make voyd my ſuit :

Before thy comming, Lewis was Henries friend.

Lew. And ſtill is friend to him, and Margaret,
But if your Title to the Crowne be weake,

As may appeare by Edwards good ſucceſſe :

Then 'tis but reaſon, that I be releas'd

From giving ayde, which late I promiſed.

Yet ſhall you have all kindneſſe at my hand,

That your eſtate requires, and mine can yeeld.

Warw. Henry now lives in Scotland, at his eafe;

Where

Where having nothing, nothing can he lofe.
And as for you your selfe (our quondam Queene)
You have a Father able to maintaine you,
And better 'twere, you troubled him, then France.

Mar. Peace impudent, and flameleffe Warwickes, Peace,
Proud fetter up, and puller downe of Kings,
I will not hence, till with my Talke and Teares
(Both full of Truth) I make King Lewis behold
Thy flye conveyance, and thy Lords falfe love.

Poffe blowing a horn within.

Enter a Poffe.

For both of you are Birds of selfe-lame Feather.
Lew, Warwickes, this is fome poſſe to us, or thee.

Enter a Poffe.

Poffe. My Lord Ambaſſador,
Theſe Letters are for you.
Speaks to Warwickes.
Sent from your Brother Marquſe Mountague.

Theſe from our King, unto your Majeſty.
To Lewis.
And Madam, theſe for you,
To Margaret.
From whom, I know not.

They all reade their Letters.

Oſſ. I like it well, that our faire Queene and Miftris
Smiles at her newes, while Warwickes frownes at his.

Prince Edw. Nay marke how Lewis ſtampes as he were
netled. I hope, all's for the beſt.

Lew. Warwickes, what are thy Newes?

And yours, faire Queene?

Mar. Mine ſuch, as fill my heart with unhop'd joyes.

War. Mine full of forrow, and hearts diſcontent.

Lew. What ? has your King married the Lady Grey ?

And now to foot his ſorcery, and his,
Sends me a Paper to perſwade me Patience ?
Is this th'Alliance that he ſeekeſ with France ?

Dare he prefume to ſcorne us in this manner ?

Mar. I told your Majeſty as much before :

This proveth Edwards Love, and Warwickes honeſty.

War. King Lewi, I here proteſt in ſight of heaven,
And by the hope I have of heavenly bliffe,
That I am cleere from this miſdeed of Edwards ;

No more my King, for he diſhonors me,
But moſt himſelfe, if he could fee his ſhame.

Did I forget, that by the houſe of Torke

My father came untimely to his death ?

Did I let paffe thabuſe done to my Neece ?

Did I impale him with the Regall Crowne ?

Did I put Henry from his Native Right ?

And am I guerdon'd at the laſt, with Shame ?

Shame on himſelfe, for my Deſert is Honor.

And to repaire my Honor loft for him,
I heere renounce him, and returne to Henry.

My Noble Queene, let former grudges paffe,
And henceforth, I am thy true Servitour :

I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona,

And replant Henry in his former itate.

Mar. Warwickes,

Theſe words have turn'd my Hate, to Love,
And I forgive, and quite forget old faults,
And joy that thou becom'd King Hemries Friend.

War. So much his Friend, I, his unfained Friend,
That if King Lewis vouchſaſe to furniſh us
With ſome few Bands of choſen Souldiours,
Ile undertake to Land them on our Coaſt,
And force the Tyrant from his ſeat by Warre.

Tis not his new-made Bride ſhall ſuccour him,
And as for Clarence, as my Letters tell me,
He's very likely now to fall from hi n,
For matching more for wanton Luft, then Honor,

Or then for ſtrength and ſafety of our Country.

Bona. Deere brother, how ſhall Bona be reveng'd,
But by thy helpe to this diſtreſſed Queene ?

Mar. Renowned Prince, how ſhall Poore Henry live,
Vnleſſe thou ſerefce him from ſoule deſpaire?

Bona. My quarrell, and this Englifh Queens, are one.

War. And mine faire Lady Bona, joynes with yours.

Lew. And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margaret.
Therefore at laſt, I firmly am reſolv'd

You ſhall have ayde.

Mar. Let me give humble thankes for all, at once,

Lew. Then Englands Meſſenger, returne in Poffe,
And tell falſe Edward, thy ſuppofed King,

That Lewis of France, is ſending over Maskers,

To revell it with him, and his new Bride.

Thou ſeeft what's paſt, goe ſeare thy King withall.

Bona. Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower ſhortly,
I ware the Willow Garland for his ſake.

Mar. Tell him, my mourning weeds are lay'd aſide,
And I am ready to put Armour on.

War. Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,
And therefore Ile un-Crowne him, er't be long.

There's thy reward, be gone.

Lew. But Warwickes,

Thou and Oxford, with ſiue thouand men
Shall croſſe the Seas, and bid falſe Edward battaile:

And as occafion ſerves, this Noble Queene

And Prince, ſhall follow with a freeſh Supply,

Yet ere thou goe, but anſwer me one doubt :

What Pledge have we of thy firme Loyalty?

War. This ſhall aſſure my conſant Loyalty,

That if our Queene, and this young Prince agree,
Ile joyne mine eldeſt daughter, and my Ioy,

To him forthwith, in holy Wedlocke bands.

Mar. Yes, I agrée, and thanke you for your Motion.

Sonne Edward, ſhe is Faire and Vertuous,

Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwickes,

And with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable,

That only Warwickes daughter ſhall be thine.

Pri. Ed. Yes, I accept her, for ſhe well deferves it,
And heere to pledge my Vow, I give my hand.

He gives his hand to Warwickes.

Lew. Why ſtay we now? Theſe ſouldiers ſhalbe leviſed,
And thou Lord Bourbon, our High Admirall

Shalt waſt them over with our Royall Fleete.

I long till Edward fall by Warres miſchance,

For mocking Marriage with a Dame of France.

Exeunt.

Manet Warwickes.

War. I came from Edward as Ambaſſador,
But I returne his tworne and mortall Foe :
Matter of Marriage was the charge he gave me,
But dreadfull Warre ſhall anſwer his demand.
Had he none eſſe to make a ſtale but me ?
Then none but I, ſhall turne his Ieſt to Sorrow,
I was the Cheeſe that rais'd him to the Crowne.

And Ile be Cheeſe to bring him downe againe :

Not that I pitty Hemries miſery,

But ſeeke Revenge on Edwards mockery.

Exit.

Enter Richard, Clarence, Somerſer, and
Mountague.

Ricb. Now tell me Brother Clarence, what thinke you
Of this new Marriage with the Lady Grey?

Hath not our Brother made a worthy choyce ?

Clar. Alas, you know, 'tis farre from hence to France,
How