part I

had in Glousters blood, Doth more solicite me then your exclaimes, To stirre against the Butchers of his life. But since correction lyeth in those hands Which made the fault that we cannot correct, Put we our quarrell to the will of heauen, Who when they see the houres ripe on earth, Will raigne hot vengeance on offenders heads

Dut. Findes brotherhood in thee no sharper spurre? Hath loue in thy old blood no liuing fire? Edwards seuen sonnes (whereof thy selfe art one) Were as seuen violles of his Sacred blood, Or seuen faire branches springing from one roote: Some of those seuen are dride by natures course, Some of those branches by the destinies cut: But Thomas, my deere Lord, my life, my Glouster, One Violl full of Edwards Sacred blood, One flourishing branch of his most Royall roote Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt; Is hackt downe, and his summer leafes all vaded By Enuies hand, and Murders bloody Axe. Ah Gaunt! His blood was thine, that bed, that wombe, That mettle, that selfe-mould that fashion'd thee, Made him a man: and though thou liu'st, and breath'st, Yet art thou slaine in him: thou dost consent In some large measure to thy Fathers death, In that thou seest thy wretched brother dye, Who was the modell of thy Fathers life. Call it not patience (Gaunt) it is dispaire, In suffring thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, Thou shew'st the naked pathway to thy life, Teaching sterne murther how to butcher thee: That which in meane men we intitle patience Is pale cold cowardice in noble brests: What shall I say, to safegard thine owne life, The best way is to venge my Glousters death

Gaunt. Heauens is the quarrell: for heauens substitute His Deputy annointed in his sight, Hath caus'd his death, the which if wrongfully Let heauen reuenge: for I may neuer lift An angry arme against his Minister

Dut. Where then (alas may I) complaint my selfe? Gau. To heauen, the widdowes Champion to defence Dut. Why then I will: farewell old Gaunt. Thou go'st to Couentrie, there to behold Our Cosine Herford, and fell Mowbray fight: O sit my husbands wrongs on Herfords speare, That it may enter butcher Mowbrayes brest: Or if misfortune misse the first carreere, Be Mowbrayes sinnes so heauy in his bosome, That they may breake his foaming Coursers backe, And throw the Rider headlong in the Lists, A Caytiffe recreant to my Cosine Herford: Farewell old Gaunt, thy sometimes brothers wife With her companion Greefe, must end her life

Gau. Sister farewell: I must to Couentree, As much good stay with thee, as go with mee

Dut. Yet one word more: Greefe boundeth where it falls, Not with the emptie hollownes, but weight: I take my leaue, before I haue begun, For sorrow ends not, when it seemeth done. Commend me to my brother Edmund Yorke. Loe, this is all: nay, yet depart not so, Though this be all, do not so quickly go, I shall remember more. Bid him, Oh, what? With all good speed at Plashie visit mee. Alacke, and what shall good old Yorke there see But empty lodgings, and vnfurnish'd walles, Vn-peopel'd Offices, vntroden stones? And what heare there for welcome, but my grones? Therefore commend me, let him not come there, To seeke out sorrow, that dwels euery where: Desolate, desolate will I hence, and dye, The last leaue of thee, takes my weeping eye.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Marshall, and Aumerle.

Mar. My L[ord]. Aumerle, is Harry Herford arm'd

Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in

Mar. The Duke of Norfolke, sprightfully and bold, Stayes but the summons of the Appealants Trumpet

Au. Why then the Champions, are prepar'd, and stay For nothing but his Maiesties approach.

Flourish.

Enter King, Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Greene, & others: Then Mowbray in Armor, and Harrold.

Rich. Marshall, demand of yonder Champion The cause of his arriuall heere in Armes, Aske him his name, and orderly proceed To sweare him in the iustice of his cause

Mar. In Gods name, and the Kings say who y art, And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in Armes? Against what man thou com'st, and what's thy quarrell, Speake truly on thy knighthood, and thine oath, As so defend thee heauen, and thy valour

Mow. My name is Tho[mas]. Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, Who hither comes engaged by my oath (Which heauen defend a knight should violate) Both to defend my loyalty and truth, To God, my King, and his succeeding issue, Against the Duke of Herford, that appeales me: And by the grace of God, and this mine arme, To proue him (in defending of my selfe) A Traitor to my God, my King, and me, And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.

Tucket. Enter Hereford, and Harold.

Rich. Marshall: Aske yonder Knight in Armes, Both who he is, and why he commeth hither, Thus placed in habiliments of warre: And formerly according to our Law Depose him in the iustice of his cause

Mar. What is thy name? and wherfore comst y hither Before King Richard in his Royall Lists? Against whom com'st thou? and what's thy quarrell? Speake like a true Knight, so defend thee heauen

Bul. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie, Am I: who ready heere do stand in Armes, To proue by heauens grace, and my bodies valour, In Lists, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolke, That he's a Traitor foule, and dangerous, To God of heauen, King Richard, and to me, And as I truly fight, defend me heauen

Mar. On paine of death, no person be so bold, Or daring hardie as to touch the Listes, Except the Marshall, and such Officers Appointed to direct these faire designes

Bul. Lord Marshall, let me kisse my Soueraigns hand, And bow my knee before his Maiestie: For Mowbray and my selfe are like two men, That vow a long and weary pilgrimage, Then let vs take a ceremonious leaue And louing farwell of our seuerall friends

Mar. The Appealant in all duty greets your Highnes, And craues to kisse your hand, and take his leaue

Rich. We will descend, and fold him in our armes. Cosin of Herford, as thy cause is iust, So be thy fortune in this Royall fight: Farewell, my blood, which if to day thou shead, Lament we may, but not reuenge thee dead

Bull. Oh let no noble eye prophane a teare For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbrayes speare: As confident, as is the Falcons flight Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. My louing Lord, I take my leaue of you, Of you (my Noble Cosin) Lord Aumerle; Not sicke, although I haue to do with death, But lustie, yong, and cheerely drawing breath. Loe, as at English Feasts, so I regreete The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. Oh thou the earthy author of my blood, Whose youthfull spirit in me regenerate, Doth with a two-fold rigor lift mee vp To reach at victory aboue my head, Adde proofe vnto mine Armour with thy prayres, And with thy blessings steele my Lances point, That it may enter Mowbrayes waxen Coate, And furnish new the name of Iohn a Gaunt, Euen in the lusty hauiour of his sonne

Gaunt. Heauen in thy good cause make thee prosp'rous Be swift like lightning in the execution, And let thy blowes doubly redoubled, Fall like amazing thunder on the Caske Of thy amaz'd pernicious enemy. Rouze vp thy youthfull blood, be valiant, and liue

Bul. Mine innocence, and S[aint]. George to thriue

Mow. How euer heauen or fortune cast my lot, There liues, or dies, true to Kings Richards Throne, A loyall, iust, and vpright Gentleman: Neuer did Captiue with a freer heart, Cast off his chaines of bondage, and embrace His golden vncontroul'd enfranchisement, More then my dancing soule doth celebrate This Feast of Battell, with mine Aduersarie. Most mighty Liege, and my companion Peeres, Take from my mouth, the wish of happy yeares, As gentle, and as iocond, as to iest, Go I to fight: Truth, hath a quiet brest

Rich. Farewell, my Lord, securely I espy Vertue with Valour, couched in thine eye: Order the triall Marshall, and begin

Mar. Harrie of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receiue thy Launce, and heauen defend thy right

Bul. Strong as a towre in hope, I cry Amen

Mar. Go beare this Lance to Thomas D[uke]. of Norfolke

1.Har. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie, Stands heere for God, his Soueraigne, and himselfe, On paine to be found false, and recreant, To proue the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray, A Traitor to his God, his King, and him, And dares him to set forwards to the fight

2.Har. Here standeth Tho[mas]: Mowbray Duke of Norfolk On paine to be found false and recreant, Both to defend himselfe, and to approue Henry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby, To God, his Soueraigne, and to him disloyall: Couragiously, and with a free desire Attending but the signall to begin.

A charge sounded

Mar. Sound Trumpets, and set forward Combatants: Stay, the King hath throwne his Warder downe

Rich. Let them lay by their Helmets & their Speares, And both returne backe to their Chaires againe: Withdraw with vs, and let the Trumpets sound, While we returne these Dukes what we decree.

A long Flourish.

Draw neere and list What with our Councell we haue done. For that our kingdomes earth should not be soyld With that deere blood which it hath fostered, And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect Of ciuill wounds plowgh'd vp with neighbors swords, Which so rouz'd vp with boystrous vntun'd drummes, With harsh resounding Trumpets dreadfull bray, And grating shocke of wrathfull yron Armes, Might from our quiet Confines fright faire peace, And make vs wade euen in our kindreds blood: Therefore, we banish you our Territories. You Cosin Herford, vpon paine of death, Till twice fiue Summers haue enrich'd our fields, Shall not regreet our faire dominions, But treade the stranger pathes of banishment

Bul. Your will be done: This must my comfort be, That Sun that warmes you heere, shall shine on me: And those his golden beames to you heere lent, Shall point on me, and gild my banishment

Rich. Norfolke: for thee remaines a heauier dombe, Which I with some vnwillingnesse pronounce, The slye slow houres shall not determinate The datelesse limit of thy deere exile: The hopelesse word, of Neuer to returne, Breath I against thee, vpon paine of life

Mow. A heauy sentence, my most Soueraigne Liege, And all vnlook'd for from your Highnesse mouth: A deerer merit, not so deepe a maime, As to be cast forth in the common ayre Haue I deserued at your Highnesse hands. The Language I haue learn'd these forty yeares (My natiue English) now I must forgo, And now my tongues vse is to me no more, Then an vnstringed Vyall, or a Harpe, Or like a cunning Instrument cas'd vp, Or being open, put into his hands That knowes no touch to tune the harmony. Within my mouth you haue engaol'd my tongue, Doubly percullist with my teeth and lippes, And dull, vnfeeling, barren ignorance, Is made my Gaoler to attend on me: I am too old to fawne vpon a Nurse, Too farre in yeeres to be a pupill now: What is thy sentence then, but speechlesse death, Which robs my tongue from breathing natiue breath? Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate, After our sentence, plaining comes too late

Mow. Then thus I turne me from my countries light To dwell in solemne shades of endlesse night

Ric. Returne againe, and take an oath with thee, Lay on our Royall sword, your banisht hands; Sweare by the duty that you owe to heauen (Our part therein we banish with your selues) To keepe the Oath that we administer: You neuer shall (so helpe you Truth, and Heauen) Embrace each others loue in banishment, Nor euer looke vpon each others face, Nor euer write, regreete, or reconcile This lowring tempest of your home-bred hate, Nor euer by aduised purpose meete, To plot, contriue, or complot any ill, 'Gainst Vs, our State, our Subiects, or our Land

Bull. I sweare

Mow. And I, to keepe all this

Bul. Norfolke, so fare, as to mine enemie, By this time (had the King permitted vs) One of our soules had wandred in the ayre, Banish'd this fraile sepulchre of our flesh, As now our flesh is banish'd from this Land. Confesse thy Treasons, ere thou flye this Realme, Since thou hast farre to go, beare not along The clogging burthen of a guilty soule

Mow. No Bullingbroke: If euer I were Traitor, My name be blotted from the booke of Life, And I from heauen banish'd, as from hence: But what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know, And all too soone (I feare) the King shall rue. Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray, Saue backe to England, all the worlds my way. Enter.

Rich. Vncle, euen in the glasses of thine eyes I see thy greeued heart: thy sad aspect, Hath from the number of his banish'd yeares Pluck'd foure away: Six frozen Winters spent, Returne with welcome home, from banishment

Bul. How long a time lyes in one little word: Foure lagging Winters, and foure wanton springs End in a word, such is the breath of Kings

Gaunt. I thanke my Liege, that in regard of me He shortens foure yeares of my sonnes exile: But little vantage shall I reape thereby. For ere the sixe yeares that he hath to spend Can change their Moones, and bring their times about, My oyle-dride Lampe, and time-bewasted light Shall be extinct with age, and endlesse night: My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done, And blindfold death, not let me see my sonne

Rich. Why Vncle, thou hast many yeeres to liue

Gaunt. But not a minute (King) that thou canst giue; Shorten my dayes thou canst with sudden sorow, And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow: Thou canst helpe time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage: Thy word is currant with him, for my death, But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath

Ric. Thy sonne is banish'd vpon good aduice, Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gaue, Why at our Iustice seem'st thou then to lowre? Gau. Things sweet to tast, proue in digestion sowre: You vrg'd me as a Iudge, but I had rather You would haue bid me argue like a Father. Alas, I look'd when some of you should say, I was too strict to make mine owne away: But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tong, Against my will, to do my selfe this wrong

Rich. Cosine farewell: and Vncle bid him so: Six yeares we banish him, and he shall go. Enter.

Flourish.

Au. Cosine farewell: what presence must not know From where you do remaine, let paper show

Mar. My Lord, no leaue take I, for I will ride As farre as land will let me, by your side

Gaunt. Oh to what purpose dost thou hord thy words, That thou returnst no greeting to thy friends? Bull. I haue too few to take my leaue of you, When the tongues office should be prodigall, To breath th' abundant dolour of the heart

Gau. Thy greefe is but thy absence for a time

Bull. Ioy absent, greefe is present for that time

Gau. What is sixe Winters, they are quickely gone? Bul. To men in ioy, but greefe makes one houre ten

Gau. Call it a trauell that thou tak'st for pleasure

Bul. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so, Which findes it an inforced Pilgrimage

Gau. The sullen passage of thy weary steppes Esteeme a soyle, wherein thou art to set The precious Iewell of thy home returne

Bul. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frostie Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare imagination of a Feast? Or Wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantasticke summers heate? Oh no, the apprehension of the good Giues but the greater feeling to the worse: Fell sorrowes tooth, doth euer ranckle more Then when it bites, but lanceth not the sore

Gau. Come, come (my son) Ile bring thee on thy way Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay

Bul. Then Englands ground farewell: sweet soil adieu, My Mother, and my Nurse, which beares me yet: Where ere I wander, boast of this I can, Though banish'd, yet a true-borne Englishman.

Scoena Quarta.

Enter King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot.

Rich. We did obserue. Cosine Aumerle, How far brought you high Herford on his way? Aum. I brought high Herford (if you call him so) But to the next high way, and there I left him

Rich. And say, what store of parting tears were shed? Aum. Faith none for me: except the Northeast wind Which then grew bitterly against our face, Awak'd the sleepie rhewme, and so by chance Did grace our hollow parting with a teare

Rich. What said our Cosin when you parted with him? Au. Farewell: and for my hart disdained y my tongue Should so prophane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such greefe, That word seem'd buried in my sorrowes graue. Marry, would the word Farwell, haue lengthen'd houres, And added yeeres to his short banishment, He should haue had a volume of Farwels, But since it would not, he had none of me

Rich. He is our Cosin (Cosin) but 'tis doubt, When time shall call him home from banishment, Whether our kinsman come to see his friends, Our selfe, and Bushy: heere Bagot and Greene Obseru'd his Courtship to the common people: How he did seeme to diue into their hearts, With humble, and familiar courtesie, What reuerence he did throw away on slaues; Wooing poore Craftes-men, with the craft of soules, And patient vnder-bearing of his Fortune, As 'twere to banish their affects with him. Off goes his bonnet to an Oyster-wench, A brace of Dray-men bid God speed him well, And had the tribute of his supple knee, With thankes my Countrimen, my louing friends, As were our England in reuersion his, And he our subiects next degree in hope

Gr. Well, he is gone, & with him go these thoughts: Now for the Rebels, which stand out in Ireland, Expedient manage must be made my Liege Ere further leysure, yeeld them further meanes For their aduantage, and your Highnesse losse

Ric. We will our selfe in person to this warre, And for our Coffers, with too great a Court, And liberall Largesse, are growne somewhat light, We are inforc'd to farme our royall Realme, The Reuennew whereof shall furnish vs For our affayres in hand: if that come short Our Substitutes at home shall haue Blanke-charters: Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, They shall subscribe them for large summes of Gold, And send them after to supply our wants: For we will make for Ireland presently. Enter Bushy.

Bushy, what newes? Bu. Old Iohn of Gaunt is verie sicke my Lord, Sodainly taken, and hath sent post haste To entreat your Maiesty to visit him

Ric. Where lyes he? Bu. At Ely house

Ric. Now put it (heauen) in his Physitians minde, To helpe him to his graue immediately: The lining of his coffers shall make Coates To decke our souldiers for these Irish warres. Come Gentlemen, let's all go visit him: Pray heauen we may make hast, and come too late. Enter.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Gaunt, sicke with Yorke.

Gau. Will the King come, that I may breath my last In wholsome counsell to his vnstaid youth? Yor. Vex not your selfe, nor striue not with your breth, For all in vaine comes counsell to his eare

Gau. Oh but (they say) the tongues of dying men Inforce attention like deepe harmony; Where words are scarse, they are seldome spent in vaine, For they breath truth, that breath their words in paine. He that no more must say, is listen'd more, Then they whom youth and ease haue taught to glose, More are mens ends markt, then their liues before, The setting Sun, and Musicke in the close As the last taste of sweetes, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance, more then things long past; Though Richard my liues counsell would not heare, My deaths sad tale, may yet vndeafe his eare

Yor. No, it is stopt with other flatt'ring sounds As praises of his state: then there are found Lasciuious Meeters, to whose venom sound The open eare of youth doth alwayes listen. Report of fashions in proud Italy, Whose manners still our tardie apish Nation Limpes after in base imitation. Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, So it be new, there's no respect how vile, That is not quickly buz'd into his eares? That all too late comes counsell to be heard, Where will doth mutiny with wits regard: Direct not him, whose way himselfe will choose, Tis breath thou lackst, and that breath wilt thou loose

Gaunt. Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inspir'd, And thus expiring, do foretell of him, His rash fierce blaze of Ryot cannot last, For violent fires soone burne out themselues, Small showres last long, but sodaine stormes are short, He tyres betimes, that spurs too fast betimes; With eager feeding, food doth choake the feeder: Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming meanes soone preyes vpon it selfe. This royall Throne of Kings, this sceptred Isle, This earth of Maiesty, this seate of Mars, This other Eden, demy paradise, This Fortresse built by Nature for her selfe, Against infection, and the hand of warre: This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone, set in the siluer sea, Which serues it in the office of a wall, Or as a Moate defensiue to a house, Against the enuy of lesse happier Lands, This blessed plot, this earth, this Realme, this England, This Nurse, this teeming wombe of Royall Kings, Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth, Renowned for their deeds, as farre from home, For Christian seruice, and true Chiualrie, As is the sepulcher in stubborne Iury Of the Worlds ransome, blessed Maries Sonne. This Land of such deere soules, this deere-deere Land, Deere for her reputation through the world, Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it) Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme. England bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beates backe the enuious siedge Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With Inky blottes, and rotten Parchment bonds. That England, that was wont to conquer others, Hath made a shamefull conquest of it selfe. Ah! would the scandall vanish with my life, How happy then were my ensuing death? Enter King, Queene, Aumerle, Bushy, Greene, Bagot, Ros, and Willoughby.

Yor. The King is come, deale mildly with his youth, For young hot Colts, being rag'd, do rage the more

Qu. How fares our noble Vncle Lancaster? Ri. What comfort man? How ist with aged Gaunt? Ga. Oh how that name befits my composition: Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old: Within me greefe hath kept a tedious fast, And who abstaynes from meate, that is not gaunt? For sleeping England long time haue I watcht, Watching breeds leannesse, leannesse is all gaunt. The pleasure that some Fathers feede vpon, Is my strict fast, I meane my Childrens lookes, And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt: Gaunt am I for the graue, gaunt as a graue, Whose hollow wombe inherits naught but bones

Ric. Can sicke men play so nicely with their names? Gau. No, misery makes sport to mocke it selfe: Since thou dost seeke to kill my name in mee, I mocke my name (great King) to flatter thee

Ric. Should dying men flatter those that liue? Gau. No, no, men liuing flatter those that dye

Rich. Thou now a dying, sayst thou flatter'st me

Gau. Oh no, thou dyest, though I the sicker be

Rich. I am in health, I breath, I see thee ill

Gau. Now he that made me, knowes I see thee ill: Ill in my selfe to see, and in thee, seeing ill, Thy death-bed is no lesser then the Land, Wherein thou lyest in reputation sicke, And thou too care-lesse patient as thou art, Commit'st thy 'anointed body to the cure Of those Physitians, that first wounded thee. A thousand flatterers sit within thy Crowne, Whose compasse is no bigger then thy head, And yet incaged in so small a Verge, The waste is no whit lesser then thy Land: Oh had thy Grandsire with a Prophets eye, Seene how his sonnes sonne, should destroy his sonnes, From forth thy reach he would haue laid thy shame, Deposing thee before thou wert possest, Which art possest now to depose thy selfe. Why (Cosine) were thou Regent of the world, It were a shame to let his Land by lease: But for thy world enioying but this Land, Is it not more then shame, to shame it so? Landlord of England art thou, and not King: Thy state of Law, is bondslaue to the law, And- Rich. And thou, a lunaticke leane-witted foole, Presuming on an Agues priuiledge, Dar'st with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheeke, chasing the Royall blood With fury, from his natiue residence? Now by my Seates right Royall Maiestie, Wer't thou not Brother to great Edwards sonne, This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head, Should run thy head from thy vnreuerent shoulders

Gau. Oh spare me not, my brothers Edwards sonne, For that I was his Father Edwards sonne: That blood already (like the Pellican) Thou hast tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd. My brother Gloucester, plaine well meaning soule (Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongst happy soules) May be a president, and witnesse good, That thou respect'st not spilling Edwards blood: Ioyne with the present sicknesse that I haue, And thy vnkindnesse be like crooked age, To crop at once a too-long wither'd flowre. Liue in thy shame, but dye not shame with thee, These words heereafter, thy tormentors bee. Conuey me to my bed, then to my graue, Loue they to liue, that loue and honor haue.

Exit

Rich. And let them dye, that age and sullens haue, For both hast thou, and both become the graue

Yor. I do beseech your Maiestie impute his words To wayward sicklinesse, and age in him: He loues you on my life, and holds you deere As Harry Duke of Herford, were he heere

Rich. Right, you say true: as Herfords loue, so his; As theirs, so mine: and all be as it is. Enter Northumberland.

Nor. My Liege, olde Gaunt commends him to your Maiestie

Rich. What sayes he? Nor. Nay nothing, all is said: His tongue is now a stringlesse instrument, Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent

Yor. Be Yorke the next, that must be bankrupt so, Though death be poore, it ends a mortall wo

Rich. The ripest fruit first fals, and so doth he, His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be: So much for that. Now for our Irish warres, We must supplant those rough rug-headed Kernes, Which liue like venom, where no venom else But onely they, haue priuiledge to liue. And for these great affayres do aske some charge Towards our assistance, we do seize to vs The plate, coine, reuennewes, and moueables, Whereof our Vncle Gaunt did stand possest

Yor. How long shall I be patient? Oh how long Shall tender dutie make me suffer wrong? Not Glousters death, nor Herfords banishment, Nor Gauntes rebukes, nor Englands priuate wrongs, Nor the preuention of poore Bullingbrooke, About his marriage, nor my owne disgrace Haue euer made me sowre my patient cheeke, Or bend one wrinckle on my Soueraignes face: I am the last of noble Edwards sonnes, Of whom thy Father Prince of Wales was first, In warre was neuer Lyon rag'd more fierce: In peace, was neuer gentle Lambe more milde, Then was that yong and Princely Gentleman, His face thou hast, for euen so look'd he Accomplish'd with the number of thy howers: But when he frown'd, it was against the French, And not against his friends: his noble hand Did win what he did spend: and spent not that Which his triumphant fathers hand had won: His hands were guilty of no kindreds blood, But bloody with the enemies of his kinne: Oh Richard, Yorke is too farre gone with greefe, Or else he neuer would compare betweene

Rich. Why Vncle, What's the matter? Yor. Oh my Liege, pardon me if you please, if not I pleas'd not to be pardon'd, am content with all: Seeke you to seize, and gripe into your hands The Royalties and Rights of banish'd Herford? Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Herford liue? Was not Gaunt iust? and is not Harry true? Did not the one deserue to haue an heyre? Is not his heyre a well-deseruing sonne? Take Herfords rights away, and take from time His Charters, and his customarie rights: Let not to morrow then insue to day, Be not thy selfe. For how art thou a King But by faire sequence and succession? Now afore God, God forbid I say true, If you do wrongfully seize Herfords right, Call in his Letters Patents that he hath By his Atturneyes generall, to sue His Liuerie, and denie his offer'd homage, You plucke a thousand dangers on your head, You loose a thousand well-disposed hearts, And pricke my tender patience to those thoughts Which honor and allegeance cannot thinke

Ric. Thinke what you will: we seise into our hands, His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands

Yor. Ile not be by the while: My Liege farewell, What will ensue heereof, there's none can tell. But by bad courses may be vnderstood, That their euents can neuer fall out good. Enter.

Rich. Go Bushie to the Earle of Wiltshire streight, Bid him repaire to vs to Ely house, To see this businesse: to morrow next We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow: And we create in absence of our selfe Our Vncle Yorke, Lord Gouernor of England: For he is iust, and alwayes lou'd vs well. Come on our Queene, to morrow must we part, Be merry, for our time of stay is short.

Flourish.

Manet North. Willoughby, & Ross.

Nor. Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead

Ross. And liuing too, for now his sonne is Duke

Wil. Barely in title, not in reuennew

Nor. Richly in both, if iustice had her right

Ross. My heart is great: but it must break with silence, Er't be disburthen'd with a liberall tongue

Nor. Nay speake thy mind: & let him ne'r speak more That speakes thy words againe to do thee harme

Wil. Tends that thou'dst speake to th' Du[ke]. of Hereford, If it be so, out with it boldly man, Quicke is mine eare to heare of good towards him

Ross. No good at all that I can do for him, Vnlesse you call it good to pitie him, Bereft and gelded of his patrimonie

Nor. Now afore heauen, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne. In him a royall Prince, and many moe Of noble blood in this declining Land; The King is not himselfe, but basely led By Flatterers, and what they will informe Meerely in hate 'gainst any of vs all, That will the King seuerely prosecute 'Gainst vs, our liues, our children, and our heires

Ros. The Commons hath he pil'd with greeuous taxes And quite lost their hearts: the Nobles hath he finde For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts

Wil. And daily new exactions are deuis'd, As blankes, beneuolences, and I wot not what: But what o' Gods name doth become of this? Nor. Wars hath not wasted it, for war'd he hath not. But basely yeelded vpon comprimize, That which his Ancestors atchieu'd with blowes: More hath he spent in peace, then they in warres

Ros. The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme

Wil. The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man

Nor. Reproach, and dissolution hangeth ouer him

Ros. He hath not monie for these Irish warres: (His burthenous taxations notwithstanding) But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke

Nor. His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King: But Lords, we heare this fearefull tempest sing, Yet seeke no shelter to auoid the storme: We see the winde sit sore vpon our sailes, And yet we strike not, but securely perish

Ros. We see the very wracke that we must suffer, And vnauoyded is the danger now For suffering so the causes of our wracke

Nor. Not so: euen through the hollow eyes of death, I spie life peering: but I dare not say How neere the tidings of our comfort is

Wil. Nay let vs share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours Ros. Be confident to speake Northumberland, We three, are but thy selfe, and speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold

Nor. Then thus: I haue from Port le Blan A Bay in Britaine, receiu'd intelligence, That Harry Duke of Herford, Rainald Lord Cobham, That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, His brother Archbishop, late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir Iohn Rainston, Sir Iohn Norberie, & Sir Robert Waterton, & Francis Quoint, All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine, With eight tall ships, three thousand men of warre Are making hither with all due expedience, And shortly meane to touch our Northerne shore: Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay The first departing of the King for Ireland. If then we shall shake off our slauish yoake, Impe out our drooping Countries broken wing, Redeeme from broaking pawne the blemish'd Crowne, Wipe off the dust that hides our Scepters gilt, And make high Maiestie looke like it selfe, Away with me in poste to Rauenspurgh, But if you faint, as fearing to do so, Stay, and be secret, and my selfe will go

Ros. To horse, to horse, vrge doubts to them y feare

Wil. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Queene, Bushy, and Bagot.

Bush. Madam, your Maiesty is too much sad, You promis'd when you parted with the King, To lay aside selfe-harming heauinesse, And entertaine a cheerefull disposition

Qu. To please the King, I did: to please my selfe I cannot do it: yet I know no cause Why I should welcome such a guest as greefe, Saue bidding farewell to so sweet a guest As my sweet Richard; yet againe me thinkes, Some vnborne sorrow, ripe in fortunes wombe Is comming towards me, and my inward soule With nothing trembles, at something it greeues, More then with parting from my Lord the King

Bush. Each substance of a greefe hath twenty shadows Which shewes like greefe it selfe, but is not so: For sorrowes eye, glazed with blinding teares, Diuides one thing intire, to many obiects, Like perspectiues, which rightly gaz'd vpon Shew nothing but confusion, ey'd awry, Distinguish forme: so your sweet Maiestie Looking awry vpon your Lords departure, Finde shapes of greefe, more then himselfe to waile, Which look'd on as it is, is naught but shadowes Of what it is not: then thrice-gracious Queene, More then your Lords departure weep not, more's not seene; Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrowes eie, Which for things true, weepe things imaginary

Qu. It may be so: but yet my inward soule Perswades me it is otherwise: how ere it be, I cannot but be sad: so heauy sad, As though on thinking on no thought I thinke, Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke

Bush. 'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.) Qu. 'Tis nothing lesse: conceit is still deriu'd From some fore-father greefe, mine is not so, For nothing hath begot my something greefe, Or something, hath the nothing that I greeue, 'Tis in reuersion that I do possesse, But what it is, that is not yet knowne, what I cannot name, 'tis namelesse woe I wot. Enter Greene.

Gree. Heauen saue your Maiesty, and wel met Gentlemen: I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland

Qu. Why hop'st thou so? Tis better hope he is: For his designes craue hast, his hast good hope, Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt? Gre. That he our hope, might haue retyr'd his power, and driuen into dispaire an enemies hope, Who strongly hath set footing in this Land. The banish'd Bullingbrooke repeales himselfe, And with vp-lifted Armes is safe arriu'd At Rauenspurg

Qu. Now God in heauen forbid

Gr. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse, The L[ord]. Northumberland, his yong sonne Henrie Percie, The Lords of Rosse, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powrefull friends are fled to him

Bush. Why haue you not proclaim'd Northumberland And the rest of the reuolted faction, Traitors? Gre. We haue: whereupon the Earle of Worcester Hath broke his staffe, resign'd his Stewardship, And al the houshold seruants fled with him to Bullinbrook Qu. So Greene, thou art the midwife of my woe, And Bullinbrooke my sorrowes dismall heyre: Now hath my soule brought forth her prodegie, And I a gasping new deliuered mother, Haue woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow ioyn'd

Bush. Dispaire not Madam

Qu. Who shall hinder me? I will dispaire, and be at enmitie With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer, A Parasite, a keeper backe of death, Who gently would dissolue the bands of life, Which false hopes linger in extremity. Enter Yorke.

Gre. Heere comes the Duke of Yorke

Qu. With signes of warre about his aged necke, Oh full of carefull businesse are his lookes: Vncle, for heauens sake speake comfortable words: Yor. Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth, Where nothing liues but crosses, care and greefe: Your husband he is gone to saue farre off, Whilst others come to make him loose at home: Heere am I left to vnder-prop his Land, Who weake with age, cannot support my selfe: Now comes the sicke houre that his surfet made, Now shall he try his friends that flattered him. Enter a seruant.

Ser. My Lord, your sonne was gone before I came

Yor. He was: why so: go all which way it will: The Nobles they are fled, the Commons they are cold, And will I feare reuolt on Herfords side. Sirra, get thee to Plashie to my sister Gloster, Bid her send me presently a thousand pound, Hold, take my Ring

Ser. My Lord, I had forgot To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and call'd there, But I shall greeue you to report the rest

Yor. What is't knaue? Ser. An houre before I came, the Dutchesse di'de

Yor. Heau'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes Come rushing on this wofull Land at once? I know not what to do: I would to heauen (So my vntruth had not prouok'd him to it) The King had cut off my head with my brothers. What, are there postes dispatcht for Ireland? How shall we do for money for these warres? Come sister (Cozen I would say) pray pardon me. Go fellow, get thee home, prouide some Carts, And bring away the Armour that is there. Gentlemen, will you muster men? If I know how, or which way to order these affaires Thus disorderly thrust into my hands, Neuer beleeue me. Both are my kinsmen, Th' one is my Soueraigne, whom both my oath And dutie bids defend: th' other againe Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrong'd, Whom conscience, and my kindred bids to right: Well, somewhat we must do: Come Cozen, Ile dispose of you. Gentlemen, go muster vp your men, And meet me presently at Barkley Castle: I should to Plashy too: but time will not permit, All is vneuen, and euery thing is left at six and seuen.

Exit

Bush. The winde sits faire for newes to go to Ireland, But none returnes: For vs to leuy power Proportionable to th' enemy, is all impossible

Gr. Besides our neerenesse to the King in loue, Is neere the hate of those loue not the King

Ba. And that's the wauering Commons, for their loue Lies in their purses, and who so empties them, By so much fils their hearts with deadly hate

Bush. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd Bag. If iudgement lye in them, then so do we, Because we haue beene euer neere the King

Gr. Well: I will for refuge straight to Bristoll Castle, The Earle of Wiltshire is alreadie there

Bush. Thither will I with you, for little office Will the hatefull Commons performe for vs, Except like Curres, to teare vs all in peeces: Will you go along with vs? Bag. No, I will to Ireland to his Maiestie: Farewell, if hearts presages be not vaine, We three here part, that neu'r shall meete againe

Bu. That's as Yorke thriues to beate back Bullinbroke Gr. Alas poore Duke, the taske he vndertakes Is numbring sands, and drinking Oceans drie, Where one on his side fights, thousands will flye

Bush. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and euer. Well, we may meete againe

Bag. I feare me neuer. Enter.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter the Duke of Hereford, and Northumberland.

Bul. How farre is it my Lord to Berkley now? Nor. Beleeue me noble Lord, I am a stranger heere in Gloustershire, These high wilde hilles, and rough vneeuen waies, Drawes out our miles, and makes them wearisome. And yet our faire discourse hath beene as sugar, Making the hard way sweet and delectable: But I bethinke me, what a wearie way From Rauenspurgh to Cottshold will be found, In Rosse and Willoughby, wanting your companie, Which I protest hath very much beguild The tediousnesse, and processe of my trauell: But theirs is sweetned with the hope to haue The present benefit that I possesse; And hope to ioy, is little lesse in ioy, Then hope enioy'd: By this, the wearie Lords Shall make their way seeme short, as mine hath done, By sight of what I haue, your Noble Companie

Bull. Of much lesse value is my Companie, Then your good words: but who comes here?

Enter H[arry]. Percie.

North. It is my Sonne, young Harry Percie, Sent from my Brother Worcester: Whence soeuer. Harry, how fares your Vnckle? Percie. I had thought, my Lord, to haue learn'd his health of you

North. Why, is he not with the Queene? Percie. No, my good Lord, he hath forsook the Court, Broken his Staffe of Office, and disperst The Household of the King

North. What was his reason? He was not so resolu'd, when we last spake together

Percie. Because your Lordship was proclaimed Traitor. But hee, my Lord, is gone to Rauenspurgh, To offer seruice to the Duke of Hereford, And sent me ouer by Barkely, to discouer What power the Duke of Yorke had leuied there, Then with direction to repaire to Rauenspurgh

North. Haue you forgot the Duke of Hereford (Boy.) Percie. No, my good Lord; for that is not forgot Which ne're I did remember: to my knowledge, I neuer in my life did looke on him

North. Then learne to know him now: this is the Duke

Percie. My gracious Lord, I tender you my seruice, Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young, Which elder dayes shall ripen, and confirme To more approued seruice, and desert

Bull. I thanke thee gentle Percie, and be sure I count my selfe in nothing else so happy, As in a Soule remembring my good Friends: And as my Fortune ripens with thy Loue, It shall be still thy true Loues recompence, My Heart this Couenant makes, my Hand thus seales it

North. How farre is it to Barkely? and what stirre Keepes good old Yorke there, with his Men of Warre? Percie. There stands the Castle, by yond tuft of Trees, Mann'd with three hundred men, as I haue heard, And in it are the Lords of Yorke, Barkely, and Seymor, None else of Name, and noble estimate. Enter Rosse and Willoughby.

North. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby, Bloody with spurring, fierie red with haste

Bull. Welcome my Lords, I wot your loue pursues A banisht Traytor; all my Treasurie Is yet but vnfelt thankes, which more enrich'd, Shall be your loue, and labours recompence

Ross. Your presence makes vs rich, most Noble Lord

Willo. And farre surmounts our labour to attaine it

Bull. Euermore thankes, th' Exchequer of the poore, Which till my infant-fortune comes to yeeres, Stands for my Bountie: but who comes here? Enter Barkely.

North. It is my Lord of Barkely, as I ghesse

Bark. My Lord of Hereford, my Message is to you

Bull. My Lord, my Answere is to Lancaster, And I am come to seeke that Name in England, And I must finde that Title in your Tongue, Before I make reply to aught you say

Bark. Mistake me not, my Lord, 'tis not my meaning To raze one Title of your Honor out. To you, my Lord, I come (what Lord you will) From the most glorious of this Land, The Duke of Yorke, to know what pricks you on To take aduantage of the absent time, And fright our Natiue Peace with selfe-borne Armes. Enter Yorke.

Bull. I shall not need transport my words by you, Here comes his Grace in Person. My Noble Vnckle

York. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, Whose dutie is deceiuable, and false

Bull. My gracious Vnckle

York. Tut, tut, Grace me no Grace, nor Vnckle me, I am no Traytors Vnckle; and that word Grace, In an vngracious mouth, is but prophane. Why haue these banish'd, and forbidden Legges, Dar'd once to touch a Dust of Englands Ground? But more then why, why haue they dar'd to march So many miles vpon her peacefull Bosome, Frighting her pale-fac'd Villages with Warre, And ostentation of despised Armes? Com'st thou because th' anoynted King is hence? Why foolish Boy, the King is left behind, And in my loyall Bosome lyes his power. Were I but now the Lord of such hot youth, As when braue Gaunt, thy Father, and my selfe Rescued the Black Prince, that yong Mars of men, From forth the Rankes of many thousand French: Oh then, how quickly should this Arme of mine, Now Prisoner to the Palsie, chastise thee, And minister correction to thy Fault

Bull. My gracious Vnckle, let me know my Fault, On what Condition stands it, and wherein? York. Euen in Condition of the worst degree, In grosse Rebellion, and detested Treason: Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come Before th' expiration of thy time, In brauing Armes against thy Soueraigne

Bull. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford, But as I come, I come for Lancaster. And Noble Vnckle, I beseech your Grace Looke on my Wrongs with an indifferent eye: You are my Father, for me thinkes in you I see old Gaunt aliue. Oh then my Father, Will you permit, that I shall stand condemn'd A wandring Vagabond; my Rights and Royalties Pluckt from my armes perforce, and giuen away To vpstart Vnthrifts? Wherefore was I borne? If that my Cousin King, be King of England, It must be graunted, I am Duke of Lancaster. You haue a Sonne, Aumerle, my Noble Kinsman, Had you first died, and he beene thus trod downe, He should haue found his Vnckle Gaunt a Father, To rowze his Wrongs, and chase them to the bay. I am denyde to sue my Liuerie here, And yet my Letters Patents giue me leaue: My Fathers goods are all distraynd, and sold, And these, and all, are all amisse imployd. What would you haue me doe? I am a Subiect, And challenge Law: Attorneyes are deny'd me; And therefore personally I lay my claime To my Inheritance of free Discent

North. The Noble Duke hath been too much abus'd

Ross. It stands your Grace vpon, to doe him right

Willo. Base men by his endowments are made great

York. My Lords of England, let me tell you this, I haue had feeling of my Cosens Wrongs, And labour'd all I could to doe him right: But in this kind, to come in brauing Armes, Be his owne Caruer, and cut out his way, To find out Right with Wrongs, it may not be; And you that doe abett him in this kind, Cherish Rebellion, and are Rebels all

North. The Noble Duke hath sworne his comming is But for his owne; and for the right of that, Wee all haue strongly sworne to giue him ayd, And let him neu'r see Ioy, that breakes that Oath

York. Well, well, I see the issue of these Armes, I cannot mend it, I must needes confesse, Because my power is weake, and all ill left: But if I could, by him that gaue me life, I would attach you all, and make you stoope Vnto the Soueraigne Mercy of the King. But since I cannot, be it knowne to you, I doe remaine as Neuter. So fare you well, Vnlesse you please to enter in the Castle, And there repose you for this Night

Bull. An offer Vnckle, that wee will accept: But wee must winne your Grace to goe with vs To Bristow Castle, which they say is held By Bushie, Bagot, and their Complices, The Caterpillers of the Commonwealth, Which I haue sworne to weed, and plucke away

York. It may be I will go with you: but yet Ile pawse, For I am loth to breake our Countries Lawes: Nor Friends, nor Foes, to me welcome you are, Things past redresse, are now with me past care.

Exeunt.

Scoena Quarta.

Enter Salisbury, and a Captaine.

Capt. My Lord of Salisbury, we haue stayd ten dayes, And hardly kept our Countreymen together, And yet we heare no tidings from the King; Therefore we will disperse our selues: farewell

Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trustie Welchman, The King reposeth all his confidence in thee

Capt. 'Tis thought the King is dead, we will not stay; The Bay-trees in our Countrey all are wither'd, And Meteors fright the fixed Starres of Heauen; The pale-fac'd Moone lookes bloody on the Earth, And leane-look'd Prophets whisper fearefull change; Rich men looke sad, and Ruffians dance and leape, The one in feare, to loose what they enioy, The other to enioy by Rage, and Warre: These signes fore-run the death of Kings. Farewell, our Countreymen are gone and fled, As well assur'd Richard their King is dead. Enter.

Sal. Ah Richard, with eyes of heauie mind, I see thy Glory, like a shooting Starre, Fall to the base Earth, from the Firmament: Thy Sunne sets weeping in the lowly West, Witnessing Stormes to come, Woe, and Vnrest: Thy Friends are fled, to wait vpon thy Foes, And crossely to thy good, all fortune goes. Enter.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, Northumberland, Rosse, Percie, Willoughby, with Bushie and Greene Prisoners.

Bull. Bring forth these men: Bushie and Greene, I will not vex your soules, (Since presently your soules must part your bodies) With too much vrging your pernitious liues, For 'twere no Charitie: yet to wash your blood From off my hands, here in the view of men, I will vnfold some causes of your deaths. You haue mis-led a Prince, a Royall King, A happie Gentleman in Blood, and Lineaments, By you vnhappied, and disfigur'd cleane: You haue in manner with your sinfull houres Made a Diuorce betwixt his Queene and him, Broke the possession of a Royall Bed, And stayn'd the beautie of a faire Queenes Cheekes, With teares drawn fro[m] her eyes, with your foule wrongs. My selfe a Prince, by fortune of my birth, Neere to the King in blood, and neere in loue, Till you did make him mis-interprete me, Haue stoopt my neck vnder your iniuries, And sigh'd my English breath in forraine Clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment; While you haue fed vpon my Seignories, Dis-park'd my Parkes, and fell'd my Forrest Woods; From mine owne Windowes torne my Household Coat, Raz'd out my Impresse, leauing me no signe, Saue mens opinions, and my liuing blood, To shew the World I am a Gentleman. This, and much more, much more then twice all this, Condemnes you to the death: see them deliuered ouer To execution, and the hand of death

Bushie. More welcome is the stroake of death to me, Then Bullingbrooke to England

Greene. My comfort is, that Heauen will take our soules, And plague Iniustice with the paines of Hell

Bull. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd: Vnckle, you say the Queene is at your House, For Heauens sake fairely let her be entreated, Tell her I send to her my kind commends; Take speciall care my Greetings be deliuer'd

York. A Gentleman of mine I haue dispatch'd With Letters of your loue, to her at large

Bull. Thankes gentle Vnckle: come Lords away, To fight with Glendoure, and his Complices; A while to worke, and after holliday.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Drums: Flourish, and Colours. Enter Richard, Aumerle, Carlile, and Souldiers.

Rich. Barkloughly Castle call you this at hand? Au. Yea, my Lord: how brooks your Grace the ayre, After your late tossing on the breaking Seas? Rich. Needs must I like it well: I weepe for ioy To stand vpon my Kingdome once againe. Deere Earth, I doe salute thee with my hand, Though Rebels wound thee with their Horses hoofes: As a long parted Mother with her Child, Playes fondly with her teares, and smiles in meeting; So weeping, smiling, greet I thee my Earth, And doe thee fauor with my Royall hands. Feed not thy Soueraignes Foe, my gentle Earth, Nor with thy Sweetes, comfort his rauenous sence: But let thy Spiders, that suck vp thy Venome, And heauie-gated Toades lye in their way, Doing annoyance to the trecherous feete, Which with vsurping steps doe trample thee. Yeeld stinging Nettles to mine Enemies; And when they from thy Bosome pluck a Flower, Guard it I prethee with a lurking Adder, Whose double tongue may with a mortall touch Throw death vpon thy Soueraignes Enemies. Mock not my sencelesse Coniuration, Lords; This Earth shall haue a feeling, and these Stones Proue armed Souldiers, ere her Natiue King Shall falter vnder foule Rebellious Armes

Car. Feare not my Lord, that Power that made you King Hath power to keepe you King, in spight of all

Aum. He meanes, my Lord, that we are too remisse, Whilest Bullingbrooke through our securitie, Growes strong and great, in substance and in friends

Rich. Discomfortable Cousin, knowest thou not, That when the searching Eye of Heauen is hid Behind the Globe, that lights the lower World, Then Theeues and Robbers raunge abroad vnseene, In Murthers and in Out-rage bloody here: But when from vnder this Terrestriall Ball He fires the prowd tops of the Easterne Pines, And darts his Lightning through eu'ry guiltie hole, Then Murthers, Treasons, and detested sinnes (The Cloake of Night being pluckt from off their backs) Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselues. So when this Theefe, this Traytor Bullingbrooke, Who all this while hath reuell'd in the Night, Shall see vs rising in our Throne, the East, His Treasons will sit blushing in his face, Not able to endure the sight of Day; But selfe-affrighted, tremble at his sinne. Not all the Water in the rough rude Sea Can wash the Balme from an anoynted King; The breath of worldly men cannot depose The Deputie elected by the Lord: For euery man that Bullingbrooke hath prest, To lift shrewd Steele against our Golden Crowne, Heauen for his Richard hath in heauenly pay A glorious Angell: then if Angels fight, Weake men must fall, for Heauen still guards the right. Enter Salisbury.

Welcome my Lord, how farre off lyes your Power? Salisb. Nor neere, nor farther off, my gracious Lord, Then this weake arme; discomfort guides my tongue, And bids me speake of nothing but despaire: One day too late, I feare (my Noble Lord) Hath clouded all thy happie dayes on Earth: Oh call backe Yesterday, bid Time returne, And thou shalt haue twelue thousand fighting men: To day, to day, vnhappie day too late Orethrowes thy Ioyes, Friends, Fortune, and thy State; For all the Welchmen hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bullingbrooke, disperst, and fled

Aum. Comfort my Liege, why lookes your Grace so pale? Rich. But now the blood of twentie thousand men Did triumph in my face, and they are fled, And till so much blood thither come againe, Haue I not reason to looke pale, and dead? All Soules that will be safe, flye from my side, For Time hath set a blot vpon my pride

Aum. Comfort my Liege, remember who you are

Rich. I had forgot my selfe. Am I not King? Awake thou sluggard Maiestie, thou sleepest: Is not the Kings Name fortie thousand Names? Arme, arme my Name: a punie subiect strikes At thy great glory. Looke not to the ground, Ye Fauorites of a King: are wee not high? High be our thoughts: I know my Vnckle Yorke Hath Power enough to serue our turne. But who comes here? Enter Scroope.

Scroope. More health and happinesse betide my Liege, Then can my care-tun'd tongue deliuer him

Rich. Mine eare is open, and my heart prepar'd: The worst is worldly losse, thou canst vnfold: Say, Is my Kingdome lost? why 'twas my Care: And what losse is it to be rid of Care? Striues Bullingbrooke to be as Great as wee? Greater he shall not be: If hee serue God, Wee'l serue him too, and be his Fellow so. Reuolt our Subiects? That we cannot mend, They breake their Faith to God, as well as vs: Cry Woe, Destruction, Ruine, Losse, Decay, The worst is Death, and Death will haue his day

Scroope. Glad am I, that your Highnesse is so arm'd To beare the tidings of Calamitie. Like an vnseasonable stormie day, Which make the Siluer Riuers drowne their Shores, As if the World were all dissolu'd to teares: So high, aboue his Limits, swells the Rage Of Bullingbrooke, couering your fearefull Land With hard bright Steele, and hearts harder then Steele: White Beares haue arm'd their thin and hairelesse Scalps Against thy Maiestie, and Boyes with Womens Voyces, Striue to speake bigge, and clap their female ioints In stiffe vnwieldie Armes: against thy Crowne Thy very Beads-men learne to bend their Bowes Of double fatall Eugh: against thy State Yea Distaffe-Women manage rustie Bills: Against thy Seat both young and old rebell, And all goes worse then I haue power to tell

Rich. Too well, too well thou tell'st a Tale so ill. Where is the Earle of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? What is become of Bushie? where is Greene? That they haue let the dangerous Enemie Measure our Confines with such peacefull steps? If we preuaile, their heads shall pay for it. I warrant they haue made peace with Bullingbrooke

Scroope. Peace haue they made with him indeede (my Lord.) Rich. Oh Villains, Vipers, damn'd without redemption, Dogges, easily woon to fawne on any man, Snakes in my heart blood warm'd, that sting my heart, Three Iudasses, each one thrice worse then Iudas, Would they make peace? terrible Hell make warre Vpon their spotted Soules for this Offence

Scroope. Sweet Loue (I see) changing his propertie, Turnes to the sowrest, and most deadly hate: Againe vncurse their Soules; their peace is made With Heads, and not with Hands: those whom you curse Haue felt the worst of Deaths destroying hand, And lye full low, grau'd in the hollow ground

Aum. Is Bushie, Greene, and the Earle of Wiltshire dead? Scroope. Yea, all of them at Bristow lost their heads

Aum. Where is the Duke my Father with his Power? Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man speake: Let's talke of Graues, of Wormes, and Epitaphs, Make Dust our Paper, and with Raynie eyes Write Sorrow on the Bosome of the Earth. Let's chuse Executors, and talke of Wills: And yet not so; for what can we bequeath, Saue our deposed bodies to the ground? Our Lands, our Liues, and all are Bullingbrookes, And nothing can we call our owne, but Death, And that small Modell of the barren Earth, Which serues as Paste, and Couer to our Bones: For Heauens sake let vs sit vpon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of Kings: How some haue been depos'd, some slaine in warre, Some haunted by the Ghosts they haue depos'd, Some poyson'd by their Wiues, some sleeping kill'd, All murther'd. For within the hollow Crowne That rounds the mortall Temples of a King, Keepes Death his Court, and there the Antique sits Scoffing his State, and grinning at his Pompe, Allowing him a breath, a little Scene, To Monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with lookes, Infusing him with selfe and vaine conceit, As if this Flesh, which walls about our Life, Were Brasse impregnable: and humor'd thus, Comes at the last, and with a little Pinne Bores through his Castle Walls, and farwell King. Couer your heads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemne Reuerence: throw away Respect, Tradition, Forme, and Ceremonious dutie, For you haue but mistooke me all this while: I liue with Bread like you, feele Want, Taste Griefe, need Friends: subiected thus, How can you say to me, I am a King? Carl. My Lord, wise men ne're waile their present woes, But presently preuent the wayes to waile: To feare the Foe, since feare oppresseth strength, Giues in your weakenesse, strength vnto your Foe; Feare, and be slaine, no worse can come to sight, And fight and die, is death destroying death, Where fearing, dying, payes death seruile breath

Aum. My Father hath a Power, enquire of him; And learne to make a Body of a Limbe

Rich. Thou chid'st me well: proud Bullingbrooke I come To change Blowes with thee, for our day of Doome: This ague fit of feare is ouer-blowne, An easie taske it is to winne our owne. Say Scroope, where lyes our Vnckle with his Power? Speake sweetly man, although thy lookes be sowre

Scroope. Men iudge by the complexion of the Skie The state and inclination of the day; So may you by my dull and heauie Eye: My Tongue hath but a heauier Tale to say: I play the Torturer, by small and small To lengthen out the worst, that must be spoken. Your Vnckle Yorke is ioyn'd with Bullingbrooke, And all your Northerne Castles yeelded vp, And all your Southerne Gentlemen in Armes Vpon his Faction

Rich. Thou hast said enough. Beshrew thee Cousin, which didst lead me forth Of that sweet way I was in, to despaire: What say you now? What comfort haue we now? By Heauen Ile hate him euerlastingly, That bids me be of comfort any more. Goe to Flint Castle, there Ile pine away, A King, Woes slaue, shall Kingly Woe obey: That Power I haue, discharge, and let 'em goe To eare the Land, that hath some hope to grow, For I haue none. Let no man speake againe To alter this, for counsaile is but vaine

Aum. My Liege, one word

Rich. He does me double wrong, That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. Discharge my followers: let them hence away, From Richards Night, to Bullingbrookes faire Day.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter with Drum and Colours, Bullingbrooke, Yorke, Northumberland, Attendants.

Bull. So that by this intelligence we learne The Welchmen are dispers'd, and Salisbury Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed With some few priuate friends, vpon this Coast

North. The newes is very faire and good, my Lord, Richard, not farre from hence, hath hid his head

York. It would beseeme the Lord Northumberland, To say King Richard: alack the heauie day, When such a sacred King should hide his head

North. Your Grace mistakes: onely to be briefe, Left I his Title out

York. The time hath beene, Would you haue beene so briefe with him, he would Haue beene so briefe with you, to shorten you, For taking so the Head, your whole heads length

Bull. Mistake not (Vnckle) farther then you should

York. Take not (good Cousin) farther then you should. Least you mistake the Heauens are ore your head

Bull. I know it (Vnckle) and oppose not my selfe Against their will. But who comes here? Enter Percie.

Welcome Harry: what, will not this Castle yeeld? Per. The Castle royally is mann'd, my Lord, Against thy entrance

Bull. Royally? Why, it containes no King? Per. Yes (my good Lord) It doth containe a King: King Richard lyes Within the limits of yond Lime and Stone, And with him, the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, Sir Stephen Scroope, besides a Clergie man Of holy reuerence; who, I cannot learne

North. Oh, belike it is the Bishop of Carlile

Bull. Noble Lord, Goe to the rude Ribs of that ancient Castle, Through Brazen Trumpet send the breath of Parle Into his ruin'd Eares, and thus deliuer: Henry Bullingbrooke vpon his knees doth kisse King Richards hand, and sends allegeance And true faith of heart to his Royall Person: hither come Euen at his feet, to lay my Armes and Power, Prouided, that my Banishment repeal'd, And Lands restor'd againe, be freely graunted: If not, Ile vse th 'aduantage of my Power, And lay the Summers dust with showers of blood, Rayn'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen; The which, how farre off from the mind of Bullingbrooke It is, such Crimson Tempest should bedrench The fresh greene Lap of faire King Richards Land, My stooping dutie tenderly shall shew. Goe signifie as much, while here we march Vpon the Grassie Carpet of this Plaine: Let's march without the noyse of threatning Drum, That from this Castles tatter'd Battlements Our faire Appointments may be well perus'd. Me thinkes King Richard and my selfe should meet With no lesse terror then the Elements Of Fire and Water, when their thundring smoake At meeting teares the cloudie Cheekes of Heauen: Be he the fire, Ile be the yeelding Water; The Rage be his, while on the Earth I raine My Waters on the Earth, and not on him. March on, and marke King Richard how he lookes.

Parle without, and answere within: then a Flourish. Enter on the Walls, Richard, Carlile, Aumerle, Scroop, Salisbury.

See, see, King Richard doth himselfe appeare As doth the blushing discontented Sunne, From out the fierie Portall of the East, When he perceiues the enuious Clouds are bent To dimme his glory, and to staine the tract Of his bright passage to the Occident

York. Yet lookes he like a King: behold his Eye (As bright as is the Eagles) lightens forth Controlling Maiestie: alack, alack, for woe, That any harme should staine so faire a shew

Rich. Wee are amaz'd, and thus long haue we stood To watch the fearefull bending of thy knee, Because we thought our selfe thy lawfull King: And if we be, how dare thy ioynts forget To pay their awfull dutie to our presence? If we be not, shew vs the Hand of God, That hath dismiss'd vs from our Stewardship, For well wee know, no Hand of Blood and Bone Can gripe the sacred Handle of our Scepter, Vnlesse he doe prophane, steale, or vsurpe. And though you thinke, that all, as you haue done, Haue torne their Soules, by turning them from vs, And we are barren, and bereft of Friends: Yet know, my Master, God Omnipotent, Is mustring in his Clouds, on our behalfe, Armies of Pestilence, and they shall strike Your Children yet vnborne, and vnbegot, That lift your Vassall Hands against my Head, And threat the Glory of my precious Crowne. Tell Bullingbrooke, for yond me thinkes he is, That euery stride he makes vpon my Land, Is dangerous Treason: He is come to ope The purple Testament of bleeding Warre; But ere the Crowne he lookes for, liue in peace, Ten thousand bloody crownes of Mothers Sonnes Shall ill become the flower of Englands face, Change the complexion of her Maid-pale Peace To Scarlet Indignation, and bedew Her Pastors Grasse with faithfull English Blood

North. The King of Heauen forbid our Lord the King Should so with ciuill and vnciuill Armes Be rush'd vpon: Thy thrice-noble Cousin, Harry Bullingbrooke, doth humbly kisse thy hand, And by the Honorable Tombe he sweares, That stands vpon your Royall Grandsires Bones, And by the Royalties of both your Bloods, (Currents that spring from one most gracious Head) And by the buried Hand of Warlike Gaunt, And by the Worth and Honor of himselfe, Comprising all that may be sworne, or said, His comming hither hath no further scope, Then for his Lineall Royalties, and to begge Infranchisement immediate on his knees: Which on thy Royall partie graunted once, His glittering Armes he will commend to Rust, His barbed Steedes to Stables, and his heart To faithfull seruice of your Maiestie: This sweares he, as he is a Prince, is iust, And as I am a Gentleman, I credit him

Rich. Northumberland, say thus: The King returnes, His Noble Cousin is right welcome hither, And all the number of his faire demands Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction: With all the gracious vtterance thou hast, Speake to his gentle hearing kind commends. We doe debase our selfe (Cousin) doe we not, To looke so poorely, and to speake so faire? Shall we call back Northumberland, and send Defiance to the Traytor, and so die? Aum. No, good my Lord, let's fight with gentle words, Till time lend friends, and friends their helpeful Swords

Rich. Oh God, oh God, that ere this tongue of mine, That layd the Sentence of dread Banishment On yond prowd man, should take it off againe With words of sooth: Oh that I were as great As is my Griefe, or lesser then my Name, Or that I could forget what I haue beene, Or not remember what I must be now: Swell'st thou prowd heart? Ile giue thee scope to beat, Since Foes haue scope to beat both thee and me

Aum. Northumberland comes backe from Bullingbrooke

Rich. What must the King doe now? must he submit? The King shall doe it: Must he be depos'd? The King shall be contented: Must he loose The Name of King? o' Gods Name let it goe. Ile giue my Iewels for a sett of Beades, My gorgeous Pallace, for a Hermitage, My gay Apparrell, for an Almes-mans Gowne, My figur'd Goblets, for a Dish of Wood, My Scepter, for a Palmers walking Staffe, My Subiects, for a payre of carued Saints, And my large Kingdome, for a little Graue, A little little Graue, an obscure Graue. Or Ile be buryed in the Kings high-way, Some way of common Trade, where Subiects feet May howrely trample on their Soueraignes Head: For on my heart they tread now, whilest I liue; And buryed once, why not vpon my Head? Aumerle, thou weep'st (my tender-hearted Cousin) Wee'le make foule Weather with despised Teares: Our sighes, and they, shall lodge the Summer Corne, And make a Dearth in this reuolting Land. Or shall we play the Wantons with our Woes, And make some prettie Match, with shedding Teares? As thus: to drop them still vpon one place, Till they haue fretted vs a payre of Graues, Within the Earth: and therein lay'd, there lyes Two Kinsmen, digg'd their Graues with weeping Eyes? Would not this ill, doe well? Well, well, I see I talke but idly, and you mock at mee. Most mightie Prince, my Lord Northumberland, What sayes King Bullingbrooke? Will his Maiestie Giue Richard leaue to liue, till Richard die? You make a Legge, and Bullingbrooke sayes I

North. My Lord, in the base Court he doth attend To speake with you, may it please you to come downe

Rich. Downe, downe I come, like glist'ring Phaeton, Wanting the manage of vnruly Iades. In the base Court? base Court, where Kings grow base, To come at Traytors Calls, and doe them Grace. In the base Court come down: down Court, down King, For night-Owls shrike, where mou[n]ting Larks should sing

Bull. What sayes his Maiestie? North. Sorrow, and griefe of heart Makes him speake fondly, like a frantick man: Yet he is come

Bull. Stand all apart, And shew faire dutie to his Maiestie. My gracious Lord

Rich. Faire Cousin, You debase your Princely Knee, To make the base Earth prowd with kissing it. Me rather had, my Heart might feele your Loue, Then my vnpleas'd Eye see your Courtesie. Vp Cousin, vp, your Heart is vp, I know, Thus high at least, although your Knee be low

Bull. My gracious Lord, I come but for mine owne

Rich. Your owne is yours, and I am yours, and all

Bull. So farre be mine, my most redoubted Lord, As my true seruice shall deserue your loue

Rich. Well you deseru'd: They well deserue to haue, That know the strong'st, and surest way to get. Vnckle giue me your Hand: nay, drie your Eyes, Teares shew their Loue, but want their Remedies. Cousin, I am too young to be your Father, Though you are old enough to be my Heire. What you will haue, Ile giue, and willing to, For doe we must, what force will haue vs doe. Set on towards London: Cousin, is it so? Bull. Yea, my good Lord

Rich. Then I must not say, no.

Flourish.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter the Queene, and two Ladies

Qu. What sport shall we deuise here in this Garden, To driue away the heauie thought of Care? La. Madame, wee'le play at Bowles

Qu. 'Twill make me thinke the World is full of Rubs, And that my fortune runnes against the Byas

La. Madame, wee'le Dance

Qu. My Legges can keepe no measure in Delight, When my poore Heart no measure keepes in Griefe. Therefore no Dancing (Girle) some other sport

La. Madame, wee'le tell Tales

Qu. Of Sorrow, or of Griefe? La. Of eyther, Madame

Qu. Of neyther, Girle. For if of Ioy, being altogether wanting, It doth remember me the more of Sorrow: Or if of Griefe, being altogether had, It addes more Sorrow to my want of Ioy: For what I haue, I need not to repeat; And what I want, it bootes not to complaine

La. Madame, Ile sing

Qu. 'Tis well that thou hast cause: But thou should'st please me better, would'st thou weepe

La. I could weepe, Madame, would it doe you good

Qu. And I could sing, would weeping doe me good, And neuer borrow any Teare of thee. Enter a Gardiner, and two Seruants.

But stay, here comes the Gardiners, Let's step into the shadow of these Trees. My wretchednesse, vnto a Rowe of Pinnes, They'le talke of State: for euery one doth so, Against a Change; Woe is fore-runne with Woe

Gard. Goe binde thou vp yond dangling Apricocks, Which like vnruly Children, make their Syre Stoupe with oppression of their prodigall weight: Giue some supportance to the bending twigges. Goe thou, and like an Executioner Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprayes, That looke too loftie in our Common-wealth: All must be euen, in our Gouernment. You thus imploy'd, I will goe root away The noysome Weedes, that without profit sucke The Soyles fertilitie from wholesome flowers

Ser. Why should we, in the compasse of a Pale, Keepe Law and Forme, and due Proportion, Shewing as in a Modell our firme Estate? When our Sea-walled Garden, the whole Land, Is full of Weedes, her fairest Flowers choakt vp, Her Fruit-trees all vnpruin'd, her Hedges ruin'd, Her Knots disorder'd, and her wholesome Hearbes Swarming with Caterpillers

Gard. Hold thy peace. He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd Spring, Hath now himselfe met with the Fall of Leafe. The Weeds that his broad-spreading Leaues did shelter, That seem'd, in eating him, to hold him vp, Are pull'd vp, Root and all, by Bullingbrooke: I meane, the Earle of Wiltshire, Bushie, Greene

Ser. What are they dead? Gard. They are, And Bullingbrooke hath seiz'd the wastefull King. Oh, what pitty is it, that he had not so trim'd And drest his Land, as we this Garden, at time of yeare, And wound the Barke, the skin of our Fruit-trees, Least being ouer-proud with Sap and Blood, With too much riches it confound it selfe? Had he done so, to great and growing men, They might haue liu'd to beare, and he to taste Their fruites of dutie. Superfluous branches We lop away, that bearing boughes may liue: Had he done so, himselfe had borne the Crowne, Which waste and idle houres, hath quite thrown downe

Ser. What thinke you the King shall be depos'd? Gar. Deprest he is already, and depos'd 'Tis doubted he will be. Letters came last night To a deere Friend of the Duke of Yorkes, That tell blacke tydings

Qu. Oh I am prest to death through want of speaking: Thou old Adams likenesse, set to dresse this Garden: How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this vnpleasing newes What Eue? what Serpent hath suggested thee, To make a second fall of cursed man? Why do'st thou say, King Richard is depos'd, Dar'st thou, thou little better thing then earth, Diuine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how Cam'st thou by this ill-tydings? Speake thou wretch

Gard. Pardon me Madam. Little ioy haue I To breath these newes; yet what I say, is true; King Richard, he is in the mighty hold Of Bullingbrooke, their Fortunes both are weigh'd: In your Lords Scale, is nothing but himselfe, And some few Vanities, that make him light: But in the Ballance of great Bullingbrooke, Besides himselfe, are all the English Peeres, And with that oddes he weighes King Richard downe. Poste you to London, and you'l finde it so, I speake no more, then euery one doth know

Qu. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foote, Doth not thy Embassage belong to me? And am I last that knowes it? Oh thou think'st To serue me last, that I may longest keepe Thy sorrow in my breast. Come Ladies goe, To meet at London, Londons King in woe. What was I borne to this: that my sad looke, Should grace the Triumph of great Bullingbrooke. Gard'ner, for telling me this newes of woe, I would the Plants thou graft'st, may neuer grow. Enter.

G. Poore Queen, so that thy State might be no worse, I would my skill were subiect to thy curse: Heere did she drop a teare, heere in this place Ile set a Banke of Rew, sowre Herbe of Grace: Rue, eu'n for ruth, heere shortly shall be seene, In the remembrance of a Weeping Queene. Enter.

Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter as to the Parliament, Bullingbrooke, Aumerle, Northumberland, Percie, FitzWater, Surrey, Carlile, Abbot of Westminster. Herauld, Officers, and Bagot.

Bullingbrooke. Call forth Bagot. Now Bagot, freely speake thy minde, What thou do'st know of Noble Glousters death: Who wrought it with the King, and who perform'd The bloody Office of his Timelesse end

Bag. Then set before my face, the Lord Aumerle

Bul. Cosin, stand forth, and looke vpon that man

Bag. My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Scornes to vnsay, what it hath once deliuer'd. In that dead time, when Glousters death was plotted, I heard you say, Is not my arme of length, That reacheth from the restfull English Court As farre as Callis, to my Vnkles head. Amongst much other talke, that very time, I heard you say, that you had rather refuse The offer of an hundred thousand Crownes, Then Bullingbrookes returne to England; adding withall, How blest this Land would be, in this your Cosins death

Aum. Princes, and Noble Lords: What answer shall I make to this base man? Shall I so much dishonor my faire Starres, On equall termes to giue him chasticement? Either I must, or haue mine honor soyl'd With th' Attaindor of his sland'rous Lippes. There is my Gage, the manuall Seale of death That markes thee out for Hell. Thou lyest, And will maintaine what thou hast said, is false, In thy heart blood, though being all too base To staine the temper of my Knightly sword

Bul. Bagot forbeare, thou shalt not take it vp

Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best In all this presence, that hath mou'd me so

Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathize: There is my Gage, Aumerle, in Gage to thine: By that faire Sunne, that shewes me where thou stand'st, I heard thee say (and vauntingly thou spak'st it) That thou wer't cause of Noble Glousters death. If thou deniest it, twenty times thou lyest, And I will turne thy falshood to thy hart, Where it was forged with my Rapiers point

Aum. Thou dar'st not (Coward) liue to see the day

Fitz. Now by my Soule, I would it were this houre

Aum. Fitzwater thou art damn'd to hell for this

Per. Aumerle, thou lye'st: his Honor is as true In this Appeale, as thou art all vniust: And that thou art so, there I throw my Gage To proue it on thee, to th' extreamest point Of mortall breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'st

Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off, And neuer brandish more reuengefull Steele, Ouer the glittering Helmet of my Foe

Surrey. My Lord Fitzwater: I do remember well, the very time Aumerle, and you did talke

Fitz. My Lord, 'Tis very true: You were in presence then, And you can witnesse with me, this is true

Surrey. As false, by heauen, As Heauen it selfe is true

Fitz. Surrey, thou Lyest

Surrey. Dishonourable Boy; That Lye, shall lie so heauy on my Sword, That it shall render Vengeance, and Reuenge, Till thou the Lye-giuer, and that Lye, doe lye In earth as quiet, as thy Fathers Scull. In proofe whereof, there is mine Honors pawne, Engage it to the Triall, if thou dar'st

Fitzw. How fondly do'st thou spurre a forward Horse? If I dare eate, or drinke, or breathe, or liue, I dare meete Surrey in a Wildernesse, And spit vpon him, whilest I say he Lyes, And Lyes, and Lyes: there is my Bond of Faith, To tye thee to my strong Correction. As I intend to thriue in this new World, Aumerle is guiltie of my true Appeale. Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolke say, That thou Aumerle didst send two of thy men, To execute the Noble Duke at Callis

Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a Gage, That Norfolke lyes: here doe I throw downe this, If he may be repeal'd, to trie his Honor

Bull. These differences shall all rest vnder Gage, Till Norfolke be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be; And (though mine Enemie) restor'd againe To all his Lands and Seignories: when hee's return'd, Against Aumerle we will enforce his Tryall

Carl. That honorable day shall ne're be seene. Many a time hath banish'd Norfolke fought For Iesu Christ, in glorious Christian field Streaming the Ensigne of the Christian Crosse, Against black Pagans, Turkes, and Saracens: And toyl'd with workes of Warre, retyr'd himselfe To Italy, and there at Venice gaue His Body to that pleasant Countries Earth, And his pure Soule vnto his Captaine Christ, Vnder whose Colours he had fought so long

Bull. Why Bishop, is Norfolke dead? Carl. As sure as I liue, my Lord

Bull. Sweet peace conduct his sweet Soule To the Bosome of good old Abraham. Lords Appealants, your differe[n]ces shal all rest vnder gage, Till we assigne you to your dayes of Tryall. Enter Yorke.

Yorke. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee From plume-pluckt Richard, who with willing Soule Adopts thee Heire, and his high Scepter yeelds To the possession of thy Royall Hand. Ascend his Throne, descending now from him, And long liue Henry, of that Name the Fourth

Bull. In Gods Name, Ile ascend the Regall Throne

Carl. Mary, Heauen forbid. Worst in this Royall Presence may I speake, Yet best beseeming me to speake the truth. Would God, that any in this Noble Presence Were enough Noble, to be vpright Iudge Of Noble Richard: then true Noblenesse would Learne him forbearance from so foule a Wrong. What Subiect can giue Sentence on his King? And who sits here, that is not Richards Subiect? Theeues are not iudg'd, but they are by to heare, Although apparant guilt be seene in them: And shall the figure of Gods Maiestie, His Captaine, Steward, Deputie elect, Anoynted, Crown'd, planted many yeeres, Be iudg'd by subiect, and inferior breathe, And he himselfe not present? Oh, forbid it, God, That in a Christian Climate, Soules refin'de Should shew so heynous, black, obscene a deed. I speake to Subiects, and a Subiect speakes, Stirr'd vp by Heauen, thus boldly for his King My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call King, Is a foule Traytor to prowd Herefords King. And if you Crowne him, let me prophecie, The blood of English shall manure the ground, And future Ages groane for his foule Act. Peace shall goe sleepe with Turkes and Infidels, And in this Seat of Peace, tumultuous Warres Shall Kinne with Kinne, and Kinde with Kinde confound. Disorder, Horror, Feare, and Mutinie Shall here inhabite, and this Land be call'd The field of Golgotha, and dead mens Sculls. Oh, if you reare this House, against this House It will the wofullest Diuision proue, That euer fell vpon this cursed Earth. Preuent it, resist it, and let it not be so, Least Child, Childs Children cry against you, Woe

North. Well haue you argu'd Sir: and for your paines, Of Capitall Treason we arrest you here. My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge, To keepe him safely, till his day of Tryall. May it please you, Lords, to grant the Commons Suit? Bull. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view He may surrender: so we shall proceede Without suspition

Yorke. I will be his Conduct. Enter.

Bull. Lords, you that here are vnder our Arrest, Procure your Sureties for your Dayes of Answer: Little are we beholding to your Loue, And little look'd for at your helping Hands. Enter Richard and Yorke.

Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a King, Before I haue shooke off the Regall thoughts Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet haue learn'd To insinuate, flatter, bowe, and bend my Knee. Giue Sorrow leaue a while, to tuture me To this submission. Yet I well remember The fauors of these men: were they not mine? Did they not sometime cry, All hayle to me? So Iudas did to Christ: but he in twelue, Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelue thousand, none. God saue the King: will no man say, Amen? Am I both Priest, and Clarke? well then, Amen. God saue the King, although I be not hee: And yet Amen, if Heauen doe thinke him mee. To doe what seruice, am I sent for hither? Yorke. To doe that office of thine owne good will, Which tyred Maiestie did make thee offer: The Resignation of thy State and Crowne To Henry Bullingbrooke

Rich. Giue me the Crown. Here Cousin, seize y Crown: Here Cousin, on this side my Hand, on that side thine. Now is this Golden Crowne like a deepe Well, That owes two Buckets, filling one another, The emptier euer dancing in the ayre, The other downe, vnseene, and full of Water: That Bucket downe, and full of Teares am I, Drinking my Griefes, whil'st you mount vp on high

Bull. I thought you had been willing to resigne

Rich. My Crowne I am, but still my Griefes are mine: You may my Glories and my State depose, But not my Griefes; still am I King of those

Bull. Part of your Cares you giue me with your Crowne

Rich. Your Cares set vp, do not pluck my Cares downe. My Care, is losse of Care, by old Care done, Your Care, is gaine of Care, by new Care wonne: The Cares I giue, I haue, though giuen away, They 'tend the Crowne, yet still with me they stay: Bull. Are you contented to resigne the Crowne? Rich. I, no; no, I: for I must nothing bee: Therefore no, no, for I resigne to thee. Now, marke me how I will vndoe my selfe. I giue this heauie Weight from off my Head, And this vnwieldie Scepter from my Hand, The pride of Kingly sway from out my Heart. With mine owne Teares I wash away my Balme, With mine owne Hands I giue away my Crowne, With mine owne Tongue denie my Sacred State, With mine owne Breath release all dutious Oathes; All Pompe and Maiestie I doe forsweare: My Manors, Rents, Reuenues, I forgoe; My Acts, Decrees, and Statutes I denie: God pardon all Oathes that are broke to mee, God keepe all Vowes vnbroke are made to thee. Make me that nothing haue, with nothing grieu'd, And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all atchieu'd. Long may'st thou liue in Richards Seat to sit, And soone lye Richard in an Earthie Pit. God saue King Henry, vn-King'd Richard sayes, And send him many yeeres of Sunne-shine dayes. What more remaines? North. No more: but that you reade These Accusations, and these grieuous Crymes, Committed by your Person, and your followers, Against the State, and Profit of this Land: That by confessing them, the Soules of men May deeme, that you are worthily depos'd

Rich. Must I doe so? and must I rauell out My weau'd-vp follyes? Gentle Northumberland, If thy Offences were vpon Record, Would it not shame thee, in so faire a troupe, To reade a Lecture of them? If thou would'st, There should'st thou finde one heynous Article, Contayning the deposing of a King, And cracking the strong Warrant of an Oath, Mark'd with a Blot, damn'd in the Booke of Heauen. Nay, all of you, that stand and looke vpon me, Whil'st that my wretchednesse doth bait my selfe, Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, Shewing an outward pittie: yet you Pilates Haue here deliuer'd me to my sowre Crosse, And Water cannot wash away your sinne

North. My Lord dispatch, reade o're these Articles

Rich. Mine Eyes are full of Teares, I cannot see: And yet salt-Water blindes them not so much, But they can see a sort of Traytors here. Nay, if I turne mine Eyes vpon my selfe, I finde my selfe a Traytor with the rest: For I haue giuen here my Soules consent, T' vndeck the pompous Body of a King; Made Glory base; a Soueraigntie, a Slaue; Prowd Maiestie, a Subiect; State, a Pesant

North. My Lord

Rich. No Lord of thine, thou haught-insulting man; No, nor no mans Lord: I haue no Name, no Title; No, not that Name was giuen me at the Font, But 'tis vsurpt: alack the heauie day, That I haue worne so many Winters out, And know not now, what Name to call my selfe. Oh, that I were a Mockerie, King of Snow, Standing before the Sunne of Bullingbrooke, To melt my selfe away in Water-drops. Good King, great King, and yet not greatly good, And if my word be Sterling yet in England, Let it command a Mirror hither straight, That it may shew me what a Face I haue, Since it is Bankrupt of his Maiestie

Bull. Goe some of you, and fetch a Looking-Glasse

North. Read o're this Paper, while y Glasse doth come

Rich. Fiend, thou torments me, ere I come to Hell

Bull. Vrge it no more, my Lord Northumberland

North. The Commons will not then be satisfy'd

Rich. They shall be satisfy'd: Ile reade enough, When I doe see the very Booke indeede, Where all my sinnes are writ, and that's my selfe. Enter one with a Glasse.

Giue me that Glasse, and therein will I reade. No deeper wrinckles yet? hath Sorrow strucke So many Blowes vpon this Face of mine, And made no deeper Wounds? Oh flatt'ring Glasse, Like to my followers in prosperitie, Thou do'st beguile me. Was this Face, the Face That euery day, vnder his House-hold Roofe, Did keepe ten thousand men? Was this the Face, That like the Sunne, did make beholders winke? Is this the Face, which fac'd so many follyes, That was at last out-fac'd by Bullingbrooke? A brittle Glory shineth in this Face, As brittle as the Glory, is the Face, For there it is, crackt in an hundred shiuers. Marke silent King, the Morall of this sport, How soone my Sorrow hath destroy'd my Face

Bull. The shadow of your Sorrow hath destroy'd The shadow of your Face

Rich. Say that againe. The shadow of my Sorrow: ha, let's see, 'Tis very true, my Griefe lyes all within, And these externall manner of Laments, Are meerely shadowes, to the vnseene Griefe, That swells with silence in the tortur'd Soule. There lyes the substance: and I thanke thee King For thy great bountie, that not onely giu'st Me cause to wayle, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. Ile begge one Boone, And then be gone, and trouble you no more. Shall I obtaine it? Bull. Name it, faire Cousin

Rich. Faire Cousin? I am greater then a King: For when I was a King, my flatterers Were then but subiects; being now a subiect, I haue a King here to my flatterer: Being so great, I haue no neede to begge

Bull. Yet aske

Rich. And shall I haue? Bull. You shall

Rich. Then giue me leaue to goe

Bull. Whither? Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights

Bull. Goe some of you, conuey him to the Tower

Rich. Oh good: conuey: Conueyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly by a true Kings fall

Bull. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set downe Our Coronation: Lords, prepare your selues.

Exeunt.

Abbot. A wofull Pageant haue we here beheld

Carl. The Woes to come, the Children yet vnborne, Shall feele this day as sharpe to them as Thorne

Aum. You holy Clergie-men, is there no Plot To rid the Realme of this pernicious Blot

Abbot. Before I freely speake my minde herein, You shall not onely take the Sacrament, To bury mine intents, but also to effect What euer I shall happen to deuise. I see your Browes are full of Discontent, Your Heart of Sorrow, and your Eyes of Teares. Come home with me to Supper, Ile lay a Plot Shall shew vs all a merry day.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Queene, and Ladies.

Qu. This way the King will come: this is the way To Iulius Cæsars ill-erected Tower: To whose flint Bosome, my condemned Lord Is doom'd a Prisoner, by prowd Bullingbrooke. Here let vs rest, if this rebellious Earth Haue any resting for her true Kings Queene. Enter Richard, and Guard.

But soft, but see, or rather doe not see, My faire Rose wither: yet looke vp; behold, That you in pittie may dissolue to dew, And wash him fresh againe with true-loue Teares. Ah thou, the Modell where old Troy did stand, Thou Mappe of Honor, thou King Richards Tombe, And not King Richard: thou most beauteous Inne, Why should hard-fauor'd Griefe be lodg'd in thee, When Triumph is become an Ale-house Guest

Rich. Ioyne not with griefe, faire Woman, do not so, To make my end too sudden: learne good Soule, To thinke our former State a happie Dreame, From which awak'd, the truth of what we are, Shewes vs but this. I am sworne Brother (Sweet) To grim Necessitie; and hee and I Will keepe a League till Death. High thee to France, And Cloyster thee in some Religious House: Our holy liues must winne a new Worlds Crowne, Which our prophane houres here haue stricken downe

Qu. What, is my Richard both in shape and minde Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath Bullingbrooke Depos'd thine Intellect? hath he beene in thy Heart? The Lyon dying, thrusteth forth his Paw, And wounds the Earth, if nothing else, with rage To be o're-powr'd: and wilt thou, Pupill-like, Take thy Correction mildly, kisse the Rodde, And fawne on Rage with base Humilitie, Which art a Lyon, and a King of Beasts? Rich. A King of Beasts indeed: if aught but Beasts, I had beene still a happy King of Men. Good (sometime Queene) prepare thee hence for France: Thinke I am dead, and that euen here thou tak'st, As from my Death-bed, my last liuing leaue. In Winters tedious Nights sit by the fire With good old folkes, and let them tell thee Tales Of wofull Ages, long agoe betide: And ere thou bid good-night, to quit their griefe, Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, And send the hearers weeping to their Beds: For why? the sencelesse Brands will sympathize The heauie accent of thy mouing Tongue, And in compassion, weepe the fire out: And some will mourne in ashes, some coale-black, For the deposing of a rightfull King. Enter Northumberland.

North. My Lord, the mind of Bullingbrooke is chang'd. You must to Pomfret, not vnto the Tower. And Madame, there is order ta'ne for you: With all swift speed, you must away to France

Rich. Northumberland, thou Ladder wherewithall The mounting Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne, The time shall not be many houres of age, More then it is, ere foule sinne, gathering head, Shall breake into corruption: thou shalt thinke, Though he diuide the Realme, and giue thee halfe, It is too little, helping him to all: He shall thinke, that thou which know'st the way To plant vnrightfull Kings, wilt know againe, Being ne're so little vrg'd another way, To pluck him headlong from the vsurped Throne. The Loue of wicked friends conuerts to Feare; That Feare, to Hate; and Hate turnes one, or both, To worthie Danger, and deserued Death

North. My guilt be on my Head, and there an end: Take leaue, and part, for you must part forthwith

Rich. Doubly diuorc'd? (bad men) ye violate A two-fold Marriage; 'twixt my Crowne, and me. And then betwixt me, and my marryed Wife. Let me vn-kisse the Oath 'twixt thee, and me; And yet not so, for with a Kisse 'twas made.

## Part vs, Northumberland: I, towards the North,

Where shiuering Cold and Sicknesse pines the Clyme: My Queene to France: from whence, set forth in pompe, She came adorned hither like sweet May; Sent back like Hollowmas, or short'st of day

Qu. And must we be diuided? must we part? Rich. I, hand from hand (my Loue) and heart fro[m] heart

Qu. Banish vs both, and send the King with me

North. That were some Loue, but little Pollicy

Qu. Then whither he goes, thither let me goe

Rich. So two together weeping, make one Woe. Weepe thou for me in France; I, for thee heere: Better farre off, then neere, be ne're the neere. Goe, count thy Way with Sighes; I, mine with Groanes

Qu. So longest Way shall haue the longest Moanes

Rich. Twice for one step Ile groane, y Way being short, And peece the Way out with a heauie heart. Come, come, in wooing Sorrow let's be briefe, Since wedding it, there is such length in Griefe: One Kisse shall stop our mouthes, and dumbely part; Thus giue I mine, and thus take I thy heart

Qu. Giue me mine owne againe: 'twere no good part, To take on me to keepe, and kill thy heart. So, now I haue mine owne againe, be gone, That I may striue to kill it with a groane

Rich. We make Woe wanton with this fond delay: Once more adieu; the rest, let Sorrow say.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Yorke, and his Duchesse.

Duch. My Lord, you told me you would tell the rest, When weeping made you breake the story off, Of our two Cousins comming into London

Yorke. Where did I leaue? Duch. At that sad stoppe, my Lord, Where rude mis-gouern'd hands, from Windowes tops, Threw dust and rubbish on King Richards head

Yorke. Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bullingbrooke, Mounted vpon a hot and fierie Steed, Which his aspiring Rider seem'd to know, With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course: While all tongues cride, God saue thee Bullingbrooke. You would haue thought the very windowes spake, So many greedy lookes of yong and old, Through Casements darted their desiring eyes Vpon his visage: and that all the walles, With painted Imagery had said at once, Iesu preserue thee, welcom Bullingbrooke. Whil'st he, from one side to the other turning, Bare-headed, lower then his proud Steeds necke, Bespake them thus: I thanke you Countrimen: And thus still doing, thus he past along

Dutch. Alas poore Richard, where rides he the whilst? Yorke. As in a Theater, the eyes of men After a well grac'd Actor leaues the Stage, Are idlely bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious: Euen so, or with much more contempt, mens eyes Did scowle on Richard: no man cride, God saue him: No ioyfull tongue gaue him his welcome home, But dust was throwne vpon his Sacred head, Which with such gentle sorrow he shooke off, His face still combating with teares and smiles (The badges of his greefe and patience) That had not God (for some strong purpose) steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce haue melted, And Barbarisme it selfe haue pittied him. But heauen hath a hand in these euents, To whose high will we bound our calme contents. To Bullingbrooke, are we sworne Subiects now, Whose State, and Honor, I for aye allow. Enter Aumerle

Dut. Heere comes my sonne Aumerle

Yor. Aumerle that was, But that is lost, for being Richards Friend. And Madam, you must call him Rutland now: I am in Parliament pledge for his truth, And lasting fealtie to the new-made King

Dut. Welcome my sonne: who are the Violets now, That strew the greene lap of the new-come Spring? Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not, God knowes, I had as liefe be none, as one

Yorke. Well, beare you well in this new-spring of time Least you be cropt before you come to prime. What newes from Oxford? Hold those Iusts & Triumphs? Aum. For ought I know my Lord, they do

Yorke. You will be there I know

Aum. If God preuent not, I purpose so

Yor. What Seale is that that hangs without thy bosom? Yea, look'st thou pale? Let me see the Writing

Aum. My Lord, 'tis nothing

Yorke. No matter then who sees it, I will be satisfied, let me see the Writing

Aum. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, It is a matter of small consequence, Which for some reasons I would not haue seene

Yorke. Which for some reasons sir, I meane to see: I feare, I feare

Dut. What should you feare? 'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into For gay apparrell, against the Triumph

Yorke. Bound to himselfe? What doth he with a Bond That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a foole. Boy, let me see the Writing

Aum. I do beseech you pardon me, I may not shew it

Yor. I will be satisfied: let me see it I say.

Snatches it

Treason, foule Treason, Villaine, Traitor, Slaue

Dut. What's the matter, my Lord? Yorke. Hoa, who's within there? Saddle my horse. Heauen for his mercy: what treachery is heere? Dut. Why, what is't my Lord? Yorke. Giue me my boots, I say: Saddle my horse: Now by my Honor, my life, my troth, I will appeach the Villaine

Dut. What is the matter? Yorke. Peace foolish Woman

Dut. I will not peace. What is the matter Sonne? Aum. Good Mother be content, it is no more Then my poore life must answer

Dut. Thy life answer? Enter Seruant with Boots.

Yor. Bring me my Boots, I will vnto the King

Dut. Strike him Aumerle. Poore boy, y art amaz'd, Hence Villaine, neuer more come in my sight

Yor. Giue me my Boots, I say

Dut. Why Yorke, what wilt thou do? Wilt thou not hide the Trespasse of thine owne? Haue we more Sonnes? Or are we like to haue? Is not my teeming date drunke vp with time? And wilt thou plucke my faire Sonne from mine Age, And rob me of a happy Mothers name? Is he not like thee? Is he not thine owne? Yor. Thou fond mad woman: Wilt thou conceale this darke Conspiracy? A dozen of them heere haue tane the Sacrament, And interchangeably set downe their hands To kill the King at Oxford

Dut. He shall be none: Wee'l keepe him heere: then what is that to him? Yor. Away fond woman: were hee twenty times my Son, I would appeach him

Dut. Hadst thou groan'd for him as I haue done, Thou wouldest be more pittifull: But now I know thy minde; thou do'st suspect That I haue bene disloyall to thy bed, And that he is a Bastard, not thy Sonne: Sweet Yorke, sweet husband, be not of that minde: He is as like thee, as a man may bee, Not like to me, nor any of my Kin, And yet I loue him

Yorke. Make way, vnruly Woman.

Exit

Dut. After Aumerle. Mount thee vpon his horse, Spurre post, and get before him to the King, And begge thy pardon, ere he do accuse thee, Ile not be long behind: though I be old, I doubt not but to ride as fast as Yorke: And neuer will I rise vp from the ground, Till Bullingbrooke haue pardon'd thee: Away be gone.

Exit

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Bullingbrooke, Percie, and other Lords.

Bul. Can no man tell of my vnthriftie Sonne? 'Tis full three monthes since I did see him last. If any plague hang ouer vs, 'tis he, I would to heauen (my Lords) he might be found: Enquire at London, 'mongst the Tauernes there: For there (they say) he dayly doth frequent, With vnrestrained loose Companions, Euen such (they say) as stand in narrow Lanes, And rob our Watch, and beate our passengers, Which he, yong wanton, and effeminate Boy Takes on the point of Honor, to support So dissolute a crew

Per. My Lord, some two dayes since I saw the Prince, And told him of these Triumphes held at Oxford

Bul. And what said the Gallant? Per. His answer was: he would vnto the Stewes, And from the common'st creature plucke a Gloue And weare it as a fauour, and with that He would vnhorse the lustiest Challenger

Bul. As dissolute as desp'rate, yet through both, I see some sparkes of better hope: which elder dayes May happily bring forth. But who comes heere? Enter Aumerle.

Aum. Where is the King? Bul. What meanes our Cosin, that hee stares And lookes so wildely? Aum. God saue your Grace. I do beseech your Maiesty To haue some conference with your Grace alone

Bul. Withdraw your selues, and leaue vs here alone: What is the matter with our Cosin now? Aum. For euer may my knees grow to the earth, My tongue cleaue to my roofe within my mouth, Vnlesse a Pardon, ere I rise, or speake

Bul. Intended, or committed was this fault? If on the first, how heynous ere it bee, To win thy after loue, I pardon thee

Aum. Then giue me leaue, that I may turne the key, That no man enter, till my tale be done

Bul. Haue thy desire.

Yorke within.

Yor. My Liege beware, looke to thy selfe, Thou hast a Traitor in thy presence there

Bul. Villaine, Ile make thee safe

Aum. Stay thy reuengefull hand, thou hast no cause to feare

Yorke. Open the doore, secure foole-hardy King: Shall I for loue speake treason to thy face? Open the doore, or I will breake it open. Enter Yorke.

Bul. What is the matter (Vnkle) speak, recouer breath, Tell vs how neere is danger, That we may arme vs to encounter it

Yor. Peruse this writing heere, and thou shalt know The reason that my haste forbids me show

Aum. Remember as thou read'st, thy promise past: I do repent me, reade not my name there, My heart is not confederate with my hand

Yor. It was (villaine) ere thy hand did set it downe. I tore it from the Traitors bosome, King. Feare, and not Loue, begets his penitence; Forget to pitty him, least thy pitty proue A Serpent, that will sting thee to the heart

Bul. Oh heinous, strong, and bold Conspiracie, O loyall Father of a treacherous Sonne: Thou sheere, immaculate, and siluer fountaine, From whence this streame, through muddy passages Hath had his current, and defil'd himselfe. Thy ouerflow of good, conuerts to bad, And thy abundant goodnesse shall excuse This deadly blot, in thy digressing sonne

Yorke. So shall my Vertue be his Vices bawd, And he shall spend mine Honour, with his Shame; As thriftlesse Sonnes, their scraping Fathers Gold. Mine honor liues, when his dishonor dies, Or my sham'd life, in his dishonor lies: Thou kill'st me in his life, giuing him breath, The Traitor liues, the true man's put to death.

Dutchesse within.

Dut. What hoa (my Liege) for heauens sake let me in

Bul. What shrill-voic'd Suppliant, makes this eager cry? Dut. A woman, and thine Aunt (great King) 'tis I. Speake with me, pitty me, open the dore, A Begger begs, that neuer begg'd before

Bul. Our Scene is alter'd from a serious thing, And now chang'd to the Begger, and the King. My dangerous Cosin, let your Mother in, I know she's come, to pray for your foule sin

Yorke. If thou do pardon, whosoeuer pray, More sinnes for this forgiuenesse, prosper may. This fester'd ioynt cut off, the rest rests sound, This let alone, will all the rest confound. Enter Dutchesse.

Dut. O King, beleeue not this hard-hearted man, Loue, louing not it selfe, none other can

Yor. Thou franticke woman, what dost y make here, Shall thy old dugges, once more a Traitor reare? Dut. Sweet Yorke be patient, heare me gentle Liege

Bul. Rise vp good Aunt

Dut. Not yet, I thee beseech. For euer will I kneele vpon my knees, And neuer see day, that the happy sees, Till thou giue ioy: vntill thou bid me ioy, By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing Boy

Aum. Vnto my mothers prayres, I bend my knee

Yorke. Against them both, my true ioynts bended be

Dut. Pleades he in earnest? Looke vpon his Face, His eyes do drop no teares: his prayres are in iest: His words come from his mouth, ours from our brest. He prayes but faintly, and would be denide, We pray with heart, and soule, and all beside: His weary ioynts would gladly rise, I know, Our knees shall kneele, till to the ground they grow: His prayers are full of false hypocrisie, Ours of true zeale, and deepe integritie: Our prayers do out-pray his, then let them haue That mercy, which true prayers ought to haue

Bul. Good Aunt stand vp

Dut. Nay, do not say stand vp. But Pardon first, and afterwards stand vp. And if I were thy Nurse, thy tongue to teach, Pardon should be the first word of thy speach. I neuer long'd to heare a word till now: Say Pardon (King,) let pitty teach thee how. The word is short: but not so short as sweet, No word like Pardon, for Kings mouth's so meet

Yorke. Speake it in French (King) say Pardon'ne moy

Dut. Dost thou teach pardon, Pardon to destroy? Ah my sowre husband, my hard-hearted Lord, That set's the word it selfe, against the word. Speake Pardon, as 'tis currant in our Land, The chopping French we do not vnderstand. Thine eye begins to speake, set thy tongue there, Or in thy pitteous heart, plant thou thine eare, That hearing how our plaints and prayres do pearce, Pitty may moue thee, Pardon to rehearse

Bul. Good Aunt, stand vp

Dut. I do not sue to stand, Pardon is all the suite I haue in hand

Bul. I pardon him, as heauen shall pardon mee

Dut. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee? Yet am I sicke for feare: Speake it againe, Twice saying Pardon, doth not pardon twaine, But makes one pardon strong

Bul. I pardon him with all my hart

Dut. A God on earth thou art

Bul. But for our trusty brother-in-Law, the Abbot, With all the rest of that consorted crew, Destruction straight shall dogge them at the heeles: Good Vnckle helpe to order seuerall powres To Oxford, or where ere these Traitors are: They shall not liue within this world I sweare, But I will haue them, if I once know where. Vnckle farewell, and Cosin adieu: Your mother well hath praid, and proue you true

Dut. Come my old son, I pray heauen make thee new.

Exeunt.

Enter Exton and Seruants.

Ext. Didst thou not marke the King what words hee spake? Haue I no friend will rid me of this liuing feare: Was it not so? Ser. Those were his very words.

Ex.

Haue I no Friend? (quoth he:) he spake it twice, And vrg'd it twice together, did he not? Ser. He did.

Ex.

And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me, As who should say, I would thou wer't the man That would diuorce this terror from my heart, Meaning the King at Pomfret: Come, let's goe; I am the Kings Friend, and will rid his Foe. Enter.

Scaena Quarta.

Enter Richard.

Rich. I haue bin studying, how to compare This Prison where I liue, vnto the World: And for because the world is populous, And heere is not a Creature, but my selfe, I cannot do it: yet Ile hammer't out. My Braine, Ile proue the Female to my Soule, My Soule, the Father: and these two beget A generation of still breeding Thoughts; And these same Thoughts, people this Little World In humors, like the people of this world, For no thought is contented. The better sort, As thoughts of things Diuine, are intermixt With scruples, and do set the Faith it selfe Against the Faith: as thus: Come litle ones: & then again, It is as hard to come, as for a Camell To thred the posterne of a Needles eye. Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot Vnlikely wonders; how these vaine weake nailes May teare a passage through the Flinty ribbes Of this hard world, my ragged prison walles: And for they cannot, dye in their owne pride. Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themselues, That they are not the first of Fortunes slaues, Nor shall not be the last. Like silly Beggars, Who sitting in the Stockes, refuge their shame That many haue, and others must sit there; And in this Thought, they finde a kind of ease, Bearing their owne misfortune on the backe Of such as haue before indur'd the like. Thus play I in one Prison, many people, And none contented. Sometimes am I King; Then Treason makes me wish my selfe a Beggar, And so I am. Then crushing penurie, Perswades me, I was better when a King: Then am I king'd againe: and by and by, Thinke that I am vn-king'd by Bullingbrooke, And straight am nothing. But what ere I am,

Musick

Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd With being nothing. Musicke do I heare? Ha, ha? keepe time: How sowre sweet Musicke is, When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept? So is it in the Musicke of mens liues: And heere haue I the daintinesse of eare, To heare time broke in a disorder'd string: But for the Concord of my State and Time, Had not an eare to heare my true Time broke. I wasted Time, and now doth Time waste me: For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke; My Thoughts, are minutes; and with Sighes they iarre, Their watches on vnto mine eyes, the outward Watch, Whereto my finger, like a Dialls point, Is pointing still, in cleansing them from teares. Now sir, the sound that tels what houre it is, Are clamorous groanes, that strike vpon my heart, Which is the bell: so Sighes, and Teares, and Grones, Shew Minutes, Houres, and Times: but my Time Runs poasting on, in Bullingbrookes proud ioy, While I stand fooling heere, his iacke o'th' Clocke. This Musicke mads me, let it sound no more, For though it haue holpe madmen to their wits, In me it seemes, it will make wise-men mad: Yet blessing on his heart that giues it me; For 'tis a signe of loue, and loue to Richard, Is a strange Brooch, in this all-hating world. Enter Groome.

Groo. Haile Royall Prince

Rich. Thankes Noble Peere, The cheapest of vs, is ten groates too deere. What art thou? And how com'st thou hither? Where no man euer comes, but that sad dogge That brings me food, to make misfortune liue? Groo. I was a poore Groome of thy Stable (King) When thou wer't King: who trauelling towards Yorke, With much adoo, at length haue gotten leaue To looke vpon my (sometimes Royall) masters face. O how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld In London streets, that Coronation day, When Bullingbrooke rode on Roane Barbary, That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid, That horse, that I so carefully haue drest

Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me gentle Friend, How went he vnder him? Groo. So proudly, as if he had disdain'd the ground

Rich. So proud, that Bullingbrooke was on his backe; That Iade hath eate bread from my Royall hand. This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Would he not stumble? Would he not fall downe (Since Pride must haue a fall) and breake the necke Of that proud man, that did vsurpe his backe? Forgiuenesse horse: Why do I raile on thee, Since thou created to be aw'd by man Was't borne to beare? I was not made a horse, And yet I beare a burthen like an Asse, Spur-gall'd, and tyrd by iauncing Bullingbrooke. Enter Keeper with a Dish.

Keep. Fellow, giue place, heere is no longer stay

Rich. If thou loue me, 'tis time thou wer't away

Groo. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. Enter.

Keep. My Lord, wilt please you to fall too? Rich. Taste of it first, as thou wer't wont to doo

Keep. My Lord I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton, Who lately came from th' King, commands the contrary

Rich. The diuell take Henrie of Lancaster, and thee; Patience is stale, and I am weary of it

Keep. Helpe, helpe, helpe. Enter Exton and Seruants.

Ri. How now? what meanes Death in this rude assalt? Villaine, thine owne hand yeelds thy deaths instrument, Go thou and fill another roome in hell.

Exton strikes him downe.

That hand shall burne in neuer-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand, Hath with the Kings blood, stain'd the Kings own land. Mount, mount my soule, thy seate is vp on high, Whil'st my grosse flesh sinkes downward, heere to dye

Exton. As full of Valor, as of Royall blood, Both haue I spilt: Oh would the deed were good. For now the diuell, that told me I did well, Sayes, that this deede is chronicled in hell. This dead King to the liuing King Ile beare, Take hence the rest, and giue them buriall heere. Enter.

Scoena Quinta.

Flourish. Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, with other Lords & attendants.

Bul. Kinde Vnkle Yorke, the latest newes we heare, Is that the Rebels haue consum'd with fire Our Towne of Cicester in Gloucestershire, But whether they be tane or slaine, we heare not. Enter Northumberland.

Welcome my Lord: What is the newes? Nor. First to thy Sacred State, wish I all happinesse: The next newes is, I haue to London sent The heads of Salsbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent: The manner of their taking may appeare At large discoursed in this paper heere

Bul. We thank thee gentle Percy for thy paines, And to thy worth will adde right worthy gaines. Enter Fitzwaters.

Fitz. My Lord, I haue from Oxford sent to London, The heads of Broccas, and Sir Bennet Seely, Two of the dangerous consorted Traitors, That sought at Oxford, thy dire ouerthrow

Bul. Thy paines Fitzwaters shall not be forgot, Right Noble is thy merit, well I wot. Enter Percy and Carlile.

Per. The grand Conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, With clog of Conscience, and sowre Melancholly, Hath yeelded vp his body to the graue: But heere is Carlile, liuing to abide Thy Kingly doome, and sentence of his pride

Bul. Carlile, this is your doome: Choose out some secret place, some reuerend roome More then thou hast, and with it ioy thy life: So as thou liu'st in peace, dye free from strife: For though mine enemy, thou hast euer beene, High sparkes of Honor in thee haue I seene. Enter Exton with a Coffin.

Exton. Great King, within this Coffin I present Thy buried feare. Heerein all breathlesse lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies Richard of Burdeaux, by me hither brought

Bul. Exton, I thanke thee not, for thou hast wrought A deede of Slaughter, with thy fatall hand, Vpon my head, and all this famous Land.

Ex.

From your owne mouth my Lord, did I this deed

Bul. They loue not poyson, that do poyson neede, Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, I hate the Murtherer, loue him murthered. The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, But neither my good word, nor Princely fauour. With Caine go wander through the shade of night, And neuer shew thy head by day, nor light. Lords, I protest my soule is full of woe, That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow. Come mourne with me, for that I do lament, And put on sullen Blacke incontinent: Ile make a voyage to the Holy-land, To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after, grace my mourning heere, In weeping after this vntimely Beere.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The life and death of King Richard the Second.

The First Part of Henry the Fourth

with the Life and Death of Henry Sirnamed Hot-Spvrre

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter the King, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of Westmerland, with others.

King. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Finde we a time for frighted Peace to pant, And breath shortwinded accents of new broils To be commenc'd in Stronds a-farre remote: No more the thirsty entrance of this Soile, Shall daube her lippes with her owne childrens blood: No more shall trenching Warre channell her fields, Nor bruise her Flowrets with the Armed hoofes Of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes, Which like the Meteors of a troubled Heauen, All of one Nature, of one Substance bred, Did lately meete in the intestine shocke, And furious cloze of ciuill Butchery, Shall now in mutuall well-beseeming rankes March all one way, and be no more oppos'd Against Acquaintance, Kindred, and Allies. The edge of Warre, like an ill-sheathed knife, No more shall cut his Master. Therefore Friends, As farre as to the Sepulcher of Christ, Whose Souldier now vnder whose blessed Crosse We are impressed and ingag'd to fight, Forthwith a power of English shall we leuie, Whose armes were moulded in their Mothers wombe, To chace these Pagans in those holy Fields, Ouer whose Acres walk'd those blessed feete Which fourteene hundred yeares ago were nail'd For our aduantage on the bitter Crosse. But this our purpose is a tweluemonth old, And bootlesse 'tis to tell you we will go: Therefore we meete not now. Then let me heare Of you my gentle Cousin Westmerland, What yesternight our Councell did decree, In forwarding this deere expedience

West. My Liege: This haste was hot in question, And many limits of the Charge set downe But yesternight: when all athwart there came A Post from Wales, loaden with heauy Newes; Whose worst was, That the Noble Mortimer, Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight Against the irregular and wilde Glendower, Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, And a thousand of his people butchered: Vpon whose dead corpes there was such misuse, Such beastly, shamelesse transformation, By those Welshwomen done, as may not be (Without much shame) re-told or spoken of

King. It seemes then, that the tidings of this broile, Brake off our businesse for the Holy land

West. This matcht with other like, my gracious Lord, Farre more vneuen and vnwelcome Newes Came from the North, and thus it did report: On Holy-roode day, the gallant Hotspurre there, Young Harry Percy, and braue Archibald, That euer-valiant and approoued Scot, At Holmeden met, where they did spend A sad and bloody houre: As by discharge of their Artillerie, And shape of likely-hood the newes was told: For he that brought them, in the very heate And pride of their contention, did take horse, Vncertaine of the issue any way

King. Heere is a deere and true industrious friend, Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his Horse, Strain'd with the variation of each soyle, Betwixt that Holmedon, and this Seat of ours: And he hath brought vs smooth and welcome newes. The Earle of Dowglas is discomfited, Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty Knights Balk'd in their owne blood did Sir Walter see On Holmedons Plaines. Of Prisoners, Hotspurre tooke Mordake Earle of Fife, and eldest sonne To beaten Dowglas, and the Earle of Atholl, Of Murry, Angus, and Menteith. And is not this an honourable spoyle? A gallant prize? Ha Cosin, is it not? Infaith it is

West. A Conquest for a Prince to boast of

King. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, & mak'st me sin, In enuy, that my Lord Northumberland Should be the Father of so blest a Sonne: A Sonne, who is the Theame of Honors tongue; Among'st a Groue, the very straightest Plant, Who is sweet Fortunes Minion, and her Pride: Whil'st I by looking on the praise of him, See Ryot and Dishonor staine the brow Of my yong Harry. O that it could be prou'd, That some Night-tripping-Faiery, had exchang'd In Cradle-clothes, our Children where they lay, And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet: Then would I haue his Harry, and he mine: But let him from my thoughts. What thinke you Coze Of this young Percies pride? The Prisoners Which he in this aduenture hath surpriz'd, To his owne vse he keepes, and sends me word I shall haue none but Mordake Earle of Fife

West. This is his Vnckles teaching. This is Worcester Maleuolent to you in all Aspects: Which makes him prune himselfe, and bristle vp The crest of Youth against your Dignity

King. But I haue sent for him to answer this: And for this cause a-while we must neglect Our holy purpose to Ierusalem. Cosin, on Wednesday next, our Councell we will hold At Windsor, and so informe the Lords: But come your selfe with speed to vs againe, For more is to be saide, and to be done, Then out of anger can be vttered

West. I will my Liege.

Exeunt.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Henry Prince of Wales, Sir Iohn Falstaffe, and Pointz.

Fal. Now Hal, what time of day is it Lad? Prince. Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of olde Sacke, and vnbuttoning thee after Supper, and sleeping vpon Benches in the afternoone, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truely, which thou wouldest truly know. What a diuell hast thou to do with the time of the day? vnlesse houres were cups of Sacke, and minutes Capons, and clockes the tongues of Bawdes, and dialls the signes of Leaping-houses, and the blessed Sunne himselfe a faire hot Wench in Flame-coloured Taffata; I see no reason, why thou shouldest bee so superfluous, to demaund the time of the day

Fal. Indeed you come neere me now Hal, for we that take Purses, go by the Moone and seuen Starres, and not by Phoebus hee, that wand'ring Knight so faire. And I prythee sweet Wagge, when thou art King, as God saue thy Grace, Maiesty I should say, for Grace thou wilte haue none

Prin. What, none? Fal. No, not so much as will serue to be Prologue to an Egge and Butter

Prin. Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly

Fal. Marry then, sweet Wagge, when thou art King, let not vs that are Squires of the Nights bodie, bee call'd Theeues of the Dayes beautie. Let vs be Dianaes Forresters, Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moone; and let men say, we be men of good Gouernment, being gouerned as the Sea, by our noble and chast mistris the Moone, vnder whose countenance we steale

Prin. Thou say'st well, and it holds well too: for the fortune of vs that are the Moones men, doeth ebbe and flow like the Sea, beeing gouerned as the Sea is, by the Moone: as for proofe. Now a Purse of Gold most resolutely snatch'd on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday Morning; got with swearing, Lay by: and spent with crying, Bring in: now, in as low an ebbe as the foot of the Ladder, and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the Gallowes

Fal. Thou say'st true Lad: and is not my Hostesse of the Tauerne a most sweet Wench? Prin. As is the hony, my old Lad of the Castle: and is not a Buffe Ierkin a most sweet robe of durance? Fal. How now? how now mad Wagge? What in thy quips and thy quiddities? What a plague haue I to doe with a Buffe-Ierkin? Prin. Why, what a poxe haue I to doe with my Hostesse of the Tauerne? Fal. Well, thou hast call'd her to a reck'ning many a time and oft

Prin. Did I euer call for thee to pay thy part? Fal. No, Ile giue thee thy due, thou hast paid al there

Prin. Yea and elsewhere, so farre as my Coine would stretch, and where it would not, I haue vs'd my credit

Fal. Yea, and so vs'd it, that were it heere apparant, that thou art Heire apparant. But I prythee sweet Wag, shall there be Gallowes standing in England when thou art King? and resolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the rustie curbe of old Father Anticke the Law? Doe not thou when thou art a King, hang a Theefe

Prin. No, thou shalt

Fal. Shall I? O rare! Ile be a braue Iudge

Prin. Thou iudgest false already. I meane, thou shalt haue the hanging of the Theeues, and so become a rare Hangman

Fal. Well Hal, well: and in some sort it iumpes with my humour, as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell you

Prin. For obtaining of suites? Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suites, whereof the Hangman hath no leane Wardrobe. I am as Melancholly as a Gyb-Cat, or a lugg'd Beare

Prin. Or an old Lyon, or a Louers Lute

Fal. Yea, or the Drone of a Lincolnshire Bagpipe

Prin. What say'st thou to a Hare, or the Melancholly of Moore Ditch? Fal. Thou hast the most vnsauoury smiles, and art indeed the most comparatiue rascallest sweet yong Prince. But Hal, I prythee trouble me no more with vanity, I wold thou and I knew, where a Commodity of good names were to be bought: an olde Lord of the Councell rated me the other day in the street about you sir; but I mark'd him not, and yet hee talk'd very wisely, but I regarded him not, and yet he talkt wisely, and in the street too

Prin. Thou didst well: for no man regards it

Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeede able to corrupt a Saint. Thou hast done much harme vnto me Hall, God forgiue thee for it. Before I knew thee Hal, I knew nothing: and now I am (if a man shold speake truly) little better then one of the wicked. I must giue ouer this life, and I will giue it ouer: and I do not, I am a Villaine. Ile be damn'd for neuer a Kings sonne in Christendome

Prin. Where shall we take a purse to morrow, Iacke? Fal. Where thou wilt Lad, Ile make one: and I doe not, call me Villaine, and baffle me

Prin. I see a good amendment of life in thee: From Praying, to Purse-taking

Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my Vocation Hal: 'Tis no sin for a man to labour in his Vocation

Pointz. Now shall wee know if Gads hill haue set a Watch. O, if men were to be saued by merit, what hole in Hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omnipotent Villaine, that euer cryed, Stand, to a true man

Prin. Good morrow Ned

Poines. Good morrow sweet Hal. What saies Monsieur remorse? What sayes Sir Iohn Sacke and Sugar: Iacke? How agrees the Diuell and thee about thy Soule, that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, for a Cup of Madera, and a cold Capons legge? Prin. Sir Iohn stands to his word, the diuel shall haue his bargaine, for he was neuer yet a Breaker of Prouerbs: He will giue the diuell his due

Poin. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with the diuell

Prin. Else he had damn'd cozening the diuell

Poy. But my Lads, my Lads, to morrow morning, by foure a clocke early at Gads hill, there are Pilgrimes going to Canterbury with rich Offerings, and Traders riding to London with fat Purses. I haue vizards for you all; you haue horses for your selues: Gads-hill lyes to night in Rochester, I haue bespoke Supper to morrow in Eastcheape; we may doe it as secure as sleepe: if you will go, I will stuffe your Purses full of Crownes: if you will not, tarry at home and be hang'd

Fal. Heare ye Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not, Ile hang you for going

Poy. You will chops

Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one? Prin. Who, I rob? I a Theefe? Not I

Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood-royall, if thou dar'st not stand for ten shillings

Prin. Well then, once in my dayes Ile be a mad-cap

Fal. Why, that's well said

Prin. Well, come what will, Ile tarry at home

Fal. Ile be a Traitor then, when thou art King

Prin. I care not

Poyn. Sir Iohn, I prythee leaue the Prince & me alone, I will lay him downe such reasons for this aduenture, that he shall go

Fal. Well, maist thou haue the Spirit of perswasion; and he the eares of profiting, that what thou speakest, may moue; and what he heares may be beleeued, that the true Prince, may (for recreation sake) proue a false theefe; for the poore abuses of the time, want countenance. Farwell, you shall finde me in Eastcheape

Prin. Farwell the latter Spring. Farewell Alhollown Summer

Poy. Now, my good sweet Hony Lord, ride with vs to morrow. I haue a iest to execute, that I cannot mannage alone. Falstaffe, Haruey, Rossill, and Gads-hill, shall robbe those men that wee haue already way-layde, your selfe and I, wil not be there: and when they haue the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders

Prin. But how shal we part with them in setting forth? Poyn. Why, we wil set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherin it is at our pleasure to faile; and then will they aduenture vppon the exploit themselues, which they shall haue no sooner atchieued, but wee'l set vpon them

Prin. I, but tis like that they will know vs by our horses, by our habits, and by euery other appointment to be our selues

Poy. Tut our horses they shall not see, Ile tye them in the wood, our vizards wee will change after wee leaue them: and sirrah, I haue Cases of Buckram for the nonce, to immaske our noted outward garments

Prin. But I doubt they will be too hard for vs

Poin. Well, for two of them, I know them to bee as true bred Cowards as euer turn'd backe: and for the third if he fight longer then he sees reason, Ile forswear Armes. The vertue of this Iest will be, the incomprehensible lyes that this fat Rogue will tell vs, when we meete at Supper: how thirty at least he fought with, what Wardes, what blowes, what extremities he endured; and in the reproofe of this, lyes the iest

Prin. Well, Ile goe with thee, prouide vs all things necessary, and meete me to morrow night in Eastcheape, there Ile sup. Farewell

Poyn. Farewell, my Lord.

Exit Pointz

Prin. I know you all, and will a-while vphold The vnyoak'd humor of your idlenesse: Yet heerein will I imitate the Sunne, Who doth permit the base contagious cloudes To smother vp his Beauty from the world, That when he please againe to be himselfe, Being wanted, he may be more wondred at, By breaking through the foule and vgly mists Of vapours, that did seeme to strangle him. If all the yeare were playing holidaies, To sport, would be as tedious as to worke; But when they seldome come, they wisht-for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. So when this loose behauiour I throw off, And pay the debt I neuer promised; By how much better then my word I am, By so much shall I falsifie mens hopes, And like bright Mettall on a sullen ground: My reformation glittering o're my fault, Shall shew more goodly, and attract more eyes, Then that which hath no foyle to set it off. Ile so offend, to make offence a skill, Redeeming time, when men thinke least I will.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspurre, Sir Walter Blunt, and others.

King. My blood hath beene too cold and temperate, Vnapt to stirre at these indignities, And you haue found me; for accordingly, You tread vpon my patience: But be sure, I will from henceforth rather be my Selfe, Mighty, and to be fear'd, then my condition Which hath beene smooth as Oyle, soft as yong Downe, And therefore lost that Title of respect, Which the proud soule ne're payes, but to the proud

Wor. Our house (my Soueraigne Liege) little deserues The scourge of greatnesse to be vsed on it, And that same greatnesse too, which our owne hands Haue holpe to make so portly

Nor. My Lord

King. Worcester get thee gone: for I do see Danger and disobedience in thine eye. O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, And Maiestie might neuer yet endure The moody Frontier of a seruant brow, You haue good leaue to leaue vs. When we need Your vse and counsell, we shall send for you. You were about to speake

North. Yea, my good Lord. Those Prisoners in your Highnesse demanded, Which Harry Percy heere at Holmedon tooke, Were (as he sayes) not with such strength denied As was deliuered to your Maiesty: Who either through enuy, or misprision, Was guilty of this fault; and not my Sonne

Hot. My Liege, I did deny no Prisoners. But, I remember when the fight was done, When I was dry with Rage, and extreame Toyle, Breathlesse, and Faint, leaning vpon my Sword, Came there a certaine Lord, neat and trimly drest; Fresh as a Bride-groome, and his Chin new reapt, Shew'd like a stubble Land at Haruest home. He was perfumed like a Milliner, And 'twixt his Finger and his Thumbe, he held A Pouncet-box: which euer and anon He gaue his Nose, and took't away againe: Who therewith angry, when it next came there, Tooke it in Snuffe. And still he smil'd and talk'd: And as the Souldiers bare dead bodies by, He call'd them vntaught Knaues, Vnmannerly, To bring a slouenly vnhandsome Coarse Betwixt the Winde, and his Nobility. With many Holiday and Lady tearme He question'd me: Among the rest, demanded My Prisoners, in your Maiesties behalfe. I then, all-smarting, with my wounds being cold, (To be so pestered with a Popingay) Out of my Greefe, and my Impatience, Answer'd (neglectingly) I know not what, He should, or should not: For he made me mad, To see him shine so briske, and smell so sweet, And talke so like a Waiting-Gentlewoman, Of Guns, & Drums, and Wounds: God saue the marke; And telling me, the Soueraign'st thing on earth Was Parmacity, for an inward bruise: And that it was great pitty, so it was, That villanous Salt-peter should be digg'd Out of the Bowels of the harmlesse Earth, Which many a good Tall Fellow had destroy'd So Cowardly. And but for these vile Gunnes, He would himselfe haue beene a Souldier. This bald, vnioynted Chat of his (my Lord) Made me to answer indirectly (as I said.) And I beseech you, let not this report Come currant for an Accusation, Betwixt my Loue, and your high Maiesty

Blunt. The circumstance considered, good my Lord, What euer Harry Percie then had said, To such a person, and in such a place, At such a time, with all the rest retold, May reasonably dye, and neuer rise To do him wrong, or any way impeach What then he said, so he vnsay it now

King. Why yet doth deny his Prisoners, But with Prouiso and Exception, That we at our owne charge, shall ransome straight His Brother-in-Law, the foolish Mortimer, Who (in my soule) hath wilfully betraid The liues of those, that he did leade to Fight, Against the great Magitian, damn'd Glendower: Whose daughter (as we heare) the Earle of March Hath lately married. Shall our Coffers then, Be emptied, to redeeme a Traitor home? Shall we buy Treason? and indent with Feares, When they haue lost and forfeyted themselues. No: on the barren Mountaine let him sterue: For I shall neuer hold that man my Friend, Whose tongue shall aske me for one peny cost To ransome home reuolted Mortimer

Hot. Reuolted Mortimer? He neuer did fall off, my Soueraigne Liege, But by the chance of Warre: to proue that true, Needs no more but one tongue. For all those Wounds, Those mouthed Wounds, which valiantly he tooke, When on the gentle Seuernes siedgie banke, In single Opposition hand to hand, He did confound the best part of an houre In changing hardiment with great Glendower: Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink Vpon agreement, of swift Seuernes flood; Who then affrighted with their bloody lookes, Ran fearefully among the trembling Reeds, And hid his crispe-head in the hollow banke, Blood-stained with these Valiant Combatants. Neuer did base and rotten Policy Colour her working with such deadly wounds; Nor neuer could the Noble Mortimer Receiue so many, and all willingly: Then let him not be sland'red with Reuolt

King. Thou do'st bely him Percy, thou dost bely him; He neuer did encounter with Glendower: I tell thee, he durst as well haue met the diuell alone, As Owen Glendower for an enemy. Art thou not asham'd? But Sirrah, henceforth Let me not heare you speake of Mortimer. Send me your Prisoners with the speediest meanes, Or you shall heare in such a kinde from me As will displease ye. My Lord Northumberland, We License your departure with your sonne, Send vs your Prisoners, or you'l heare of it.

Exit King.

Hot. And if the diuell come and roare for them I will not send them. I will after straight And tell him so: for I will ease my heart, Although it be with hazard of my head

Nor. What? drunke with choller? stay & pause awhile, Heere comes your Vnckle. Enter Worcester.

Hot. Speake of Mortimer? Yes, I will speake of him, and let my soule Want mercy, if I do not ioyne with him. In his behalfe, Ile empty all these Veines, And shed my deere blood drop by drop i'th dust, But I will lift the downfall Mortimer As high i'th Ayre, as this Vnthankfull King, As this Ingrate and Cankred Bullingbrooke

Nor. Brother, the King hath made your Nephew mad Wor. Who strooke this heate vp after I was gone? Hot. He will (forsooth) haue all my Prisoners: And when I vrg'd the ransom once againe Of my Wiues Brother, then his cheeke look'd pale, And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, Trembling euen at the name of Mortimer

Wor. I cannot blame him: was he not proclaim'd By Richard that dead is, the next of blood? Nor. He was: I heard the Proclamation, And then it was, when the vnhappy King (Whose wrongs in vs God pardon) did set forth Vpon his Irish Expedition: From whence he intercepted, did returne To be depos'd, and shortly murthered

Wor. And for whose death, we in the worlds wide mouth Liue scandaliz'd, and fouly spoken of

Hot. But soft I pray you; did King Richard then Proclaime my brother Mortimer, Heyre to the Crowne? Nor. He did, my selfe did heare it

Hot. Nay then I cannot blame his Cousin King, That wish'd him on the barren Mountaines staru'd. But shall it be, that you that set the Crowne Vpon the head of this forgetfull man, And for his sake, wore the detested blot Of murtherous subornation? Shall it be, That you a world of curses vndergoe, Being the Agents, or base second meanes, The Cords, the Ladder, or the Hangman rather? O pardon, if that I descend so low, To shew the Line, and the Predicament Wherein you range vnder this subtill King. Shall it for shame, be spoken in these dayes, Or fill vp Chronicles in time to come, That men of your Nobility and Power, Did gage them both in an vniust behalfe (As Both of you, God pardon it, haue done) To put downe Richard, that sweet louely Rose, And plant this Thorne, this Canker Bullingbrooke? And shall it in more shame be further spoken, That you are fool'd, discarded, and shooke off By him, for whom these shames ye vnderwent? No: yet time serues, wherein you may redeeme Your banish'd Honors, and restore your selues Into the good Thoughts of the world againe. Reuenge the geering and disdain'd contempt Of this proud King, who studies day and night To answer all the Debt he owes vnto you, Euen with the bloody Payment of your deaths: Therefore I say- Wor. Peace Cousin, say no more. And now I will vnclaspe a Secret booke, And to your quicke conceyuing Discontents, Ile reade you Matter, deepe and dangerous, As full of perill and aduenturous Spirit, As to o're-walke a Current, roaring loud On the vnstedfast footing of a Speare

Hot. If he fall in, good night, or sinke or swimme: Send danger from the East vnto the West, So Honor crosse it from the North to South, And let them grapple: The blood more stirres To rowze a Lyon, then to start a Hare

Nor. Imagination of some great exploit, Driues him beyond the bounds of Patience

Hot. By heauen, me thinkes it were an easie leap, To plucke bright Honor from the pale-fac'd Moone, Or diue into the bottome of the deepe, Where Fadome-line could neuer touch the ground, And plucke vp drowned Honor by the Lockes: So he that doth redeeme her thence, might weare Without Co-riuall, all her Dignities: But out vpon this halfe-fac'd Fellowship

Wor. He apprehends a World of Figures here, But not the forme of what he should attend: Good Cousin giue me audience for a-while, And list to me

Hot. I cry you mercy

Wor. Those same Noble Scottes That are your Prisoners

Hot. Ile keepe them all. By heauen, he shall not haue a Scot of them: No, if a Scot would saue his Soule, he shall not. Ile keepe them, by this Hand

Wor. You start away, And lend no eare vnto my purposes. Those Prisoners you shall keepe

Hot. Nay, I will: that's flat: He said, he would not ransome Mortimer: Forbad my tongue to speake of Mortimer. But I will finde him when he lyes asleepe, And in his eare, Ile holla Mortimer. Nay, Ile haue a Starling shall be taught to speake Nothing but Mortimer, and giue it him, To keepe his anger still in motion

Wor. Heare you Cousin: a word

Hot. All studies heere I solemnly defie, Saue how to gall and pinch this Bullingbrooke, And that same Sword and Buckler Prince of Wales. But that I thinke his Father loues him not, And would be glad he met with some mischance, I would haue poyson'd him with a pot of Ale

Wor. Farewell Kinsman: Ile talke to you When you are better temper'd to attend

Nor. Why what a Waspe-tongu'd & impatient foole Art thou, to breake into this Womans mood, Tying thine eare to no tongue but thine owne? Hot. Why look you, I am whipt & scourg'd with rods, Netled, and stung with Pismires, when I heare Of this vile Politician Bullingbrooke. In Richards time: What de'ye call the place? A plague vpon't, it is in Gloustershire: 'Twas, where the madcap Duke his Vncle kept, His Vncle Yorke, where I first bow'd my knee Vnto this King of Smiles, this Bullingbrooke: When you and he came backe from Rauenspurgh

Nor. At Barkley Castle

Hot. You say true: Why what a caudie deale of curtesie, This fawning Grey-hound then did proffer me, Looke when his infant Fortune came to age, And gentle Harry Percy, and kinde Cousin: O, the Diuell take such Couzeners, God forgiue me, Good Vncle tell your tale, for I haue done

Wor. Nay, if you haue not, too't againe, Wee'l stay your leysure

Hot. I haue done insooth

Wor. Then once more to your Scottish Prisoners. Deliuer them vp without their ransome straight, And make the Dowglas sonne your onely meane For powres in Scotland: which for diuers reasons Which I shall send you written, be assur'd Will easily be granted you, my Lord. Your Sonne in Scotland being thus imploy'd, Shall secretly into the bosome creepe Of that same noble Prelate, well belou'd, The Archbishop

Hot. Of Yorke, is't not? Wor. True, who beares hard His Brothers death at Bristow, the Lord Scroope. I speake not this in estimation, As what I thinke might be, but what I know Is ruminated, plotted, and set downe, And onely stayes but to behold the face Of that occasion that shall bring it on

Hot. I smell it: Vpon my life, it will do wond'rous well

Nor. Before the game's a-foot, thou still let'st slip

Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a Noble plot, And then the power of Scotland, and of Yorke To ioyne with Mortimer, Ha

Wor. And so they shall

Hot. Infaith it is exceedingly well aym'd

Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids vs speed, To saue our heads, by raising of a Head: For, beare our selues as euen as we can, The King will alwayes thinke him in our debt, And thinke, we thinke our selues vnsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay vs home. And see already, how he doth beginne To make vs strangers to his lookes of loue

Hot. He does, he does; wee'l be reueng'd on him

Wor. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this, Then I by Letters shall direct your course When time is ripe, which will be sodainly: Ile steale to Glendower, and loe, Mortimer, Where you, and Dowglas, and our powres at once, As I will fashion it, shall happily meete, To beare our fortunes in our owne strong armes, Which now we hold at much vncertainty

Nor. Farewell good Brother, we shall thriue, I trust

Hot. Vncle, adieu: O let the houres be short, Till fields, and blowes, and grones, applaud our sport.

Exit

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Carrier with a Lanterne in his hand.

1.Car. Heigh-ho, an't be not foure by the day, Ile be hang'd. Charles waine is ouer the new Chimney, and yet our horse not packt. What Ostler? Ost. Anon, anon

1.Car. I prethee Tom, beate Cuts Saddle, put a few Flockes in the point: the poore Iade is wrung in the withers, out of all cesse. Enter another Carrier.

2.Car. Pease and Beanes are as danke here as a Dog, and this is the next way to giue poore Iades the Bottes: This house is turned vpside downe since Robin the Ostler dyed

1.Car. Poore fellow neuer ioy'd since the price of oats rose, it was the death of him

2.Car. I thinke this is the most villanous house in al London rode for Fleas: I am stung like a Tench

1.Car. Like a Tench? There is ne're a King in Christendome, could be better bit, then I haue beene since the first Cocke

2.Car. Why, you will allow vs ne're a Iourden, and then we leake in your Chimney: and your Chamber-lye breeds Fleas like a Loach

1.Car. What Ostler, come away, and be hangd: come away

2.Car. I haue a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of Ginger, to be deliuered as farre as Charing-crosse

1.Car. The Turkies in my Pannier are quite starued. What Ostler? A plague on thee, hast thou neuer an eye in thy head? Can'st not heare? And t'were not as good a deed as drinke, to break the pate of thee, I am a very Villaine. Come and be hang'd, hast no faith in thee? Enter Gads-hill.

Gad. Good-morrow Carriers. What's a clocke? Car. I thinke it be two a clocke

Gad. I prethee lend me thy Lanthorne to see my Gelding in the stable

1.Car. Nay soft I pray ye, I know a trick worth two of that

Gad. I prethee lend me thine

2.Car. I, when, canst tell? Lend mee thy Lanthorne (quoth-a) marry Ile see thee hang'd first

Gad. Sirra Carrier: What time do you mean to come to London? 2.Car. Time enough to goe to bed with a Candle, I warrant thee. Come neighbour Mugges, wee'll call vp the Gentlemen, they will along with company, for they haue great charge.

Exeunt.

Enter Chamberlaine.

Gad. What ho, Chamberlaine? Cham. At hand quoth Pick-purse

Gad. That's euen as faire, as at hand quoth the Chamberlaine: For thou variest no more from picking of Purses, then giuing direction, doth from labouring. Thou lay'st the plot, how

Cham. Good morrow Master Gads-Hill, it holds currant that I told you yesternight. There's a Franklin in the wilde of Kent, hath brought three hundred Markes with him in Gold: I heard him tell it to one of his company last night at Supper; a kinde of Auditor, one that hath abundance of charge too (God knowes what) they are vp already, and call for Egges and Butter. They will away presently

Gad. Sirra, if they meete not with S[aint]. Nicholas Clarks, Ile giue thee this necke

Cham. No, Ile none of it: I prythee keep that for the Hangman, for I know thou worshipst S[aint]. Nicholas as truly as a man of falshood may

Gad. What talkest thou to me of the Hangman? If I hang, Ile make a fat payre of Gallowes. For, if I hang, old Sir Iohn hangs with mee, and thou know'st hee's no Starueling. Tut, there are other Troians that y dream'st not of, the which (for sport sake) are content to doe the Profession some grace; that would (if matters should bee look'd into) for their owne Credit sake, make all Whole. I am ioyned with no Foot-land-Rakers, No Long-staffe six-penny strikers, none of these mad Mustachio-purple-hu'd-Maltwormes, but with Nobility, and Tranquilitie; Bourgomasters, and great Oneyers, such as can holde in, such as will strike sooner then speake; and speake sooner then drinke, and drinke sooner then pray: and yet I lye, for they pray continually vnto their Saint the Commonwealth; or rather, not to pray to her, but prey on her: for they ride vp & downe on her, and make hir their Boots

Cham. What, the Commonwealth their Bootes? Will she hold out water in foule way? Gad. She will, she will; Iustice hath liquor'd her. We steale as in a Castle, cocksure: we haue the receit of Fernseede, we walke inuisible

Cham. Nay, I thinke rather, you are more beholding to the Night, then to the Fernseed, for your walking inuisible

Gad. Giue me thy hand. Thou shalt haue a share in our purpose, As I am a true man

Cham. Nay, rather let mee haue it, as you are a false Theefe

Gad. Goe too: Homo is a common name to all men. Bid the Ostler bring the Gelding out of the stable. Farewell, ye muddy Knaue.

Exeunt.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Prince, Poynes, and Peto.

Poines. Come shelter, shelter, I haue remoued Falstafs Horse, and he frets like a gum'd Veluet

Prin. Stand close. Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. Poines, Poines, and be hang'd Poines

Prin. Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rascall, what a brawling dost thou keepe

Fal. What Poines. Hal? Prin. He is walk'd vp to the top of the hill, Ile go seek him

Fal. I am accurst to rob in that Theefe company: that Rascall hath remoued my Horse, and tied him I know not where. If I trauell but foure foot by the squire further a foote, I shall breake my winde. Well, I doubt not but to dye a faire death for all this, if I scape hanging for killing that Rogue, I haue forsworne his company hourely any time this two and twenty yeare, & yet I am bewitcht with the Rogues company. If the Rascall haue not giuen me medicines to make me loue him, Ile be hang'd; it could not be else: I haue drunke Medicines. Poines, Hal, a Plague vpon you both. Bardolph, Peto: Ile starue ere I rob a foote further. And 'twere not as good a deede as to drinke, to turne True-man, and to leaue these Rogues, I am the veriest Varlet that euer chewed with a Tooth. Eight yards of vneuen ground, is threescore & ten miles afoot with me: and the stony-hearted Villaines knowe it well enough. A plague vpon't, when Theeues cannot be true one to another.

They Whistle.

Whew: a plague light vpon you all. Giue my Horse you Rogues: giue me my Horse, and be hang'd

Prin. Peace ye fat guttes, lye downe, lay thine eare close to the ground, and list if thou can heare the tread of Trauellers

Fal. Haue you any Leauers to lift me vp again being downe? Ile not beare mine owne flesh so far afoot again, for all the coine in thy Fathers Exchequer. What a plague meane ye to colt me thus? Prin. Thou ly'st, thou art not colted, thou art vncolted

Fal. I prethee good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good Kings sonne

Prin. Out you Rogue, shall I be your Ostler? Fal. Go hang thy selfe in thine owne heire-apparant-Garters: If I be tane, Ile peach for this: and I haue not Ballads made on all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a Cup of Sacke be my poyson: when a iest is so forward, & a foote too, I hate it. Enter Gads-hill.

Gad. Stand

Fal. So I do against my will

Poin. O 'tis our Setter, I know his voyce: Bardolfe, what newes? Bar. Case ye, case ye; on with your Vizards, there's mony of the Kings comming downe the hill, 'tis going to the Kings Exchequer

Fal. You lie you rogue, 'tis going to the Kings Tauern

Gad. There's enough to make vs all

Fal. To be hang'd

Prin. You foure shall front them in the narrow Lane: Ned and I, will walke lower; if they scape from your encounter, then they light on vs

Peto. But how many be of them? Gad. Some eight or ten

Fal. Will they not rob vs? Prin. What, a Coward Sir Iohn Paunch? Fal. Indeed I am not Iohn of Gaunt your Grandfather; but yet no Coward, Hal

Prin. Wee'l leaue that to the proofe

Poin. Sirra Iacke, thy horse stands behinde the hedg, when thou need'st him, there thou shalt finde him. Farewell, and stand fast

Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd

Prin. Ned, where are our disguises? Poin. Heere hard by: Stand close

Fal. Now my Masters, happy man be his dole, say I: euery man to his businesse. Enter Trauellers

Tra. Come Neighbor: the boy shall leade our Horses downe the hill: Wee'l walke a-foot a while, and ease our Legges

Theeues. Stay

Tra. Iesu blesse vs

Fal. Strike down with them, cut the villains throats; a whorson Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaues, they hate vs youth; downe with them, fleece them

Tra. O, we are vndone, both we and ours for euer

Fal. Hang ye gorbellied knaues, are you vndone? No ye Fat Chuffes, I would your store were heere. On Bacons, on, what ye knaues? Yong men must liue, you are Grand Iurers, are ye? Wee'l iure ye ifaith.

Heere they rob them, and binde them. Enter the Prince and Poines.

Prin. The Theeues haue bound the True-men: Now could thou and I rob the Theeues, and go merily to London, it would be argument for a Weeke, Laughter for a Moneth, and a good iest for euer

Poynes. Stand close, I heare them comming. Enter Theeues againe.

Fal. Come my Masters, let vs share, and then to horsse before day: and the Prince and Poynes bee not two arrand Cowards, there's no equity stirring. There's no moe valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke

Prin. Your money

Poin. Villaines.

As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes set vpon them. They all run away, leauing the booty behind them.

Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse: The Theeues are scattred, and possest with fear so strongly, that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fellow for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falstaffe sweates to death, and Lards the leane earth as he walkes along: wer't not for laughing, I should pitty him

Poin. How the Rogue roar'd.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.

But for mine owne part, my Lord. I could bee well contented to be there, in respect of the loue I beare your house. He could be contented: Why is he not then? in respect of the loue he beares our house. He shewes in this, he loues his owne Barne better then he loues our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous. Why that's certaine: 'Tis dangerous to take a Colde, to sleepe, to drinke: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of this Nettle, Danger; we plucke this Flower, Safety. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous, the Friends you haue named vncertaine, the Time it selfe vnsorted, and your whole Plot too light, for the counterpoize of so great an Opposition. Say you so, say you so: I say vnto you againe, you are a shallow cowardly Hinde, and you Lye. What a lackebraine is this? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as euer was laid; our Friend true and constant: A good Plotte, good Friends, and full of expectation: An excellent plot, very good Friends. What a Frosty-spirited rogue is this? Why, my Lord of Yorke commends the plot, and the generall course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this Rascall, I could braine him with his Ladies Fan. Is there not my Father, my Vncle, and my Selfe, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of Yorke, and Owen Glendour? Is there not besides, the Dowglas? Haue I not all their letters, to meete me in Armes by the ninth of the next Moneth? and are they not some of them set forward already? What a Pagan Rascall is this? An Infidell. Ha, you shall see now in very sincerity of Feare and Cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could diuide my selfe, and go to buffets, for mouing such a dish of skim'd Milk with so honourable an Action. Hang him, let him tell the King we are prepared. I will set forwards to night. Enter his Lady.

How now Kate, I must leaue you within these two hours

La. O my good Lord, why are you thus alone? For what offence haue I this fortnight bin A banish'd woman from my Harries bed? Tell me (sweet Lord) what is't that takes from thee Thy stomacke, pleasure, and thy golden sleepe? Why dost thou bend thine eyes vpon the earth? And start so often when thou sitt'st alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheekes? And giuen my Treasures and my rights of thee, To thicke-ey'd musing, and curst melancholly? In my faint-slumbers, I by thee haue watcht, And heard thee murmore tales of Iron Warres: Speake tearmes of manage to thy bounding Steed, Cry courage to the field. And thou hast talk'd Of Sallies, and Retires; Trenches, Tents, Of Palizadoes, Frontiers, Parapets, Of Basiliskes, of Canon, Culuerin, Of Prisoners ransome, and of Souldiers slaine, And all the current of a headdy fight. Thy spirit within thee hath beene so at Warre, And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleepe, That beds of sweate hath stood vpon thy Brow, Like bubbles in a late-disturbed Streame; And in thy face strange motions haue appear'd, Such as we see when men restraine their breath On some great sodaine hast. O what portents are these? Some heauie businesse hath my Lord in hand, And I must know it: else he loues me not

Hot. What ho; Is Gilliams with the Packet gone? Ser. He is my Lord, an houre agone

Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses fro[m] the Sheriffe? Ser. One horse, my Lord, he brought euen now

Hot. What Horse? A Roane, a crop eare, is it not

Ser. It is my Lord

Hot. That Roane shall be my Throne. Well, I will backe him straight. Esperance, bid Butler lead him forth into the Parke

La. But heare you, my lord

Hot. What say'st thou my Lady? La. What is it carries you away? Hot. Why, my horse (my Loue) my horse

La. Out you mad-headed Ape, a Weazell hath not such a deale of Spleene, as you are tost with. In sooth Ile know your businesse Harry, that I will. I feare my Brother Mortimer doth stirre about his Title, and hath sent for you to line his enterprize. But if you go- Hot. So farre a foot, I shall be weary, Loue

La. Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me directly vnto this question, that I shall aske. Indeede Ile breake thy little finger Harry, if thou wilt not tel me true

Hot. Away, away you trifler: Loue, I loue thee not, I care not for thee Kate: this is no world To play with Mammets, and to tilt with lips. We must haue bloodie Noses, and crack'd Crownes, And passe them currant too. Gods me, my horse. What say'st thou Kate? what wold'st thou haue with me? La. Do ye not loue me? Do ye not indeed? Well, do not then. For since you loue me not, I will not loue my selfe. Do you not loue me? Nay, tell me if thou speak'st in iest, or no

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride? And when I am a horsebacke, I will sweare I loue thee infinitely. But hearke you Kate, I must not haue you henceforth, question me, Whether I go: nor reason whereabout. Whether I must, I must: and to conclude, This Euening must I leaue thee, gentle Kate. I know you wise, but yet no further wise Then Harry Percies wife. Constant you are, But yet a woman: and for secrecie, No Lady closer. For I will beleeue Thou wilt not vtter what thou do'st not know, And so farre wilt I trust thee, gentle Kate

La. How so farre? Hot. Not an inch further. But harke you Kate, Whither I go, thither shall you go too: To day will I set forth, to morrow you. Will this content you Kate? La. It must of force.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Prince and Poines.

Prin. Ned, prethee come out of that fat roome, & lend me thy hand to laugh a little

Poines. Where hast bene Hall? Prin. With three or foure Logger-heads, amongst 3. or fourescore Hogsheads. I haue sounded the verie base string of humility. Sirra, I am sworn brother to a leash of Drawers, and can call them by their names, as Tom, Dicke, and Francis. They take it already vpon their confidence, that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King of Curtesie: telling me flatly I am no proud Iack like Falstaffe, but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy, and when I am King of England, I shall command al the good Laddes in East-cheape. They call drinking deepe, dying Scarlet; and when you breath in your watering, then they cry hem, and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an houre, that I can drinke with any Tinker in his owne Language during my life. I tell thee Ned, thou hast lost much honor, that thou wer't not with me in this action: but sweet Ned, to sweeten which name of Ned, I giue thee this peniworth of Sugar, clapt euen now into my hand by an vnder Skinker, one that neuer spake other English in his life, then Eight shillings and six pence, and, You are welcome: with this shril addition, Anon, Anon sir, Score a Pint of Bastard in the Halfe Moone, or so. But Ned, to driue away time till Falstaffe come, I prythee doe thou stand in some by-roome, while I question my puny Drawer, to what end hee gaue me the Sugar, and do neuer leaue calling Francis, that his Tale to me may be nothing but, Anon: step aside, and Ile shew thee a President

Poines. Francis

Prin. Thou art perfect

Poin. Francis. Enter Drawer.

Fran. Anon, anon sir; looke downe into the Pomgarnet, Ralfe

Prince. Come hither Francis

Fran. My Lord

Prin. How long hast thou to serue, Francis? Fran. Forsooth fiue yeares, and as much as to- Poin. Francis

Fran. Anon, anon sir

Prin. Fiue yeares: Berlady a long Lease for the clinking of Pewter. But Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy Indenture, & show it a faire paire of heeles, and run from it? Fran. O Lord sir, Ile be sworne vpon all the Books in England, I could finde in my heart

Poin. Francis

Fran. Anon, anon sir

Prin. How old art thou, Francis? Fran. Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shalbe- Poin. Francis

Fran. Anon sir, pray you stay a little, my Lord

Prin. Nay but harke you Francis, for the Sugar thou gauest me, 'twas a penyworth, was't not? Fran. O Lord sir, I would it had bene two

Prin. I will giue thee for it a thousand pound: Aske me when thou wilt, and thou shalt haue it

Poin. Francis

Fran. Anon, anon

Prin. Anon Francis? No Francis, but to morrow Francis: or Francis, on thursday: or indeed Francis when thou wilt. But Francis

Fran. My Lord

Prin. Wilt thou rob this Leatherne Ierkin, Christall button, Not-pated, Agat ring, Puke stocking, Caddice garter, Smooth tongue, Spanish pouch

Fran. O Lord sir, who do you meane? Prin. Why then your browne Bastard is your onely drinke: for looke you Francis, your white Canuas doublet will sulley. In Barbary sir, it cannot come to so much

Fran. What sir? Poin. Francis

Prin. Away you Rogue, dost thou heare them call?

Heere they both call him, the Drawer stands amazed, not knowing which way to go.

Enter Vintner.

Vint. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling? Looke to the Guests within: My Lord, olde Sir Iohn with halfe a dozen more, are at the doore: shall I let them in? Prin. Let them alone awhile, and then open the doore. Poines. Enter Poines.

Poin. Anon, anon sir

Prin. Sirra, Falstaffe and the rest of the Theeues, are at the doore, shall we be merry? Poin. As merrie as Crickets my Lad. But harke yee, What cunning match haue you made this iest of the Drawer? Come, what's the issue? Prin. I am now of all humors, that haue shewed themselues humors, since the old dayes of goodman Adam, to the pupill age of this present twelue a clock at midnight. What's a clocke Francis? Fran. Anon, anon sir

Prin. That euer this Fellow should haue fewer words then a Parret, and yet the sonne of a Woman. His industry is vp-staires and down-staires, his eloquence the parcell of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percies mind, the Hotspurre of the North, he that killes me some sixe or seauen dozen of Scots at a Breakfast, washes his hands, and saies to his wife; Fie vpon this quiet life, I want worke. O my sweet Harry sayes she, how many hast thou kill'd to day? Giue my Roane horse a drench (sayes hee) and answeres, some fourteene, an houre after: a trifle, a trifle. I prethee call in Falstaffe, Ile play Percy, and that damn'd Brawne shall play Dame Mortimer his wife. Riuo, sayes the drunkard. Call in Ribs, call in Tallow. Enter Falstaffe.

Poin. Welcome Iacke, where hast thou beene? Fal. A plague of all Cowards I say, and a Vengeance too, marry and Amen. Giue me a cup of Sacke Boy. Ere I leade this life long, Ile sowe nether stockes, and mend them too. A plague of all cowards. Giue me a Cup of Sacke, Rogue. Is there no Vertue extant? Prin. Didst thou neuer see Titan kisse a dish of Butter, pittifull hearted Titan that melted at the sweete Tale of the Sunne? If thou didst, then behold that compound

Fal. You Rogue, heere's Lime in this Sacke too: there is nothing but Roguery to be found in Villanous man; yet a Coward is worse then a Cup of Sack with lime. A villanous Coward, go thy wayes old Iacke, die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood be not forgot vpon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten Herring: there liues not three good men vnhang'd in England, & one of them is fat, and growes old, God helpe the while, a bad world I say. I would I were a Weauer, I could sing all manner of songs. A plague of all Cowards, I say still

Prin. How now Woolsacke, what mutter you? Fal. A Kings Sonne? If I do not beate thee out of thy Kingdome with a dagger of Lath, and driue all thy Subiects afore thee like a flocke of Wilde-geese, Ile neuer weare haire on my face more. You Prince of Wales? Prin. Why you horson round man? what's the matter? Fal. Are you not a Coward? Answer me to that, and Poines there? Prin. Ye fat paunch, and yee call mee Coward, Ile stab thee

Fal. I call thee Coward? Ile see thee damn'd ere I call the Coward: but I would giue a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your backe: Call you that backing of your friends? a plague vpon such backing: giue me them that will face me. Giue me a Cup of Sack, I am a Rogue if I drunke to day

Prin. O Villaine, thy Lippes are scarce wip'd, since thou drunk'st last

Falst. All's one for that.

He drinkes.

A plague of all Cowards still, say I

Prince. What's the matter? Falst. What's the matter? here be foure of vs, haue ta'ne a thousand pound this Morning

Prince. Where is it, Iack? where is it? Falst. Where is it? taken from vs, it is: a hundred vpon poore foure of vs

Prince. What, a hundred, man? Falst. I am a Rogue, if I were not at halfe Sword with a dozen of them two houres together. I haue scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the Doublet, foure through the Hose, my Buckler cut through and through, my Sword hackt like a Hand-saw, ecce signum. I neuer dealt better since I was a man: all would not doe. A plague of all Cowards: let them speake; if they speake more or lesse then truth, they are villaines, and the sonnes of darknesse

Prince. Speake sirs, how was it? Gad. We foure set vpon some dozen

Falst. Sixteene, at least, my Lord

Gad. And bound them

Peto. No, no, they were not bound

Falst. You Rogue, they were bound, euery man of them, or I am a Iew else, an Ebrew Iew

Gad. As we were sharing, some sixe or seuen fresh men set vpon vs

Falst. And vnbound the rest, and then come in the other

Prince. What, fought yee with them all? Falst. All? I know not what yee call all: but if I fought not with fiftie of them, I am a bunch of Radish: if there were not two or three and fiftie vpon poore olde Iack, then am I no two-legg'd Creature

Poin. Pray Heauen, you haue not murthered some of them

Falst. Nay, that's past praying for, I haue pepper'd two of them: Two I am sure I haue payed, two Rogues in Buckrom Sutes. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a Lye, spit in my face, call me Horse: thou knowest my olde word: here I lay, and thus I bore my point; foure Rogues in Buckrom let driue at me

Prince. What, foure? thou sayd'st but two, euen now

Falst. Foure Hal, I told thee foure

Poin. I, I, he said foure

Falst. These foure came all a-front, and mainely thrust at me; I made no more adoe, but tooke all their seuen points in my Targuet, thus

Prince. Seuen? why there were but foure, euen now

Falst. In buckrom

Poin. I, foure, in Buckrom Sutes

Falst. Seuen, by these Hilts, or I am a Villaine else

Prin. Prethee let him alone, we shall haue more anon

Falst. Doest thou heare me, Hal? Prin. I, and marke thee too, Iack

Falst. Doe so, for it is worth the listning too: these nine in Buckrom, that I told thee of

Prin. So, two more alreadie

Falst. Their Points being broken

Poin. Downe fell his Hose

Falst. Began to giue me ground: but I followed me close, came in foot and hand; and with a thought, seuen of the eleuen I pay'd

Prin. O monstrous! eleuen Buckrom men growne out of two? Falst. But as the Deuill would haue it, three mis-begotten Knaues, in Kendall Greene, came at my Back, and let driue at me; for it was so darke, Hal, that thou could'st not see thy Hand

Prin. These Lyes are like the Father that begets them, grosse as a Mountaine, open, palpable. Why thou Claybrayn'd Guts, thou Knotty-pated Foole, thou Horson obscene greasie Tallow Catch

Falst. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth, the truth? Prin. Why, how could'st thou know these men in Kendall Greene, when it was so darke, thou could'st not see thy Hand? Come, tell vs your reason: what say'st thou to this? Poin. Come, your reason Iack, your reason

Falst. What, vpon compulsion? No: were I at the Strappado, or all the Racks in the World, I would not tell you on compulsion. Giue you a reason on compulsion? If Reasons were as plentie as Black-berries, I would giue no man a Reason vpon compulsion, I

Prin. Ile be no longer guiltie of this sinne. This sanguine Coward, this Bed-presser, this Hors-back-breaker, this huge Hill of Flesh

Falst. Away you Starueling, you Elfe-skin, you dried Neats tongue, Bulles-pissell, you stocke-fish: O for breth to vtter. What is like thee? You Tailors yard, you sheath you Bow-case, you vile standing tucke

Prin. Well, breath a-while, and then to't againe: and when thou hast tyr'd thy selfe in base comparisons, heare me speake but thus

Poin. Marke Iacke

Prin. We two, saw you foure set on foure and bound them, and were Masters of their Wealth: mark now how a plaine Tale shall put you downe. Then did we two, set on you foure, and with a word, outfac'd you from your prize, and haue it: yea, and can shew it you in the House. And Falstaffe, you caried your Guts away as nimbly, with as quicke dexteritie, and roared for mercy, and still ranne and roar'd, as euer I heard Bull-Calfe. What a Slaue art thou, to hacke thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was in fight. What trick? what deuice? what starting hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparant shame? Poines. Come, let's heare Iacke: What tricke hast thou now? Fal. I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why heare ye my Masters, was it for me to kill the Heire apparant? Should I turne vpon the true Prince? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware Instinct, the Lion will not touch the true Prince: Instinct is a great matter. I was a Coward on Instinct: I shall thinke the better of my selfe, and thee, during my life: I, for a valiant Lion, and thou for a true Prince. But Lads, I am glad you haue the Mony. Hostesse, clap to the doores: watch to night, pray to morrow. Gallants, Lads, Boyes, Harts of Gold, all the good Titles of Fellowship come to you. What, shall we be merry? shall we haue a Play extempory

Prin. Content, and the argument shall be, thy runing away

Fal. A, no more of that Hall, and thou louest me.

Enter Hostesse

Host. My Lord, the Prince? Prin. How now my Lady the Hostesse, what say'st thou to me? Hostesse. Marry, my Lord, there is a Noble man of the Court at doore would speake with you: hee sayes, hee comes from your Father

Prin. Giue him as much as will make him a Royall man, and send him backe againe to my Mother

Falst. What manner of man is hee? Hostesse. An old man

Falst. What doth Grauitie out of his Bed at Midnight? Shall I giue him his answere? Prin. Prethee doe Iacke

Falst. 'Faith, and Ile send him packing. Enter.

Prince. Now Sirs: you fought faire; so did you Peto, so did you Bardol: you are Lyons too, you ranne away vpon instinct: you will not touch the true Prince; no, fie

Bard. 'Faith, I ranne when I saw others runne

Prin. Tell mee now in earnest, how came Falstaffes Sword so hackt? Peto. Why, he hackt it with his Dagger, and said, hee would sweare truth out of England, but hee would make you beleeue it was done in fight, and perswaded vs to doe the like

Bard. Yea, and to tickle our Noses with Spear-grasse, to make them bleed, and then to beslubber our garments with it, and sweare it was the blood of true men. I did that I did not this seuen yeeres before, I blusht to heare his monstrous deuices

Prin. O Villaine, thou stolest a Cup of Sacke eighteene yeeres agoe, and wert taken with the manner, and euer since thou hast blusht extempore: thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou ranst away; what instinct hadst thou for it? Bard. My Lord, doe you see these Meteors? doe you behold these Exhalations? Prin. I doe Bard. What thinke you they portend? Prin. Hot Liuers, and cold Purses

Bard. Choler, my Lord, if rightly taken

Prin. No, if rightly taken, Halter. Enter Falstaffe.

Heere comes leane Iacke, heere comes bare-bone. How now my sweet Creature of Bombast, how long is't agoe, Iacke, since thou saw'st thine owne Knee? Falst. My owne Knee? When I was about thy yeeres (Hal) I was not an Eagles Talent in the Waste, I could haue crept into any Aldermans Thumbe-Ring: a plague of sighing and griefe, it blowes a man vp like a Bladder. There's villanous Newes abroad; heere was Sir Iohn Braby from your Father; you must goe to the Court in the Morning. The same mad fellow of the North, Percy; and hee of Wales, that gaue Amamon the Bastinado, and made Lucifer Cuckold, and swore the Deuill his true Liege-man vpon the Crosse of a Welch-hooke; what a plague call you him? Poin. O, Glendower

Falst. Owen, Owen; the same, and his Sonne in Law Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and the sprightly Scot of Scots, Dowglas, that runnes a Horse-backe vp a Hill perpendicular

Prin. Hee that rides at high speede, and with a Pistoll kills a Sparrow flying

Falst. You haue hit it

Prin. So did he neuer the Sparrow

Falst. Well, that Rascall hath good mettall in him, hee will not runne

Prin. Why, what a Rascall art thou then, to prayse him so for running? Falst. A Horse-backe (ye Cuckoe) but a foot hee will not budge a foot

Prin. Yes Iacke, vpon instinct

Falst. I grant ye, vpon instinct: Well, hee is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blew-Cappes more. Worcester is stolne away by Night: thy Fathers Beard is turn'd white with the Newes; you may buy Land now as cheape as stinking Mackrell

Prin. Then 'tis like, if there come a hot Sunne, and this ciuill buffetting hold, wee shall buy Maiden-heads as they buy Hob-nayles, by the Hundreds

Falst. By the Masse Lad, thou say'st true, it is like wee shall haue good trading that way. But tell me Hal, art not thou horrible afear'd? thou being Heire apparant, could the World picke thee out three such Enemyes againe, as that Fiend Dowglas, that Spirit Percy, and that Deuill Glendower? Art not thou horrible afraid? Doth not thy blood thrill at it? Prin. Not a whit: I lacke some of thy instinct

Falst. Well, thou wilt be horrible chidde to morrow, when thou commest to thy Father: if thou doe loue me, practise an answere

Prin. Doe thou stand for my Father, and examine mee vpon the particulars of my Life

Falst. Shall I? content: This Chayre shall bee my State, this Dagger my Scepter, and this Cushion my Crowne

Prin. Thy State is taken for a Ioyn'd-Stoole, thy Golden Scepter for a Leaden Dagger, and thy precious rich Crowne, for a pittifull bald Crowne

Falst. Well, and the fire of Grace be not quite out of thee now shalt thou be moued. Giue me a Cup of Sacke to make mine eyes looke redde, that it may be thought I haue wept, for I must speake in passion, and I will doe it in King Cambyses vaine

Prin. Well, heere is my Legge

Falst. And heere is my speech: stand aside Nobilitie

Hostesse. This is excellent sport, yfaith

Falst. Weepe not, sweet Queene, for trickling teares are vaine

Hostesse. O the Father, how hee holdes his countenance? Falst. For Gods sake Lords, conuey my trustfull Queen, For teares doe stop the floud-gates of her eyes

Hostesse. O rare, he doth it as like one of these harlotry Players, as euer I see

Falst. Peace good Pint-pot, peace good Tickle-braine. Harry, I doe not onely maruell where thou spendest thy time; but also, how thou art accompanied: For though the Camomile, the more it is troden, the faster it growes; yet Youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it weares. Thou art my Sonne: I haue partly thy Mothers Word,

## partly my Opinion; but chiefely, a villanous tricke of

thine Eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether Lippe, that doth warrant me. If then thou be Sonne to mee, heere lyeth the point: why, being Sonne to me, art thou so poynted at? Shall the blessed Sonne of Heauen proue a Micher, and eate Black-berryes? a question not to bee askt. Shall the Sonne of England proue a Theefe, and take Purses? a question to be askt. There is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is knowne to many in our Land, by the Name of Pitch: this Pitch (as ancient Writers doe report) doth defile; so doth the companie thou keepest: for Harry, now I doe not speake to thee in Drinke, but in Teares; not in Pleasure, but in Passion; not in Words onely, but in Woes also: and yet there is a vertuous man, whom I haue often noted in thy companie, but I know not his Name

Prin. What manner of man, and it like your Maiestie? Falst. A goodly portly man yfaith, and a corpulent, of a chearefull Looke, a pleasing Eye, and a most noble Carriage, and as I thinke, his age some fiftie, or (byrlady) inclining to threescore; and now I remember mee, his Name is Falstaffe: if that man should be lewdly giuen, hee deceiues mee; for Harry, I see Vertue in his Lookes. If then the Tree may be knowne by the Fruit, as the Fruit by the Tree, then peremptorily I speake it, there is Vertue in that Falstaffe: him keepe with, the rest banish. And tell mee now, thou naughtie Varlet, tell mee, where hast thou beene this moneth? Prin. Do'st thou speake like a King? doe thou stand for mee, and Ile play my Father

Falst. Depose me: if thou do'st it halfe so grauely, so maiestically, both in word and matter, hang me vp by the heeles for a Rabbet-sucker, or a Poulters Hare

Prin. Well, heere I am set

Falst. And heere I stand: iudge my Masters

Prin. Now Harry, whence come you? Falst. My Noble Lord, from East-cheape

Prin. The complaints I heare of thee, are grieuous

Falst. Yfaith, my Lord, they are false: Nay, Ile tickle ye for a young Prince

Prin. Swearest thou, vngracious Boy? henceforth ne're looke on me: thou art violently carryed away from Grace: there is a Deuill haunts thee, in the likenesse of a fat old Man; a Tunne of Man is thy Companion: Why do'st thou conuerse with that Trunke of Humors, that Boulting-Hutch of Beastlinesse, that swolne Parcell of Dropsies, that huge Bombard of Sacke, that stuft Cloakebagge of Guts, that rosted Manning Tree Oxe with the Pudding in his Belly, that reuerend Vice, that grey iniquitie, that Father Ruffian, that Vanitie in yeeres? wherein is he good, but to taste Sacke, and drinke it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carue a Capon, and eat it? wherein Cunning, but in Craft? wherein Craftie, but in Villanie? wherein Villanous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but in nothing? Falst. I would your Grace would take me with you: whom meanes your Grace? Prince. That villanous abhominable mis-leader of Youth, Falstaffe, that old white-bearded Sathan

Falst. My Lord, the man I know

Prince. I know thou do'st

Falst. But to say, I know more harme in him then in my selfe, were to say more then I know. That hee is olde (the more the pittie) his white hayres doe witnesse it: but that hee is (sauing your reuerence) a Whore-master, that I vtterly deny. If Sacke and Sugar bee a fault, Heauen helpe the Wicked: if to be olde and merry, be a sinne, then many an olde Hoste that I know, is damn'd: if to be fat, be to be hated, then Pharaohs leane Kine are to be loued. No, my good Lord, banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poines: but for sweete Iacke Falstaffe, kinde Iacke Falstaffe, true Iacke Falstaffe, valiant Iacke Falstaffe, and therefore more valiant, being as hee is olde Iack Falstaffe, banish not him thy Harryes companie, banish not him thy Harryes companie; banish plumpe Iacke, and banish all the World

Prince. I doe, I will. Enter Bardolph running.

Bard. O, my Lord, my Lord, the Sherife, with a most monstrous Watch, is at the doore

Falst. Out you Rogue, play out the Play: I haue much to say in the behalfe of that Falstaffe. Enter the Hostesse.

Hostesse. O, my Lord, my Lord

Falst. Heigh, heigh, the Deuill rides vpon a Fiddlesticke: what's the matter? Hostesse. The Sherife and all the Watch are at the doore: they are come to search the House, shall I let them in? Falst. Do'st thou heare Hal, neuer call a true peece of Gold a Counterfeit: thou art essentially made, without seeming so

Prince. And thou a naturall Coward, without instinct

Falst. I deny your Maior: if you will deny the Sherife, so: if not, let him enter. If I become not a Cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing vp: I hope I shall as soone be strangled with a Halter, as another

Prince. Goe hide thee behinde the Arras, the rest walke vp aboue. Now my Masters, for a true Face and good Conscience

Falst. Both which I haue had: but their date is out, and therefore Ile hide me. Enter.

Prince. Call in the Sherife. Enter Sherife and the Carrier.

Prince. Now Master Sherife, what is your will with mee? She. First pardon me, my Lord. A Hue and Cry hath followed certaine men vnto this house

Prince. What men? She. One of them is well knowne, my gracious Lord, a grosse fat man

Car. As fat as Butter

Prince. The man, I doe assure you, is not heere, For I my selfe at this time haue imploy'd him: And Sherife, I will engage my word to thee, That I will by to morrow Dinner time, Send him to answere thee, or any man, For any thing he shall be charg'd withall: And so let me entreat you, leaue the house

She. I will, my Lord: there are two Gentlemen Haue in this Robberie lost three hundred Markes

Prince. It may be so: if he haue robb'd these men, He shall be answerable: and so farewell

She. Good Night, my Noble Lord

Prince. I thinke it is good Morrow, is it not? She. Indeede, my Lord, I thinke it be two a Clocke. Enter.

Prince. This oyly Rascall is knowne as well as Poules: goe call him forth

Peto. Falstaffe? fast asleepe behinde the Arras, and snorting like a Horse

Prince. Harke, how hard he fetches breath: search his Pockets.

He searcheth his Pockets, and findeth certaine Papers.

Prince. What hast thou found? Peto. Nothing but Papers, my Lord

Prince. Let's see, what be they? reade them

Peto. Item, a Capon. ii.s.ii.d. Item, Sawce iiii.d. Item, Sacke, two Gallons. v.s.viii.d. Item, Anchoues and Sacke after Supper. ii.s.vi.d. Item, Bread. ob

Prince. O monstrous, but one halfe penny-worth of Bread to this intollerable deale of Sacke? What there is else, keepe close, wee'le reade it at more aduantage: there let him sleepe till day. Ile to the Court in the Morning: Wee must all to the Warres, and thy place shall be honorable. Ile procure this fat Rogue a Charge of Foot, and I know his death will be a Match of Twelue-score. The Money shall be pay'd backe againe with aduantage. Be with me betimes in the Morning: and so good morrow Peto

Peto. Good morrow, good my Lord.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Hotspurre, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, Owen Glendower.

Mort. These promises are faire, the parties sure, And our induction full of prosperous hope

Hotsp. Lord Mortimer, and Cousin Glendower, Will you sit downe? And Vnckle Worcester; a plague vpon it, I haue forgot the Mappe

Glend. No, here it is: Sit Cousin Percy, sit good Cousin Hotspurre: For by that Name, as oft as Lancaster doth speake of you, His Cheekes looke pale, and with a rising sigh, He wisheth you in Heauen

Hotsp. And you in Hell, as oft as he heares Owen Glendower spoke of

Glend. I cannot blame him: At my Natiuitie, The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes, Of burning Cressets: and at my Birth, The frame and foundation of the Earth Shak'd like a Coward

Hotsp. Why so it would haue done at the same season, if your Mothers Cat had but kitten'd, though your selfe had neuer beene borne

Glend. I say the Earth did shake when I was borne

Hotsp. And I say the Earth was not of my minde, If you suppose, as fearing you, it shooke

Glend. The heauens were all on fire, the Earth did tremble

Hotsp. Oh, then the Earth shooke To see the Heauens on fire, And not in feare of your Natiuitie. Diseased Nature oftentimes breakes forth In strange eruptions; and the teeming Earth Is with a kinde of Collick pincht and vext, By the imprisoning of vnruly Winde Within her Wombe: which for enlargement striuing, Shakes the old Beldame Earth, and tombles downe Steeples, and mosse-growne Towers. At your Birth, Our Grandam Earth, hauing this distemperature, In passion shooke

Glend. Cousin: of many men I doe not beare these Crossings: Giue me leaue To tell you once againe, that at my Birth The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes, The Goates ranne from the Mountaines, and the Heards Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields: These signes haue markt me extraordinarie, And all the courses of my Life doe shew, I am not in the Roll of common men. Where is the Liuing, clipt in with the Sea, That chides the Bankes of England, Scotland, and Wales, Which calls me Pupill, or hath read to me? And bring him out, that is but Womans Sonne, Can trace me in the tedious wayes of Art, And hold me pace in deepe experiments

Hotsp. I thinke there's no man speakes better Welsh: Ile to Dinner

Mort. Peace cousin Percy, you will make him mad

Glend. I can call Spirits from the vastie Deepe

Hotsp. Why so can I, or so can any man: But will they come, when you doe call for them? Glend. Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command the Deuill

Hotsp. And I can teach thee, Cousin, to shame the Deuil, By telling truth. Tell truth, and shame the Deuill. If thou haue power to rayse him, bring him hither, And Ile be sworne, I haue power to shame him hence. Oh, while you liue, tell truth, and shame the Deuill

Mort. Come, come, no more of this vnprofitable Chat

Glend. Three times hath Henry Bullingbrooke made head Against my Power: thrice from the Banks of Wye, And sandy-bottom'd Seuerne, haue I hent him Bootlesse home, and Weather-beaten backe

Hotsp. Home without Bootes, And in foule Weather too, How scapes he Agues in the Deuils name? Glend. Come, heere's the Mappe: Shall wee diuide our Right, According to our three-fold order ta'ne? Mort. The Arch-Deacon hath diuided it Into three Limits, very equally: England, from Trent, and Seuerne. hitherto, By South and East, is to my part assign'd: All Westward, Wales, beyond the Seuerne shore, And all the fertile Land within that bound, To Owen Glendower: And deare Couze, to you The remnant Northward, lying off from Trent. And our Indentures Tripartite are drawne: Which being sealed enterchangeably, (A Businesse that this Night may execute) To morrow, Cousin Percy, you and I, And my good Lord of Worcester, will set forth, To meete your Father, and the Scottish Power, As is appointed vs at Shrewsbury. My Father Glendower is not readie yet, Nor shall wee neede his helpe these foureteene dayes: Within that space, you may haue drawne together Your Tenants, Friends, and neighbouring Gentlemen

Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, Lords: And in my Conduct shall your Ladies come, From whom you now must steale, and take no leaue, For there will be a World of Water shed, Vpon the parting of your Wiues and you

Hotsp. Me thinks my Moity, North from Burton here, In quantitie equals not one of yours: See, how this Riuer comes me cranking in, And cuts me from the best of all my Land, A huge halfe Moone, a monstrous Cantle out. Ile haue the Currant in this place damn'd vp, And here the smug and Siluer Trent shall runne, In a new Channell, faire and euenly: It shall not winde with such a deepe indent, To rob me of so rich a Bottome here

Glend. Not winde? it shall, it must, you see it doth

Mort. Yea, but marke how he beares his course, And runnes me vp, with like aduantage on the other side, Gelding the opposed Continent as much, As on the other side it takes from you

Worc. Yea, but a little Charge will trench him here, And on this North side winne this Cape of Land, And then he runnes straight and euen

Hotsp. Ile haue it so, a little Charge will doe it

Glend. Ile not haue it alter'd

Hotsp. Will not you? Glend. No, nor you shall not

Hotsp. Who shall say me nay? Glend. Why, that will I

Hotsp. let me not vnderstand you then, speake it in Welsh

Glend. I can speake English, Lord, as well as you: For I was trayn'd vp in the English Court; Where, being but young, I framed to the Harpe Many an English Dittie, louely well, And gaue the Tongue a helpefull Ornament; A Vertue that was neuer seene in you

Hotsp. Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart, I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew, Then one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers: I had rather heare a Brazen Candlestick turn'd, Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle-tree, And that would set my teeth nothing an edge, Nothing so much, as mincing Poetrie; 'Tis like the forc't gate of a shuffling Nagge

Glend. Come, you shall haue Trent turn'd

Hotsp. I doe not care: Ile giue thrice so much Land To any well-deseruing friend; But in the way of Bargaine, marke ye me, Ile cauill on the ninth part of a hayre. Are the Indentures drawne? shall we be gone? Glend. The Moone shines faire, You may away by Night: Ile haste the Writer; and withall, Breake with your Wiues, of your departure hence: I am afraid my Daughter will runne madde, So much she doteth on her Mortimer. Enter.

Mort. Fie, Cousin Percy, how you crosse my Father

Hotsp. I cannot chuse: sometime he angers me, With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant, Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies; And of a Dragon, and a finne-lesse Fish, A clip-wing'd Griffin, and a moulten Rauen, A couching Lyon, and a ramping Cat, And such a deale of skimble-skamble Stuffe, As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what, He held me last Night, at least, nine howres, In reckning vp the seuerall Deuils Names, That were his Lacqueyes: I cry'd hum, and well, goe too, But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious As a tyred Horse, a rayling Wife, Worse then a smoakie House. I had rather liue With Cheese and Garlick in a Windmill farre, Then feede on Cates, and haue him talke to me, In any Summer-House in Christendome

Mort. In faith he was a worthy Gentleman, Exceeding well read, and profited, In strange Concealements: Valiant as a Lyon, and wondrous affable, And as Bountifull, as Mynes of India. Shall I tell you, Cousin, He holds your temper in a high respect, And curbes himselfe, euen of his naturall scope, When you doe crosse his humor: 'faith he does. I warrant you, that man is not aliue, Might so haue tempted him, as you haue done, Without the taste of danger, and reproofe: But doe not vse it oft, let me entreat you

Worc. In faith, my Lord, you are too wilfull blame, And since your comming hither, haue done enough, To put him quite besides his patience. You must needes learne, Lord, to amend this fault: Though sometimes it shew Greatnesse, Courage, Blood, And that's the dearest grace it renders you; Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh Rage, Defect of Manners, want of Gouernment, Pride, Haughtinesse, Opinion, and Disdaine: The least of which, haunting a Nobleman, Loseth mens hearts, and leaues behinde a stayne Vpon the beautie of all parts besides, Beguiling them of commendation

Hotsp. Well, I am school'd: Good-manners be your speede; Heere come your Wiues, and let vs take our leaue. Enter Glendower, with the Ladies.

Mort. This is the deadly spight, that angers me, My Wife can speake no English, I no Welsh

Glend. My Daughter weepes, shee'le not part with you, Shee'le be a Souldier too, shee'le to the Warres

Mort. Good Father tell her, that she and my Aunt Percy Shall follow in your Conduct speedily.

Glendower speakes to her in Welsh, and she answeres him in the same.

Glend. Shee is desperate heere: A peeuish selfe-will'd Harlotry, One that no perswasion can doe good vpon.

The Lady speakes in Welsh.

Mort. I vnderstand thy Lookes: that pretty Welsh Which thou powr'st down from these swelling Heauens, I am too perfect in: and but for shame, In such a parley should I answere thee.

The Lady againe in welsh.

Mort. I vnderstand thy Kisses, and thou mine, And that's a feeling disputation: But I will neuer be a Truant, Loue, Till I haue learn'd thy Language: for thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as Ditties highly penn'd, Sung by a faire Queene in a Summers Bowre, With rauishing Diuision to her Lute

Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then will she runne madde.

The Lady speakes againe in Welsh.

Mort. O, I am Ignorance it selfe in this

Glend. She bids you, On the wanton Rushes lay you downe, And rest your gentle Head vpon her Lappe, And she will sing the Song that pleaseth you, And on your Eye-lids Crowne the God of Sleepe, Charming your blood with pleasing heauinesse; Making such difference betwixt Wake and Sleepe, As is the difference betwixt Day and Night, The houre before the Heauenly Harneis'd Teeme Begins his Golden Progresse in the East

Mort. With all my heart Ile sit, and heare her sing: By that time will our Booke, I thinke, be drawne

Glend. Doe so: And those Musitians that shall play to you, Hang in the Ayre a thousand Leagues from thence; And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend

Hotsp. Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe: Come, quicke, quicke, that I may lay my Head in thy Lappe

Lady. Goe, ye giddy-Goose.

The Musicke playes.

Hotsp. Now I perceiue the Deuill vnderstands Welsh, And 'tis no maruell he is so humorous: Byrlady hee's a good Musitian

Lady. Then would you be nothing but Musicall, For you are altogether gouerned by humors: Lye still ye Theefe, and heare the Lady sing in Welsh

Hotsp. I had rather heare (Lady) my Brach howle in Irish

Lady. Would'st haue thy Head broken? Hotsp. No

Lady. Then be still

Hotsp. Neyther, 'tis a Womans fault

Lady. Now God helpe thee

Hotsp. To the Welsh Ladies Bed

Lady. What's that? Hotsp. Peace, shee sings.

Heere the Lady sings a Welsh Song.

Hotsp. Come, Ile haue your Song too

Lady. Not mine, in good sooth

Hotsp. Not yours, in good sooth? You sweare like a Comfit-makers Wife: Not you, in good sooth; and, as true as I liue; And, as God shall mend me; and, as sure as day: And giuest such Sarcenet suretie for thy Oathes, As if thou neuer walk'st further then Finsbury. Sweare me, Kate, like a Lady, as thou art, A good mouth-filling Oath: and leaue in sooth, And such protest of Pepper Ginger-bread, To Veluet-Guards, and Sunday-Citizens. Come, sing

Lady. I will not sing

Hotsp. 'Tis the next way to turne Taylor, or be Redbrest teacher: and the Indentures be drawne, Ile away within these two howres: and so come in, when yee will. Enter.

Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow, As hot Lord Percy is on fire to goe. By this our Booke is drawne: wee'le but seale, And then to Horse immediately

Mort. With all my heart.

Exeunt.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.

King. Lords, giue vs leaue: The Prince of Wales, and I, Must haue some priuate conference: But be neere at hand, For wee shall presently haue neede of you.

Exeunt. Lords.

I know not whether Heauen will haue it so, For some displeasing seruice I haue done; That in his secret Doome, out of my Blood, Hee'le breede Reuengement, and a Scourge for me: But thou do'st in thy passages of Life, Make me beleeue, that thou art onely mark'd For the hot vengeance, and the Rod of heauen To punish my Mistreadings. Tell me else, Could such inordinate and low desires, Such poore, such bare, such lewd, such meane attempts, Such barren pleasures, rude societie, As thou art matcht withall, and grafted too, Accompanie the greatnesse of thy blood, And hold their leuell with thy Princely heart? Prince. So please your Maiesty, I would I could Quit all offences with as cleare excuse, As well as I am doubtlesse I can purge My selfe of many I am charg'd withall: Yet such extenuation let me begge, As in reproofe of many Tales deuis'd, Which oft the Eare of Greatnesse needes must heare, By smiling Pick-thankes, and base Newes-mongers; I may for some things true, wherein my youth Hath faultie wandred, and irregular, Finde pardon on my true submission

King. Heauen pardon thee: Yet let me wonder, Harry, At thy affections, which doe hold a Wing Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. Thy place in Councell thou hast rudely lost, Which by thy younger Brother is supply'de; And art almost an alien to the hearts Of all the Court and Princes of my blood. The hope and expectation of thy time Is ruin'd, and the Soule of euery man Prophetically doe fore-thinke thy fall. Had I so lauish of my presence beene, So common hackney'd in the eyes of men, So stale and cheape to vulgar Company; Opinion, that did helpe me to the Crowne, Had still kept loyall to possession, And left me in reputelesse banishment, A fellow of no marke, nor likelyhood. By being seldome seene, I could not stirre, But like a Comet, I was wondred at, That men would tell their Children, This is hee: Others would say; Where, Which is Bullingbrooke. And then I stole all Courtesie from Heauen, And drest my selfe in such Humilitie, That I did plucke Allegeance from mens hearts, Lowd Showts and Salutations from their mouthes, Euen in the presence of the Crowned King. Thus I did keepe my Person fresh and new, My Presence like a Robe Pontificall, Ne're seene, but wondred at: and so my State, Seldome but sumptuous, shewed like a Feast, And wonne by rarenesse such Solemnitie. The skipping King hee ambled vp and downe, With shallow Iesters, and rash Bauin Wits, Soone kindled, and soone burnt, carded his state, Mingled his Royaltie with Carping Fooles, Had his great Name prophaned with their Scornes, And gaue his Countenance, against his Name, To laugh at gybing Boyes, and stand the push Of euery Beardlesse vaine Comparatiue; Grew a Companion to the common Streetes, Enfeoff'd himselfe to Popularitie: That being dayly swallowed by mens Eyes, They surfeted with Honey, and began to loathe The taste of Sweetnesse, whereof a little More then a little, is by much too much. So when he had occasion to be seene, He was but as the Cuckow is in Iune, Heard, not regarded: seene but with such Eyes, As sicke and blunted with Communitie, Affoord no extraordinarie Gaze, Such as is bent on Sunne-like Maiestie, When it shines seldome in admiring Eyes: But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids downe, Slept in his Face, and rendred such aspect As Cloudie men vse to doe to their aduersaries, Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full. And in that very Line, Harry, standest thou: For thou hast lost thy Princely Priuiledge, With vile participation. Not an Eye But is awearie of thy common sight, Saue mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more: Which now doth that I would not haue it doe, Make blinde it selfe with foolish tendernesse

Prince. I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious Lord, Be more my selfe

King. For all the World, As thou art to this houre, was Richard then, When I from France set foot at Rauenspurgh; And euen as I was then, is Percy now: Now by my Scepter, and my Soule to boot, He hath more worthy interest to the State Then thou, the shadow of Succession; For of no Right, nor colour like to Right. He doth fill fields with Harneis in the Realme, Turnes head against the Lyons armed Iawes; And being no more in debt to yeeres, then thou, Leades ancient Lords, and reuerent Bishops on To bloody Battailes, and to brusing Armes. What neuer-dying Honor hath he got, Against renowned Dowglas? whose high Deedes, Whose hot Incursions, and great Name in Armes, Holds from all Souldiers chiefe Maioritie, And Militarie Title Capitall. Through all the Kingdomes that acknowledge Christ, Thrice hath the Hotspur Mars, in swathing Clothes, This Infant Warrior, in his Enterprises, Discomfited great Dowglas, ta'ne him once, Enlarged him, and made a friend of him, To fill the mouth of deepe Defiance vp, And shake the peace and safetie of our Throne. And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, The Arch-bishops Grace of Yorke, Dowglas, Mortimer, Capitulate against vs, and are vp. But wherefore doe I tell these Newes to thee? Why, Harry, doe I tell thee of my Foes, Which art my neer'st and dearest Enemie? Thou, that art like enough, through vassall Feare, Base Inclination, and the start of Spleene, To fight against me vnder Percies pay, To dogge his heeles, and curtsie at his frownes, To shew how much thou art degenerate

Prince. Doe not thinke so, you shall not finde it so: And Heauen forgiue them, that so much haue sway'd Your Maiesties good thoughts away from me: I will redeeme all this on Percies head, And in the closing of some glorious day, Be bold to tell you, that I am your Sonne, When I will weare a Garment all of Blood, And staine my fauours in a bloody Maske: Which washt away, shall scowre my shame with it. And that shall be the day, when ere it lights, That this same Child of Honor and Renowne. This gallant Hotspur, this all-praysed Knight. And your vnthought-of Harry chance to meet: For euery Honor sitting on his Helme, Would they were multitudes, and on my head My shames redoubled. For the time will come, That I shall make this Northerne Youth exchange His glorious Deedes for my Indignities: Percy is but my Factor, good my Lord, To engrosse vp glorious Deedes on my behalfe: And I will call him to so strict account, That he shall render euery Glory vp, Yea, euen the sleightest worship of his time, Or I will teare the Reckoning from his Heart. This, in the Name of Heauen, I promise here: The which, if I performe, and doe suruiue, I doe beseech your Maiestie, may salue The long-growne Wounds of my intemperature: If not, the end of Life cancells all Bands, And I will dye a hundred thousand Deaths, Ere breake the smallest parcell of this Vow

King. A hundred thousand Rebels dye in this: Thou shalt haue Charge, and soueraigne trust herein. Enter Blunt.

How now good Blunt? thy Lookes are full of speed

Blunt. So hath the Businesse that I come to speake of. Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word, That Dowglas and the English Rebels met The eleuenth of this moneth, at Shrewsbury: A mightie and a fearefull Head they are, (If Promises be kept on euery hand) As euer offered foule play in a State

King. The earle of Westmerland set forth to day: With him my sonne, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, For this aduertisement is fiue dayes old. On Wednesday next, Harry thou shalt set forward: On thursday, wee our selues will march. Our meeting is Bridgenorth: and Harry, you shall march Through Glocestershire: by which account, Our Businesse valued some twelue dayes hence, Our generall Forces at Bridgenorth shall meete. Our Hands are full of Businesse: let's away, Aduantage feedes him fat, while men delay.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.

Falst. Bardolph, am I not falne away vilely, since this last action? doe I not bate? doe I not dwindle? Why my skinne hangs about me like an olde Ladies loose Gowne: I am withered like an olde Apple Iohn. Well, Ile repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking: I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall haue no strength to repent. And i haue not forgotten what the in-side of a Church is made of, I am a Pepper-Corne, a Brewers Horse, the in-side of a Church. Company, villanous Company hath beene the spoyle of me

Bard. Sir Iohn, you are so fretfull, you cannot liue long

Falst. Why there is it: Come, sing me a bawdy Song, make me merry; I was as vertuously giuen, as a Gentleman need to be; vertuous enough, swore little, dic'd not aboue seuen times a weeke, went to a Bawdy-house not aboue once in a quarter of an houre, payd Money that I borrowed, three or foure times; liued well, and in good compasse: and now I liue out of all order, out of compasse

Bard. Why, you are so fat, Sir Iohn, that you must needes bee out of of all compasse; out all reasonable compasse, Sir Iohn

Falst. Doe thou amend thy Face, and Ile amend thy Life: Thou art our Admirall, thou bearest the Lanterne in the Poope, but 'tis in the Nose of thee; thou art the Knight of the burning Lampe

Bard. Why, Sir Iohn, my Face does you no harme

Falst. No, Ile be sworne: I make as good vse of it, as many a man doth of a Deaths-Head, or a Memento Mori. I neuer see thy Face, but I thinke vpon Hell fire, and Diues that liued in Purple; for there he is in his Robes burning, burning. If thou wert any way giuen to vertue, I would sweare by thy Face; my Oath should bee, By this Fire: But thou art altogether giuen ouer; and wert indeede, but for the Light in thy Face, the Sunne of vtter Darkenesse. When thou ran'st vp Gads-Hill in the Night, to catch my Horse, if I did not thinke that thou hadst beene an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild-fire, there's no Purchase in Money. O, thou art a perpetuall Triumph, an euerlasting Bone-fire-Light: thou hast saued me a thousand Markes in Linkes and Torches, walking with thee in the Night betwixt Tauerne and Tauerne: But the Sack that thou hast drunke me, would haue bought me Lights as good cheape, as the dearest Chandlers in Europe. I haue maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirtie yeeres, Heauen reward me for it

Bard. I would my Face were in your Belly

Falst. So should I be sure to be heart-burn'd. Enter Hostesse.

How now, Dame Partlet the Hen, haue you enquir'd yet who pick'd my Pocket? Hostesse. Why Sir Iohn, what doe you thinke, Sir Iohn? doe you thinke I keepe Theeues in my House? I haue search'd, I haue enquired, so haz my Husband, Man by Man, Boy by Boy, Seruant by Seruant: the tight of a hayre was neuer lost in my house before

Falst. Ye lye Hostesse: Bardolph was shau'd, and lost many a hayre; and Ile be sworne my Pocket was pick'd: goe to, you are a Woman, goe

Hostesse. Who I? I defie thee: I was neuer call'd so in mine owne house before

Falst. Goe to, I know you well enough

Hostesse. No, sir Iohn, you doe not know me, Sir Iohn: I know you, Sir Iohn: you owe me Money, Sir Iohn, and now you picke a quarrell, to beguile me of it: I bought you a dozen of Shirts to your Backe

Falst. Doulas, filthy Doulas: I haue giuen them away to Bakers Wiues, and they haue made Boulters of them

Hostesse. Now as I am a true Woman, Holland of eight shillings an Ell: You owe Money here besides, Sir Iohn, for your Dyet, and by-Drinkings, and Money lent you, foure and twentie pounds

Falst. Hee had his part of it, let him pay

Hostesse. Hee? alas hee is poore, hee hath nothing

Falst. How? Poore? Looke vpon his Face: What call you Rich? Let them coyne his Nose, let them coyne his Cheekes, Ile not pay a Denier. What, will you make a Younker of me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inne, but I shall haue my Pocket pick'd? I haue lost a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers, worth fortie marke

Hostesse. I haue heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that Ring was Copper

Falst. How? the Prince is a Iacke, a Sneake-Cuppe: and if hee were heere, I would cudgell him like a Dogge, if hee would say so. Enter the Prince marching, and Falstaffe meets him, playing on his Trunchion like a Fife.

Falst. How now Lad? is the Winde in that Doore? Must we all march? Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion

Hostesse. My Lord, I pray you heare me

Prince. What say'st thou, Mistresse Quickly? How does thy Husband? I loue him well, hee is an honest man

Hostesse. Good, my Lord, heare mee

Falst. Prethee let her alone, and list to mee

Prince. What say'st thou, Iacke? Falst. The other Night I fell asleepe heere behind the Arras, and had my Pocket pickt: this House is turn'd Bawdy-house, they picke Pockets

Prince. What didst thou lose, Iacke? Falst. Wilt thou beleeue me, Hal? Three or foure Bonds of fortie pound apeece, and a Seale-Ring of my Grand-fathers

Prince. A Trifle, some eight-penny matter

Host. So I told him, my Lord; and I said, I heard your Grace say so: and (my Lord) hee speakes most vilely of you, like a foule-mouth'd man as hee is, and said, hee would cudgell you

Prince. What hee did not? Host. There's neyther Faith, Truth, nor Woman-hood in me else

Falst. There's no more faith in thee then a stu'de Prune; nor no more truth in thee, then in a drawne Fox: and for Wooman-hood, Maid-marian may be the Deputies wife of the Ward to thee. Go you nothing: go

Host. Say, what thing? what thing? Falst. What thing? why a thing to thanke heauen on

Host. I am no thing to thanke heauen on, I wold thou shouldst know it: I am an honest mans wife: and setting thy Knighthood aside, thou art a knaue to call me so

Falst. Setting thy woman-hood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise

Host. Say, what beast, thou knaue thou? Fal. What beast? Why an Otter

Prin. An Otter, sir Iohn? Why an Otter? Fal. Why? She's neither fish nor flesh; a man knowes not where to haue her

Host. Thou art vniust man in saying so; thou, or anie man knowes where to haue me, thou knaue thou

Prince. Thou say'st true Hostesse, and he slanders thee most grossely

Host. So he doth you, my Lord, and sayde this other day, You ought him a thousand pound

Prince. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? Falst. A thousand pound Hal? A Million. Thy loue is worth a Million: thou ow'st me thy loue

Host. Nay my Lord, he call'd you Iacke, and said hee would cudgell you

Fal. Did I, Bardolph? Bar. Indeed Sir Iohn, you said so

Fal. Yea, if he said my Ring was Copper

Prince. I say 'tis Copper. Dar'st thou bee as good as thy word now? Fal. Why Hal? thou know'st, as thou art but a man, I dare: but, as thou art a Prince, I feare thee, as I feare the roaring of the Lyons Whelpe

Prince. And why not as the Lyon? Fal. The King himselfe is to bee feared as the Lyon: Do'st thou thinke Ile feare thee, as I feare thy Father? nay if I do, let my Girdle breake

Prin. O, if it should, how would thy guttes fall about thy knees. But sirra: There's no roome for Faith, Truth, nor Honesty, in this bosome of thine: it is all fill'd vppe with Guttes and Midriffe. Charge an honest Woman with picking thy pocket? Why thou horson impudent imbost Rascall, if there were any thing in thy Pocket but Tauerne Recknings, Memorandums of Bawdie-houses, and one poore peny-worth of Sugar-candie to make thee long-winded: if thy pocket were enrich'd with anie other iniuries but these, I am a Villaine: And yet you will stand to it, you will not Pocket vp wrong. Art thou not asham'd? Fal. Do'st thou heare Hal? Thou know'st in the state of Innocency, Adam fell: and what should poore Iacke Falstaffe do, in the dayes of Villany? Thou seest, I haue more flesh then another man, and therefore more frailty. You confesse then you pickt my Pocket? Prin. It appeares so by the Story

Fal. Hostesse, I forgiue thee: Go make ready Breakfast, loue thy Husband, Looke to thy Seruants, and cherish thy Guests: Thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: Thou seest, I am pacified still. Nay, I prethee be gone.

Exit Hostesse.

Now Hal, to the newes at Court for the Robbery, Lad? How is that answered? Prin. O my sweet Beefe: I must still be good Angell to thee. The Monie is paid backe againe

Fal. O, I do not like that paying backe, 'tis a double Labour

Prin. I am good Friends with my Father, and may do anything

Fal. Rob me the Exchequer the first thing thou do'st, and do it with vnwash'd hands too

Bard. Do my Lord

Prin. I haue procured thee Iacke, A Charge of Foot

Fal. I would it had beene of Horse. Where shal I finde one that can steale well? O, for a fine theefe of two and twentie, or thereabout: I am heynously vnprouided. Wel God be thanked for these Rebels, they offend none but the Vertuous. I laud them, I praise them

Prin. Bardolph

Bar. My Lord

Prin. Go beare this Letter to Lord Iohn of Lancaster To my Brother Iohn. This to my Lord of Westmerland, Go Peto, to horse: for thou, and I, Haue thirtie miles to ride yet ere dinner time. Iacke, meet me tomorrow in the Temple Hall At two a clocke in the afternoone, There shalt thou know thy Charge, and there receiue Money and Order for their Furniture. The Land is burning, Percie stands on hye, And either they, or we must lower lye

Fal. Rare words! braue world. Hostesse, my breakfast, come: Oh, I could wish this Tauerne were my drumme.

Exeunt. omnes.

Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Harrie Hotspurre, Worcester, and Dowglas.

Hot. Well said, my Noble Scot, if speaking truth In this fine Age, were not thought flatterie, Such attribution should the Dowglas haue, As not a Souldiour of this seasons stampe, Should go so generall currant through the world. By heauen I cannot flatter: I defie The Tongues of Soothers. But a Brauer place In my hearts loue, hath no man then your Selfe. Nay, taske me to my word: approue me Lord

Dow. Thou art the King of Honor: No man so potent breathes vpon the ground, But I will Beard him. Enter a Messenger.

Hot. Do so, and 'tis well. What letters hast there? I can but thanke you

Mess. These Letters come from your Father

Hot. Letters from him? Why comes he not himselfe? Mes. He cannot come, my Lord, He is greeuous sicke

Hot. How? haz he the leysure to be sicke now, In such a iustling time? Who leades his power? Vnder whose Gouernment come they along? Mess. His Letters beares his minde, not I his minde

Wor. I prethee tell me, doth he keepe his Bed? Mess. He did, my Lord, foure dayes ere I set forth: And at the time of my departure thence, He was much fear'd by his Physician

Wor. I would the state of time had first beene whole, Ere he by sicknesse had beene visited: His health was neuer better worth then now

Hotsp. Sicke now? droope now? this sicknes doth infect The very Life-blood of our Enterprise, 'Tis catching hither, euen to our Campe. He writes me here, that inward sicknesse, And that his friends by deputation Could not so soone be drawne: nor did he thinke it meet, To lay so dangerous and deare a trust On any Soule remou'd, but on his owne. Yet doth he giue vs bold aduertisement, That with our small coniunction we should on, To see how Fortune is dispos'd to vs: For, as he writes, there is no quailing now, Because the King is certainely possest Of all our purposes. What say you to it? Wor. Your Fathers sicknesse is a mayme to vs

Hotsp. A perillous Gash, a very Limme lopt off: And yet, in faith, it is not his present want Seemes more then we shall finde it. Were it good, to set the exact wealth of all our states All at one Cast? To set so rich a mayne On the nice hazard of one doubtfull houre, It were not good: for therein should we reade The very Bottome, and the Soule of Hope, The very List, the very vtmost Bound Of all our fortunes

Dowg. Faith, and so wee should, Where now remaines a sweet reuersion. We may boldly spend, vpon the hope Of what is to come in: A comfort of retyrement liues in this

Hotsp. A Randeuous, a Home to flye vnto, If that the Deuill and Mischance looke bigge Vpon the Maydenhead of our Affaires

Wor. But yet I would your Father had beene here: The qualitie and Heire of our Attempt Brookes no diuision: It will be thought By some, that know not why he is away, That wisedome, loyaltie, and meere dislike Of our proceedings, kept the Earle from hence. And thinke, how such an apprehension May turne the tyde of fearefull Faction, And breede a kinde of question in our cause: For well you know, wee of the offring side, Must keepe aloofe from strict arbitrement, And stop all sight-holes, euery loope, from whence The eye of reason may prie in vpon vs: This absence of your Father drawes a Curtaine, That shewes the ignorant a kinde of feare, Before not dreamt of

Hotsp. You strayne too farre. I rather of his absence make this vse: It lends a Lustre, and more great Opinion, A larger Dare to your great Enterprize, Then if the Earle were here: for men must thinke, If we without his helpe, can make a Head To push against the Kingdome; with his helpe, We shall o're-turne it topsie-turuy downe: Yet all goes well, yet all our ioynts are whole

Dowg. As heart can thinke: There is not such a word spoke of in Scotland, At this Dreame of Feare. Enter Sir Richard Vernon.

Hotsp. My Cousin Vernon, welcome by my Soule

Vern. Pray God my newes be worth a welcome, Lord. The Earle of Westmerland, seuen thousand strong, Is marching hither-wards, with Prince Iohn

Hotsp. No harme: what more? Vern. And further, I haue learn'd, The King himselfe in person hath set forth, Or hither-wards intended speedily, With strong and mightie preparation

Hotsp. He shall be welcome too. Where is his Sonne, The nimble-footed Mad-Cap, Prince of Wales, And his Cumrades, that daft the World aside, And bid it passe? Vern. All furnisht, all in Armes, All plum'd like Estridges, that with the Winde Bayted like Eagles, hauing lately bath'd, Glittering in Golden Coates, like Images, As full of spirit as the Moneth of May, And gorgeous as the Sunne at Mid-summer, Wanton as youthfull Goates, wilde as young Bulls. I saw young Harry with his Beuer on, His Cushes on his thighes, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his Seat, As if an Angell dropt downe from the Clouds, To turne and winde a fierie Pegasus, And witch the World with Noble Horsemanship

Hotsp. No more, no more, Worse then the Sunne in March: This prayse doth nourish Agues: let them come. They come like Sacrifices in their trimme, And to the fire-ey'd Maid of smoakie Warre, All hot, and bleeding, will wee offer them: The mayled Mars shall on his Altar sit Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire, To heare this rich reprizall is so nigh, And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horse, Who is to beare me like a Thunder-bolt, Against the bosome of the Prince of Wales. Harry to Harry, shall not Horse to Horse Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a Coarse? Oh, that Glendower were come

Ver. There is more newes: I learned in Worcester, as I rode along, He cannot draw his Power this fourteene dayes

Dowg. That's the worst Tidings that I heare of yet

Wor. I by my faith, that beares a frosty sound

Hotsp. What may the Kings whole Battaile reach vnto? Ver. To thirty thousand

Hot. Forty let it be, My Father and Glendower being both away, The powres of vs, may serue so great a day. Come, let vs take a muster speedily: Doomesday is neere; dye all, dye merrily

Dow. Talke not of dying, I am out of feare Of death, or deaths hand, for this one halfe yeare.

Exeunt. Omnes.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph.

Falst. Bardolph, get thee before to Couentry, fill me a Bottle of Sack, our Souldiers shall march through: wee'le to Sutton-cop-hill to Night

Bard. Will you giue me Money, Captaine? Falst. Lay out, lay out

Bard. This Bottle makes an Angell

Falst. And if it doe, take it for thy labour: and if it make twentie, take them all, Ile answere the Coynage. Bid my Lieutenant Peto meete me at the Townes end

Bard. I will Captaine: farewell. Enter.

Falst. If I be not asham'd of my Souldiers, I am a sowc't-Gurnet: I haue mis-vs'd the Kings Presse damnably. I haue got, in exchange of a hundred and fiftie Souldiers, three hundred and odde Pounds. I presse me none but good House-holders, Yeomens Sonnes: enquire me out contracted Batchelers, such as had beene ask'd twice on the Banes: such a Commoditie of warme slaues, as had as lieue heare the Deuill, as a Drumme; such as feare the report of a Caliuer, worse then a struck-Foole, or a hurt wilde-Ducke. I prest me none but such Tostes and Butter, with Hearts in their Bellyes no bigger then Pinnes heads, and they haue bought out their seruices: And now, my whole Charge consists of Ancients, Corporals, Lieutenants, Gentlemen of Companies, Slaues as ragged a Lazarus in the painted Cloth, where the Gluttons Dogges licked his Sores; and such, as indeed were neuer Souldiers, but dis-carded vniust Seruingmen, younger Sonnes to younger Brothers, reuolted Tapsters and Ostlers, Trade-falne, the Cankers of a calme World, and long Peace, tenne times more dis-honorable ragged, then an old-fac'd Ancient; and such haue I to fill vp the roomes of them that haue bought out their seruices: that you would thinke, that I had a hundred and fiftie totter'd Prodigalls, lately come from Swine-keeping, from eating Draffe and Huskes. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, I had vnloaded all the Gibbets, and prest the dead bodyes. No eye hath seene such skar-Crowes: Ile not march through Couentry with them, that's flat. Nay, and the Villaines march wide betwixt the Legges, as if they had Gyues on; for indeede, I had the most of them out of Prison. There's not a Shirt and a halfe in all my Company: and the halfe Shirt is two Napkins tackt together, and throwne ouer the shoulders like a Heralds Coat, without sleeues: and the Shirt, to say the truth, stolne from my Host of S[aint]. Albones, or the Red-Nose Inne-keeper of Dauintry. But that's all one, they'le finde Linnen enough on euery Hedge. Enter the Prince, and the Lord of Westmerland.

Prince. How now blowne Iack? how now Quilt? Falst. What Hal? How now mad Wag, what a Deuill do'st thou in Warwickshire? My good Lord of Westmerland, I cry you mercy, I thought your Honour had already beene at Shrewsbury

West. 'Faith, Sir Iohn, 'tis more then time that I were there, and you too: but my Powers are there alreadie. The King, I can tell you, lookes for vs all: we must away all to Night

Falst. Tut, neuer feare me, I am as vigilant as a Cat, to steale Creame

Prince. I thinke to steale Creame indeed, for thy theft hath alreadie made thee Butter: but tell me, Iack, whose fellowes are these that come after? Falst. Mine, Hal, mine

Prince. I did neuer see such pittifull Rascals

Falst. Tut, tut, good enough to tosse: foode for Powder, foode for Powder: they'le fill a Pit, as well as better: tush man, mortall men, mortall men

Westm. I, but Sir Iohn, me thinkes they are exceeding poore and bare, too beggarly

Falst. Faith, for their pouertie, I know not where they had that; and for their barenesse, I am sure they neuer learn'd that of me

Prince. No, Ile be sworne, vnlesse you call three fingers on the Ribbes bare. But sirra, make haste, Percy is already in the field

Falst. What, is the King encamp'd? Westm. Hee is, Sir Iohn, I feare wee shall stay too long

Falst. Well, to the latter end of a Fray, and the beginning of a Feast, fits a dull fighter, and a keene Guest.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Dowglas, and Vernon.

Hotsp. Wee'le fight with him to Night

Worc. It may not be

Dowg. You giue him then aduantage

Vern. Not a whit

Hotsp. Why say you so? lookes he not for supply? Vern. So doe wee

Hotsp. His is certaine, ours is doubtfull

Worc. Good Cousin be aduis'd, stirre not to night

Vern. Doe not, my Lord

Dowg. You doe not counsaile well: You speake it out of feare, and cold heart

Vern. Doe me no slander, Dowglas: by my Life, And I dare well maintaine it with my Life, If well-respected Honor bid me on, I hold as little counsaile with weake feare, As you, my Lord, or any Scot that this day liues. Let it be seene to morrow in the Battell, Which of vs feares

Dowg. Yea, or to night

Vern. Content

Hotsp. To night, say I

Vern. Come, come, it may not be. I wonder much, being me[n] of such great leading as you are That you fore-see not what impediments Drag backe our expedition: certaine Horse Of my Cousin Vernons are not yet come vp, Your Vnckle Worcesters Horse came but to day, And now their pride and mettall is asleepe, Their courage with hard labour tame and dull, That not a Horse is halfe the halfe of himselfe

Hotsp. So are the Horses of the Enemie In generall iourney bated, and brought low: The better part of ours are full of rest

Worc. The number of the King exceedeth ours: For Gods sake, Cousin, stay till all come in.

The Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter Sir Walter Blunt.

Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the King, If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect

Hotsp. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt: And would to God you were of our determination. Some of vs loue you well: and euen those some Enuie your great deseruings, and good name, Because you are not of our qualitie, But stand against vs like an Enemie

Blunt. And Heauen defend, but still I should stand so, So long as out of Limit, and true Rule, You stand against anoynted Maiestie. But to my Charge. The King hath sent to know The nature of your Griefes, and whereupon You coniure from the Brest of Ciuill Peace, Such bold Hostilitie, teaching his dutious Land Audacious Crueltie. If that the King Haue any way your good Deserts forgot, Which he confesseth to be manifold, He bids you name your Griefes, and with all speed You shall haue your desires, with interest; And Pardon absolute for your selfe, and these, Herein mis-led, by your suggestion

Hotsp. The King is kinde: And well wee know, the King Knowes at what time to promise, when to pay. My Father, my Vnckle, and my selfe, Did giue him that same Royaltie he weares: And when he was not sixe and twentie strong, Sicke in the Worlds regard, wretched, and low, A poore vnminded Out-law, sneaking home, My Father gaue him welcome to the shore: And when he heard him sweare, and vow to God, He came but to be Duke of Lancaster, To sue his Liuerie, and begge his Peace, With teares of Innocencie, and tearmes of Zeale; My Father, in kinde heart and pitty mou'd, Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too. Now, when the Lords and Barons of the Realme Perceiu'd Northumberland did leane to him, The more and lesse came in with Cap and Knee, Met him in Boroughs, Cities, Villages, Attended him on Bridges, stood in Lanes, Layd Gifts before him, proffer'd him their Oathes, Gaue him their Heires, as Pages followed him, Euen at the heeles, in golden multitudes. He presently, as Greatnesse knowes it selfe, Step me a little higher then his Vow Made to my Father, while his blood was poore, Vpon the naked shore at Rauenspurgh: And now (forsooth) takes on him to reforme Some certaine Edicts, and some strait Decrees, That lay too heauie on the Common-wealth; Cryes out vpon abuses, seemes to weepe Ouer his Countries Wrongs: and by this Face, This seeming Brow of Iustice, did he winne The hearts of all that hee did angle for. Proceeded further, cut me off the Heads Of all the Fauorites, that the absent King In deputation left behinde him heere, When hee was personall in the Irish Warre

Blunt. Tut, I came not to hear this

Hotsp. Then to the point. In short time after, hee depos'd the King. Soone after that, depriu'd him of his Life: And in the neck of that, task't the whole State. To make that worse, suffer'd his Kinsman March, Who is, if euery Owner were plac'd, Indeede his King, to be engag'd in Wales, There, without Ransome, to lye forfeited: Disgrac'd me in my happie Victories, Sought to intrap me by intelligence, Rated my Vnckle from the Councell-Boord, In rage dismiss'd my Father from the Court, Broke Oath on Oath, committed Wrong on Wrong, And in conclusion, droue vs to seeke out This Head of safetie; and withall, to prie Into his Title: the which wee finde Too indirect, for long continuance

Blunt. Shall I returne this answer to the King? Hotsp. Not so, Sir Walter. Wee'le with-draw a while: Goe to the King, and let there be impawn'd Some suretie for a safe returne againe, And in the Morning early shall my Vnckle Bring him our purpose: and so farewell

Blunt. I would you would accept of Grace and Loue

Hotsp. And't may be, so wee shall

Blunt. Pray Heauen you doe.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter the Arch-Bishop of Yorke, and Sir Michell.

Arch. Hie, good Sir Michell, beare this sealed Briefe With winged haste to the Lord Marshall, This to my Cousin Scroope, and all the rest To whom they are directed. If you knew how much they doe import, You would make haste

Sir Mich. My good Lord, I guesse their tenor

Arch. Like enough you doe. To morrow, good Sir Michell, is a day, Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men Must bide the touch. For Sir, at Shrewsbury, As I am truly giuen to vnderstand, The King, with mightie and quick-raysed Power, Meetes with Lord Harry: and I feare, Sir Michell, What with the sicknesse of Northumberland, Whose Power was in the first proportion; And what with Owen Glendowers absence thence, Who with them was rated firmely too, And comes not in, ouer-rul'd by Prophecies, I feare the Power of Percy is too weake, To wage an instant tryall with the King

Sir Mich. Why, my good Lord, you need not feare, There is Dowglas, and Lord Mortimer

Arch. No, Mortimer is not there

Sir Mic. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy, And there is my Lord of Worcester, And a Head of gallant Warriors, Noble Gentlemen

Arch. And so there is, but yet the King hath Drawne The speciall head of all the Land together: The Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, The Noble Westmerland, and warlike Blunt; And many moe Corriuals, and deare men Of estimation, and command in Armes

Sir M. Doubt not my Lord, he shall be well oppos'd Arch. I hope no lesse? Yet needfull 'tis to feare, And to preuent the worst, Sir Michell speed; For if Lord Percy thriue not, ere the King Dismisse his power, he meanes to visit vs: For he hath heard of our Confederacie, And, 'tis but Wisedome to make strong against him: Therefore make hast, I must go write againe To other Friends: and so farewell, Sir Michell.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of Westmerland, Sir Walter Blunt, and Falstaffe.

King. How bloodily the Sunne begins to peere Aboue yon busky hill: the day lookes pale At his distemperature Prin. The Southerne winde Doth play the Trumpet to his purposes, And by his hollow whistling in the Leaues, Fortels a Tempest, and a blust'ring day

King. Then with the losers let it sympathize, For nothing can seeme foule to those that win.

The Trumpet sounds.

Enter Worcester.

King. How now my Lord of Worster? 'Tis not well That you and I should meet vpon such tearmes, As now we meet. You haue deceiu'd our trust, And made vs doffe our easie Robes of Peace, To crush our old limbes in vngentle Steele: This is not well, my Lord, this is not well. What say you to it? Will you againe vnknit This churlish knot of all-abhorred Warre? And moue in the obedient Orbe againe, Where you did giue a faire and naturall light, And be no more an exhall'd Meteor, A prodigie of Feare, and a Portent Of broached Mischeefe, to the vnborne Times? Wor. Heare me, my Liege: For mine owne part, I could be well content To entertaine the Lagge-end of my life With quiet houres: For I do protest, I haue not sought the day of this dislike

King. You haue not sought it: how comes it then? Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it

Prin. Peace, Chewet, peace

Wor. It pleas'd your Maiesty, to turne your lookes Of Fauour, from my Selfe, and all our House; And yet I must remember you my Lord, We were the first, and dearest of your Friends: For you, my staffe of Office did I breake In Richards time, and poasted day and night To meete you on the way, and kisse your hand, When yet you were in place, and in account Nothing so strong and fortunate, as I; It was my Selfe, my Brother, and his Sonne, That brought you home, and boldly did out-dare The danger of the time. You swore to vs, And you did sweare that Oath at Doncaster, That you did nothing of purpose 'gainst the State, Nor claime no further, then your new-falne right, The seate of Gaunt, Dukedome of Lancaster, To this, we sware our aide: But in short space, It rain'd downe Fortune showring on your head, And such a floud of Greatnesse fell on you, What with our helpe, what with the absent King. What with the iniuries of wanton time, The seeming sufferances that you had borne, And the contrarious Windes that held the King So long in the vnlucky Irish Warres, That all in England did repute him dead: And from this swarme of faire aduantages, You tooke occasion to be quickly woo'd, To gripe the generall sway into your hand, Forgot your Oath to vs at Doncaster, And being fed by vs, you vs'd vs so, As that vngentle gull the Cuckowes Bird, Vseth the Sparrow, did oppresse our Nest Grew by our Feeding, to so great a builke, That euen our Loue durst not come neere your sight For feare of swallowing: But with nimble wing We were infor'd for safety sake, to flye Out of your sight, and raise this present Head, Whereby we stand opposed by such meanes As you your selfe, haue forg'd against your selfe, By vnkinde vsage, dangerous countenance, And violation of all faith and troth Sworne to vs in yonger enterprize

Kin. These things indeed you haue articulated, Proclaim'd at Market Crosses, read in Churches, To face the Garment of Rebellion With some fine colour, that may please the eye Of fickle Changelings, and poore Discontents, Which gape, and rub the Elbow at the newes Of hurly burly Innouation: And neuer yet did Insurrection want Such water-colours, to impaint his cause: Nor moody Beggars, staruing for a time Of pell-mell hauocke, and confusion

Prin. In both our Armies, there is many a soule Shall pay full dearely for this encounter, If once they ioyne in triall. Tell your Nephew, The Prince of Wales doth ioyne with all the world In praise of Henry Percie: By my Hopes, This present enterprize set off his head, I do not thinke a brauer Gentleman, More actiue, valiant, or more valiant yong, More daring, or more bold, is now aliue, To grace this latter Age with Noble deeds. For my part, I may speake it to my shame, I haue a Truant beene to Chiualry, And so I heare, he doth account me too: Yet this before my Fathers Maiesty, I am content that he shall take the oddes Of his great name and estimation, And will, to saue the blood on either side, Try fortune with him, in a Single Fight

King. And Prince of Wales, so dare we venter thee, Albeit, considerations infinite Do make against it: No good Worster, no, We loue our people well; euen those we loue That are misled vpon your Cousins part: And will they take the offer of our Grace: Both he, and they, and you; yea euery man Shall be my Friend againe, and Ile be his. So tell your Cousin, and bring me word, What he will do. But if he will not yeeld, Rebuke and dread correction waite on vs, And they shall do their Office. So bee gone, We will not now be troubled with reply, We offer faire, take it aduisedly.

Exit Worcester.

Prin. It will not be accepted, on my life, The Dowglas and the Hotspurre both together, Are confident against the world in Armes

King. Hence therefore, euery Leader to his charge, For on their answer will we set on them; And God befriend vs, as our cause is iust.

Exeunt.

Manet Prince and Falstaffe.

Fal. Hal, if thou see me downe in the battell, And bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship

Prin. Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that frendship Say thy prayers, and farewell

Fal. I would it were bed time Hal, and all well

Prin. Why, thou ow'st heauen a death

Falst. 'Tis not due yet: I would bee loath to pay him before his day. What neede I bee so forward with him, that call's not on me? Well, 'tis no matter, Honor prickes me on. But how if Honour pricke me off when I come on? How then? Can Honour set too a legge? No: or an arme? No: Or take away the greefe of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in Surgerie, then? No. What is Honour A word. What is that word Honour? Ayre: A trim reckoning. Who hath it? He that dy'de a Wednesday. Doth he feele it? No. Doth hee heare it? No. Is it insensible then? yea, to the dead. But wil it not liue with the liuing? No. Why? Detraction wil not suffer it, therfore Ile none of it. Honour is a meere Scutcheon, and so ends my Catechisme. Enter.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.

Wor. O no, my Nephew must not know, Sir Richard, The liberall kinde offer of the King

Ver. 'Twere best he did

Wor. Then we are all vndone. It is not possible, it cannot be, The King would keepe his word in louing vs, He will suspect vs still, and finde a time To punish this offence in others faults: Supposition, all our liues, shall be stucke full of eyes; For Treason is but trusted like the Foxe, Who ne're so tame, so cherisht, and lock'd vp, Will haue a wilde tricke of his Ancestors: Looke how he can, or sad or merrily, Interpretation will misquote our lookes, And we shall feede like Oxen at a stall, The better cherisht, still the nearer death. My Nephewes Trespasse may be well forgot, It hath the excuse of youth, and heate of blood, And an adopted name of Priuiledge, A haire-brain'd Hotspurre, gouern'd by a Spleene: All his offences liue vpon my head, And on his Fathers. We did traine him on, And his corruption being tane from vs, We as the Spring of all, shall pay for all: Therefore good Cousin, let not Harry know In any case, the offer of the King

Ver. Deliuer what you will, Ile say 'tis so. Heere comes your Cosin. Enter Hotspurre.

Hot. My Vnkle is return'd, Deliuer vp my Lord of Westmerland. Vnkle, what newes? Wor. The King will bid you battell presently

Dow. Defie him by the Lord of Westmerland Hot. Lord Dowglas: Go you and tell him so

Dow. Marry and shall, and verie willingly.

Exit Dowglas.

Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the King

Hot. Did you begge any? God forbid

Wor. I told him gently of our greeuances, Of his Oath-breaking: which he mended thus, By now forswearing that he is forsworne, He cals vs Rebels, Traitors, and will scourge With haughty armes, this hatefull name in vs. Enter Dowglas.

Dow. Arme Gentlemen, to Armes, for I haue thrown A braue defiance in King Henries teeth: And Westmerland that was ingag'd did beare it, Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on

Wor. The Prince of Wales stept forth before the king, And Nephew, challeng'd you to single fight

Hot. O, would the quarrell lay vpon our heads, And that no man might draw short breath to day, But I and Harry Monmouth. Tell me, tell mee, How shew'd his Talking? Seem'd it in contempt? Ver. No, by my Soule: I neuer in my life Did heare a Challenge vrg'd more modestly, Vnlesse a Brother should a Brother dare To gentle exercise, and proofe of Armes. He gaue you all the Duties of a Man, Trimm'd vp your praises with a Princely tongue, Spoke your deseruings like a Chronicle, Making you euer better then his praise, By still dispraising praise, valew'd with you: And which became him like a Prince indeed, He made a blushing citall of himselfe, And chid his Trewant youth with such a Grace, As if he mastred there a double spirit Of teaching, and of learning instantly: There did he pause. But let me tell the World, If he out-liue the enuie of this day, England did neuer owe so sweet a hope, So much misconstrued in his Wantonnesse, Hot. Cousin, I thinke thou art enamored On his Follies: neuer did I heare Of any Prince so wilde at Liberty. But be he as he will, yet once ere night, I will imbrace him with a Souldiers arme, That he shall shrinke vnder my curtesie. Arme, arme with speed. And Fellow's, Soldiers, Friends, Better consider what you haue to do, That I that haue not well the gift of Tongue, Can lift your blood vp with perswasion. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. My Lord, heere are Letters for you

Hot. I cannot reade them now. O Gentlemen, the time of life is short; To spend that shortnesse basely, were too long. If life did ride vpon a Dials point, Still ending at the arriuall of an houre, And if we liue, we liue to treade on Kings: If dye; braue death, when Princes dye with vs. Now for our Consciences, the Armes is faire, When the intent for bearing them is iust. Enter another Messenger.

Mes. My Lord prepare, the King comes on apace

Hot. I thanke him, that he cuts me from my tale: For I professe not talking: Onely this, Let each man do his best. And heere I draw a Sword, Whose worthy temper I intend to staine With the best blood that I can meete withall, In the aduenture of this perillous day. Now Esperance Percy, and set on: Sound all the lofty Instruments of Warre, And by that Musicke, let vs all imbrace: For heauen to earth, some of vs neuer shall, A second time do such a curtesie.

They embrace, the trumpets sound, the King entereth with his power, alarum vnto the battell. Then enter Dowglas, and Sir Walter Blunt.

Blu. What is thy name, that in battel thus y crossest me? What honor dost thou seeke vpon my head? Dow. Know then my name is Dowglas, And I do haunt thee in the Battell thus, Because some tell me, that thou art a King

Blunt. They tell thee true

Dow. The Lord of Stafford deere to day hath bought Thy likenesse: for insted of thee King Harry, This Sword hath ended him, so shall it thee, Vnlesse thou yeeld thee as a Prisoner

Blu. I was not borne to yeeld, thou haughty Scot, And thou shalt finde a King that will reuenge Lords Staffords death.

Fight, Blunt is slaine, then enters Hotspur.

Hot. O Dowglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus I neuer had triumphed o're a Scot

Dow. All's done, all's won, here breathles lies the king Hot. Where? Dow. Heere

Hot. This Dowglas? No, I know this face full well: A gallant Knight he was, his name was Blunt, Semblably furnish'd like the King himselfe

Dow. Ah foole: go with thy soule whether it goes, A borrowed Title hast thou bought too deere. Why didst thou tell me, that thou wer't a King? Hot. The King hath many marching in his Coats

Dow. Now by my Sword, I will kill all his Coates, Ile murder all his Wardrobe peece by peece, Vntill I meet the King

Hot. Vp, and away, Our Souldiers stand full fairely for the day.

Exeunt.

Alarum, and enter Falstaffe solus.

Fal. Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot heere: here's no scoring, but vpon the pate. Soft who are you? Sir Walter Blunt, there's Honour for you: here's no vanity, I am as hot as molten Lead, and as heauy too; heauen keepe Lead out of mee, I neede no more weight then mine owne Bowelles. I haue led my rag of Muffins where they are pepper'd: there's not three of my 150. left aliue, and they for the Townes end, to beg during life. But who comes heere? Enter the Prince

Pri. What, stand'st thou idle here? Lend me thy sword, Many a Nobleman lies starke and stiffe Vnder the hooues of vaunting enemies, Whose deaths are vnreueng'd. Prethy lend me thy sword Fal. O Hal, I prethee giue me leaue to breath awhile: Turke Gregory neuer did such deeds in Armes, as I haue done this day. I haue paid Percy, I haue made him sure

Prin. He is indeed, and liuing to kill thee: I prethee lend me thy sword

Falst. Nay Hal, is Percy bee aliue, thou getst not my Sword; but take my Pistoll if thou wilt

Prin. Giue it me: What, is it in the case? Fal. I Hal, 'tis hot: There's that will Sacke a City.

The Prince drawes out a Bottle of Sacke.

Prin. What, is it a time to iest and dally now.

Enter.

Throwes it at him.

Fal. If Percy be aliue, Ile pierce him: if he do come in my way, so: if he do not, if I come in his (willingly) let him make a Carbonado of me. I like not such grinning honour as Sir Walter hath: Giue mee life, which if I can saue, so: if not, honour comes vnlook'd for, and ther's an end.

Exit

Scena Tertia.

Alarum, excursions, enter the King, the Prince, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, and Earle of Westmerland.

King. I prethee Harry withdraw thy selfe, thou bleedest too much: Lord Iohn of Lancaster, go you with him

P.Ioh. Not I, My Lord, vnlesse I did bleed too

Prin. I beseech your Maiesty make vp, Least your retirement do amaze your friends

King. I will do so: My Lord of Westmerland leade him to his Tent

West. Come my Lord, Ile leade you to your Tent

Prin. Lead me my Lord? I do not need your helpe; And heauen forbid a shallow scratch should driue The Prince of Wales from such a field as this, Where stain'd Nobility lyes troden on, And Rebels Armes triumph in massacres

Ioh. We breath too long: Come cosin Westmerland, Our duty this way lies, for heauens sake come

Prin. By heauen thou hast deceiu'd me Lancaster, I did not thinke thee Lord of such a spirit: Before, I lou'd thee as a Brother, Iohn; But now, I do respect thee as my Soule

King. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point, With lustier maintenance then I did looke for Of such an vngrowne Warriour

Prin. O this Boy, lends mettall to vs all. Enter.

Enter Dowglas.

Dow. Another King? They grow like Hydra's heads: I am the Dowglas, fatall to all those That weare those colours on them. What art thou That counterfeit'st the person of a King? King. The King himselfe: who Dowglas grieues at hart So many of his shadowes thou hast met, And not the very King. I haue two Boyes Seeke Percy and thy selfe about the Field: But seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily, I will assay thee: so defend thy selfe

Dow. I feare thou art another counterfeit: And yet infaith thou bear'st thee like a King: But mine I am sure thou art, whoere thou be, And thus I win thee.

They fight, the K[ing]. being in danger, Enter Prince.

Prin. Hold vp thy head vile Scot, or thou art like Neuer to hold it vp againe: the Spirits Of valiant Sherly, Stafford, Blunt, are in my Armes; it is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee, Who neuer promiseth, but he meanes to pay.

They Fight, Dowglas flyeth.

Cheerely My Lord: how fare's your Grace? Sir Nicolas Gawsey hath for succour sent, And so hath Clifton: Ile to Clifton straight

King. Stay, and breath awhile. Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion, And shew'd thou mak'st some tender of my life In this faire rescue thou hast brought to mee

Prin. O heauen, they did me too much iniury, That euer said I hearkned to your death. If it were so, I might haue let alone The insulting hand of Dowglas ouer you, Which would haue bene as speedy in your end, As all the poysonous Potions in the world, And sau'd the Treacherous labour of your Sonne

K. Make vp to Clifton, Ile to Sir Nicholas Gausey.

Exit

Enter Hotspur.

Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth

Prin. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name

Hot. My name is Harrie Percie

Prin. Why then I see a very valiant rebel of that name. I am the Prince of Wales, and thinke not Percy, To share with me in glory any more: Two Starres keepe not their motion in one Sphere, Nor can one England brooke a double reigne, Of Harry Percy, and the Prince of Wales

Hot. Nor shall it Harry, for the houre is come To end the one of vs; and would to heauen, Thy name in Armes, were now as great as mine

Prin. Ile make it greater, ere I part from thee, And all the budding Honors on thy Crest, Ile crop, to make a Garland for my head

Hot. I can no longer brooke thy Vanities.

Fight.

Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. Well said Hal, to it Hal. Nay you shall finde no Boyes play heere, I can tell you. Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstaffe, who fals down as if he were dead. The Prince killeth Percie.

Hot. Oh Harry, thou hast rob'd me of my youth: I better brooke the losse of brittle life, Then those proud Titles thou hast wonne of me, They wound my thoghts worse, then the sword my flesh: But thought's the slaue of Life, and Life, Times foole; And Time, that takes suruey of all the world, Must haue a stop. O, I could Prophesie, But that the Earth, and the cold hand of death, Lyes on my Tongue: No Percy, thou art dust And food for- Prin. For Wormes, braue Percy. Farewell great heart: Ill-weau'd Ambition, how much art thou shrunke? When that this bodie did containe a spirit, A Kingdome for it was too small a bound: But now two paces of the vilest Earth Is roome enough. This Earth that beares the dead, Beares not aliue so stout a Gentleman. If thou wer't sensible of curtesie, I should not make so great a shew of Zeale. But let my fauours hide thy mangled face, And euen in thy behalfe, Ile thanke my selfe For doing these fayre Rites of Tendernesse. Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heauen, Thy ignomy sleepe with thee in the graue, But not remembred in thy Epitaph. What? Old Acquaintance? Could not all this flesh Keepe in a little life? Poore Iacke, farewell: I could haue better spar'd a better man. O, I should haue a heauy misse of thee, If I were much in loue with Vanity. Death hath not strucke so fat a Deere to day, Though many dearer in this bloody Fray: Imbowell'd will I see thee by and by, Till then, in blood, by Noble Percie lye. Enter.

Falstaffe riseth vp.

Falst. Imbowell'd? If thou imbowell mee to day, Ile giue you leaue to powder me, and eat me too to morow. 'Twas time to counterfet, or that hotte Termagant Scot, had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am no counterfeit; to dye, is to be a counterfeit, for hee is but the counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man: But to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liueth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeede. The better part of Valour, is Discretion; in the which better part, I haue saued my life. I am affraide of this Gun-powder Percy though he be dead. How if hee should counterfeit too, and rise? I am afraid hee would proue the better counterfeit: therefore Ile make him sure: yea, and Ile sweare I kill'd him. Why may not hee rise as well as I: Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no-bodie sees me. Therefore sirra, with a new wound in your thigh come you along me.

Takes Hotspurre on his backe.

Enter Prince and Iohn of Lancaster.

Prin. Come Brother Iohn, full brauely hast thou flesht thy Maiden sword

Iohn. But soft, who haue we heere? Did you not tell me this Fat man was dead? Prin. I did, I saw him dead, Breathlesse, and bleeding on the ground: Art thou aliue? Or is it fantasie that playes vpon our eye-sight? I prethee speake, we will not trust our eyes Without our eares. Thou art not what thou seem'st

Fal. No, that's certaine: I am not a double man: but if I be not Iacke Falstaffe, then am I a Iacke: There is Percy, if your Father will do me any Honor, so: if not, let him kill the next Percie himselfe. I looke to be either Earle or Duke, I can assure you

Prin. Why, Percy I kill'd my selfe, and saw thee dead

Fal. Did'st thou? Lord, Lord, how the world is giuen to Lying? I graunt you I was downe, and out of breath, and so was he, but we rose both at an instant, and fought a long houre by Shrewsburie clocke. If I may bee beleeued, so: if not, let them that should reward Valour, beare the sinne vpon their owne heads. Ile take't on my death I gaue him this wound in the Thigh: if the man were aliue, and would deny it, I would make him eate a peece of my sword

Iohn. This is the strangest Tale that e're I heard

Prin. This is the strangest Fellow, Brother Iohn. Come bring your luggage Nobly on your backe: For my part, if a lye may do thee grace, Ile gil'd it with the happiest tearmes I haue.

A Retreat is sounded.

The Trumpets sound Retreat, the day is ours: Come Brother, let's to the highest of the field, To see what Friends are liuing, who are dead.

Exeunt.

Fal. Ile follow as they say, for Reward. Hee that rewards me, heauen reward him. If I do grow great again, Ile grow lesse? For Ile purge, and leaue Sacke, and liue cleanly, as a Nobleman should do.

Exit

Scaena Quarta.

The Trumpets sound.

Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of Westmerland, with Worcester & Vernon Prisoners.

King. Thus euer did Rebellion finde Rebuke. Ill-spirited Worcester, did we not send Grace, Pardon, and tearmes of Loue to all of you? And would'st thou turne our offers contrary? Misuse the tenor of thy Kinsmans trust? Three Knights vpon our party slaine to day, A Noble Earle, and many a creature else, Had beene aliue this houre, If like a Christian thou had'st truly borne Betwixt our Armies, true Intelligence

Wor. What I haue done, my safety vrg'd me to, And I embrace this fortune patiently, Since not to be auoyded, it fals on mee

King. Beare Worcester to death, and Vernon too: Other offenders we will pause vpon.

Exit Worcester and Vernon.

How goes the Field? Prin. The Noble Scot Lord Dowglas, when hee saw The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, The Noble Percy slaine, and all his men, Vpon the foot of feare, fled with the rest; And falling from a hill, he was so bruiz'd That the pursuers tooke him. At my Tent The Dowglas is, and I beseech your Grace, I may dispose of him

King. With all my heart

Prin. Then Brother Iohn of Lancaster, To you this honourable bounty shall belong: Go to the Dowglas, and deliuer him Vp to his pleasure, ransomlesse and free: His Valour shewne vpon our Crests to day, Hath taught vs how to cherish such high deeds, Euen in the bosome of our Aduersaries

King. Then this remaines: that we diuide our Power. You Sonne Iohn, and my Cousin Westmerland Towards Yorke shall bend you, with your deerest speed To meet Northumberland, and the Prelate Scroope, Who (as we heare) are busily in Armes. My Selfe, and you Sonne Harry will towards Wales, To fight with Glendower, and the Earle of March. Rebellion in this Land shall lose his way, Meeting the Checke of such another day: And since this Businesse so faire is done, Let vs not leaue till all our owne be wonne.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The First Part of Henry the Fourth, with the Life and Death of HENRY Sirnamed HOT-SPVRRE.

The Second Part of Henry the Fourth

Containing his Death: and the Coronation of King Henry the Fift

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

INDVCTION.

Enter Rumour.

Open your Eares: For which of you will stop The vent of Hearing, when loud Rumor speakes? I, from the Orient, to the drooping West (Making the winde my Post-horse) still vnfold The Acts commenced on this Ball of Earth. Vpon my Tongue, continuall Slanders ride, The which, in euery Language, I pronounce, Stuffing the Eares of them with false Reports: I speake of Peace, while couert Enmitie (Vnder the smile of Safety) wounds the World: And who but Rumour, who but onely I Make fearfull Musters, and prepar'd Defence, Whil'st the bigge yeare, swolne with some other griefes, Is thought with childe, by the sterne Tyrant, Warre, And no such matter? Rumour, is a Pipe Blowne by Surmises, Ielousies, Coniectures; And of so easie, and so plaine a stop, That the blunt Monster, with vncounted heads, The still discordant, wauering Multitude, Can play vpon it. But what neede I thus My well-knowne Body to Anathomize Among my houshold? Why is Rumour heere? I run before King Harries victory, Who in a bloodie field by Shrewsburie Hath beaten downe yong Hotspurre, and his Troopes, Quenching the flame of bold Rebellion, Euen with the Rebels blood. But what meane I To speake so true at first? My Office is To noyse abroad, that Harry Monmouth fell Vnder the Wrath of Noble Hotspurres Sword: And that the King, before the Dowglas Rage Stoop'd his Annointed head, as low as death. This haue I rumour'd through the peasant-Townes, Betweene the Royall Field of Shrewsburie, And this Worme-eaten-Hole of ragged Stone, Where Hotspurres Father, old Northumberland, Lyes crafty sicke. The Postes come tyring on, And not a man of them brings other newes Then they haue learn'd of Me. From Rumours Tongues, They bring smooth-Comforts-false, worse then True-wrongs. Enter.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Lord Bardolfe, and the Porter.

L.Bar. Who keepes the Gate heere hoa? Where is the Earle? Por. What shall I say you are? Bar. Tell thou the Earle That the Lord Bardolfe doth attend him heere

Por. His Lordship is walk'd forth into the Orchard, Please it your Honor, knocke but at the Gate, And he himselfe will answer. Enter Northumberland.

L.Bar. Heere comes the Earle

Nor. What newes Lord Bardolfe? Eu'ry minute now Should be the Father of some Stratagem; The Times are wilde: Contention (like a Horse Full of high Feeding) madly hath broke loose, And beares downe all before him

L.Bar. Noble Earle, I bring you certaine newes from Shrewsbury

Nor. Good, and heauen will

L.Bar. As good as heart can wish: The King is almost wounded to the death: And in the Fortune of my Lord your Sonne, Prince Harrie slaine out-right: and both the Blunts Kill'd by the hand of Dowglas. Yong Prince Iohn, And Westmerland, and Stafford, fled the Field. And Harrie Monmouth's Brawne (the Hulke Sir Iohn) Is prisoner to your Sonne. O, such a Day, (So fought, so follow'd, and so fairely wonne) Came not, till now, to dignifie the Times Since Cæsars Fortunes

Nor. How is this deriu'd? Saw you the Field? Came you from Shrewsbury? L.Bar. I spake with one (my L[ord].) that came fro[m] thence, A Gentleman well bred, and of good name, That freely render'd me these newes for true

Nor. Heere comes my Seruant Trauers, whom I sent On Tuesday last, to listen after Newes. Enter Trauers.

L.Bar. My Lord, I ouer-rod him on the way, And he is furnish'd with no certainties, More then he (haply) may retaile from me

Nor. Now Trauers, what good tidings comes fro[m] you? Tra. My Lord, Sir Iohn Vmfreuill turn'd me backe With ioyfull tydings; and (being better hors'd) Out-rod me. After him, came spurring head A Gentleman (almost fore-spent with speed) That stopp'd by me, to breath his bloodied horse. He ask'd the way to Chester: And of him I did demand what Newes from Shrewsbury: He told me, that Rebellion had ill lucke, And that yong Harry Percies Spurre was cold. With that he gaue his able Horse the head, And bending forwards strooke his able heeles Against the panting sides of his poore Iade Vp to the Rowell head, and starting so, He seem'd in running, to deuoure the way, Staying no longer question

North. Ha? Againe: Said he yong Harrie Percyes Spurre was cold? (Of Hot-Spurre, cold-Spurre?) that Rebellion, Had met ill lucke? L.Bar. My Lord: Ile tell you what, If my yong Lord your Sonne, haue not the day, Vpon mine Honor, for a silken point Ile giue my Barony. Neuer talke of it

Nor. Why should the Gentleman that rode by Trauers Giue then such instances of Losse? L.Bar. Who, he? He was some hielding Fellow, that had stolne The Horse he rode-on: and vpon my life Speake at aduenture. Looke, here comes more Newes. Enter Morton.

Nor. Yea, this mans brow, like to a Title-leafe, Fore-tels the Nature of a Tragicke Volume: So lookes the Strond, when the Imperious Flood Hath left a witnest Vsurpation. Say Morton, did'st thou come from Shrewsbury? Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury (my Noble Lord) Where hatefull death put on his vgliest Maske To fright our party

North. How doth my Sonne, and Brother? Thou trembl'st; and the whitenesse in thy Cheeke Is apter then thy Tongue, to tell thy Errand. Euen such a man, so faint, so spiritlesse, So dull, so dead in looke, so woe-be-gone, Drew Priams Curtaine, in the dead of night, And would haue told him, Halfe his Troy was burn'd. But Priam found the Fire, ere he his Tongue: And I, my Percies death, ere thou report'st it. This, thou would'st say: Your Sonne did thus, and thus: Your Brother, thus. So fought the Noble Dowglas, Stopping my greedy eare, with their bold deeds. But in the end (to stop mine Eare indeed) Thou hast a Sigh, to blow away this Praise, Ending with Brother, Sonne, and all are dead

Mor. Dowglas is liuing, and your Brother, yet: But for my Lord, your Sonne

North. Why, he is dead. See what a ready tongue Suspition hath: He that but feares the thing, he would not know, Hath by Instinct, knowledge from others Eyes, That what he feard, is chanc'd. Yet speake (Morton) Tell thou thy Earle, his Diuination Lies, And I will take it, as a sweet Disgrace, And make thee rich, for doing me such wrong

Mor. You are too great, to be (by me) gainsaid: Your Spirit is too true, your Feares too certaine

North. Yet for all this, say not that Percies dead. I see a strange Confession in thine Eye: Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it Feare, or Sinne, To speake a truth. If he be slaine, say so: The Tongue offends not, that reports his death: And he doth sinne that doth belye the dead: Not he, which sayes the dead is not aliue: Yet the first bringer of vnwelcome Newes Hath but a loosing Office: and his Tongue, Sounds euer after as a sullen Bell Remembred, knolling a departing Friend

L.Bar. I cannot thinke (my Lord) your son is dead

Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to beleeue That, which I would to heauen, I had not seene. But these mine eyes, saw him in bloody state, Rend'ring faint quittance (wearied, and out-breath'd) To Henrie Monmouth, whose swift wrath beate downe The neuer-daunted Percie to the earth, From whence (with life) he neuer more sprung vp. In few; his death (whose spirit lent a fire, Euen to the dullest Peazant in his Campe) Being bruited once, tooke fire and heate away From the best temper'd Courage in his Troopes. For from his Mettle, was his Party steel'd; Which once, in him abated, all the rest Turn'd on themselues, like dull and heauy Lead: And as the Thing, that's heauy in it selfe, Vpon enforcement, flyes with greatest speede, So did our Men, heauy in Hotspurres losse, Lend to this weight, such lightnesse with their Feare, That Arrowes fled not swifter toward their ayme, Then did our Soldiers (ayming at their safety) Fly from the field. Then was that Noble Worcester Too soone ta'ne prisoner: and that furious Scot, (The bloody Dowglas) whose well-labouring sword Had three times slaine th' appearance of the King, Gan vaile his stomacke, and did grace the shame Of those that turn'd their backes: and in his flight, Stumbling in Feare, was tooke. The summe of all, Is, that the King hath wonne: and hath sent out A speedy power, to encounter you my Lord, Vnder the Conduct of yong Lancaster And Westmerland. This is the Newes at full

North. For this, I shall haue time enough to mourne. In Poyson, there is Physicke: and this newes (Hauing beene well) that would haue made me sicke, Being sicke, haue in some measure, made me well. And as the Wretch, whose Feauer-weakned ioynts, Like strengthlesse Hindges, buckle vnder life, Impatient of his Fit, breakes like a fire Out of his keepers armes: Euen so, my Limbes (Weak'ned with greefe) being now inrag'd with greefe, Are thrice themselues. Hence therefore thou nice crutch, A scalie Gauntlet now, with ioynts of Steele Must gloue this hand. And hence thou sickly Quoife, Thou art a guard too wanton for the head, Which Princes, flesh'd with Conquest, ayme to hit. Now binde my Browes with Iron and approach The ragged'st houre, that Time and Spight dare bring To frowne vpon th' enrag'd Northumberland. Let Heauen kisse Earth: now let not Natures hand Keepe the wilde Flood confin'd: Let Order dye, And let the world no longer be a stage To feede Contention in a ling'ring Act: But let one spirit of the First-borne Caine Reigne in all bosomes, that each heart being set On bloody Courses, the rude Scene may end, And darknesse be the burier of the dead

L.Bar. Sweet Earle, diuorce not wisedom from your Honor

Mor. The liues of all your louing Complices Leane-on your health, the which if you giue-o're To stormy Passion, must perforce decay. You cast th' euent of Warre (my Noble Lord) And summ'd the accompt of Chance, before you said Let vs make head: It was your presurmize, That in the dole of blowes, your Son might drop. You knew he walk'd o're perils, on an edge More likely to fall in, then to get o're: You were aduis'd his flesh was capeable Of Wounds, and Scarres; and that his forward Spirit Would lift him, where most trade of danger rang'd, Yet did you say go forth: and none of this (Though strongly apprehended) could restraine The stiffe-borne Action: What hath then befalne? Or what hath this bold enterprize bring forth, More then that Being, which was like to be? L.Bar. We all that are engaged to this losse, Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous Seas, That if we wrought out life, was ten to one: And yet we ventur'd for the gaine propos'd, Choak'd the respect of likely perill fear'd, And since we are o're-set, venture againe. Come, we will all put forth; Body, and Goods, Mor. 'Tis more then time: And (my most Noble Lord) I heare for certaine, and do speake the truth: The gentle Arch-bishop of Yorke is vp With well appointed Powres: he is a man Who with a double Surety bindes his Followers. My Lord (your Sonne) had onely but the Corpes, But shadowes, and the shewes of men to fight. For that same word (Rebellion) did diuide The action of their bodies, from their soules, And they did fight with queasinesse, constrain'd As men drinke Potions; that their Weapons only Seem'd on our side: but for their Spirits and Soules, This word (Rebellion) it had froze them vp, As Fish are in a Pond. But now the Bishop Turnes Insurrection to Religion, Suppos'd sincere, and holy in his Thoughts: He's follow'd both with Body, and with Minde: And doth enlarge his Rising, with the blood Of faire King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones, Deriues from heauen, his Quarrell, and his Cause: Tels them, he doth bestride a bleeding Land, Gasping for life, vnder great Bullingbrooke, And more, and lesse, do flocke to follow him

North. I knew of this before. But to speake truth, This present greefe had wip'd it from my minde. Go in with me, and councell euery man The aptest way for safety, and reuenge: Get Posts, and Letters, and make Friends with speed, Neuer so few, nor neuer yet more need.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Falstaffe, and Page.

Fal. Sirra, you giant, what saies the Doct[or]. to my water? Pag. He said sir, the water it selfe was a good healthy water: but for the party that ow'd it, he might haue more diseases then he knew for

Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at mee: the braine of this foolish compounded Clay-man, is not able to inuent any thing that tends to laughter, more then I inuent, or is inuented on me. I am not onely witty in my selfe, but the cause that wit is in other men. I doe heere walke before thee, like a Sow, that hath o'rewhelm'd all her Litter, but one. If the Prince put thee into my Seruice for any other reason, then to set mee off, why then I haue no iudgement. Thou horson Mandrake, thou art fitter to be worne in my cap, then to wait at my heeles. I was neuer mann'd with an Agot till now: but I will sette you neyther in Gold, nor Siluer, but in vilde apparell, and send you backe againe to your Master, for a Iewell. The Iuuenall (the Prince your Master) whose Chin is not yet fledg'd, I will sooner haue a beard grow in the Palme of my hand, then he shall get one on his cheeke: yet he will not sticke to say, his Face is a Face-Royall. Heauen may finish it when he will, it is not a haire amisse yet: he may keepe it still at a Face-Royall, for a Barber shall neuer earne six pence out of it; and yet he will be crowing, as if he had writ man euer since his Father was a Batchellour. He may keepe his owne Grace, but he is almost out of mine, I can assure him. What said M[aster]. Dombledon, about the Satten for my short Cloake, and Slops? Pag. He said sir, you should procure him better Assurance, then Bardolfe: he wold not take his Bond & yours, he lik'd not the Security

Fal. Let him bee damn'd like the Glutton, may his Tongue be hotter, a horson Achitophel; a Rascally-yea-forsooth-knaue, to beare a Gentleman in hand, and then stand vpon Security? The horson smooth-pates doe now weare nothing but high shoes, and bunches of Keyes at their girdles: and if a man is through with them in honest Taking-vp, then they must stand vpon Securitie: I had as liefe they would put Rats-bane in my mouth, as offer to stoppe it with Security. I look'd hee should haue sent me two and twenty yards of Satten (as I am true Knight) and he sends me Security. Well, he may sleep in Security, for he hath the horne of Abundance: and the lightnesse of his Wife shines through it, and yet cannot he see, though he haue his owne Lanthorne to light him. Where's Bardolfe? Pag. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse

Fal. I bought him in Paules, and hee'l buy mee a horse in Smithfield. If I could get mee a wife in the Stewes, I were Mann'd, Hors'd, and Wiu'd. Enter Chiefe Iustice, and Seruant.

Pag. Sir, heere comes the Nobleman that committed the Prince for striking him, about Bardolfe

Fal. Wait close, I will not see him

Ch.Iust. What's he that goes there? Ser. Falstaffe, and't please your Lordship

Iust. He that was in question for the Robbery? Ser. He my Lord, but he hath since done good seruice at Shrewsbury: and (as I heare) is now going with some Charge, to the Lord Iohn of Lancaster

Iust. What to Yorke? Call him backe againe

Ser. Sir Iohn Falstaffe

Fal. Boy, tell him, I am deafe

Pag. You must speake lowder, my Master is deafe

Iust. I am sure he is, to the hearing of any thing good. Go plucke him by the Elbow, I must speake with him

Ser. Sir Iohn

Fal. What? a yong knaue and beg? Is there not wars? Is there not imployment? Doth not the K[ing]. lack subiects? Do not the Rebels want Soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to begge, then to be on the worst side, were it worse then the name of Rebellion can tell how to make it

Ser. You mistake me Sir

Fal. Why sir? Did I say you were an honest man? Setting my Knight-hood, and my Souldiership aside, I had lyed in my throat, if I had said so

Ser. I pray you (Sir) then set your Knighthood and your Souldier-ship aside, and giue mee leaue to tell you, you lye in your throat, if you say I am any other then an honest man

Fal. I giue thee leaue to tell me so? I lay a-side that which growes to me? If thou get'st any leaue of me, hang me: if thou tak'st leaue, thou wer't better be hang'd: you Hunt-counter, hence: Auant

Ser. Sir, my Lord would speake with you

Iust. Sir Iohn Falstaffe, a word with you

Fal. My good Lord: giue your Lordship good time of the day. I am glad to see your Lordship abroad: I heard say your Lordship was sicke. I hope your Lordship goes abroad by aduise. Your Lordship (though not clean past your youth) hath yet some smack of age in you: some rellish of the saltnesse of Time, and I most humbly beseech your Lordship, to haue a reuerend care of your health

Iust. Sir Iohn, I sent you before your Expedition, to Shrewsburie

Fal. If it please your Lordship, I heare his Maiestie is return'd with some discomfort from Wales

Iust. I talke not of his Maiesty: you would not come when I sent for you? Fal. And I heare moreouer, his Highnesse is falne into this same whorson Apoplexie

Iust. Well, heauen mend him. I pray let me speak with you

Fal. This Apoplexie is (as I take it) a kind of Lethargie, a sleeping of the blood, a horson Tingling

Iust. What tell you me of it? be it as it is

Fal. It hath it originall from much greefe; from study and perturbation of the braine. I haue read the cause of his effects in Galen. It is a kinde of deafenesse

Iust. I thinke you are falne into the disease: For you heare not what I say to you

Fal. Very well (my Lord) very well: rather an't please you) it is the disease of not Listning, the malady of not Marking, that I am troubled withall

Iust. To punish you by the heeles, would amend the attention of your eares, & I care not if I be your Physitian Fal. I am as poore as Iob, my Lord; but not so Patient: your Lordship may minister the Potion of imprisonment to me, in respect of Pouertie: but how I should bee your Patient, to follow your prescriptions, the wise may make some dram of a scruple, or indeede, a scruple it selfe

Iust. I sent for you (when there were matters against you for your life) to come speake with me

Fal. As I was then aduised by my learned Councel, in the lawes of this Land-seruice, I did not come

Iust. Wel, the truth is (sir Iohn) you liue in great infamy Fal. He that buckles him in my belt, ca[n]not liue in lesse

Iust. Your Meanes is very slender, and your wast great

Fal. I would it were otherwise: I would my Meanes were greater, and my waste slenderer

Iust. You haue misled the youthfull Prince

Fal. The yong Prince hath misled mee. I am the Fellow with the great belly, and he my Dogge

Iust. Well, I am loth to gall a new-heal'd wound: your daies seruice at Shrewsbury, hath a little gilded ouer your Nights exploit on Gads-hill. You may thanke the vnquiet time, for your quiet o're-posting that Action

Fal. My Lord? Iust. But since all is wel, keep it so: wake not a sleeping Wolfe

Fal. To wake a Wolfe, is as bad as to smell a Fox

Iu. What? you are as a candle, the better part burnt out Fal. A Wassell-Candle, my Lord; all Tallow: if I did say of wax, my growth would approue the truth

Iust. There is not a white haire on your face, but shold haue his effect of grauity

Fal. His effect of grauy, grauy, grauy

Iust. You follow the yong Prince vp and downe, like his euill Angell

Fal. Not so (my Lord) your ill Angell is light: but I hope, he that lookes vpon mee, will take mee without, weighing: and yet, in some respects I grant, I cannot go: I cannot tell. Vertue is of so little regard in these Costormongers, that true valor is turn'd Beare-heard. Pregnancie is made a Tapster, and hath his quicke wit wasted in giuing Recknings: all the other gifts appertinent to man (as the malice of this Age shapes them) are not woorth a Gooseberry. You that are old, consider not the capacities of vs that are yong: you measure the heat of our Liuers, with the bitternes of your gals: & we that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confesse, are wagges too

Iust. Do you set downe your name in the scrowle of youth, that are written downe old, with all the Charracters of age? Haue you not a moist eye? a dry hand? a yellow cheeke? a white beard? a decreasing leg? an incresing belly? Is not your voice broken? your winde short? your wit single? and euery part about you blasted with Antiquity? and wil you cal your selfe yong? Fy, fy, fy, sir Iohn

Fal. My Lord, I was borne with a white head, & somthing a round belly. For my voice, I haue lost it with hallowing and singing of Anthemes. To approue my youth farther, I will not: the truth is, I am onely olde in iudgement and vnderstanding: and he that will caper with mee for a thousand Markes, let him lend me the mony, & haue at him. For the boxe of th' eare that the Prince gaue you, he gaue it like a rude Prince, and you tooke it like a sensible Lord. I haue checkt him for it, and the yong Lion repents: Marry not in ashes and sacke-cloath, but in new Silke, and old Sacke

Iust. Wel, heauen send the Prince a better companion

Fal. Heauen send the Companion a better Prince: I cannot rid my hands of him

Iust. Well, the King hath seuer'd you and Prince Harry, I heare you are going with Lord Iohn of Lancaster, against the Archbishop, and the Earle of Northumberland Fal. Yes, I thanke your pretty sweet wit for it: but looke you pray, (all you that kisse my Ladie Peace, at home) that our Armies ioyn not in a hot day: for if I take but two shirts out with me, and I meane not to sweat extraordinarily: if it bee a hot day, if I brandish any thing but my Bottle, would I might neuer spit white againe: There is not a daungerous Action can peepe out his head, but I am thrust vpon it. Well, I cannot last euer

Iust. Well, be honest, be honest, and heauen blesse your Expedition

Fal. Will your Lordship lend mee a thousand pound, to furnish me forth? Iust. Not a peny, not a peny: you are too impatient to beare crosses. Fare you well. Commend mee to my Cosin Westmerland

Fal. If I do, fillop me with a three-man-Beetle. A man can no more separate Age and Couetousnesse, then he can part yong limbes and letchery: but the Gowt galles the one, and the pox pinches the other; and so both the Degrees preuent my curses. Boy? Page. Sir

Fal. What money is in my purse? Page. Seuen groats, and two pence

Fal. I can get no remedy against this Consumption of the purse. Borrowing onely lingers, and lingers it out, but the disease is incureable. Go beare this letter to my Lord of Lancaster, this to the Prince, this to the Earle of Westmerland, and this to old Mistris Vrsula, whome I haue weekly sworne to marry, since I perceiu'd the first 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 haue the warres for my colour, and my Pension shall seeme the more reasonable. A good wit will make vse of any thing: I will turne diseases to commodity.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Archbishop, Hastings, Mowbray, and Lord Bardolfe.

Ar. Thus haue you heard our causes, & kno our Means: And my most noble Friends, I pray you all Speake plainly your opinions of our hopes, And first (Lord Marshall) what say you to it? Mow. I well allow the occasion of our Armes, But gladly would be better satisfied, How (in our Meanes) we should aduance our selues To looke with forhead bold and big enough Vpon the Power and puisance of the King

Hast. Our present Musters grow vpon the File To fiue and twenty thousand men of choice: And our Supplies, liue largely in the hope Of great Northumberland, whose bosome burnes With an incensed Fire of Iniuries

L.Bar. The question then (Lord Hastings) standeth thus Whether our present fiue and twenty thousand May hold-vp-head, without Northumberland: Hast. With him, we may

L.Bar. I marry, there's the point: But if without him we be thought to feeble, My iudgement is, we should not step too farre Till we had his Assistance by the hand. For in a Theame so bloody fac'd, as this, Coniecture, Expectation, and Surmise Of Aydes incertaine, should not be admitted

Arch. 'Tis very true Lord Bardolfe, for indeed It was yong Hotspurres case, at Shrewsbury

L.Bar. It was (my Lord) who lin'd himself with hope, Eating the ayre, on promise of Supply, Flatt'ring himselfe with Proiect 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 leaue) it neuer yet did hurt, To lay downe likely-hoods, and formes of hope

L.Bar. Yes, if this present quality of warre, Indeed the instant action: a cause on foot, Liues so in hope: As in an early Spring, We see th' appearing buds, which to proue fruite, Hope giues not so much warrant, as Dispaire That Frosts will bite them. When we meane to build, We first suruey the Plot, then draw the Modell, And when we see 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, desist To builde at all? Much more, in this great worke, (Which is (almost) to plucke a Kingdome downe, And set another vp) should we suruey The plot of Situation, and the Modell; Consent vpon a sure Foundation: Question Surueyors, know our owne estate, How able such a Worke to vndergo, To weigh against his Opposite? Or else, We fortifie 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 (halfe through) Giues o're, and leaues his part-created Cost A naked subiect to the Weeping Clouds, And waste, for churlish Winters tyranny

Hast. Grant that our hopes (yet likely of faire byrth) Should be still-borne: and that we now possest The vtmost man of expectation: I thinke we are a Body strong enough (Euen as we are) to equall with the King

L.Bar. What is the King but fiue & twenty thousand? Hast. To vs no more: nay not so much Lord Bardolf. For0his diuisions (as the Times do braul) Are in three Heads: one Power against the French, And one against Glendower: Perforce a third Must take vp vs: So is the vnfirme King In three diuided: and his Coffers sound With hollow Pouerty, and Emptinesse

Ar. That he should draw his seuerall strengths togither And come against vs in full puissance Need not be dreaded

Hast. If he should do so, He leaues his backe vnarm'd, the French, and Welch Baying him at the heeles: neuer feare that

L.Bar. Who is it like should lead his Forces hither? Hast. The Duke of Lancaster, and Westmerland: Against the Welsh himselfe, and Harrie Monmouth. But who is substituted 'gainst the French, I haue no certaine notice

Arch. Let vs on: And publish the occasion of our Armes. The Common-wealth is sicke of their owne Choice, Their ouer-greedy loue hath surfetted: An habitation giddy, and vnsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. O thou fond Many, with what loud applause Did'st thou beate heauen with blessing Bullingbrooke, Before he was, what thou would'st haue him be? And being now trimm'd in thine owne desires, Thou (beastly Feeder) art so full of him, That thou prouok'st thy selfe to cast him vp. So, so, (thou common Dogge) did'st thou disgorge Thy glutton-bosome of the Royall Richard, And now thou would'st eate thy dead vomit vp, And howl'st to finde it. What trust is in these Times? They, that when Richard liu'd, would haue him dye, Are now become enamour'd on his graue. Thou that threw'st dust vpon his goodly head When through proud London he came sighing on, After th' admired heeles of Bullingbrooke, Cri'st now, O Earth, yeeld vs that King againe, And take thou this (O thoughts of men accurs'd) ``Past, and to Come, seemes best; things Present, worst

Mow. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on? Hast. We are Times subiects, and Time bids, be gon.

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

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

Hostesse. Mr. Fang, haue you entred the Action? Fang. It is enter'd

Hostesse. Wher's your Yeoman? Is it a lusty yeoman? Will he stand to it? Fang. Sirrah, where's Snare? Hostesse. I, I, good M[aster]. Snare

Snare. Heere, heere

Fang. Snare, we must Arrest Sir Iohn Falstaffe

Host. I good M[aster]. Snare, I haue enter'd him, and all

Sn. It may chance cost some of vs our liues: he wil stab Hostesse. 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. Hee will foyne like any diuell, he will spare neither man, woman, nor childe

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

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

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

Host. I am vndone with his going: I warrant he is an infinitiue thing vpon my score. Good M[aster]. Fang hold him sure: good M[aster]. Snare let him not scape, he comes continuantly to Py-Corner (sauing your manhoods) to buy a saddle, and hee is indited to dinner to the Lubbars head in Lombardstreet, to M[aster]. Smoothes the Silkman. I pra' ye, since my Exion is enter'd, and my Case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer: A 100. Marke is a long one, for a poore lone woman to beare: & I haue borne, and borne, and borne, and haue bin fub'd off, and fub'd-off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing, vnles a woman should be made an Asse and a Beast, to beare euery Knaues wrong.

Enter Falstaffe and Bardolfe.

Yonder he comes, and that arrant Malmesey-Nose Bardolfe with him. Do your Offices, do your offices: M[aster]. Fang, & M[aster]. Snare, do me, do me, do me your Offices

Fal. How now? whose Mare's dead? what's the matter? Fang. Sir Iohn, I arrest you, at the suit of Mist. Quickly

Falst. Away Varlets, draw Bardolfe: Cut me off the Villaines head: throw the Queane in the Channel

Host. Throw me in the channell? Ile throw thee there. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue. Murder, murder, O thou Hony-suckle villaine, wilt thou kill Gods officers, and the Kings? O thou hony-seed Rogue, thou art a honyseed, a Man-queller, and a woman-queller

Falst. Keep them off, Bardolfe

Fang. A rescu, a rescu

Host. Good people bring a rescu. Thou wilt not? thou wilt not? Do, do thou Rogue: Do thou Hempseed

Page. Away you Scullion, you Rampallian, you Fustillirian: Ile tucke your Catastrophe. Enter Ch. Iustice.

Iust. What's the matter? Keepe the Peace here, hoa

Host. Good my Lord be good to mee. I beseech you stand to me

Ch.Iust. How now sir Iohn? What are you brauling here? Doth this become your place, your time, and businesse? You should haue bene well on your way to Yorke. Stand from him Fellow; wherefore hang'st vpon him? Host. Oh my most worshipfull Lord, and't please your Grace, I am a poore widdow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit

Ch.Iust. For what summe? Host. It is more then for some (my Lord) it is for all: all I haue, he hath eaten me out of house and home; hee hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his: but I will haue some of it out againe, or I will ride thee o' Nights, like the Mare

Falst. I thinke I am as like to ride the Mare, if I haue any vantage of ground, to get vp

Ch.Iust. How comes this, Sir Iohn? Fy, what a man of good temper would endure this tempest of exclamation? Are you not asham'd to inforce a poore Widdowe to so rough a course, to come by her owne? Falst. What is the grosse summe that I owe thee? Host. Marry (if thou wer't an honest man) thy selfe, & the mony too. Thou didst sweare to mee vpon 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 broke thy head for lik'ning him to a singing man of Windsor; Thou didst sweare to me then (as I was washing thy wound) to marry me, and make mee my Lady thy wife. Canst y deny it? Did not goodwife Keech the Butchers wife come in then, and cal me gossip Quickly? comming in to borrow a messe of Vinegar: telling vs, she had a good dish of Prawnes: whereby y 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 staires) desire me to be no more familiar with such poore people, saying, that ere long they should call me Madam? And did'st y not kisse me, and bid mee fetch thee 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 she sayes vp & downe the town, that her eldest son is like you. She hath bin in good case, & the truth is, pouerty hath distracted her: but for these foolish Officers, I beseech you, I may haue redresse against them

Iust. Sir Iohn, sir Iohn, I am well acquainted with your maner of wrenching the true cause, the false way. It is not a confident brow, nor the throng of wordes, that come with such (more then impudent) sawcines from you, can thrust me from a leuell consideration, I know you ha' practis'd vpon the easie-yeelding spirit of this woman

Host. Yes in troth my Lord

Iust. Prethee peace: pay her the debt you owe her, and vnpay the villany you haue done her: the one you may do with sterling mony, & the other with currant repentance

Fal. My Lord, I will not vndergo this sneape without reply. You call honorable Boldnes, impudent Sawcinesse: If a man wil curt'sie, and say nothing, he is vertuous: No, my Lord (your humble duty reme[m]bred) I will not be your sutor. I say to you, I desire deliu'rance from these Officers being vpon hasty employment in the Kings Affaires

Iust. You speake, as hauing power to do wrong: But answer in the effect of your Reputation, and satisfie the poore woman

Falst. Come hither Hostesse. Enter M[aster]. Gower] Ch.Iust. Now Master Gower; What newes? Gow. The King (my Lord) and Henrie Prince of Wales Are neere at hand: The rest the Paper telles

Falst. As I am a Gentleman

Host. Nay, you said so before

Fal. As I am a Gentleman. Come, no more words of it Host. By this Heauenly ground I tread on, I must be faine to pawne both my Plate, and the Tapistry of my dyning Chambers

Fal. Glasses, glasses, is the onely drinking: and for thy walles a pretty slight Drollery, or the Storie of the Prodigall, or the Germane hunting in Waterworke, is worth a thousand of these Bed-hangings, and these Flybitten Tapistries. Let it be tenne pound (if thou canst.) Come, if it were not for thy humors, there is not a better Wench in England. Go, wash thy face, and draw thy

## Action: Come, thou must not bee in this humour with

me, come, I know thou was't set on to this

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

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

Host. Well, you shall haue it although I pawne my Gowne. I hope you'l come to Supper: You'l pay me altogether? Fal. Will I liue? Go with her, with her: hooke-on, hooke-on

Host. Will you haue Doll Teare-sheet meet you at supper? Fal. No more words. Let's haue her

Ch.Iust. I haue heard bitter newes

Fal. What's the newes (my good Lord?) Ch.Iu. Where lay the King last night? Mes. At Basingstoke my Lord

Fal. I hope (my Lord) all's well. What is the newes my Lord? Ch.Iust. Come all his Forces backe? Mes. No: Fifteene hundred Foot, fiue hundred Horse Are march'd vp to my Lord of Lancaster, Against Northumberland, and the Archbishop

Fal. Comes the King backe from Wales, my noble L[ord]? Ch.Iust. You shall haue Letters of me presently. Come, go along with me, good M[aster]. Gowre

Fal. My Lord

Ch.Iust. What's the matter? Fal. Master Gowre, shall I entreate you with mee to dinner? Gow. I must waite vpon my good Lord heere. I thanke you, good Sir Iohn

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

Fal. Will you sup with me, Master Gowre? Ch.Iust. What foolish Master taught you these manners, Sir Iohn? Fal. Master Gower, if they become mee not, hee was a Foole that taught them mee. This is the right Fencing grace (my Lord) tap for tap, and so part faire

Ch.Iust. Now the Lord lighten thee, thou art a great Foole.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Prince Henry, Pointz, Bardolfe, and Page.

Prin. Trust me, I am exceeding weary

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

Prin. It doth me: though it discolours the complexion of my Greatnesse to acknowledge it. Doth it not shew 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 Princely got: for (in troth) I do now remember the poore Creature, Small Beere. But indeede these humble considerations make me out of loue with my Greatnesse. What a disgrace is it to me, to remember thy name? Or to know thy face to morrow? Or to take note how many paire of Silk stockings y hast? (Viz. these, and those that were thy peach-colour'd ones:) Or to beare the Inuentorie of thy shirts, as one for superfluity, and one other, for vse. But that the Tennis-Court-keeper knowes better then I, for it is a low ebbe of Linnen with thee, when thou kept'st not Racket there, as thou hast not done a great while, because the rest of thy Low Countries, haue made a shift to eate vp thy Holland

Poin. How ill it followes, after you haue labour'd so hard, you should talke so idlely? 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 serue among wittes of no higher breeding then thine

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

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

Poin. Very hardly, vpon such a subiect

Prin. Thou think'st me as farre in the Diuels Booke, as thou, and Falstaffe, for obduracie and persistencie. Let the end try the man. But I tell thee, my hart bleeds inwardly, that my Father is so sicke: and keeping such vild company as thou art, hath in reason taken from me, all ostentation of sorrow

Poin. The reason? Prin. What would'st thou think of me, if I shold weep? Poin. I would thinke thee a most Princely hypocrite

Prin. It would be euery mans thought: and thou art a blessed Fellow, to thinke as euery man thinkes: neuer a mans thought in the world, keepes the Rode-way better then thine: euery man would thinke me an Hypocrite indeede. And what accites your most worshipful thought to thinke so? Poin. Why, because you haue beene so lewde, and so much ingraffed to Falstaffe

Prin. And to thee

Pointz. Nay, I am well spoken of, I can heare it with mine owne eares: the worst that they can say of me is, that I am a second Brother, and that I am a proper Fellowe of my hands: and those two things I confesse I canot helpe. Looke, looke, here comes Bardolfe

Prince. And the Boy that I gaue Falstaffe, he had him from me Christian, and see if the fat villain haue not transform'd him Ape. Enter Bardolfe.

Bar. Saue your Grace

Prin. And yours, most Noble Bardolfe

Poin. Come you pernitious Asse, you bashfull 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 euen now (my Lord) through a red Lattice, and I could discerne no part of his face from the window: at last I spy'd his eyes, and me thought he had made two holes in the Ale-wiues new Petticoat, & peeped through

Prin. Hath not the boy profited? Bar. Away, you horson vpright Rabbet, away

Page. Away, you rascally Altheas dreame, away

Prin. Instruct vs Boy: what dreame, Boy? Page. Marry (my Lord) Althea dream'd, she was deliuer'd of a Firebrand, and therefore I call him hir dream

Prince. A Crownes-worth of good Interpretation: There it is, Boy

Poin. O that this good Blossome could bee kept from Cankers: Well, there is six pence to preserue thee

Bard. If you do not make him be hang'd among you, the gallowes shall be wrong'd

Prince. And how doth thy Master, Bardolph? Bar. Well, my good Lord: he heard of your Graces comming to Towne. There's a Letter for you

Poin. Deliuer'd with good respect: And how doth the Martlemas, your Master? Bard. In bodily health Sir

Poin. Marry, the immortall part needes a Physitian: but that moues not him: though that bee sicke, it dyes not

Prince. I do allow this Wen to bee as familiar with me, as my dogge: and he holds his place, for looke you he writes

Poin.

Letter.

Iohn Falstaffe Knight: (Euery man must know that, as oft as hee hath occasion to name himselfe:) Euen like those that are kinne to the King, for they neuer pricke their finger, but they say, there is som of the kings blood spilt. How comes that (sayes he) that takes vpon him not to conceiue? the answer is as ready as a borrowed cap: I am the Kings poore Cosin, Sir

Prince. Nay, they will be kin to vs, but they wil fetch it from Iaphet. But to the Letter: - Sir Iohn Falstaffe, Knight, to the Sonne of the King, neerest his Father, Harrie Prince of Wales, greeting

Poin. Why this is a Certificate

Prin. Peace. I will imitate the honourable Romaines in breuitie

Poin. Sure he meanes breuity in breath: short-winded. I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I leaue thee. Bee not too familiar with Pointz, for hee misuses thy Fauours so much, that he sweares thou art to marrie his Sister Nell. Repent at idle times as thou mayst, and so farewell. Thine, by yea and no: which is as much as to say, as thou vsest him. Iacke Falstaffe with my Familiars: Iohn with my Brothers and Sister: & Sir Iohn, with all Europe. My Lord, I will steepe this Letter in Sack, and make him eate it

Prin. That's to make him eate twenty of his Words. But do you vse me thus Ned? Must I marry your Sister? Poin. May the Wench haue no worse Fortune. But I neuer said so

Prin. Well, thus we play the Fooles with the time, & the spirits of the wise, sit in the clouds, and mocke vs: Is your Master heere in London? Bard. Yes my Lord

Prin. Where suppes he? Doth the old Bore, feede in the old Franke? Bard. At the old place my Lord, in East-cheape

Prin. What Company? Page. Ephesians my Lord, of the old Church

Prin. Sup any women with him? Page. None my Lord, but old Mistris Quickly, and M[istris]. Doll Teare-sheet

Prin. What Pagan may that be? Page. A proper Gentlewoman, Sir, and a Kinswoman of my Masters

Prin. Euen such Kin, as the Parish Heyfors are to the Towne-Bull? Shall we steale vpon them (Ned) at Supper? Poin. I am your shadow, my Lord, Ile follow you

Prin. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your Master that I am yet in Towne. There's for your silence

Bar. I haue no tongue, sir

Page. And for mine Sir, I will gouerne it

Prin. Fare ye well: go. This Doll Teare-sheet should be some Rode

Poin. I warrant you, as common as the way betweene S[aint]. Albans, and London

Prin. How might we see Falstaffe bestow himselfe to night, in his true colours, and not our selues be seene? Poin. Put on two Leather Ierkins, and Aprons, and waite vpon him at his Table, like Drawers

Prin. From a God, to a Bull? A heauie declension: It was Ioues case. From a Prince, to a Prentice, a low transformation, that shall be mine: for in euery thing, the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me Ned.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Northumberland, his Ladie, and Harrie Percies Ladie.

North. I prethee louing Wife, and gentle Daughter, Giue an euen way vnto my rough Affaires: Put not you on the visage of the Times, And be like them to Percie, troublesome

Wife. I haue giuen ouer, I will speak no more, Do what you will: your Wisedome, be your guide

North. Alas (sweet Wife) my Honor is at pawne, And but my going, nothing can redeeme it

La. Oh yet, for heauens sake, go not to these Warrs; The Time was (Father) when you broke your word, When you were more endeer'd to it, then now, When your owne Percy, when my heart-deereHarry, Threw many a Northward looke, to see his Father Bring vp his Powres: but he did long in vaine. Who then perswaded you to stay at home? There were two Honors lost; Yours, and your Sonnes. For Yours, may heauenly glory brighten it: For His, it stucke vpon him, as the Sunne In the gray vault of Heauen: and by his Light Did all the Cheualrie of England moue To do braue Acts. He was (indeed) the Glasse Wherein the Noble-Youth did dresse themselues. He had no Legges, that practic'd not his Gate: And speaking thicke (which Nature made his blemish) Became the Accents of the Valiant. For those that could speake low, and tardily, Would turne their owne Perfection, to Abuse, To seeme like him. So that in Speech, in Gate, In Diet, in Affections of delight, In Militarie Rules, Humors of Blood, 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 leaue (Second to none) vn-seconded by you, To looke vpon the hideous God of Warre, In dis-aduantage, to abide a field, Where nothing but the sound of Hotspurs Name Did seeme defensible: so you left him. Neuer, O neuer doe his Ghost the wrong, To hold your Honor more precise and nice With others, then with him. Let them alone: The Marshall and the Arch-bishop are strong. Had my sweet Harry had but halfe their Numbers, To day might I (hanging on Hotspurs Necke) Haue talk'd of Monmouth's Graue

North. Beshrew your heart, (Faire Daughter) you doe draw my Spirits from me, With new lamenting ancient Ouer-sights. But I must goe, and meet with Danger there, Or it will seeke me in another place, And finde me worse prouided

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

Lady. If they get ground, and vantage of the King, Then ioyne you with them, like a Ribbe of Steele, To make Strength stronger. But, for all our loues, First let them trye themselues. So did your Sonne, He was so suffer'd; so came I a Widow: And neuer shall haue length of Life enough, To raine vpon Remembrance with mine Eyes, That it may grow, and sprowt, as high as Heauen, For Recordation to my Noble Husband

North. Come, come, go in with me: 'tis with my Minde As with the Tyde, swell'd vp vnto his height, That makes a still-stand, running neyther way. Faine would I goe to meet the Arch-bishop, But many thousand Reasons hold me backe. I will resolue for Scotland: there am I, Till Time and Vantage craue my company.

Exeunt.

Scaena Quarta.

Enter two Drawers.

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

2.Draw. Thou say'st true: the Prince once set a Dish of Apple-Iohns before him, and told him there were fiue more Sir Iohns: and, putting off his Hat, said, I will now take my leaue of these sixe drie, round, old-wither'd Knights. It anger'd him to the heart: but hee hath forgot that

1.Draw. Why then couer, and set them downe: and see if thou canst finde out Sneakes Noyse; Mistris Teare-sheet would faine haue some Musique

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

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

2.Draw. Ile see if I can finde out Sneake. Enter.

Enter Hostesse, and Dol.

Host. Sweet-heart, me thinkes now you are in an excellent good temperalitie: your Pulsidge beates as extraordinarily, as heart would desire; and your Colour (I warrant you) is as red as any Rose: But you haue drunke too much Canaries, and that's a maruellous searching Wine; and it perfumes the blood, ere wee can say what's this. How doe you now? Dol. Better then I was: Hem

Host. Why that was well said: A good heart's worth Gold. Looke, here comes Sir Iohn. Enter Falstaffe.

Falst. When Arthur first in Court - (emptie the Iordan) and was a worthy King: How now Mistris Dol? Host. Sick of a Calme: yea, good-sooth

Falst. So is all her Sect: if they be once in a Calme, they are sick

Dol. You muddie Rascall, is that all the comfort you giue me? Falst. You make fat Rascalls, Mistris Dol

Dol. I make them? Gluttonie and Diseases make them, I make them not

Falst. If the Cooke make the Gluttonie, you helpe to make the Diseases (Dol) we catch of you (Dol) we catch of you: Grant that, my poore Vertue, grant that

Dol. I marry, our Chaynes, and our Iewels

Falst. Your Brooches, Pearles, and Owches: For to serue brauely, is to come halting off: you know, to come off the Breach, with his Pike bent brauely, and to Surgerie brauely; to venture vpon the charg'd-Chambers brauely

Host. Why this is the olde fashion: you two neuer meete, but you fall to some discord: 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 Vessell; as they say, the emptier Vessell

Dol. Can a weake emptie Vessell beare such a huge full Hogs-head? There's a whole Marchants Venture of Burdeux-Stuffe in him: you haue not seene a Hulke better stufft in the Hold. Come, Ile be friends with thee Iacke: Thou art going to the Warres, and whether I shall euer see thee againe, or no, there is no body cares. Enter Drawer.

Drawer. Sir, Ancient Pistoll is below, and would speake with you

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

Host. If hee swagger, let him not come here: I must liue amongst my Neighbors, Ile no Swaggerers: I am in good name, and fame, with the very best: shut the doore, there comes no Swaggerers heere: I haue not liu'd all this while, to haue swaggering now: shut the doore, I pray you

Falst. Do'st thou heare, Hostesse? Host. 'Pray you pacifie your selfe (Sir Iohn) there comes no Swaggerers heere

Falst. Do'st thou heare? it is mine Ancient

Host. Tilly-fally (Sir Iohn) neuer tell me, your ancient Swaggerer comes not in my doores. I was before Master Tisick the Deputie, the other day: and as hee said to me, it was no longer agoe then Wednesday last: Neighbour Quickly (sayes hee;) Master Dombe, our Minister, was by then: Neighbour Quickly (sayes hee) receiue those that are Ciuill; for (sayth hee) you are in an ill Name: now hee said so, I can tell whereupon: for (sayes hee) you are an honest Woman, and well thought on; therefore take heede what Guests you receiue: Receiue (sayes hee) no swaggering Companions. There comes none heere. You would blesse you to heare what hee said. No, Ile no Swaggerers

Falst. Hee's no Swaggerer (Hostesse:) a tame Cheater, hee: you may stroake him as gently, as a Puppie Greyhound: hee will not swagger with a Barbarie Henne, if her feathers turne backe in any shew of resistance. Call him vp (Drawer.) Host. Cheater, call you him? I will barre no honest man my house, nor no Cheater: but I doe not loue swaggering; I am the worse when one sayes, swagger: Feele Masters, how I shake: looke you, I warrant you

Dol. So you doe, Hostesse

Host. Doe I? yea, in very truth doe I, if it were an Aspen Leafe: I cannot abide Swaggerers. Enter Pistol, and Bardolph and his Boy.

Pist. 'Saue you, Sir Iohn

Falst. Welcome Ancient Pistol. Here (Pistol) I charge you with a Cup of Sacke: doe you discharge vpon mine Hostesse

Pist. I will discharge vpon her (Sir Iohn) with two Bullets

Falst. She is Pistoll-proofe (Sir) you shall hardly offend her

Host. Come, Ile drinke no Proofes, nor no Bullets: I will drinke no more then will doe me good, for no mans pleasure, I

Pist. Then to you (Mistris Dorothie) I will charge you

Dol. Charge me? I scorne you (scuruie Companion) what? you poore, base, rascally, cheating, lacke-Linnen-Mate: away you mouldie Rogue, away; I am meat for your Master

Pist. I know you, Mistris Dorothie

Dol. Away you Cut-purse Rascall, you filthy Bung, away: By this Wine, Ile thrust my Knife in your mouldie Chappes, if you play the sawcie Cuttle with me. Away you Bottle-Ale Rascall, you Basket-hilt stale Iugler, you. Since when, I pray you, Sir? what, with two Points on your shoulder? much

Pist. I will murther your Ruffe, for this

Host. No, good Captaine Pistol: not heere, sweete Captaine

Dol. Captaine? thou abhominable damn'd Cheater, art thou not asham'd to be call'd Captaine? If Captaines were of my minde, they would trunchion you out, for taking their Names vpon you, before you haue earn'd them. You a Captaine? you slaue, for what? for tearing a poore Whores Ruffe in a Bawdy-house? Hee a Captaine? hang him Rogue, hee liues vpon mouldie stew'd-Pruines, and dry'de Cakes. A Captaine? These Villaines will make the word Captaine odious: Therefore Captaines had neede looke to it

Bard. 'Pray thee goe downe, good Ancient

Falst. Hearke thee hither, Mistris Dol

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

Page. 'Pray thee goe downe

Pist. Ile see her damn'd first: to Pluto's damn'd Lake, to the Infernall Deepe, where Erebus and Tortures vilde also. Hold Hooke and Line, say I: Downe: downe Dogges, downe Fates: haue wee not Hiren here? Host. Good Captaine Peesel be quiet, it is very late: I beseeke you now, aggrauate your Choler

Pist. These be good Humors indeede. Shall PackHorses, and hollow-pamper'd Iades of Asia, which cannot goe but thirtie miles a day, compare with Cæsar, and with Caniballs, and Troian Greekes? nay, rather damne them with King Cerberus, and let the Welkin roare: shall wee fall foule for Toyes? Host. By my troth Captaine, these are very bitter words

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

Pist. Die men, like Dogges; giue Crownes like Pinnes: Haue we not Hiren here? Host. On my word (Captaine) there's none such here. What the good-yere, doe you thinke I would denye her? I pray be quiet

Pist. Then feed, and be fat (my faire Calipolis.) Come, giue me some Sack, Si fortune me tormente, sperato me contente. Feare wee broad-sides? No, let the Fiend giue fire: Giue me some Sack: and Sweet-heart lye thou there: Come wee to full Points here, and are et cetera's nothing? Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet

Pist. Sweet Knight, I kisse thy Neaffe: what? wee haue seene the seuen Starres

Dol. Thrust him downe stayres, I cannot endure such a Fustian Rascall

Pist. Thrust him downe stayres? know we not Galloway Nagges? Fal. Quoit him downe (Bardolph) like a shoue-groat shilling: nay, if hee doe nothing but speake nothing, hee shall be nothing here

Bard. Come, get you downe stayres

Pist. What? shall wee haue Incision? shall wee embrew? then Death rocke me asleepe, abridge my dolefull dayes: why then let grieuous, gastly, gaping Wounds, vntwin'd the Sisters three: Come Atropos, I say

Host. Here's good stuffe toward

Fal. Giue me my Rapier, Boy

Dol. I prethee Iack, I prethee doe not draw

Fal. Get you downe stayres

Host. Here's a goodly tumult: Ile forsweare keeping house, before Ile be in these tirrits, and frights. So: Murther I warrant now. Alas, alas, put vp your naked Weapons, put vp your naked Weapons

Dol. I prethee Iack be quiet, the Rascall is gone: ah, you whorson little valiant Villaine, you

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

Fal. Haue you turn'd him out of doores? Bard. Yes Sir: the Rascall's drunke: you haue hurt him (Sir) in the shoulder

Fal. A Rascall to braue 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 loue thee: Thou art as valorous as Hector of Troy, worth fiue of Agamemnon, and tenne times better then the nine Worthies: ah Villaine

Fal. A rascally Slaue, I will tosse the Rogue in a Blanket

Dol. Doe, if thou dar'st for thy heart: if thou doo'st, Ile canuas thee betweene a paire of Sheetes. Enter Musique.

Page. The Musique is come, Sir

Fal. Let them play: play Sirs. Sit on my Knee, Dol. A Rascall, bragging Slaue: the Rogue fled from me like Quick-siluer

Dol. And thou followd'st him like a Church: thou whorson little tydie Bartholmew Bore-pigge, when wilt thou leaue fighting on dayes, and foyning on nights, and begin to patch vp thine old Body for Heauen? Enter the Prince and Poines disguis'd.

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

Dol. Sirrha, what humor is the Prince of? Fal. A good shallow young fellow: hee would haue made a good Pantler, hee would haue chipp'd Bread well

Dol. They say Poines hath a good Wit

Fal. Hee a good Wit? hang him Baboone, his Wit is as thicke as Tewksburie Mustard: there is no more conceit in him, then is in a Mallet

Dol. Why doth the Prince loue 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 wilde-Mare with the Boyes, and iumpes vpon Ioyn'dstooles, and sweares with a good grace, and weares his Boot very smooth, like vnto 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 Haberdepois

Prince. Would not this Naue of a Wheele haue his Eares cut off? Poin. Let vs beat him before his Whore

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

Poin. Is it not strange, that Desire should so many yeeres out-liue performance? Fal. Kisse me Dol

Prince. Saturne and Venus this yeere in Coniunction? What sayes the Almanack to that? Poin. And looke whether the fierie Trigon, his Man, be not lisping to his Masters old Tables, his Note-Booke, his Councell-keeper? Fal. Thou do'st giue me flatt'ring Busses

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

Fal. I am olde, I am olde

Dol. I loue thee better, then I loue ere a scuruie young Boy of them all

Fal. What Stuffe wilt thou haue a Kirtle of? I shall receiue Money on Thursday: thou shalt haue a Cappe to morrow. A merrie Song, come: it growes late, wee will to Bed. Thou wilt forget me, when I am gone

Dol. Thou wilt set me a weeping, if thou say'st so: proue that euer I dresse my selfe 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 Poines, his Brother? Prince. Why thou Globe of sinfull Continents, what a life do'st thou lead? Fal. A better then thou: I am a Gentleman, thou art a Drawer

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

Host. Oh, the Lord preserue thy good Grace: Welcome to London. Now Heauen blesse that sweete Face of thine: what, are you come from Wales? Fal. Thou whorson mad Compound of Maiestie: by this light Flesh, and corrupt Blood, thou art welcome

Dol. How? you fat Foole, I scorne you

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

Prince. You whorson Candle-myne you, how vildly did you speake of me euen now, before this honest, vertuous, ciuill Gentlewoman? Host. 'Blessing on your good heart, and so shee is by my troth

Fal. Didst 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 purpose, to trie my patience

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

Prince. I shall driue you then to confesse the wilfull abuse, and then I know how to handle you

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

Prince. Not to disprayse me? and call me Pantler, and Bread-chopper, and I know not what? Fal. No abuse (Hal.) Poin. No abuse? Fal. No abuse (Ned) in the World: honest Ned none. I disprays'd him before the Wicked, that the Wicked might not fall in loue with him: In which doing, I haue done the part of a carefull Friend, and a true Subiect, and thy Father is to giue me thankes for it. No abuse (Hal:) none (Ned) none; no Boyes, none

Prince. See now whether pure Feare, and entire Cowardise, doth not make thee wrong this vertuous Gentlewoman, to close with vs? Is shee of the Wicked? Is thine Hostesse heere, 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 irrecouerable, and his Face is Lucifers Priuy-Kitchin, where hee doth nothing but rost Mault-Wormes: for the Boy, there is a good Angell about him, but the Deuill outbids him too

Prince. For the Women? Fal. For one of them, shee is in Hell alreadie, 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, I thinke thou art not: I thinke thou art quit for that. Marry, there is another Indictment vpon thee, for suffering flesh to bee eaten in thy house, contrary to the Law, for the which I thinke thou wilt howle

Host. All Victuallers doe so: What is a Ioynt of Mutton, or two, in a whole Lent? Prince. You, Gentlewoman

Dol. What sayes your Grace? Falst. His Grace sayes that, which his flesh rebells against

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

Prince. Peto, how now? what newes? Peto. The King, your Father, is at Westminster, And there are twentie weake and wearied Postes, Come from the North: and as I came along, I met, and ouer-tooke a dozen Captaines, Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the Tauernes, And asking euery one for Sir Iohn Falstaffe

Prince. By Heauen (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 vpon our bare vnarmed heads. Giue me my Sword, and Cloake: Falstaffe, good night. Enter.

Falst. Now comes in the sweetest Morsell of the night, and wee must hence, and leaue it vnpickt. More knocking at the doore? How now? what's the matter? Bard. You must away to Court, Sir, presently, A dozen Captaines stay at doore for you

Falst. Pay the Musitians, Sirrha: farewell Hostesse, farewell Dol. You see (my good Wenches) how men of Merit are sought after: the vndeseruer may sleepe, when the man of Action is call'd on. Farewell good Wenches: if I be not sent away poste, I will see you againe, ere I goe

Dol. I cannot speake: if my heart bee not readie to burst- Well (sweete Iacke) haue a care of thy selfe

Falst. Farewell, farewell. Enter.

Host. Well, fare thee well: I haue knowne thee these twentie nine yeeres, come Pescod-time: but an honester, and truer-hearted man- Well, fare thee well

Bard. Mistris Teare-sheet

Host. What's the matter? Bard. Bid Mistris 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 consider of them: make good speed. Enter.

How many thousand of my poorest Subiects Are at this howre asleepe? O Sleepe, O gentle Sleepe, Natures soft Nurse, how haue I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids downe, And steepe my Sences in Forgetfulnesse? Why rather (Sleepe) lyest thou in smoakie Cribs, Vpon vneasie Pallads stretching thee, And huisht with bussing 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 sweetest Melodie? O thou dull God, why lyest thou with the vilde, In loathsome Beds, and leau'st the Kingly Couch, A Watch-case, or a common Larum-Bell? Wilt thou, vpon the high and giddie Mast, Seale vp 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 Ruffian Billowes by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deaff'ning Clamors in the slipp'ry Clouds, That with the hurley, Death it selfe awakes? Canst thou (O partiall Sleepe) giue thy Repose To the wet Sea-Boy, in an houre so rude: And in the calmest, and most stillest Night, With all appliances, and meanes to boote, Deny it to a King? Then happy Lowe, lye downe, Vneasie lyes the Head, that weares a Crowne. Enter Warwicke and Surrey.

War. Many good-morrowes to your Maiestie

King. Is it good-morrow, Lords? War. 'Tis One a Clock, and past

King. Why then good-morrow to you all (my Lords:) Haue you read o're the Letters that I sent you? War. We haue (my Liege.) King. Then you perceiue the Body of our Kingdome, How foule it is: what ranke Diseases grow, And with what danger, neere the Heart of it? War. It is but as a Body, yet distemper'd, Which to his former strength may be restor'd, With good aduice, and little Medicine: My Lord Northumberland will soone be cool'd

King. Oh Heauen, that one might read the Book of Fate, And see the reuolution of the Times Make Mountaines leuell, and the Continent (Wearie of solide firmenesse) melt it selfe Into the Sea: and other Times, to see The beachie Girdle of the Ocean Too wide for Neptunes hippes; how Chances mocks And Changes fill the Cuppe of Alteration With diuers Liquors. 'Tis not tenne yeeres gone, Since Richard, and Northumberland, great friends, Did feast together; and in two yeeres after, Were they at Warres. It is but eight yeeres since, This Percie was the man, neerest my Soule, Who, like a Brother, toyl'd in my Affaires, And layd his Loue and Life vnder my foot: Yea, for my sake, euen to the eyes of Richard Gaue him defiance. But which of you was by (You Cousin Neuil, 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 prou'd a Prophecie:) Northumberland, thou Ladder, by the which My Cousin Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne: (Though then, Heauen knowes, I had no such intent, But that necessitie so bow'd the State, That I and Greatnesse were compell'd to kisse:) 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 same Times Condition, And the diuision of our Amitie

War. There is a Historie in all mens Liues, Figuring the nature of the Times deceas'd: The which obseru'd, a man may prophecie With a neere ayme, of the maine chance of things, As yet not come to Life, which in their Seedes And weake beginnings lye entreasured: Such things become the Hatch and Brood of Time; And by the necessarie forme of this, King Richard might create a perfect guesse, That great Northumberland, then false to him, Would of that Seed, grow to a greater falsenesse, Which should not finde a ground to roote vpon, Vnlesse on you

King. Are these things then Necessities? Then let vs meete them like Necessities; And that same word, euen now cryes out on vs: They say, the Bishop and Northumberland Are fiftie thousand strong

War. It cannot be (my Lord:) Rumor doth double, like the Voice, and Eccho, The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace To goe to bed, vpon my Life (my Lord) The Pow'rs that you alreadie haue sent forth, Shall bring this Prize in very easily. To comfort you the more, I haue receiu'd A certaine instance, that Glendour is dead. Your Maiestie hath beene this fort-night ill, And these vnseason'd howres perforce must adde Vnto your Sicknesse

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

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

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

Shal. Come-on, come-on, come-on: giue mee your Hand, Sir; giue mee your Hand, Sir: an early stirrer, by the Rood. And how doth my good Cousin Silence? Sil. Good-morrow, good Cousin Shallow

Shal. And how doth my Cousin, your Bed-fellow? and your fairest Daughter, and mine, my God-Daughter Ellen? Sil. Alas, a blacke Ouzell (Cousin Shallow.) Shal. By yea and nay, Sir. I dare say my Cousin 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 lustie Shallow then (Cousin.) Shal. I was call'd any thing: and I would haue done any thing indeede too, and roundly too. There was I, and little Iohn Doit of Staffordshire, and blacke George Bare, and Francis Pick-bone, and Will Squele a Cotsal-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 at commandement. Then was Iacke Falstaffe (now Sir Iohn) a Boy, and Page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolke

Sil. This Sir Iohn (Cousin) that comes hither anon about Souldiers? Shal. The same Sir Iohn, the very same: I saw him breake Scoggan's Head at the Court-Gate, when hee was a Crack, not thus high: and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stock-fish, a Fruiterer, behinde Greyes-Inne. Oh the mad dayes that I haue spent! and to see how many of mine olde Acquaintance are dead? Sil. Wee shall all follow (Cousin.) Shal. Certaine: 'tis certaine: very sure, very sure: Death is certaine to all, all shall dye. How a good Yoke of Bullocks at Stamford Fayre? 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, see: hee drew a good Bow: and dead? hee shot a fine shoote. Iohn of Gaunt loued him well, and betted much Money on his head. Dead? hee would haue clapt in the Clowt at Twelue-score, and carryed you a fore-hand Shaft at foureteene, and foureteene and a halfe, that it would haue done a mans heart good to see. How a score of Ewes now? Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good Ewes may be worth tenne pounds

Shal. And is olde Double dead? Enter Bardolph and his Boy.

Sil. Heere come two of Sir Iohn Falstaffes 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 Esquire of this Countie, and one of the Kings Iustices of the Peace: What is your good pleasure with me? Bard. My Captaine (Sir) commends him to you: my Captaine, Sir Iohn Falstaffe: a tall Gentleman, and a most gallant Leader

Shal. Hee greetes 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 accommodated, then with a Wife

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

Bard. Pardon, Sir, I haue 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 he thought to be accommodated, which is an excellent thing. Enter Falstaffe.

Shal. It is very iust: Looke, heere comes good Sir Iohn. Giue me your hand, giue me your Worships good hand: Trust me, you looke well: and beare your yeares very well. Welcome, good Sir Iohn

Fal. I am glad to see you well, good M[aster]. Robert Shallow: Master Sure-card as I thinke? Shal. No sir Iohn, it is my Cosin Silence: in Commission with mee

Fal. Good M[aster]. Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace

Sil. Your good Worship is welcome

Fal. Fye, this is hot weather (Gentlemen) haue you prouided me heere halfe a dozen of sufficient men? Shal. Marry haue we sir: Will you sit? Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you

Shal. Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll? Where's the Roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see: so, so, so, so: yea marry Sir. Raphe Mouldie: let them appeare as I call: let them do so, let them do so: Let mee see, Where is Mouldie? Moul. Heere, if it please you

Shal. What thinke you (Sir Iohn) a good limb'd fellow: yong, strong, and of good friends

Fal. Is thy name Mouldie? Moul. Yea, if it please you

Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert vs'd

Shal. Ha, ha, ha, most excellent. Things that are mouldie, lacke vse: very singular good. Well saide Sir Iohn, very well said

Fal. Pricke him

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

Fal. Go too: peace Mouldie, you shall goe. Mouldie, it is time you were spent

Moul. Spent? Shallow. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside: Know you where you are? For the other sir Iohn: Let me see: Simon Shadow

Fal. I marry, let me haue him to sit vnder: he's like to be a cold souldier

Shal. Where's Shadow? Shad. Heere sir

Fal. Shadow, whose sonne art thou? Shad. My Mothers sonne, Sir

Falst. Thy Mothers sonne: like enough, and thy Fathers shadow: so the sonne of the Female, is the shadow of the Male: it is often so indeede, but not of the Fathers substance

Shal. Do you like him, sir Iohn? Falst. Shadow will serue for Summer: pricke him: For wee haue a number of shadowes to fill vppe the Muster-Booke

Shal. Thomas Wart? Falst. Where's he? Wart. Heere sir

Falst. Is thy name Wart? Wart. Yea sir

Fal. Thou art a very ragged Wart

Shal. Shall I pricke him downe, Sir Iohn? Falst. It were superfluous: for his apparrel is built vpon his backe, and the whole frame stands vpon pins: prick him no more

Shal. Ha, ha, ha, you can do it sir: you can doe it: I commend you well. Francis Feeble

Feeble. Heere sir

Shal. What Trade art thou Feeble? Feeble. A Womans Taylor sir

Shal. Shall I pricke him, sir? Fal. You may: But if he had beene a mans Taylor, he would haue prick'd you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemies Battaile, as thou hast done in a Womans petticote? Feeble. I will doe my good will sir, you can haue no more

Falst. Well said, good Womans Tailour: Well sayde Couragious Feeble: thou wilt bee as valiant as the wrathfull Doue, or most magnanimous Mouse. Pricke the womans Taylour well Master Shallow, deepe Maister Shallow

Feeble. I would Wart might haue gone sir

Fal. I would thou wert a mans Tailor, that y might'st mend him, and make him fit to goe. I cannot put him to a priuate souldier, that is the Leader of so many thousands. Let that suffice, most Forcible Feeble

Feeble. It shall suffice

Falst. I am bound to thee, reuerend Feeble. Who is the next? Shal. Peter Bulcalfe of the Greene

Falst. Yea marry, let vs see Bulcalfe

Bul. Heere sir

Fal. Trust me, a likely Fellow. Come, pricke me Bulcalfe till he roare againe

Bul. Oh, good my Lord Captaine

Fal. What? do'st thou roare before th'art prickt

Bul. Oh sir, I am a diseased man

Fal. What disease hast thou? Bul. A whorson cold sir, a cough sir, which I caught with Ringing in the Kings affayres, vpon his Coronation day, sir

Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the Warres in a Gowne: we will haue 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 haue but foure heere sir, and so I pray you go in with me to dinner

Fal. Come, I will goe drinke with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you in good troth, Master Shallow

Shal. O sir Iohn, doe you remember since wee lay all night in the Winde-mill, in S[aint]. Georges Field

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

Shal. Ha? it was a merry night. And is Iane Nightworke aliue? Fal. She liues, M[aster]. Shallow

Shal. She neuer could away with me

Fal. Neuer, neuer: she would alwayes say shee could not abide M[aster]. Shallow

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

Fal. Old, old, M[aster]. Shallow

Shal. Nay, she must be old, she cannot choose but be old: certaine shee's old: and had Robin Night-worke, by old Night-worke, before I came to Clements Inne

Sil. That's fiftie fiue yeeres agoe

Shal. Hah, Cousin Silence, that thou hadst seene that, that this Knight and I haue seene: hah, Sir Iohn, said I well? Falst. Wee haue heard the Chymes at mid-night, Master Shallow

Shal. That wee haue, that wee haue; in faith, Sir Iohn, wee haue: our watch-word was, Hem-Boyes. Come, let's to Dinner; come, let's to Dinner: Oh the dayes that wee haue seene. Come, come

Bul. Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend, and heere is foure Harry tenne shillings in French Crownes for you: in very truth, sir, I had as lief be hang'd sir, as goe: and yet, for mine owne part, sir, I do not care; but rather, because I am vnwilling, and for mine owne part, haue a desire to stay with my friends: else, sir, I did not care, for mine owne part, so much

Bard. Go-too: stand aside

Mould. And good Master Corporall Captaine, for my old Dames sake, stand my friend: shee hath no body to doe any thing about her, when I am gone: and she is old, and cannot helpe her selfe: you shall haue fortie, sir

Bard. Go-too: stand aside

Feeble. I care not, a man can die but once: wee owe a death. I will neuer beare a base minde: if it be my destinie, so: if it be not, so: no man is too good to serue his Prince: and let it goe which way it will, he that dies this yeere, is quit for the next

Bard. Well said, thou art a good fellow

Feeble. Nay, I will beare no base minde

Falst. Come sir, which men shall I haue? Shal. Foure of which you please

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

Falst. Go-too: well

Shal. Come, sir Iohn, which foure will you haue? Falst. Doe you chuse for me

Shal. Marry then, Mouldie, Bull-calfe, Feeble, and Shadow

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

Shal. Sir Iohn, Sir Iohn, doe not your selfe wrong, they are your likelyest men, and I would haue you seru'd with the best

Falst. Will you tell me (Master Shallow) how to chuse a man? Care I for the Limbe, the Thewes, the stature, bulke, and bigge assemblance of a man? giue mee the spirit (Master Shallow.) Where's Wart? you see what a ragged appearance it is: hee shall charge you, and discharge you, with the motion of a Pewterers Hammer: come off, and on, swifter then hee that gibbets on the Brewers Bucket. And this same halfe-fac'd fellow, Shadow, giue me this man: hee presents no marke to the Enemie, the foe-man may with as great ayme leuell at the edge of a Pen-knife: and for a Retrait, how swiftly will this Feeble, the Womans Taylor, runne off. O, giue me the spare men, and spare me the great ones. Put me a Calyuer into Warts hand, Bardolph

Bard. Hold Wart, Trauerse: thus, thus, thus

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

Shal. Hee is not his Crafts-master, hee doth not doe it right. I remember at Mile-end-Greene, when I lay at Clements Inne, I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthurs Show: there was a little quiuer fellow, and hee would manage you his Peece thus: and hee would about, and about, and come you in, and come you in: Rah, tah, tah, would hee say, Bownce would hee say, and away againe would hee goe, and againe would he come: I shall neuer see such a fellow

Falst. These fellowes will doe well, Master Shallow. Farewell Master Silence, I will not vse many wordes with you: fare you well, Gentlemen both: I thanke you: I must a dozen mile to night. Bardolph, giue the Souldiers Coates

Shal. Sir Iohn, Heauen blesse you, and prosper your Affaires, and send vs Peace. As you returne, visit my house. Let our old acquaintance be renewed: peraduenture I will with you to the Court

Falst. I would you would, Master Shallow

Shal. Go-too: I haue spoke at a word. Fare you well. Enter.

Falst. Fare you well, gentle Gentlemen. On Bardolph, leade the men away. As I returne, I will fetch off these Iustices: I doe see the bottome of Iustice Shallow. How subiect wee old men are to this vice of Lying? This same staru'd Iustice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildenesse of his Youth, and the Feates hee hath done about Turnball-street, and euery 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 Cheese-paring. When hee was naked, hee was, for all the world, like a forked Radish, with a Head fantastically caru'd vpon it with a Knife. Hee was so forlorne, that his Dimensions (to any thicke sight) were inuincible. Hee was the very Genius of Famine: hee came euer in the rere-ward of the Fashion: And now is this Vices Dagger become a Squire, and talkes as familiarly of Iohn of Gaunt, as if hee had beene sworne Brother to him: and Ile be sworne hee neuer 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, hee beat his owne Name, for you might haue truss'd him and all his Apparrell into an Eele-skinne: the Case of a Treble Hoeboy was a Mansion for him: a Court: and now hath hee Land, and Beeues. Well, I will be acquainted with him, if I returne: and it shall goe hard, but I will make him a Philosophers two Stones to me. If the young Dace be a Bayt for the old Pike, I see no reason, in the Law of Nature, but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter the Arch-bishop, Mowbray, Hastings, Westmerland, Coleuile.

Bish. What is this Forrest call'd? Hast. 'Tis Gaultree Forrest, and't shall please your Grace

Bish. Here stand (my Lords) and send discouerers forth, To know the numbers of our Enemies

Hast. Wee haue sent forth alreadie

Bish. 'Tis well done. My Friends, and Brethren (in these great Affaires) I must acquaint you, that I haue receiu'd New-dated Letters from Northumberland: Their cold intent, tenure, and substance thus. Here doth hee wish his Person, with such Powers As might hold sortance with his Qualitie, The which hee could not leuie: whereupon Hee is retyr'd, to ripe his growing Fortunes, To Scotland; and concludes in heartie prayers, That your Attempts may ouer-liue the hazard, And fearefull meeting of their Opposite

Mow. Thus do the hopes we haue in him, touch ground, And dash themselues to pieces. Enter a Messenger.

Hast. Now? what newes? Mess. West of this Forrest, scarcely off a mile, In goodly forme, comes on the Enemie: And by the ground they hide, I iudge their number Vpon, or neere, the rate of thirtie thousand

Mow. The iust proportion that we gaue them out. Let vs sway-on, and face them in the field. Enter Westmerland.

Bish. What well-appointed Leader fronts vs here? Mow. I thinke it is my Lord of Westmerland

West. Health, and faire greeting from our Generall, The Prince, Lord Iohn, and Duke of Lancaster

Bish. Say on (my Lord of Westmerland) in peace: What doth concerne your comming? West. Then (my Lord) Vnto your Grace doe I in chiefe addresse The substance of my Speech. If that Rebellion Came like it selfe, in base and abiect Routs, Led on by bloodie Youth, guarded with Rage, And countenanc'd by Boyes, and Beggerie: I say, if damn'd Commotion so appeare, In his true, natiue, and most proper shape, You (Reuerend Father, and these Noble Lords) Had not beene here, to dresse the ougly forme Of base, and bloodie Insurrection, With your faire Honors. You, Lord Arch-bishop, Whose Sea is by a Ciuill Peace maintain'd, Whose Beard, the Siluer Hand of Peace hath touch'd, Whose Learning, and good Letters, Peace hath tutor'd, Whose white Inuestments figure Innocence, The Doue, and very blessed Spirit of Peace. Wherefore doe you so ill translate your selfe, Out of the Speech of Peace, that beares such grace, Into the harsh and boystrous Tongue of Warre? Turning your Bookes to Graues, your Inke to Blood, Your Pennes to Launces, and your Tongue diuine To a lowd Trumpet, and a Point of Warre

Bish. Wherefore doe I this? so the Question stands. Briefely to this end: Wee are all diseas'd, And with our surfetting, and wanton howres, Haue brought our selues into a burning Feuer, And wee must bleede for it: of which Disease, Our late King Richard (being infected) dy'd. But (my most Noble Lord of Westmerland) I take not on me here as a Physician, Nor doe I, as an Enemie to Peace, Troope in the Throngs of Militarie men: But rather shew a while like fearefull 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 haue in equall ballance iustly weigh'd, What wrongs our Arms may do, what wrongs we suffer, And finde our Griefes heauier then our Offences. Wee see which way the streame of Time doth runne, And are enforc'd from our most quiet there, By the rough Torrent of Occasion, And haue the summarie of all our Griefes (When time shall serue) to shew in Articles; Which long ere this, wee offer'd to the King, And might, by no Suit, gayne our Audience: When wee are wrong'd, and would vnfold our Griefes, Wee are deny'd accesse vnto his Person, Euen by those men, that most haue done vs wrong. The dangers of the dayes but newly gone, Whose memorie is written on the Earth With yet appearing blood; and the examples Of euery Minutes instance (present now) Hath put vs in these ill-beseeming Armes: Not to breake Peace, or any Branch of it, But to establish here a Peace indeede, Concurring both in Name and Qualitie

West. When euer yet was your Appeale deny'd? Wherein haue you beene galled by the King? What Peere hath beene suborn'd, to grate on you, That you should seale this lawlesse bloody Booke Of forg'd Rebellion, with a Seale diuine? Bish. My Brother generall, the Common-wealth, I make my Quarrell, in particular

West. There is no neede of any such redresse: Or if there were, it not belongs to you

Mow. Why not to him in part, and to vs all, That feele the bruizes of the dayes before, And suffer the Condition of these Times To lay a heauie and vnequall Hand vpon our Honors? West. O my good Lord Mowbray, Construe the Times to their Necessities, And you shall say (indeede) it is the Time, And not the King, that doth you iniuries. Yet for your part, it not appeares to me, Either from the King, or in the present Time, That you should haue an ynch of any ground To build a Griefe on: were you not restor'd To all the Duke of Norfolkes Seignories, Your Noble, and right well-remembred Fathers? Mow. What thing, in Honor, had my Father lost, That need to be reuiu'd, and breath'd in me? The King that lou'd him, as the State stood then, Was forc'd, perforce compell'd to banish him: And then, that Henry Bullingbrooke and hee Being mounted, and both rowsed in their Seates, Their neighing Coursers daring of the Spurre, Their armed Staues in charge, their Beauers downe, Their eyes of fire, sparkling through sights of Steele, And the lowd Trumpet blowing them together: Then, then, when there was nothing could haue stay'd My Father from the Breast of Bullingbrooke; O, when the King did throw his Warder downe, (His owne Life hung vpon the Staffe hee threw) Then threw hee downe himselfe, and all their Liues, That by Indictment, and by dint of Sword, Haue since mis-carryed vnder Bullingbrooke

West. You speak (Lord Mowbray) now you know not what. The Earle of Hereford was reputed then In England the most valiant Gentleman. Who knowes, on whom Fortune would then haue smil'd? But if your Father had beene Victor there, Hee ne're had borne it out of Couentry. For all the Countrey, in a generall voyce, Cry'd hate vpon him: and all their prayers, and loue, Were set on Herford, whom they doted on, And bless'd, and grac'd, and did more then the King. But this is meere digression from my purpose. Here come I from our Princely Generall, To know your Griefes; to tell you, from his Grace, That hee will giue you Audience: and wherein It shall appeare, that your demands are iust, You shall enioy them, euery thing set off, That might so much as thinke you Enemies

Mow. But hee hath forc'd vs to compell this Offer, And it proceedes from Pollicy, not Loue

West. Mowbray, you ouer-weene to take it so: This Offer comes from Mercy, not from Feare. For loe, within a Ken our Army lyes, Vpon mine Honor, all too confident To giue admittance to a thought of feare. Our Battaile is more full of Names then yours, Our Men more perfect in the vse of Armes, Our Armor all as strong, our Cause 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, wee shall admit no Parley

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

Hast. Hath the Prince Iohn a full Commission, In very ample vertue of his Father, To heare, and absolutely to determine Of what Conditions wee shall stand vpon? West. That is intended in the Generals Name: I muse you make so slight a Question

Bish. Then take (my Lord of Westmerland) this Schedule, For this containes our generall Grieuances: Each seuerall Article herein redress'd, All members of our Cause, both here, and hence, That are insinewed to this Action, Acquitted by a true substantiall forme, And present execution of our wills, To vs, and to our purposes confin'd, Wee come within our awfull Banks againe, And knit our Powers to the Arme of Peace

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

Bish. My Lord, wee will doe so

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

Hast. Feare you not, that if wee can make our Peace Vpon such large termes, and so absolute, As our Conditions shall consist vpon, Our Peace shall stand as firme as Rockie Mountaines

Mow. I, but our valuation shall be such, That euery slight, and false-deriued Cause, Yea, euery idle, nice, and wanton Reason, Shall, to the King, taste of this Action: That were our Royall faiths, Martyrs in Loue, Wee shall be winnowed with so rough a winde, That euen our Corne shall seeme as light as Chaffe, And good from bad finde no partition

Bish. No, no (my Lord) note this: the King is wearie Of daintie, and such picking Grieuances: For hee hath found, to end one doubt by Death, Reuiues two greater in the Heires of Life. And therefore will hee wipe his Tables cleane, And keepe no Tell-tale to his Memorie, That may repeat, and Historie his losse, To new remembrance. For full well hee knowes, Hee cannot so precisely weede this Land, As his mis-doubts present occasion: His foes are so en-rooted with his friends, That plucking to vnfixe an Enemie, Hee doth vnfasten so, and shake a friend. So that this Land, like an offensiue wife, That hath enrag'd him on, to offer strokes, As he is striking, holds his Infant vp, And hangs resolu'd Correction in the Arme, That was vprear'd to execution

Hast. Besides, 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

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

Mow. Be it so: Heere is return'd my Lord of Westmerland. Enter Westmerland.

West. The Prince is here at hand: pleaseth your Lordship To meet his Grace, iust distance 'tweene our Armies? Mow. Your Grace of Yorke, in heauen's name then forward

Bish. Before, and greet his Grace (my Lord) we come. Enter Prince Iohn.

Iohn. You are wel encountred here (my cosin Mowbray) Good day to you, gentle Lord Archbishop, And so to you Lord Hastings, 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 reuerence Your exposition on the holy Text, Then now to see you heere an Iron man Chearing a rowt of Rebels with your Drumme, Turning the Word, to Sword; and Life to death: That man that sits within a Monarches heart, And ripens in the Sunne-shine of his fauor, Would hee abuse the Countenance of the King, Alack, what Mischiefes might hee set abroach, In shadow of such Greatnesse? With you, Lord Bishop, It is euen so. Who hath not heard it spoken, How deepe you were within the Bookes of Heauen? To vs, the Speaker in his Parliament; To vs, th' imagine Voyce of Heauen it selfe: The very Opener, and Intelligencer, Betweene the Grace, the Sanctities of Heauen; And our dull workings. O, who shall beleeue, But you mis-vse the reuerence of your Place, Employ the Countenance, and Grace of Heauen, As a false Fauorite doth his Princes Name, In deedes dis-honorable? You haue taken vp, Vnder the counterfeited Zeale of Heauen, The Subiects of Heauens Substitute, my Father, And both against the Peace of Heauen, and him, Haue here vp-swarmed them

Bish. Good my Lord of Lancaster, I am not here against your Fathers Peace: But (as I told my Lord of Westmerland) The Time (mis-order'd) doth in common sence Crowd vs, and crush vs, to this monstrous Forme, To hold our safetie vp. I sent your Grace The parcels, and particulars of our Griefe, The which hath been with scorne shou'd from the Court: Whereon this Hydra-Sonne of Warre is borne, Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleepe, With graunt of our most iust and right desires; And true Obedience, of this Madnesse cur'd, Stoope tamely to the foot of Maiestie

Mow. If not, wee readie are to trye our fortunes, To the last man

Hast. And though wee here fall downe, Wee haue Supplyes, to second our Attempt: If they mis-carry, theirs shall second them. And so, successe of Mischiefe shall be borne, And Heire from Heire shall hold this Quarrell vp, Whiles England shall haue generation

Iohn. You are too shallow (Hastings) Much too shallow, To sound the bottome of the after-Times

West. Pleaseth your Grace, to answere them directly, How farre-forth you doe like their Articles

Iohn. I like them all, and doe allow them well: And sweare here, by the honor of my blood, My Fathers purposes haue beene mistooke, And some, about him, haue too lauishly Wrested his meaning, and Authoritie. My Lord, these Griefes shall be with speed redrest: Vpon my Life, they shall. If this may please you, Discharge your Powers vnto their seuerall Counties, As wee will ours: and here, betweene the Armies, Let's drinke together friendly, and embrace, That all their eyes may beare those Tokens home, Of our restored Loue, and Amitie

Bish. I take your Princely word, for these redresses

Iohn. I giue it you, and will maintaine my word: And thereupon I drinke vnto your Grace

Hast. Goe Captaine, and deliuer to the Armie This newes of Peace: let them haue pay, and part: I know, it will well please them. High thee Captaine. Enter.

Bish. To you, my Noble Lord of Westmerland

West. I pledge your Grace: And if you knew what paines I haue bestow'd, To breede this present Peace, You would drinke freely: but my loue to ye, Shall shew it selfe more openly hereafter

Bish. I doe not doubt you

West. I am glad of it. Health to my Lord, and gentle Cousin Mowbray

Mow. You wish me health in very happy season, For I am, on the sodaine, something ill

Bish. Against ill Chances, men are euer merry, But heauinesse fore-runnes the good euent

West. Therefore be merry (Cooze) since sodaine sorrow Serues to say thus: some good thing comes to morrow

Bish. Beleeue me, I am passing light in spirit

Mow. So much the worse, if your owne Rule be true

Iohn. The word of Peace is render'd: hearke how they showt

Mow. This had been chearefull, after Victorie

Bish. A Peace is of the nature of a Conquest: For then both parties nobly are subdu'd, And neither partie looser

Iohn. Goe (my Lord) And let our Army be discharged too: And good my Lord (so please you) let our Traines March by vs, that wee may peruse the men Enter.

Wee should haue coap'd withall

Bish. Goe, good Lord Hastings: And ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. Enter.

Iohn. I trust (Lords) wee shall lye to night together. Enter Westmerland.

Now Cousin, wherefore stands our Army still? West. The Leaders hauing charge from you to stand, Will not goe off, vntill they heare you speake

Iohn. They know their duties. Enter Hastings.

Hast. Our Army is dispers'd: Like youthfull Steeres, vnyoak'd, they tooke their course East, West, North, South: or like a Schoole, broke vp, Each hurryes towards his home, and sporting place

West. Good tidings (my Lord Hastings) for the which, I doe arrest thee (Traytor) of high Treason: And you Lord Arch-bishop, and you Lord Mowbray, Of Capitall Treason, I attach you both

Mow. Is this proceeding iust, and honorable? West. Is your Assembly so? Bish. Will you thus breake your faith? Iohn. I pawn'd thee none: I promis'd you redresse of these same Grieuances Whereof you did complaine; which, by mine Honor, I will performe, with a most Christian care. But for you (Rebels) looke to taste the due Meet for Rebellion, and such Acts as yours. Most shallowly did you these Armes commence, Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence. Strike vp our Drummes, pursue the scatter'd stray, Heauen, and not wee, haue safely fought to day. Some guard these Traitors to the Block of Death, Treasons true Bed, and yeelder vp of breath.

Exeunt.

Enter Falstaffe and Colleuile.

Falst. What's your Name, Sir? of what Condition are you? and of what place, I pray? Col. I am a Knight, Sir: And my Name is Colleuile of the Dale

Falst. Well then, Colleuile is your Name, a Knight is your Degree, and your Place, the Dale. Colleuile shall still be your Name, a Traytor your Degree, and the Dungeon your Place, a place deepe enough: so shall you be still Colleuile of the Dale

Col. Are not you Sir Iohn Falstaffe? Falst. As good a man as he sir, who ere I am: doe yee yeelde sir, or shall I sweate for you? if I doe sweate, they are the drops of thy Louers, and they weep for thy death, therefore rowze vp Feare and Trembling, and do obseruance to my mercy

Col. I thinke you are Sir Iohn Falstaffe, & in that thought yeeld me

Fal. I haue a whole Schoole of tongues in this belly of mine, and not a Tongue of them all, speakes anie other word but my name: and I had but a belly of any indifferencie, I were simply the most actiue fellow in Europe: my wombe, my wombe, my wombe vndoes mee. Heere comes our Generall. Enter Prince Iohn, and Westmerland.

Iohn. The heat is past, follow no farther now: Call in the Powers, good Cousin Westmerland. Now Falstaffe, where haue you beene all this while? When euery thing is ended, then you come. These tardie Tricks of yours will (on my life) One time, or other, breake some Gallowes back

Falst. I would bee sorry (my Lord) but it should bee thus: I neuer knew yet, but rebuke and checke was the reward of Valour. Doe you thinke me a Swallow, an Arrow, or a Bullet? Haue I, in my poore and olde Motion, the expedition of Thought? I haue speeded hither with the very extremest ynch of possibilitie. I haue fowndred nine score and odde Postes: and heere (trauell-tainted as I am) haue, in my pure and immaculate Valour, taken Sir Iohn Colleuile of the Dale, a most furious Knight, and valorous Enemie: But what of that? hee saw mee, and yeelded: that I may iustly say with the hooke-nos'd fellow of Rome, I came, saw, and ouer-came

Iohn. It was more of his Courtesie, then your deseruing

Falst. I know not: heere hee is, and heere I yeeld him: and I beseech your Grace, let it be book'd, with the rest of this dayes deedes; or I sweare, I will haue it in a particular Ballad, with mine owne Picture on the top of it (Colleuile kissing my foot:) To the which course, if I be enforc'd, if you do not all shew like gilt two-pences to me; and I, in the cleare Skie of Fame, o're-shine you as much as the Full Moone doth the Cynders of the Element (which shew like Pinnes-heads to her) beleeue not the Word of the Noble: therefore let mee haue right, and let desert mount

Iohn. Thine's too heauie to mount

Falst. Let it shine then

Iohn. Thine's too thick to shine

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

Iohn. Is thy Name Colleuile? Col. It is (my Lord.) Iohn. A famous Rebell art thou, Colleuile

Falst. And a famous true Subiect 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 haue wonne them dearer then you haue

Falst. I know not how they sold themselues, but thou like a kinde fellow, gau'st thy selfe away; and I thanke thee, for thee. Enter Westmerland.

Iohn. Haue you left pursuit? West. Retreat is made, and Execution stay'd

Iohn. Send Colleuile, with his Confederates, To Yorke, to present Execution. Blunt, leade him hence, and see you guard him sure.

Exit with Colleuile.

And now dispatch we toward the Court (my Lords) I heare the King, my Father, is sore sicke. Our Newes shall goe before vs, to his Maiestie, Which (Cousin) you shall beare, to comfort him: And wee with sober speede will follow you

Falst. My Lord, I beseech you, giue me leaue to goe through Gloucestershire: and when you come to Court, stand my good Lord, 'pray, in your good report

Iohn. Fare you well, Falstaffe: I, in my condition, Shall better speake of you, then you deserue. Enter.

Falst. I would you had but the wit: 'twere better then your Dukedome. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded Boy doth not loue me, nor a man cannot make him laugh: but that's no maruaile, hee drinkes no Wine. There's neuer any of these demure Boyes come to any proofe: for thinne Drinke doth so ouer-coole their blood, and making many Fish-Meales, that they fall into a kinde of Male Greene-sicknesse: and then, when they marry, they get Wenches. They are generally Fooles, and Cowards; which some of vs should be too, but for inflamation. A good Sherris-Sack hath a two-fold operation in it: it ascends me into the Braine, dryes me there all the foolish, and dull, and cruddie Vapours, which enuiron it: makes it apprehensiue, quicke, forgetiue, full of nimble, fierie, and delectable shapes; which deliuer'd o're to the Voyce, the Tongue, which is the Birth, becomes excellent Wit. The second propertie of your excellent Sherris, is, the warming of the Blood: which before (cold, and setled) left the Liuer white, and pale; which is the Badge of Pusillanimitie, and Cowardize: but the Sherris warmes it, and makes it course from the inwards, to the parts extremes: it illuminateth the Face, which (as a Beacon) giues warning to all the rest of this little Kingdome (Man) to Arme: and then the Vitall Commoners, and in-land pettie Spirits, muster me all to their Captaine, the Heart; who great, and pufft vp with his Retinue, doth any Deed of Courage: and this Valour comes of Sherris. So, that skill in the Weapon is nothing, without Sack (for that sets it a-worke:) and Learning, a meere Hoord of Gold, kept by a Deuill, till Sack commences it, and sets it in act, and vse. Hereof comes it, that Prince Harry is valiant: for the cold blood hee did naturally inherite of his Father, hee hath, like leane, stirrill, and bare Land, manured, husbanded, and tyll'd, with excellent endeauour of drinking good, and good store of fertile Sherris, that hee is become very hot, and valiant. If I had a thousand Sonnes, the first Principle I would teach them, should be to forsweare thinne Potations, and to addict themselues to Sack. Enter Bardolph.

How now Bardolph? Bard. The Armie is discharged all, and gone

Falst. Let them goe: Ile through Gloucestershire, and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire: I haue him alreadie tempering betweene my finger and my thombe, and shortly will I seale with him. Come away.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter King, Warwicke, Clarence, Gloucester.

King. Now Lords, if Heauen doth giue successefull end To this Debate, that bleedeth at our doores, Wee will our Youth lead on to higher Fields, And draw no Swords, but what are sanctify'd. Our Nauie is addressed, our Power collected, Our Substitutes, in absence, well inuested, And euery thing lyes leuell to our wish; Onely wee want a little personall Strength: And pawse vs, till these Rebels, now a-foot, Come vnderneath the yoake of Gouernment

War. Both which we doubt not, but your Maiestie Shall soone enioy

King. Humphrey (my Sonne of Gloucester) where is the Prince, your Brother? Glo. I thinke hee's gone to hunt (my Lord) at Windsor

King. And how accompanied? Glo. I doe not know (my Lord.) King. Is not his Brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him? Glo. No (my good Lord) hee is in presence heere

Clar. What would my Lord, and Father? King. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence. How chance thou art not with the Prince, thy Brother? Hee loues thee, and thou do'st neglect him (Thomas.) Thou hast a better place in his Affection, Then all thy Brothers: cherish it (my Boy) And Noble Offices thou may'st effect Of Mediation (after I am dead) Betweene his Greatnesse, and thy other Brethren. Therefore omit him not: blunt not his Loue, Nor loose the good aduantage of his Grace, By seeming cold, or carelesse of his will. For hee is gracious, if hee be obseru'd: Hee hath a Teare for Pitie, and a Hand Open (as Day) for melting Charitie: Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, hee's Flint, As humorous as Winter, and as sudden, As Flawes congealed in the Spring of day. His temper therefore must be well obseru'd: Chide him for faults, and doe it reuerently, When you perceiue his blood enclin'd to mirth: But being moodie, giue him Line, and scope, Till that his passions (like a Whale on ground) Confound themselues with working. Learne this Thomas, And thou shalt proue a shelter to thy friends, A Hoope of Gold, to binde thy Brothers in: That the vnited Vessell of their Blood (Mingled with Venome of Suggestion, As force, perforce, the Age will powre it in) Shall neuer leake, though it doe worke as strong As Aconitum, or rash Gun-powder

Clar. I shall obserue him with all care, and loue

King. Why art thou not at Windsor with him (Thomas?) Clar. Hee is not there to day: hee dines in London

King. And how accompanyed? Canst thou tell that? Clar. With Pointz, and other his continuall followers

King. Most subiect is the fattest Soyle to Weedes: And hee (the Noble Image of my Youth) Is ouer-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 imaginarie) th' vnguided Dayes, And rotten Times, that you shall looke vpon, When I am sleeping with my Ancestors. For when his head-strong Riot hath no Curbe, When Rage and hot-Blood are his Counsailors, When Meanes and lauish 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 studies his Companions, Like a strange Tongue: wherein, to gaine the Language, 'Tis needfull, that the most immodest word Be look'd vpon, and learn'd: which once attayn'd, Your Highnesse knowes, comes to no farther vse, But to be knowne, and hated. So, like grosse termes, The Prince will, in the perfectnesse of time, Cast off his followers: and their memorie Shall as a Patterne, or a Measure, liue, By which his Grace must mete the liues of others, Turning past-euills to aduantages

King. 'Tis seldome, when the Bee doth leaue her Combe In the dead Carrion. Enter Westmerland.

Who's heere? Westmerland? West. Health to my Soueraigne, and new happinesse Added to that, that I am to deliuer. Prince Iohn, your Sonne, doth kisse your Graces Hand: Mowbray, the Bishop, Scroope, Hastings, and all, Are brought to the Correction of your Law. There is not now a Rebels Sword vnsheath'd, But Peace puts forth her Oliue euery where: The manner how this Action hath beene borne, Here (at more leysure) may your Highnesse reade, With euery course, in his particular

King. O Westmerland, thou art a Summer Bird, Which euer in the haunch of Winter sings The lifting vp of day. Enter Harcourt.

Looke, heere's more newes

Harc. From Enemies, Heauen keepe your Maiestie: And when they stand against you, may they fall, As those that I am come to tell you of. The Earle Northumberland, and the Lord Bardolfe, With a great Power of English, and of Scots, Are by the Sherife of Yorkeshire ouerthrowne: The manner, and true order of the fight, This Packet (please it you) containes at large

King. And wherefore should these good newes Make me sicke? Will Fortune neuer come with both hands full, But write her faire words still in foulest Letters? Shee eyther giues a Stomack, and no Foode, (Such are the poore, in health) or else a Feast, And takes away the Stomack (such are the Rich, That haue aboundance, and enioy it not.) I should reioyce now, at this happy newes, And now my Sight fayles, and my Braine is giddie. O me, come neere me, now I am much ill

Glo. Comfort your Maiestie

Cla. Oh, my Royall Father

West. My Soueraigne Lord, cheare vp your selfe, looke vp

War. Be patient (Princes) you doe know, these Fits Are with his Highnesse very ordinarie. Stand from him, giue him ayre: Hee'le straight be well

Clar. No, no, hee cannot long hold out: these pangs, Th' incessant care, and labour of his Minde, Hath wrought the Mure, that should confine it in, So thinne, that Life lookes through, and will breake out

Glo. The people feare me: for they doe obserue Vnfather'd Heires, and loathly Births of Nature: The Seasons change their manners, as the Yeere Had found some Moneths asleepe, and leap'd them ouer

Clar. The Riuer hath thrice flow'd, no ebbe betweene: And the old folke (Times doting Chronicles) Say it did so, a little time before That our great Grand-sire Edward sick'd, and dy'de

War. Speake lower (Princes) for the King recouers

Glo. This Apoplexie will (certaine) be his end

King. I pray you take me vp, and beare me hence Into some other Chamber: softly 'pray. Let there be no noyse made (my gentle friends) Vnlesse some dull and fauourable hand Will whisper Musicke to my wearie Spirit

War. Call for the Musicke in the other Roome

King. Set me the Crowne vpon my Pillow here

Clar. His eye is hollow, and hee changes much

War. Lesse noyse, lesse noyse. Enter Prince Henry.

P.Hen. Who saw the Duke of Clarence? Clar. I am here (Brother) full of heauinesse

P.Hen. How now? Raine within doores, and none abroad? How doth the King? Glo. Exceeding ill

P.Hen. Heard hee the good newes yet? Tell it him

Glo. Hee alter'd much, vpon the hearing it

P.Hen. If hee be sicke with Ioy, Hee'le recouer without Physicke

War. Not so much noyse (my Lords) Sweet Prince speake lowe, The King, your Father, is dispos'd to sleepe

Clar. Let vs with-draw into the other Roome

War. Wil't please your Grace to goe along with vs? P.Hen. No: I will sit, and watch here, by the King. Why doth the Crowne lye there, vpon his Pillow, Being so troublesome a Bed-fellow? O pollish'd Perturbation! Golden Care! That keep'st the Ports of Slumber open wide, To many a watchfull Night: sleepe with it now, Yet not so sound, and halfe so deepely sweete, As hee whose Brow (with homely Biggen bound) Snores out the Watch of Night. O Maiestie! When thou do'st pinch thy Bearer, thou do'st sit Like a rich Armor, worne in heat of day, That scald'st with safetie: by his Gates of breath, There lyes a dowlney feather, which stirres not: Did hee suspire, that light and weightlesse dowlne Perforce must moue. My gracious Lord, my Father, This sleepe is sound indeede: this is a sleepe, That from this Golden Rigoll hath diuorc'd So many English Kings. Thy due, from me, Is Teares, and heauie Sorrowes of the Blood, Which Nature, Loue, and filiall tendernesse, Shall (O deare Father) pay thee plenteously. My due, from thee, is this Imperiall Crowne, Which (as immediate from thy Place, and Blood) Deriues it selfe to me. Loe, heere it sits, Which Heauen 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 leaue, As 'tis left to me. Enter.

Enter Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence.

King. Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence

Clar. Doth the King call? War. What would your Maiestie? how fares your Grace? King. Why did you leaue me here alone (my Lords?) Cla. We left the Prince (my Brother) here (my Liege) Who vndertooke to sit and watch by you

King. The Prince of Wales? where is hee? let mee see him

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

Glo. Hee came not through the Chamber where wee stayd

King. Where is the Crowne? who tooke it from my Pillow? War. When wee with-drew (my Liege) wee left it heere

King. The Prince hath ta'ne it hence: Goe seeke him out. Is hee so hastie, that hee doth suppose My sleepe, my death? Finde him (my Lord of Warwick) Chide him hither: this part of his conioynes With my disease, and helpes to end me. See Sonnes, what things you are: How quickly Nature falls into reuolt, When Gold becomes her Obiect? For this, the foolish ouer-carefull Fathers Haue broke their sleepes with thoughts, Their braines with care, their bones with industry. For this, they haue ingrossed and pyl'd vp The canker'd heapes of strange-atchieued Gold: For this, they haue beene thoughtfull, to inuest Their Sonnes with Arts, and Martiall Exercises: When, like the Bee, culling from euery flower The vertuous Sweetes, our Thighes packt with Wax, Our Mouthes with Honey, wee bring it to the Hiue; And like the Bees, are murthered for our paines. This bitter taste yeelds his engrossements, To the ending Father. Enter Warwicke.

Now, where is hee, that will not stay so long, Till his Friend Sicknesse 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 sorrow, That Tyranny, which neuer quafft but blood, Would (by beholding him) haue wash'd his Knife With gentle eye-drops. Hee is comming hither

King. But wherefore did hee take away the Crowne? Enter Prince Henry.

Loe, where hee comes. Come hither to me (Harry.) Depart the Chamber, leaue vs heere alone. Enter.

P.Hen. I neuer thought to heare you speake againe

King. Thy wish was Father (Harry) to that thought: I stay too long by thee, I wearie thee. Do'st thou so hunger for my emptie Chayre, That thou wilt needes inuest thee with mine Honors, Before thy howre be ripe? O foolish Youth! Thou seek'st the Greatnesse, that will ouer-whelme thee. Stay but a little: for my Cloud of Dignitie Is held 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 seal'd vp my expectation. Thy Life did manifest, thou lou'dst me not, And thou wilt haue me dye assur'd of it. Thou hid'st a thousand Daggers in thy thoughts, Which thou hast whetted on thy stonie heart, To stab at halfe an howre of my Life. What? canst thou not forbeare me halfe an howre? Then get thee gone, and digge my graue thy selfe, And bid the merry Bels ring to thy eare That thou art Crowned, not that I am dead. Let all the Teares, that should bedew my Hearse Be drops of Balme, to sanctifie thy head: Onely compound me with forgotten dust. Giue that, which gaue thee life, vnto 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 sage Counsailors, hence: And to the English Court, assemble now From eu'ry Region, Apes of Idlenesse. Now neighbor-Confines, purge you of your Scum: Haue you a Ruffian that will sweare? drinke? dance? Reuell the night? Rob? Murder? and commit The oldest sinnes, the newest kinde of wayes? Be happy, he will trouble you no more: England, shall double gill'd, his trebble guilt. England, shall giue him Office, Honor, Might: For the Fift Harry, from curb'd License pluckes The muzzle of Restraint; and the wilde Dogge Shall flesh his tooth in euery Innocent. O my poore Kingdome (sicke, with ciuill blowes) When that my Care could not with-hold thy Ryots, What wilt thou do, when Ryot is thy Care? O, thou wilt be a Wildernesse againe, Peopled with Wolues (thy old Inhabitants.) Prince. O pardon me (my Liege) But for my Teares, The most Impediments vnto my Speech, I had fore-stall'd this deere, and deepe Rebuke, Ere you (with greefe) had spoke, and I had heard The course 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 rise, Which my most true, and inward duteous Spirit Teacheth this prostrate, and exteriour bending. Heauen witnesse with me, when I heere came in, And found no course of breath within your Maiestie, How cold it strooke my heart. If I do faine, O let me, in my present wildenesse, dye, And neuer liue, to shew th' incredulous World, The Noble change that I haue purposed. Comming to looke on you, thinking you dead, (And dead almost (my Liege) to thinke you were) I spake vnto the Crowne (as hauing sense) And thus vpbraided it. The Care on thee depending, Hath fed vpon the body of my Father, Therefore, thou best of Gold, art worst of Gold. Other, lesse fine in Charract, is more precious, Preseruing life, in Med'cine potable: But thou, most Fine, most Honour'd, most Renown'd, Hast eate the Bearer vp. Thus (my Royall Liege) Accusing it, I put it on my Head, To try with it (as with an Enemie, That had before my face murdred my Father) The Quarrell of a true Inheritor. But if it did infect my blood with Ioy, 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, Giue entertainment to the might of it, Let heauen, for euer, keepe it from my head, And make me, as the poorest Vassaile is, That doth with awe, and terror kneele to it

King. O my Sonne! Heauen put it in thy minde to take it hence, That thou might'st ioyne the more, thy Fathers loue, Pleading so wisely, in excuse of it. Come hither Harrie, sit thou by my bedde, And heare (I thinke, the very latest Counsell That euer I shall breath: Heauen 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 sate vpon my head. To thee, it shall descend with better Quiet, Better Opinion, better Confirmation: For all the soyle of the Atchieuement goes With me, into the Earth. It seem'd in mee, But as an Honour snatch'd with boyst'rous hand, And I had many liuing, to vpbraide My gaine of it, by their Assistances, Which dayly grew to Quarrell, and to Blood-shed, Wounding supposed Peace. All these bold Feares, Thou seest (with perill) I haue answered: For all my Reigne, hath beene but as a Scene

## Acting that argument. And now my death

Changes the Moode: For what in me, was purchas'd, Falles vpon thee, in a more Fayrer sort. So thou, the Garland wear'st successiuely. Yet, though thou stand'st more sure, then I could do, Thou art not firme enough, since greefes are greene: And all thy Friends, which thou must make thy Friends Haue but their stings, and teeth, newly tak'n out, By whose fell working, I was first aduanc'd, And by whose power, I well might lodge a Feare To be againe displac'd. Which to auoyd, I cut them off: and had a purpose now To leade out many to the Holy Land; Least rest, and lying still, might make them looke Too neere vnto my State. Therefore (my Harrie) Be it thy course to busie giddy Mindes With Forraigne Quarrels: that Action hence borne out, May waste the memory of the former dayes. More would I, but my Lungs are wasted so, That strength of Speech it vtterly deni'de mee. How I came by the Crowne, O heauen forgiue: And grant it may, with thee, in true peace liue

Prince. My gracious Liege: You wonne it, wore it: kept it, gaue it me, Then plaine and right must my possession be; Which I, with more, then with a Common paine, 'Gainst all the World, will rightfully maintaine. Enter Lord Iohn of Lancaster, and Warwicke.

King. Looke, looke, Heere comes my Iohn of Lancaster: Iohn. Health, Peace, and Happinesse, To my Royall Father

King. Thou bring'st me happinesse and Peace (Sonne Iohn:) But health (alacke) with youthfull wings is flowne From this bare, wither'd Trunke. Vpon thy sight My worldly businesse makes a period. Where is my Lord of Warwicke? Prin. My Lord of Warwicke

King. Doth any name particular, belong Vnto the Lodging, where I first did swoon'd? War. 'Tis call'd Ierusalem, my Noble Lord

King. Laud be to heauen: Euen there my life must end. It hath beene prophesi'de to me many yeares, I should not dye, but in Ierusalem: Which (vainly) I suppos'd the Holy-Land. But beare me to that Chamber, there Ile lye: In that Ierusalem, shall Harry dye.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scoena Prima.

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

Shal. By Cocke and Pye, you shall not away to night. What Dauy, I say

Fal. You must excuse me, M[aster]. Robert Shallow

Shal. I will not excuse you: you shall not be excused. Excuses shall not be admitted: there is no excuse shall serue: you shall not be excus'd. Why Dauie

Dauie. Heere sir

Shal. Dauy, Dauy, Dauy, let me see (Dauy) let me see: William Cooke, bid him come hither. Sir Iohn, you shal not be excus'd

Dauy. Marry sir, thus: those Precepts cannot bee seru'd: and againe sir, shall we sowe the head-land with Wheate? Shal. With red Wheate Dauy. But for William Cook: are there no yong Pigeons? Dauy. Yes Sir. Heere is now the Smithes note, for Shooing, And Plough-Irons

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

Dauy. Sir, a new linke to the Bucket must needes bee had: And Sir, doe you meane to stoppe any of Williams Wages, about the Sacke he lost the other day, at Hinckley Fayre? Shal. He shall answer it: Some Pigeons Dauy, a couple of short-legg'd Hennes: a ioynt of Mutton, and any pretty little tine Kickshawes, tell William Cooke

Dauy. Doth the man of Warre, stay all night sir? Shal. Yes Dauy: I will vse him well. A Friend i'th Court, is better then a penny in purse. Vse his men well Dauy, for they are arrant Knaues, and will backe-bite

Dauy. No worse then they are bitten, sir: For they haue maruellous fowle linnen

Shallow. Well conceited Dauy: about thy Businesse, Dauy

Dauy. I beseech you sir, To countenance William Visor of Woncot, against Clement Perkes of the hill

Shal. There are many Complaints Dauy, against that Visor, that Visor is an arrant Knaue, on my knowledge

Dauy. I graunt your Worship, that he is a knaue (Sir:) But yet heauen forbid Sir, but a Knaue should haue some Countenance, at his Friends request. An honest man sir, is able to speake for himselfe, when a Knaue is not. I haue seru'd your Worshippe truely sir, these eight yeares: and if I cannot once or twice in a Quarter beare out a knaue, against an honest man, I haue but a very litle credite with your Worshippe. The Knaue is mine honest Friend Sir, therefore I beseech your Worship, let him bee Countenanc'd

Shal. Go too, I say he shall haue no wrong: Looke about Dauy. Where are you Sir Iohn? Come, off with your Boots. Giue me your hand M[aster]. Bardolfe

Bard. I am glad to see your Worship

Shal. I thanke thee, with all my heart, kinde Master Bardolfe: and welcome my tall Fellow: Come Sir Iohn

Falstaffe. Ile follow you, good Master Robert Shallow. Bardolfe, looke to our Horsses. If I were saw'de into Quantities, I should make foure dozen of such bearded Hermites staues, as Master Shallow. It is a wonderfull thing to see the semblable Coherence of his mens spirits, and his: They, by obseruing of him, do beare themselues like foolish Iustices: Hee, by conuersing with them, is turn'd into a Iustice-like Seruingman. Their spirits are so married in Coniunction, with the participation of Society, that they flocke together in consent, like so many Wilde-Geese. If I had a suite to Mayster Shallow, I would humour his men, with the imputation of beeing neere their Mayster. If to his Men, I would currie with Maister Shallow, that no man could better command his Seruants. It is certaine, that either wise bearing, or ignorant Carriage is caught, as men take diseases, one of another: therefore, let men take heede of their Companie. I will deuise matter enough out of this Shallow, to keepe Prince Harry in continuall Laughter, the wearing out of sixe Fashions (which is foure Tearmes) or two Actions, and he shall laugh with Interuallums. O it is much that a Lye (with a slight Oath) and a iest (with a sadde brow) will doe, with a Fellow, that neuer had the Ache in his shoulders. O you shall see him laugh, till his Face be like a wet Cloake, ill laid vp

Shal. Sir Iohn

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

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter the Earle of Warwicke, and the Lord Chiefe Iustice.

Warwicke. How now, my Lord Chiefe Iustice, whether away? Ch.Iust. How doth the King? Warw. Exceeding well: his Cares Are now, all ended

Ch.Iust. I hope, not dead

Warw. Hee's walk'd the way of Nature, And to our purposes, he liues no more

Ch.Iust. I would his Maiesty had call'd me with him, The seruice, that I truly did his life, Hath left me open to all iniuries

War. Indeed I thinke the yong King loues you not

Ch.Iust. I know he doth not, and do arme my selfe To welcome the condition of the Time, Which cannot looke more hideously vpon me, Then I haue drawne it in my fantasie. Enter Iohn of Lancaster, Gloucester, and Clarence.

War. Heere come the heauy Issue of dead Harrie: O, that the liuing Harrie had the temper Of him, the worst of these three Gentlemen: How many Nobles then, should hold their places, That must strike saile, to Spirits of vilde sort? Ch.Iust. Alas, I feare, all will be ouer-turn'd

Iohn. Good morrow Cosin Warwick, good morrow

Glou. Cla. Good morrow, Cosin

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

War. We do remember: but our Argument Is all too heauy, to admit much talke

Ioh. Well: Peace be with him, that hath made vs heauy Ch.Iust. Peace be with vs, least we be heauier

Glou. O, good my Lord, you haue lost a friend indeed: And I dare sweare, you borrow not that face Of seeming sorrow, it is sure your owne

Iohn. Though no man be assur'd what grace to finde, You stand in coldest expectation. I am the sorrier, would 'twere otherwise

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

Ch.Iust. Sweet Princes: what I did, I did in Honor, Led by th' Imperiall Conduct of my Soule, And neuer shall you see, that I will begge A ragged, and fore-stall'd Remission. If Troth, and vpright Innocency fayle me, Ile to the King (my Master) that is dead, And tell him, who hath sent me after him

War. Heere comes the Prince. Enter Prince Henrie.

Ch.Iust. Good morrow: and heauen saue your Maiesty Prince. This new, and gorgeous Garment, Maiesty, Sits not so easie on me, as you thinke. Brothers, you mixe your Sadnesse with some Feare: This is the English, not the Turkish Court: Not Amurah, an Amurah succeeds, But Harry, Harry: Yet be sad (good Brothers) For (to speake truth) it very well becomes you: Sorrow, so Royally in you appeares, 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 ioynt burthen, laid vpon vs all. For me, by Heauen (I bid you be assur'd) Ile be your Father, and your Brother too: Let me but beare your Loue, Ile beare your Cares; But weepe that Harrie's dead, and so will I. But Harry liues, that shall conuert those Teares By number, into houres of Happinesse

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

Prin. You all looke strangely on me: and you most, You are (I thinke) assur'd, I loue you not

Ch.Iust. I am assur'd (if I be measur'd rightly) Your Maiesty hath no iust cause to hate mee

Pr. No? How might a Prince of my great hopes forget So great Indignities you laid vpon me? What? Rate? Rebuke? and roughly send to Prison Th' immediate Heire of England? Was this easie? May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten? Ch.Iust. I then did vse the Person of your Father: The Image of his power, lay then in me, And in th' administration of his Law, Whiles I was busie for the Commonwealth, Your Highnesse pleased to forget my place, The Maiesty, and power of Law, and Iustice, The Image of the King, whom I presented, And strooke me in my very Seate of Iudgement: Whereon (as an Offender to your Father) I gaue bold way to my Authority, And did commit you. If the deed were ill, Be you contented, wearing now the Garland, To haue a Sonne, set your Decrees at naught? To plucke downe Iustice from your awefull 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 propose a 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 your part, And in your power, soft silencing your Sonne: After this cold considerance, sentence me; And, as you are a King, speake in your State, What I haue done, that misbecame my place, My person, or my Lieges Soueraigntie

Prin. You are right Iustice, and you weigh this well: Therefore still beare the Ballance, and the Sword: And I do wish your Honors may encrease, Till you do liue, to see a Sonne of mine Offend you, and obey you, as I did. So shall I liue, to speake my Fathers words: Happy am I, that haue a man so bold, That dares do Iustice, on my proper Sonne; And no lesse happy, hauing such a Sonne, That would deliuer vp his Greatnesse so, Into the hands of Iustice. You did commit me: For which, I do commit into your hand, Th' vnstained Sword that you haue vs'd to beare: With this Remembrance; That you vse the same With the like bold, iust, and impartiall spirit As you haue done 'gainst me. There is my hand, You shall be as a Father, to my Youth: My voice shall sound, as you do prompt mine eare, And I will stoope, and humble my Intents, To your well-practis'd, wise Directions. And Princes all, beleeue me, I beseech you: My Father is gone wilde into his Graue, (For in his Tombe, lye my Affections) And with his Spirits, sadly I suruiue, To mocke the expectation of the World; To frustrate Prophesies, and to race out Rotten Opinion, who hath writ me downe After my seeming. The Tide of Blood in me, Hath prowdly 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 Maiesty. Now call we our High Court of Parliament, And let vs choose such Limbes of Noble Counsaile, That the great Body of our State may go In equall ranke, with the best gouern'd Nation, That Warre, or Peace, or both at once may be As things acquainted and familiar to vs, In which you (Father) shall haue formost hand. Our Coronation done, we will accite (As I before remembred) all our State, And heauen (consigning to my good intents) No Prince, nor Peere, shall haue iust cause to say, Heauen shorten Harries happy life, one day.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

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

Shal. Nay, you shall see mine Orchard: where, in an Arbor we will eate a last yeares Pippin of my owne graffing, with a dish of Carrawayes, and so forth. (Come Cosin Silence, and then to bed

Fal. You haue heere a goodly dwelling, and a rich

Shal. Barren, barren, barren: Beggers all, beggers all Sir Iohn: Marry, good ayre. Spread Dauy, spread Dauie: Well said Dauie

Falst. This Dauie serues you for good vses: he is your Seruingman, and your Husband

Shal. A good Varlet, a good Varlet, a very good Varlet, Sir Iohn: I haue drunke too much Sacke at Supper. A good Varlet. Now sit downe, now sit downe: Come Cosin

Sil. Ah sirra (quoth-a) we shall doe nothing but eate, and make good cheere, and praise heauen for the merrie yeere: when flesh is cheape, and Females deere, and lustie Lads rome heere, and there: so merrily, and euer among so merrily

Fal. There's a merry heart, good M[aster]. Silence, Ile giue you a health for that anon

Shal. Good M[aster]. Bardolfe: some wine, Dauie

Da. Sweet sir, sit: Ile be with you anon: most sweete sir, sit. Master Page, good M[aster]. Page, sit: Proface. What you want in meate, wee'l haue in drinke: but you beare, the heart's all

Shal. Be merry M[aster]. Bardolfe, and my little Souldiour 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 Shrouetide. Be merry, be merry

Fal. I did not thinke M[aster]. Silence had bin a man of this Mettle

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

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

Shal. Dauie

Dau. Your Worship: Ile be with you straight. A cup of Wine, sir? Sil. A Cup of Wine, that's briske and fine, & drinke vnto the Leman mine: and a merry heart liues long-a

Fal. Well said, M[aster]. Silence

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

Fal. Health, and long life to you, M[aster]. Silence

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

Shal. Honest Bardolfe, welcome: If thou want'st any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew thy heart. Welcome my little tyne theefe, and welcome indeed too: Ile drinke to M[aster]. Bardolfe, and to all the Cauileroes about London

Dau. I hope to see London, once ere I die

Bar. If I might see you there, Dauie

Shal. You'l cracke a quart together? Ha, will you not M[aster]. Bardolfe? Bar. Yes Sir, in a pottle pot

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

Bar. And Ile sticke by him, sir

Shal. Why there spoke a King: lack nothing, be merry. Looke, who's at doore there, ho: who knockes? Fal. Why now you haue done me right

Sil. Do me right, and dub me Knight, Samingo. Is't not so? Fal. 'Tis so

Sil. Is't so? Why then say an old man can do somwhat

Dau. If it please your Worshippe, there's one Pistoll come from the Court with newes

Fal. From the Court? Let him come in. Enter Pistoll.

How now Pistoll? Pist. Sir Iohn, 'saue you sir

Fal. What winde blew you hither, Pistoll? Pist. Not the ill winde which blowes none to good, sweet Knight: Thou art now one of the greatest men in the Realme

Sil. Indeed, I thinke he bee, but Goodman Puffe of Barson

Pist. Puffe? puffe in thy teeth, most recreant Coward base. Sir Iohn, I am thy Pistoll, and thy Friend: helter skelter haue I rode to thee, and tydings do I bring, and luckie ioyes, and golden Times, and happie Newes of price

Fal. I prethee now deliuer them, like a man of this World

Pist. A footra for the World, and Worldlings base, I speake of Affrica, and Golden ioyes

Fal. O base Assyrian Knight, what is thy newes? Let King Couitha know the truth thereof

Sil. And Robin-hood, Scarlet, and Iohn

Pist. Shall dunghill Curres confront the Hellicons? And shall good newes be baffel'd? Then Pistoll lay thy head in Furies lappe

Shal. Honest Gentleman, I know not your breeding

Pist. Why then Lament therefore

Shal. Giue me pardon, Sir. If sir, you come with news from the Court, I take it, there is but two wayes, either to vtter them, or to conceale them. I am Sir, vnder the King, in some Authority

Pist. Vnder which King? Bezonian, speake, or dye

Shal. Vnder King Harry

Pist. Harry the Fourth? or Fift? Shal. Harry the Fourth

Pist. 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 Pistoll lyes, do this, and figge-me, like The bragging Spaniard

Fal. What, is the old King dead? Pist. As naile in doore. The things I speake, are iust

Fal. Away Bardolfe, Sadle my Horse, Master Robert Shallow, choose what Office thou wilt In the Land, 'tis thine. Pistol, I will double charge thee With Dignities

Bard. O ioyfull 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 Boots, wee'l ride all night. Oh sweet Pistoll: Away Bardolfe: Come Pistoll, vtter more to mee: and withall deuise something to do thy selfe good. Boote, boote Master Shallow, I know the young King is sick for mee. Let vs take any mans Horsses: The Lawes of England are at my command'ment. Happie are they, which haue beene my Friendes: and woe vnto my Lord Chiefe Iustice

Pist. Let Vultures vil'de seize on his Lungs also: Where is the life that late I led, say they? Why heere it is, welcome those pleasant dayes.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

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

Hostesse. No, thou arrant knaue: I would I might dy, that I might haue thee hang'd: Thou hast drawne my shoulder out of ioynt

Off. The Constables haue deliuer'd her ouer to mee: and shee shall haue 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-visag'd Rascall, if the Childe I now go with, do miscarrie, thou had'st better thou had'st strooke thy Mother, thou Paper-fac'd Villaine

Host. O that Sir Iohn 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 do, you shall haue a dozen of Cushions againe, you haue but eleuen now. Come, I charge you both go with me: for the man is dead, that you and Pistoll beate among you

Dol. Ile tell thee what, thou thin man in a Censor; I will haue you as soundly swindg'd for this, you blewBottel'd Rogue: you filthy famish'd Correctioner, if you be not swing'd, Ile forsweare halfe Kirtles

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

Host. O, that right should thus o'recome might. Wel of sufferance, comes ease

Dol. Come you Rogue, come: Bring me to a Iustice

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

Dol. Goodman death, goodman Bones

Host. Thou Anatomy, thou

Dol. Come you thinne Thing: Come you Rascall

Off. Very well.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter two Groomes.

1.Groo. More Rushes, more Rushes

2.Groo. The Trumpets haue sounded twice

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

Exit Groo.

Enter Falstaffe, Shallow, Pistoll, Bardolfe, and Page.

Falstaffe. Stand heere by me, M[aster]. Robert Shallow, I will make the King do you Grace. I will leere vpon him, as he comes by: and do but marke the countenance that hee will giue me

Pistol. Blesse thy Lungs, good Knight

Falst. Come heere Pistol, stand behind me. O if I had had time to haue made new Liueries, I would haue bestowed the thousand pound I borrowed of you. But it is no matter, this poore shew doth better: this doth inferre the zeale I had to see him

Shal. It doth so

Falst. It shewes my earnestnesse in affection

Pist. It doth so

Fal. My deuotion

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 haue patience to shift me

Shal. It is most certaine

Fal. But to stand stained with Trauaile, and sweating with desire to see him, thinking of nothing else, putting all affayres in obliuion, as if there were nothing els to bee done, but to see him

Pist. 'Tis semper idem: for obsque hoc nihil est. 'Tis all in euery part

Shal. 'Tis so indeed

Pist. My Knight, I will enflame thy Noble Liuer, and make thee rage. Thy Dol, and Helen of thy noble thoghts is in base Durance, and contagious prison: Hall'd thither by most Mechanicall and durty hand. Rowze vppe Reuenge from Ebon den, with fell Alecto's Snake, for Dol is in. Pistol, speakes nought but troth

Fal. I will deliuer her

Pistol. There roar'd the Sea: and Trumpet Clangour sounds.

The Trumpets sound. Enter King Henrie the Fift, Brothers, Lord Chiefe Iustice.

Falst. Saue thy Grace, King Hall, my Royall Hall

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

Fal. 'Saue thee my sweet Boy

King. My Lord Chiefe Iustice, speake to that vaine man

Ch.Iust. Haue you your wits? Know you what 'tis you speake? Falst. My King, my Ioue; 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 Iester? I haue long dream'd of such a kinde of man, So surfeit-swell'd, so old, and so prophane: But being awake, I do despise my dreame. Make lesse thy body (hence) and more thy Grace, Leaue gourmandizing; Know the Graue doth gape For thee, thrice wider then for other men. Reply not to me, with a Foole-borne Iest, Presume not, that I am the thing I was, For heauen doth know (so shall the world perceiue) That I haue turn'd away my former Selfe, So will I those that kept me Companie. When thou dost heare I am, as I haue 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 haue done the rest of my Misleaders, Not to come neere our Person, by ten mile. For competence of life, I will allow you, That lacke of meanes enforce you not to euill: And as we heare you do reforme your selues, We will according to your strength, and qualities, Giue you aduancement. Be it your charge (my Lord) To see perform'd the tenure of our word. Set on.

Exit King.

Fal. Master Shallow, I owe you a thousand pound

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

Fal. That can hardly be, M[aster]. Shallow, do not you grieue at this: I shall be sent for in priuate to him: Looke you, he must seeme thus to the world: feare not your aduancement: I will be the man yet, that shall make you great

Shal. I cannot well perceiue how, vnlesse you should giue me your Doublet, and stuffe me out with Straw. I beseech you, good Sir Iohn, let mee haue fiue 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 feare, that you will dye in, Sir Iohn

Fal. Feare no colours, go with me to dinner: Come Lieutenant Pistol, come Bardolfe, I shall be sent for soone at night

Ch.Iust. Go carry Sir Iohn Falstaffe to the Fleete, Take all his Company along with him

Fal. My Lord, my Lord

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

Pist. Si fortuna me tormento, spera me contento.

Exit. Manent Lancaster and Chiefe Iustice

Iohn. I like this faire proceeding of the Kings: He hath intent his wonted Followers Shall all be very well prouided for: But all are banisht, till their conuersations Appeare more wise, and modest to the world

Ch.Iust. And so they are

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

Ch.Iust. He hath

Iohn. I will lay oddes, that ere this yeere expire, We beare our Ciuill Swords, and Natiue fire As farre as France. I heare a Bird so sing, Whose Musicke (to my thinking) pleas'd the King. Come, will you hence?

Exeunt.

FINIS.

EPILOGVE.

First, my Feare: then, my Curtsie: last, my Speech. My Feare, is your Displeasure: My Curtsie, my Dutie: And my speech, to Begge your Pardons. If you looke for a good speech now, you vndoe me: For what I haue to say, is of mine owne making: and what (indeed) I should say, will (I doubt) prooue mine owne marring. But to the Purpose, and so to the Venture. Be it knowne to you (as it is very well) I was lately heere in the end of a displeasing Play, to pray your Patien for it, and to promise you a Better: I did meane (indeede) to pay you with thi which if (like an ill Venture) it come vnluckily home, I breake; and you, my Creditors lose. Heere I promist you I would be, and heere I commit my Bodie to your Mercies: Bate me some, and I will pay you some, and (as most Debtors d promise you infinitely. If my Tongue cannot entreate you to acquit me: will you command me to vse 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 I. All the heere haue forgiuen me, if the Gentlemen will not, then the Gentlemen do not agree with the Gentlewomen, which was neuer seene before, in such an As 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 Iohn in it) and make yo

merry, with faire Katherine of France: where (for any thing I know) Fals shall dye of a sweat, vnlesse already he be 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 yo But (indeed) to pray for the Queene.

THE ACTORS NAMES.

Rumour the Presentor. King Henry the Fourth. Prince Henry, afterwards Crowned King Henrie the Fift. Prince Iohn of Lancaster. Humphrey of Gloucester. Thomas of Clarence. Sonnes to Henry the Fourth, & brethren to Henry 5. Northumberland. The Arch Byshop of Yorke. Mowbray. Hastings. Lord Bardolfe. Trauers. Morton. Coleuile. Opposites against King Henrie the Fourth. Warwicke. Westmerland. Surrey. Gowre. Harecourt. Lord Chiefe Iustice. Of the Kings

## Partie.

Shallow. Silence. Both Country Iustices. Dauie, Seruant to Shallow. Phang, and Snare, 2. Serieants Mouldie. Shadow. Wart. Feeble. Bullcalfe. Country Soldiers Pointz. Falstaffe. Bardolphe. Pistoll. Peto. Page. Irregular Humorists. Drawers Beadles. Groomes Northumberlands Wife. Percies Widdow. Hostesse Quickly. Doll Teare-sheete.

Epilogue. The Second Part of Henry the Fourth, Containing his Death: and the Coronation of King Henry the Fift.

The Life of Henry the Fift

Enter Prologue.

O For a Muse of Fire, that would ascend The brightest Heauen of Inuention: A Kingdome for a Stage, Princes to Act, And Monarchs to behold the swelling Scene. Then should the Warlike Harry, like himselfe, Assume the Port of Mars, and at his heeles (Leasht in, like Hounds) should Famine, Sword, and Fire Crouch for employment. But pardon, Gentles all: The flat vnraysed Spirits, that hath dar'd, On this vnworthy Scaffold, to bring forth So great an Obiect. Can this Cock-Pit hold The vastie fields 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 vs, Cyphers to this great Accompt, On your imaginarie Forces worke. Suppose within the Girdle of these Walls Are now confin'd two mightie Monarchies, Whose high, vp-reared, and abutting Fronts, The perillous narrow Ocean parts asunder. Peece out our imperfections with your thoughts: Into a thousand parts diuide one Man, And make imaginarie Puissance. Thinke when we talke of Horses, that you see them Printing their prowd Hoofes i'th' receiuing Earth: For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our Kings, Carry them here and there: Iumping o're Times; Turning th' accomplishment of many yeeres Into an Howre-glasse: for the which supplie, Admit me Chorus to this Historie; Who Prologue-like, your humble patience pray, Gently to heare, kindly to iudge our Play. Enter.

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter the two Bishops of Canterbury and Ely.

Bish.Cant. My Lord, Ile tell you, that selfe Bill is vrg'd, Which in th' eleue[n]th yere of y last Kings reign Was like, and had indeed against vs past, But that the scambling and vnquiet time Did push it out of farther question

Bish.Ely. But how my Lord shall we resist it now? Bish.Cant. It must be thought on: if it passe against vs, We loose the better halfe of our Possession: For all the Temporall Lands, which men deuout By Testament haue giuen to the Church, Would they strip from vs; 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 Esquires: And to reliefe 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 beside, A thousand pounds by th' yeere. Thus runs the Bill

Bish.Ely. This would drinke deepe

Bish.Cant. 'Twould drinke the Cup and all

Bish.Ely. But what preuention? Bish.Cant. The King is full of grace, and faire regard

Bish.Ely. And a true louer of the holy Church

Bish.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, Consideration like an Angell came, And whipt th' offending Adam out of him; Leauing his body as a Paradise, T' inuelop and containe Celestiall Spirits. Neuer was such a sodaine Scholler made: Neuer came Reformation in a Flood, With such a heady currance scowring faults: Nor neuer Hidra-headed Wilfulnesse So soone did loose his Seat; and all at once; As in this King

Bish.Ely. We are blessed in the Change

Bish.Cant. Heare him but reason in Diuinitie; And all-admiring, with an inward wish You would desire the King were made a Prelate: Heare him debate of Common-wealth Affaires; You would say, it hath been all in all his study: List his discourse of Warre; and you shall heare A fearefull Battaile rendred you in Musique. Turne him to any Cause of Pollicy, The Gordian Knot of it he will vnloose, Familiar as his Garter: that when he speakes, The Ayre, a Charter'd Libertine, is still, And the mute Wonder lurketh in mens eares, To steale his sweet and honyed Sentences: So that the Art and Practique part of Life, Must be the Mistresse to this Theorique. Which is a wonder how his Grace should gleane it, Since his addiction was to Courses vaine, His Companies vnletter'd, rude, and shallow, His Houres fill'd vp with Ryots, Banquets, Sports; And neuer noted in him any studie, Any retyrement, any sequestration, From open Haunts and Popularitie

B.Ely. The Strawberry growes vnderneath the Nettle, And holesome Berryes thriue and ripen best, Neighbour'd by Fruit of baser qualitie: And so the Prince obscur'd his Contemplation Vnder the Veyle of Wildnesse, which (no doubt) Grew like the Summer Grasse, fastest 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 perfected

B.Ely. But my good Lord: How now for mittigation of this Bill, Vrg'd by the Commons? doth his Maiestie Incline to it, or no? B.Cant. He seemes indifferent: Or rather swaying more vpon our part, Then cherishing th' exhibiters against vs: For I haue made an offer to his Maiestie, Vpon our Spirituall Conuocation, And in regard of Causes now in hand, Which I haue open'd to his Grace at large, As touching France, to giue a greater Summe, Then euer at one time the Clergie yet Did to his Predecessors part withall

B.Ely. How did this offer seeme receiu'd, my Lord? B.Cant. With good acceptance of his Maiestie: Saue that there was not time enough to heare, As I perceiu'd his Grace would faine haue done, The seueralls and vnhidden passages Of his true Titles to some certaine Dukedomes, And generally, to the Crowne and Seat of France, Deriu'd from Edward, his great Grandfather

B.Ely. What was th' impediment that broke this off? B.Cant. The French Embassador vpon that instant Crau'd audience; and the howre I thinke is come, To giue him hearing: Is it foure a Clock? B.Ely. It is

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

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

Exeunt.

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

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

King. Send for him, good Vnckle

Westm. Shall we call in th' Ambassador, my Liege? King. Not yet, my Cousin: we would be resolu'd, Before we heare him, of some things of weight, That taske our thoughts, concerning vs and France. Enter two Bishops.

B.Cant. God and his Angels guard your sacred Throne, And make you long become it

King. Sure we thanke you. My learned Lord, we pray you to proceed, And iustly and religiously vnfold, Why the Law Salike, that they haue in France, Or should or should not barre vs in our Clayme: And God forbid, my deare and faithfull Lord, That you should fashion, wrest, or bow your reading, Or nicely charge your vnderstanding Soule, With opening Titles miscreate, whose right Sutes not in natiue colours with the truth: For God doth know, how many now in health, Shall drop their blood, in approbation Of what your reuerence shall incite vs 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 neuer two such Kingdomes did contend, Without much fall of blood, whose guiltlesse drops Are euery one, a Woe, a sore Complaint, 'Gainst him, whose wrongs giues edge vnto the Swords, That makes such waste in briefe mortalitie. Vnder this Coniuration, speake my Lord: For we will heare, note, and beleeue in heart, That what you speake, is in your Conscience washt, As pure as sinne with Baptisme

B.Can. Then heare me gracious Soueraign, & you Peers, That owe your selues, your liues, and seruices, To this Imperiall Throne. There is no barre To make against your Highnesse Clayme to France, But this which they produce from Pharamond, In terram Salicam Mulieres ne succedant, No Woman shall succeed in Salike Land: Which Salike Land, the French vniustly gloze To be the Realme of France, and Pharamond The founder of this Law, and Female Barre. Yet their owne Authors faithfully affirme, That the Land Salike is in Germanie, Betweene the Flouds of Sala and of Elue: Where Charles the Great hauing subdu'd the Saxons, There left behind and settled certaine French: Who holding in disdaine the German Women, For some dishonest manners of their life, Establisht then this Law; to wit, No Female Should be Inheritrix in Salike Land: Which Salike (as I said) 'twixt Elue and Sala, Is at this day in Germanie, call'd Meisen. Then doth it well appeare, the Salike Law Was not deuised for the Realme of France: Nor did the French possesse the Salike Land, Vntill foure hundred one and twentie yeeres After defunction of King Pharamond, Idly suppos'd the founder of this Law, Who died within the yeere of our Redemption, Foure hundred twentie six: and Charles the Great Subdu'd the Saxons, and did seat the French Beyond the Riuer Sala, in the yeere Eight hundred fiue. Besides, their Writers say, King Pepin, which deposed Childerike, Did as Heire Generall, being descended Of Blithild, which was Daughter to King Clothair, Make Clayme and Title to the Crowne of France. Hugh Capet also, who vsurpt the Crowne Of Charles the Duke of Loraine, sole Heire male Of the true Line and Stock of Charles the Great: To find his Title with some shewes of truth, Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught, Conuey'd himselfe 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 sole Heire to the Vsurper Capet, Could not keepe quiet in his conscience, Wearing the Crowne of France, 'till satisfied, That faire Queene Isabel, his Grandmother, Was Lineall of the Lady Ermengare, Daughter to Charles the foresaid Duke of Loraine: By the which Marriage, the Lyne of Charles the Great Was re-vnited to the Crowne of France. So, that as cleare as is the Summers Sunne, King Pepins Title, and Hugh Capets Clayme, King Lewes his satisfaction, all appeare To hold in Right and Title of the Female: So doe the Kings of France vnto this day. Howbeit, they would hold vp this Salique Law, To barre your Highnesse clayming from the Female, And rather chuse to hide them in a Net, Then amply to imbarre their crooked Titles, Vsurpt from you and your Progenitors

King. May I with right and conscience make this claim? Bish.Cant. The sinne vpon my head, dread Soueraigne: For in the Booke of Numbers is it writ, When the man dyes, let the Inheritance Descend vnto the Daughter. Gracious Lord, Stand for your owne, vnwind your bloody Flagge, Looke back into your mightie Ancestors: Goe my dread Lord, to your great Grandsires Tombe, From whom you clayme; inuoke his Warlike Spirit, And your Great Vnckles, Edward the Black Prince, Who on the French ground play'd a Tragedie, Making defeat on the full Power of France: Whiles his most mightie Father on a Hill Stood smiling, to behold his Lyons Whelpe Forrage in blood of French Nobilitie. O Noble English, that could entertaine With halfe their Forces, the full pride of France, And let another halfe stand laughing by, All out of worke, and cold for action

Bish. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead, And with your puissant Arme renew their Feats; You are their Heire, you sit vpon their Throne: The Blood and Courage that renowned them, Runs in your Veines: and my thrice-puissant Liege Is in the very May-Morne of his Youth, Ripe for Exploits and mightie Enterprises

Exe. Your Brother Kings and Monarchs of the Earth Doe all expect, that you should rowse your selfe, As did the former Lyons of your Blood

West. They know your Grace hath cause, and means, and might; So hath your Highnesse: neuer King of England Had Nobles richer, and more loyall Subiects, Whose hearts haue left their bodyes here in England, And lye pauillion'd in the fields of France

Bish.Can. O let their bodyes follow my deare Liege With Bloods, and Sword and Fire, to win your Right: In ayde whereof, we of the Spiritualtie Will rayse your Highnesse such a mightie Summe, As neuer did the Clergie at one time Bring in to any of your Ancestors

King. We must not onely arme t' inuade the French, But lay downe our proportions, to defend Against the Scot, who will make roade vpon vs, With all aduantages

Bish.Can. They of those Marches, gracious Soueraign, 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 been still a giddy neighbour to vs: For you shall reade, that my great Grandfather Neuer went with his forces into France, But that the Scot, on his vnfurnisht Kingdome, Came pouring like the Tyde into a breach, With ample and brim fulnesse of his force, Galling the gleaned Land with hot Assayes, Girding with grieuous siege, Castles and Townes: That England being emptie of defence, Hath shooke and trembled at th' ill neighbourhood

B.Can. She hath bin the[n] more fear'd the[n] harm'd, my Liege: For heare her but exampl'd by her selfe, When all her Cheualrie hath been in France, And shee a mourning Widdow of her Nobles, Shee hath her selfe not onely well defended, But taken and impounded as a Stray, The King of Scots: whom shee did send to France, To fill King Edwards fame with prisoner Kings, And make their Chronicle as rich with prayse, As is the Owse and bottome of the Sea With sunken Wrack, and sum-lesse Treasuries

Bish.Ely. But there's a saying 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 vnguarded Nest, the Weazell (Scot) Comes sneaking, and so sucks her Princely Egges, Playing the Mouse in absence of the Cat, To tame and hauocke more then she can eate

Exet. It followes then, the Cat must stay at home, Yet that is but a crush'd necessity, Since we haue lockes to safegard necessaries, And pretty traps to catch the petty theeues. While that the Armed hand doth fight abroad, Th' aduised head defends it selfe at home: For Gouernment, though high, and low, and lower, Put into parts, doth keepe in one consent, Congreeing in a full and natural close, Like Musicke

Cant. Therefore doth heauen diuide The state of man in diuers functions, Setting endeuour in continual motion: To which is fixed as an ayme or butt, Obedience: for so worke the Hony Bees, Creatures that by a rule in Nature teach The Act of Order to a peopled Kingdome. They haue a King, and Officers of sorts, Where some like Magistrates correct at home: Others, like Merchants venter Trade abroad: Others, like Souldiers armed in their stings, Make boote vpon the Summers Veluet buddes: Which pillage, they with merry march bring home To the Tent-royal of their Emperor: Who busied in his Maiesties surueyes The singing Masons building roofes of Gold, The ciuil Citizens kneading vp the hony; The poore Mechanicke Porters, crowding in Their heauy burthens at his narrow gate: The sad-ey'd Iustice with his surly humme, Deliuering ore to Executors pale The lazie yawning Drone: I this inferre, That many things hauing full reference To one consent, may worke contrariously, As many Arrowes loosed seuerall wayes Come to one marke: as many wayes meet in one towne, As many fresh streames meet in one salt sea; As many Lynes close in the Dials center: So may a thousand actions once a foote, And in one purpose, and be all well borne Without defeat. Therefore to France, my Liege, Diuide your happy England into foure, Whereof, take you one quarter into France, And you withall shall make all Gallia shake. If we with thrice such powers left at home, Cannot defend our owne doores from the dogge, Let vs be worried, and our Nation lose The name of hardinesse and policie

King. Call in the Messengers sent from the Dolphin. Now are we well resolu'd, and by Gods helpe And yours, the noble sinewes of our power, France being ours, wee'l bend it to our Awe, Or breake it all to peeces. Or there wee'l sit, (Ruling in large and ample Emperie, Ore France, and all her (almost) Kingly Dukedomes) Or lay these bones in an vnworthy Vrne, Tomblesse, with no remembrance ouer them: Either our History shall with full mouth Speake freely of our Acts, or else our graue Like Turkish mute, shall haue 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 Cosin Dolphin: for we heare, Your greeting is from him, not from the King

Amb. May't please your Maiestie to giue vs leaue Freely to render what we haue in charge: Or shall we sparingly shew you farre off The Dolphins meaning, and our Embassie

King. We are no Tyrant, but a Christian King, Vnto whose grace our passion is as subiect As is our wretches fettred in our prisons, Therefore with franke and with vncurbed plainnesse, Tell vs the Dolphins minde

Amb. Thus than 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 sauour too much of your youth, And bids you be aduis'd: There's nought in France, That can be with a nimble Galliard wonne: You cannot reuell into Dukedomes there. He therefore sends you meeter for your spirit This Tun of Treasure; and in lieu of this, Desires you let the dukedomes that you claime Heare no more of you. This the Dolphin speakes

King. What Treasure Vncle? Exe. Tennis balles, my Liege

Kin. We are glad the Dolphin is so pleasant with vs, His Present, and your paines we thanke you for: When we haue matcht our Rackets to these Balles, We will in France (by Gods grace) play a set, Shall strike his fathers Crowne into the hazard. Tell him, he hath made a match with such a Wrangler, That all the Courts of France will be disturb'd With Chaces. And we vnderstand him well, How he comes o're vs with our wilder dayes, Not measuring what vse we made of them. We neuer valew'd this poore seate of England, And therefore liuing hence, did giue our selfe To barbarous license: As 'tis euer common, That men are merriest, when they are from home. But tell the Dolphin, I will keepe my State, Be like a King, and shew my sayle of Greatnesse, When I do rowse me in my Throne of France. For that I haue layd by my Maiestie, And plodded like a man for working dayes: But I will rise there with so full a glorie, That I will dazle all the eyes of France, Yea strike the Dolphin blinde to looke on vs, And tell the pleasant Prince, this Mocke of his Hath turn'd his balles to Gun-stones, and his soule Shall stand sore charged, for the wastefull vengeance That shall flye with them: for many a thousand widows Shall this his Mocke, mocke out of their deer husbands; Mocke mothers from their sonnes, mock Castles downe: And some are yet vngotten and vnborne, That shal haue cause to curse the Dolphins scorne. But this lyes all within the wil of God, To whom I do appeale, and in whose name Tel 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 Iest will sauour but of shallow wit, When thousands weepe more then did laugh at it. Conuey them with safe conduct. Fare you well.

Exeunt. Ambassadors.

Exe. This was a merry Message

King. We hope to make the Sender blush at it: Therefore, my Lords, omit no happy howre, That may giue furth'rance to our Expedition: For we haue now no thought in vs but France, Saue those to God, that runne before our businesse. Therefore let our proportions for these Warres Be soone collected, and all things thought vpon, 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 euery man now taske his thought, That this faire Action may on foot be brought.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Chorus.

Now all the Youth of England are on fire, And silken Dalliance in the Wardrobe lyes: Now thriue the Armorers, and Honors thought Reignes solely in the breast of euery 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 sits Expectation in the Ayre, And hides a Sword, from Hilts vnto the Point, With Crownes Imperiall, Crownes and Coronets, Promis'd to Harry, and his followers. The French aduis'd by good intelligence Of this most dreadfull preparation, Shake in their feare, and with pale Pollicy Seeke to diuert the English purposes. O England: Modell to thy inward Greatnesse, Like little Body with a mightie Heart: What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do, Were all thy children kinde and naturall: But see, thy fault France hath in thee found out, A nest of hollow bosomes, which he filles With treacherous Crownes, and three corrupted men: One, Richard Earle of Cambridge, and the second Henry Lord Scroope of Masham, and the third Sir Thomas Grey Knight of Northumberland, Haue for the Gilt of France (O guilt indeed) Confirm'd Conspiracy with fearefull France, And by their hands, this grace of Kings must dye. If Hell and Treason hold their promises, Ere he take ship for France; and in Southampton. Linger your patience on, and wee'l digest Th' abuse 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 you sit, And thence to France shall we conuey you safe, And bring you backe: Charming the narrow seas To giue you gentle Passe: 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 Bardolfe

Bar. What, are Ancient Pistoll and you friends yet? Nym. For my part, I care not: I say little: but when time shall serue, there shall be smiles, but that shall be as it may. I dare not fight, but I will winke and holde out mine yron: it is a simple one, but what though? It will toste Cheese, and it will endure cold, as another mans sword will: and there's an end

Bar. I will bestow a breakfast 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 liue so long as I may, that's the certaine of it: and when I cannot liue any longer, I will doe as I may: That is my rest, that is the rendeuous of it

Bar. It is certaine Corporall, that he is marryed 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 sleepe, and they may haue their throats about them at that time, and some say, kniues haue edges: It must be as it may, though patience be a tyred name, yet shee will plodde, there must be Conclusions, well, I cannot tell. Enter Pistoll, & Quickly.

Bar. Heere comes Ancient Pistoll and his wife: good Corporall be patient heere. How now mine Hoaste Pistoll? Pist. Base Tyke, cal'st thou mee Hoste, now by this hand I sweare I scorne the terme: nor shall my Nel keep Lodgers

Host. No by my troth, not long: For we cannot lodge and board a dozen or fourteene Gentlewomen that liue honestly by the pricke of their Needles, but it will bee thought we keepe a Bawdy-house straight. O welliday Lady, if he be not hewne now, we shall see wilful adultery and murther committed

Bar. Good Lieutenant, good Corporal offer nothing heere

Nym. Pish

Pist. Pish for thee, Island dogge: thou prickeard cur of Island

Host. Good Corporall Nym shew thy valor, and put vp your sword

Nym. Will you shogge off? I would haue you solus

Pist. Solus, egregious dog? O Viper vile; The solus in thy most meruailous face, the solus 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 solus in thy bowels, for I can take, and Pistols cocke is vp, and flashing fire will follow

Nym. I am not Barbason, you cannot coniure mee: I haue an humor to knocke you indifferently well: If you grow fowle with me Pistoll, 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

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

Bar. Heare me, heare me what I say: Hee that strikes the first stroake, Ile run him vp to the hilts, as I am a soldier

Pist. An oath of mickle might, and fury shall abate. Giue me thy fist, thy fore-foote to me giue: Thy spirites are most tall

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

Pistoll. Couple a gorge, that is the word. I defie thee againe. O hound of Creet, think'st thou my spouse to get? No, to the spittle goe, and from the Poudring tub of infamy, fetch forth the Lazar Kite of Cressids kinde, Doll Teare-sheete, she by name, and her espouse. I haue, and I will hold the Quondam Quickely for the onely shee: and Pauca, there's enough to go to. Enter the Boy.

Boy. Mine Hoast Pistoll, you must come to my Mayster, and your Hostesse: He is very sicke, & would to bed. Good Bardolfe, put thy face betweene his sheets, and do the Office of a Warming-pan: Faith, he's very ill

Bard. Away you Rogue

Host. By my troth he'l yeeld the Crow a pudding one of these dayes: the King has kild his heart. Good Husband come home presently.

Exit

Bar. Come, shall I make you two friends. Wee must to France together: why the diuel should we keep kniues to cut one anothers throats? Pist. Let floods ore-swell, and fiends for food howle on

Nym. You'l pay me the eight shillings I won of you at Betting? Pist. Base is the Slaue that payes

Nym. That now I wil haue: that's the humor of it

Pist. As manhood shal compound: push home.

Draw

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

Pi. Sword is an Oath, & Oaths must haue their course Bar. Coporall Nym, & thou wilt be friends be frends, and thou wilt not, why then be enemies with me to: prethee put vp

Pist. A Noble shalt thou haue, and present pay, and Liquor likewise will I giue to thee, and friendshippe shall combyne, and brotherhood. Ile liue by Nymme, & Nymme shall liue by me, is not this iust? For I shal Sutler be vnto the Campe, and profits will accrue. Giue mee thy hand

Nym. I shall haue my Noble? Pist. In cash, most iustly payd

Nym. Well, then that the humor of't. Enter Hostesse.

Host. As euer you come of women, come in quickly to sir Iohn: A poore heart, hee is so shak'd of a burning quotidian Tertian, that it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, come to him

Nym. The King hath run bad humors on the Knight, that's the euen of it

Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the right, his heart is fracted and corroborate

Nym. The King is a good King, but it must bee as it may: he passes some humors, and carreeres

Pist. Let vs condole the Knight, for (Lambekins) we will liue. Enter Exeter, Bedford, & Westmerland.

Bed. Fore God his Grace is bold to trust these traitors Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by

West. How smooth and euen they do bear themselues, As if allegeance in their bosomes sate Crowned with faith, and constant loyalty

Bed. The King hath note of all that they intend, By interception, which they dreame not of

Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bedfellow, Whom he hath dull'd and cloy'd with gracious fauours; That he should for a forraigne purse, so sell His Soueraignes 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 Masham, And you my gentle Knight, giue me your thoughts: Thinke you not that the powres we beare with vs Will cut their passage through the force of France? Doing the execution, and the acte, For which we haue in head assembled 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 vs from hence, That growes not in a faire consent with ours: Nor leaue not one behinde, that doth not wish Successe and Conquest to attend on vs

Cam. Neuer was Monarch better fear'd and lou'd, Then is your Maiesty; there's not I thinke a subiect That sits in heart-greefe and vneasinesse Vnder the sweet shade of your gouernment

Kni. True: those that were your Fathers enemies, Haue steep'd their gauls in hony, and do serue you With hearts create of duty, and of zeale

King. We therefore haue great cause of thankfulnes, And shall forget the office of our hand Sooner then quittance of desert and merit, According to the weight and worthinesse

Scro. So seruice shall with steeled sinewes toyle, And labour shall refresh it selfe with hope To do your Grace incessant seruices

King. We Iudge no lesse. Vnkle of Exeter, Inlarge the man committed yesterday, That rayl'd against our person: We consider It was excesse of Wine that set him on, And on his more aduice, We pardon him

Scro. That's mercy, but too much security: Let him be punish'd Soueraigne, least example Breed (by his sufferance) more of such a kind

King. O let vs yet be mercifull

Cam. So may your Highnesse, and yet punish too

Grey. Sir, you shew great mercy if you giue him life, After the taste of much correction

King. Alas, your too much loue and care of me, Are heauy Orisons 'gainst this poore wretch: If little faults proceeding on distemper, Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye When capitall crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested, Appeare before vs? Wee'l yet inlarge that man, Though Cambridge, Scroope, and Gray, in their deere care And tender preseruation of our person Wold haue 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

Gray. And I my Royall Soueraigne

King. Then Richard Earle of Cambridge, there is yours: There yours Lord Scroope of Masham, and Sir Knight: Gray of Northumberland, this same 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 those papers, that you loose So much complexion? Looke ye how they change: Their cheekes are paper. Why, what reade you there, That haue so cowarded and chac'd your blood Out of apparance

Cam. I do confesse my fault, And do submit me to your Highnesse mercy

Gray. Scro. To which we all appeale

King. The mercy that was quicke in vs but late, By your owne counsaile is supprest and kill'd: You must not dare (for shame) to talke of mercy, For your owne reasons turne into your bosomes, As dogs vpon their maisters, worrying you: See you my Princes, and my Noble Peeres, These English monsters: My Lord of Cambridge heere, You know how apt our loue was, to accord To furnish with all appertinents Belonging to his Honour; and this man, Hath for a few light Crownes, lightly conspir'd And sworne vnto the practises of France To kill vs heere in Hampton. To the which, This Knight no lesse for bounty bound to Vs Then Cambridge is, hath likewise sworne. But O, What shall I say to thee Lord Scroope, thou cruell, Ingratefull, sauage, and inhumane Creature? Thou that didst beare the key of all my counsailes, That knew'st the very bottome of my soule, That (almost) might'st haue coyn'd me into Golde, Would'st thou haue practis'd on me, for thy vse? May it be possible, that forraigne hyer Could out of thee extract one sparke of euill That might annoy my finger? 'Tis so strange, That though the truth of it stands off as grosse As black and white, my eye will scarsely see it. Treason, and murther, euer kept together, As two yoake diuels sworne to eythers purpose, Working so grossely in an naturall cause, That admiration did not hoope at them. But thou (gainst all proportion) didst bring in Wonder to waite on treason, and on murther: And whatsoeuer cunning fiend it was That wrought vpon thee so preposterously, Hath got the voyce in hell for excellence: And other diuels that suggest by treasons, Do botch and bungle vp damnation, With patches, colours, and with formes being fetcht From glist'ring semblances of piety: But he that temper'd thee, bad thee stand vp, Gaue thee no instance why thou shouldst do treason, Vnlesse to dub thee with the name of Traitor. If that same Daemon that hath gull'd thee thus, Should with his Lyon-gate walke the whole world, He might returne to vastie Tartar backe, And tell the Legions, I can neuer win A soule so easie as that Englishmans. Oh, how hast thou with iealousie infected The sweetnesse of affiance? Shew men dutifull, Why so didst thou: seeme they graue and learned? Why so didst thou. Come they of Noble Family? Why so didst thou. Seeme they religious? Why so didst thou. Or are they spare in diet, Free from grosse passion, or of mirth, or anger, Constant in spirit, not sweruing with the blood, Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement, Not working with the eye, without the eare, And but in purged iudgement trusting neither, Such and so finely boulted didst thou seeme: And thus thy fall hath left a kinde of blot, To make thee full fraught man, and best indued With some suspition, I will weepe for thee. For this reuolt of thine, me thinkes is like Another fall of Man. Their faults are open, Arrest them to the answer of the Law, And God acquit them of their practises

Exe. I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Richard Earle of Cambridge. I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas Lord Scroope of Marsham. I arrest thee of High Treason, by the name of Thomas Grey, Knight of Northumberland

Scro. Our purposes, God iustly hath discouer'd, And I repent my fault more then my death, Which I beseech your Highnesse to forgiue, 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 motiue, The sooner to effect what I intended: But God be thanked for preuention, Which in sufferance heartily will reioyce, Beseeching God, and you, to pardon mee

Gray. Neuer did faithfull subiect more reioyce At the discouery of most dangerous Treason, Then I do at this houre ioy ore my selfe, Preuented from a damned enterprize; My fault, but not my body, pardon Soueraigne

King. God quit you in his mercy: Hear your sentence You haue conspir'd against Our Royall person, Ioyn'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his Coffers, Receyu'd the Golden Earnest of Our death: Wherein you would haue sold your King to slaughter, His Princes, and his Peeres to seruitude, His Subiects to oppression, and contempt, And his whole Kingdome into desolation: Touching our person, seeke we no reuenge, But we our Kingdomes safety must so tender, Whose ruine you sought, that to her Lawes We do deliuer you. Get you therefore hence, (Poore miserable wretches) to your death: The taste whereof, God of his mercy giue You patience to indure, and true Repentance Of all your deare offences. Beare them hence. Enter.

Now Lords for France: the enterprise whereof Shall be to you as vs, like glorious. We doubt not of a faire and luckie Warre, Since God so graciously hath brought to light This dangerous Treason, lurking in our way, To hinder our beginnings. We doubt not now, But euery Rubbe is smoothed on our way. Then forth, deare Countreymen: Let vs deliuer Our Puissance into the hand of God, Putting it straight in expedition. Chearely to Sea, the signes of Warre aduance, No King of England, if not King of France.

Flourish.

Enter Pistoll, Nim, Bardolph, Boy, and Hostesse.

Hostesse. 'Prythee honey sweet Husband, let me bring thee to Staines

Pistoll. No: for my manly heart doth erne. Bardolph, be blythe: Nim, rowse thy vaunting Veines: Boy, brissle thy Courage vp: for Falstaffe hee is dead, and wee must erne therefore

Bard. Would I were with him, wheresomere hee is, eyther in Heauen, or in Hell

Hostesse. Nay sure, hee's not in Hell: hee's in Arthurs Bosome, if euer man went to Arthurs Bosome: a made a finer end, and went away and it had beene any Christome Childe: a parted eu'n iust betweene Twelue and One, eu'n at the turning o'th' Tyde: for after I saw him fumble with the Sheets, and play with Flowers, and smile vpon his fingers end, I knew there was but one way: for his Nose was as sharpe as a Pen, and a Table of greene fields. How now Sir Iohn (quoth I?) what man? be a good cheare: so a cryed out, God, God, God, three or foure 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 such thoughts yet: so a bad me lay more Clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the Bed, and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone: then I felt to his knees, and so vp-peer'd, and vpward, and all was as cold as any stone

Nim. They say he cryed out of Sack

Hostesse. I, that a did

Bard. And of Women

Hostesse. Nay, that a did not

Boy. Yes that a did, and said they were Deules incarnate

Woman. A could neuer abide Carnation, 'twas a Colour he neuer lik'd

Boy. A said once, the Deule would haue him about Women

Hostesse. 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 sticke vpon Bardolphs Nose, and a said 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 seruice

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

Pist. Come, let's away. My Loue, giue me thy Lippes: Looke to my Chattels, and my Moueables: Let Sences rule: The world is, Pitch and pay: trust none: for Oathes are Strawes, mens Faiths are Wafer-Cakes, and hold-fast is the onely Dogge: My Ducke, therefore Caueto bee thy Counsailor. Goe, cleare thy Chrystalls. Yokefellowes in Armes, let vs to France, like Horseleeches my Boyes, to sucke, to sucke, the very blood to sucke

Boy. And that's but vnwholesome food, they say

Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march

Bard. Farwell Hostesse

Nim. I cannot kisse, that is the humor of it: but adieu

Pist. Let Huswiferie appeare: keepe close, I thee command

Hostesse. Farwell: adieu.

Exeunt.

Flourish.

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

King. Thus comes the English with full power vpon vs, And more then carefully it vs concernes, To answer 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 swift 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 sucking of a Gulfe. It fits vs then to be as prouident, As feare may teach vs, out of late examples Left by the fatall and neglected English, Vpon our fields

Dolphin. My most redoubted Father, It is most meet we arme vs 'gainst the Foe: For Peace it selfe should not so dull a Kingdome, (Though War nor no knowne Quarrel were in question) But that Defences, Musters, Preparations, Should be maintain'd, assembled, and collected, As were a Warre in expectation. Therefore I say, 'tis meet we all goe forth, To view the sick and feeble parts of France: And let vs doe it with no shew of feare, No, with no more, then if we heard that England Were busied with a Whitson Morris-dance: For, my good Liege, shee is so idly King'd, Her Scepter so phantastically borne, By a vaine giddie shallow humorous Youth, That feare 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 supply'd with Noble Councellors, How modest in exception; and withall, How terrible in constant resolution: And you shall find, his Vanities fore-spent, Were but the out-side of the Roman Brutus, Couering Discretion with a Coat of Folly; As Gardeners doe with Ordure hide those 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 cases 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 proiection, Doth like a Miser spoyle his Coat, with scanting A little Cloth

King. Thinke we King Harry strong: And Princes, looke you strongly arme to meet him. The Kindred of him hath beene flesht vpon vs: And he is bred out of that bloodie straine, That haunted vs in our familiar Pathes: Witnesse our too much memorable shame, When Cressy Battell fatally was strucke, And all our Princes captiu'd, by the hand Of that black 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 Heroicall Seed, and smil'd to see him Mangle the Worke of Nature, and deface The Patternes, that by God and by French Fathers Had twentie yeeres been made. This is a Stem Of that Victorious Stock: and let vs feare The Natiue mightinesse and fate of him. Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Embassadors from Harry King of England, Doe craue admittance to your Maiestie

King. Weele giue them present audience. Goe, and bring them. You see this Chase is hotly followed, friends

Dolphin. Turne head, and stop pursuit: for coward Dogs Most spend their mouths, whe[n] what they seem to threaten Runs farre before them. Good my Soueraigne Take vp the English short, and let them know Of what a Monarchie you are the Head: Selfe-loue, my Liege, is not so vile a sinne, As selfe-neglecting. Enter Exeter.

King. From our Brother of England? Exe. From him, and thus he greets your Maiestie: He wills you in the Name of God Almightie, That you deuest your selfe, and lay apart The borrowed Glories, that by gift of Heauen, By Law of Nature, and of Nations, longs To him and to his Heires, namely, the Crowne, And all wide-stretched Honors, that pertaine By Custome, and the Ordinance of Times, Vnto the Crowne of France: that you may know 'Tis no sinister, nor no awkward Clayme, Pickt from the worme-holes of long-vanisht dayes, Nor from the dust of old Obliuion rakt, He sends you this most memorable Lyne, In euery Branch truly demonstratiue; Willing you ouer-looke this Pedigree: And when you find him euenly deriu'd From his most fam'd, of famous Ancestors, Edward the third; he bids you then resigne Your Crowne and Kingdome, indirectly held From him, the Natiue and true Challenger

King. Or else what followes? Exe. Bloody constraint: for if you hide the Crowne Euen in your hearts, there will he rake for it. Therefore in fierce Tempest is he comming, In Thunder and in Earth-quake, like a Ioue: That if requiring faile, he will compell. And bids you, in the Bowels of the Lord, Deliuer vp the Crowne, and to take mercie On the poore Soules, for whom this hungry Warre Opens his vastie Iawes: and on your head Turning the Widdowes Teares, the Orphans Cryes, The dead-mens Blood, the priuy Maidens Groanes, For Husbands, Fathers, and betrothed Louers, That shall be swallowed in this Controuersie. This is his Clayme, his Threatning, and my Message: Vnlesse the Dolphin be in presence here; To whom expressely I bring greeting to

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

Dolph. For the Dolphin, I stand here for him: what to him from England? Exe. Scorne and defiance, sleight regard, contempt, And any thing that may not mis-become The mightie Sender, doth he prize you at. Thus sayes my King: and if your Fathers Highnesse Doe not, in graunt of all demands at large, Sweeten the bitter Mock you sent his Maiestie; Hee'le call you to so hot an Answer of it, That Caues and Wombie Vaultages of France Shall chide your Trespas, and returne your Mock In second Accent of his Ordinance

Dolph. Say: if my Father render faire returne, It is against my will: for I desire Nothing but Oddes with England. To that end, as matching to his Youth and Vanitie, I did present him with the Paris-Balls

Exe. Hee'le make your Paris Louer shake for it, Were it the Mistresse Court of mightie Europe: And be assur'd, you'le find a diff'rence, As we his Subiects haue in wonder found, Betweene the promise of his greener dayes, And these he masters now: now he weighes Time Euen to the vtmost Graine: that you shall reade In your owne Losses, if he stay in France

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

Flourish.

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

King. You shalbe soone dispatcht, with faire conditions. A Night is but small breathe, and little pawse, To answer matters of this consequence.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

Flourish. Enter Chorus.

Thus with imagin'd wing our swift Scene flyes, In motion of no lesse celeritie then that of Thought. Suppose, that you haue seene The well-appointed King at Douer Peer, Embarke his Royaltie: and his braue Fleet, With silken Streamers, the young Phebus fayning; Play with your Fancies: and in them behold, Vpon the Hempen Tackle, Ship-boyes climbing; Heare the shrill Whistle, which doth order giue To sounds confus'd: behold the threaden Sayles, Borne with th' inuisible and creeping Wind, Draw the huge Bottomes through the furrowed Sea, Bresting the loftie Surge. O, doe but thinke You stand vpon the Riuage, and behold A Citie on th' inconstant Billowes dauncing: For so appeares this Fleet Maiesticall, Holding due course to Harflew. Follow, follow: Grapple your minds to sternage of this Nauie, And leaue your England as dead Mid-night, still, Guarded with Grandsires, Babyes, and old Women, Eyther past, or not arriu'd to pyth and puissance: For who is he, whose Chin is but enricht With one appearing Hayre, that will not follow These cull'd and choyse-drawne Caualiers to France? Worke, worke your Thoughts, and therein see a Siege: Behold the Ordenance on their Carriages, With fatall mouthes gaping on girded Harflew. Suppose th' Embassador from the French comes back: Tells Harry, That the King doth offer him Katherine his Daughter, and with her to Dowrie, Some petty and vnprofitable Dukedomes. The offer likes not: and the nimble Gunner With Lynstock now the diuellish Cannon touches,

Alarum, and Chambers goe off.

And downe goes all before them. Still be kind, And eech out our performance with your mind. Enter.

Enter the King, Exeter, Bedford, and Gloucester. Alarum: Scaling Ladders at Harflew.

King. Once more vnto the Breach, Deare friends, once more; Or close the Wall vp with our English dead: In Peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, As modest stillnesse, and humilitie: But when the blast of Warre blowes in our eares, Then imitate the action of the Tyger: Stiffen the sinewes, commune vp the blood, Disguise faire Nature with hard-fauour'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 iutty his confounded Base, Swill'd with the wild and wastfull Ocean. Now set the Teeth, and stretch the Nosthrill wide, Hold hard the Breath, and bend vp euery Spirit To his full height. On, on, you Noblish English, Whose blood is fet from Fathers of Warre-proofe: Fathers, that like so many Alexanders, Haue in these parts from Morne till Euen fought, And sheath'd their Swords, for lack of argument. Dishonour not your Mothers: now attest, That those whom you call'd Fathers, did beget you. Be Coppy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to Warre. And you good Yeomen, Whose Lyms were made in England; shew vs here The mettell of your Pasture: let vs sweare, That you are worth your breeding: which I doubt not: For there is none of you so meane and base, That hath not Noble luster in your eyes. I see you stand like Grey-hounds in the slips, Straying vpon the Start. The Game's afoot: Follow your Spirit; and vpon this Charge, Cry, God for Harry, England, and S[aint]. George.

Alarum, and Chambers goe off.

Enter Nim, Bardolph, Pistoll, 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 haue not a Case of Liues: the humor of it is too hot, that is the very plaine-Song of it

Pist. The plaine-Song is most iust: for humors doe abound: Knocks goe and come: Gods Vassals drop and dye: and Sword and Shield, in bloody Field, doth winne immortall fame

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

Pist. And I: If wishes would preuayle with me, my purpose should not fayle with me; but thither would I high

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

Flu. Vp to the breach, you Dogges; auaunt you Cullions

Pist. Be mercifull great Duke to men of Mould: abate thy Rage, abate thy manly Rage; abate thy Rage, great Duke. Good Bawcock bate thy Rage: vse lenitie sweet Chuck

Nim. These be good humors: your Honor wins bad humors. Enter.

Boy. As young as I am, I haue obseru'd these three Swashers: I am Boy to them all three, but all they three, though they would serue me, could not be Man to me; for indeed three such Antiques doe not amount to a man: for Bardolph, hee is white-liuer'd, and red-fac'd; by the meanes whereof, a faces it out, but fights not: for Pistoll, hee hath a killing Tongue, and a quiet Sword; by the meanes whereof, a breakes Words, and keepes whole Weapons: for Nim, hee hath heard, that men of few Words are the best men, and therefore hee scornes to say his Prayers, lest a should be thought a Coward: but his few bad Words are matcht with as few good Deeds; for a neuer 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 Purchase. Bardolph stole a Lute-case, bore it twelue Leagues, and sold it for three halfepence. Nim and Bardolph are sworne Brothers in filching: and in Callice they stole a fire-shouell. I knew by that peece of Seruice, the men would carry Coales. They would haue me as familiar with mens Pockets, as their Gloues 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 vp of Wrongs. I must leaue them, and seeke some better Seruice: their Villany goes against my weake stomacke, and therefore I must cast it vp. Enter.

Enter Gower.

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

Flu. To the Mynes? Tell you the Duke, it is not so good to come to the Mynes: for looke you, the Mynes is not according to the disciplines of the Warre; the concauities of it is not sufficient: for looke you, th' athuersarie, you may discusse vnto the Duke, looke you, is digt himselfe foure yard vnder the Countermines: by Cheshu, I thinke a will plowe vp all, if there is not better directions

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

Welch. It is Captaine Makmorrice, is it not? Gower. I thinke it be

Welch. By Cheshu he is an Asse, as in the World, I will verifie 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 maruellous falorous Gentleman, that is certain, and of great expedition and knowledge in th' aunchiant Warres, vpon my particular knowledge of his directions: by Cheshu he will maintaine his Argument as well as any Militarie man in the World, in the disciplines of the Pristine Warres of the Romans

Scot. I say gudday, Captaine Fluellen

Welch. Godden to your Worship, good Captaine Iames

Gower. How now Captaine Mackmorrice, haue you quit the Mynes? haue the Pioners giuen o're? Irish. By Chrish Law tish ill done: the Worke ish giue ouer, the Trompet sound the Retreat. By my Hand I sweare, and my fathers Soule, the Worke ish ill done: it ish giue ouer: I would haue blowed vp the Towne, so Chrish saue me law, in an houre. O tish ill done, tish ill done: by my Hand tish ill done

Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, I beseech you now, will you voutsafe 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 satisfie my Opinion, and partly for the satisfaction, looke you, of my Mind: as touching the direction of the Militarie discipline, that is the Point

Scot. It sall be vary gud, gud feith, gud Captens bath, and I sall quit you with gud leue, as I may pick occasion: that sall I mary

Irish. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish saue 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 vs to the breech, and we talke, and be Chrish do nothing, tis shame for vs all: so God sa'me tis shame to stand still, it is shame by my hand: and there is Throats to be cut, and Workes to be done, and there ish nothing done, so Christ sa'me law

Scot. By the Mes, ere theise eyes of mine take themselues to slomber, ayle de gud seruice, or Ile ligge i'th' grund for it; ay, or goe to death: and Ile pay't as valorously as I may, that sal I suerly do, that is the breff and the long: mary, I wad full faine heard some question tween you tway

Welch. Captaine Mackmorrice, I thinke, looke you, vnder your correction, there is not many of your Nation

Irish. Of my Nation? What ish my Nation? Ish a Villaine, and a Basterd, and a Knaue, and a Rascall. What ish my Nation? Who talkes of my Nation? Welch. Looke you, if you take the matter otherwise then is meant, Captaine Mackmorrice, peraduenture I shall thinke you doe not vse me with that affabilitie, as in discretion you ought to vse me, looke you, being as good a man as your selfe, both in the disciplines of Warre, and in the deriuation of my Birth, and in other particularities

Irish. I doe not know you so good a man as my selfe: so Chrish saue 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 sounds a Parley

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

Enter the King and all his Traine before the Gates.

King. How yet resolues the Gouernour of the Towne? This is the latest Parle we will admit: Therefore to our best mercy giue your selues, Or like to men prowd of destruction, Defie vs to our worst: 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 leaue the halfe-atchieued Harflew, Till in her ashes she lye buryed. The Gates of Mercy shall be all shut vp, And the flesh'd Souldier, rough and hard of heart, In libertie of bloody hand, shall raunge 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 flames like to the Prince of Fiends, Doe with his smyrcht complexion all fell feats, Enlynckt to wast and desolation? What is't to me, when you your selues are cause, If your pure Maydens fall into the hand Of hot and forcing Violation? What Reyne can hold licentious Wickednesse, When downe the Hill he holds his fierce Carriere? We may as bootlesse spend our vaine Command Vpon th' enraged Souldiers in their spoyle, As send Precepts to the Leuiathan, to come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harflew, 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 Villany. If not: why in a moment looke to see The blind and bloody Souldier, with foule hand Desire the Locks of your shrill-shriking Daughters: Your Fathers taken by the siluer Beards, And their most reuerend Heads dasht to the Walls: Your naked Infants spitted vpon Pykes, Whiles the mad Mothers, with their howles confus'd, Doe breake the Clouds; as did the Wiues of Iewry, At Herods bloody-hunting slaughter-men. What say you? Will you yeeld, and this auoyd? Or guiltie in defence, be thus destroy'd. Enter Gouernour.

Gouer. Our expectation hath this day an end: The Dolphin, whom of Succours we entreated, Returnes vs, that his Powers are yet not ready, To rayse so great a Siege: Therefore great King, We yeeld our Towne and Liues to thy soft Mercy: Enter our Gates, dispose of vs and ours, For we no longer are defensible

King. Open your Gates: Come Vnckle Exeter, Goe you and enter Harflew; there remaine, And fortifie it strongly 'gainst the French: Vse mercy to them all for vs, deare Vnckle. The Winter comming on, and Sicknesse growing Vpon our Souldiers, we will retyre to Calis. To night in Harflew will we be your Guest, To morrow for the March are we addrest.

Flourish, and enter the Towne.

Enter Katherine and an old Gentlewoman.

Kathe. Alice, tu as este en Angleterre, & tu bien parlas le Language

Alice. En peu Madame

Kath. Ie te prie m' ensigniez, il faut que ie apprend a parlen: Comient appelle vous le main en Anglois? Alice. Le main il & appelle de Hand

Kath. De Hand

Alice. E le doyts

Kat. Le doyts, ma foy Ie oublie, e doyt mays, ie me souemeray le doyts ie pense qu'ils ont appelle de fingres, ou de fingres

Alice. Le main de Hand, le doyts le Fingres, ie pense que ie suis le bon escholier

Kath. I'ay gaynie diux mots d' Anglois vistement, coment appelle vous le ongles? Alice. Le ongles, les appellons de Nayles

Kath. De Nayles escoute: dites moy, si ie parle bien: de Hand, de Fingres, e de Nayles

Alice. C'est bien dict Madame, il & fort bon Anglois

Kath. Dites moy l' Anglois pour le bras

Alice. De Arme, Madame

Kath. E de coudee

Alice. D' Elbow

Kath. D' Elbow: Ie men fay le repiticio de touts les mots que vous maves, apprins des a present

Alice. Il & trop difficile Madame, comme Ie pense

Kath. Excuse moy Alice escoute, d' Hand, de Fingre, de Nayles, d' Arma, de Bilbow

Alice. D' Elbow, Madame

Kath. O Seigneur Dieu, ie men oublie d' Elbow, coment appelle vous le col

Alice. De Nick, Madame

Kath. De Nick, e le menton

Alice. De Chin

Kath. De Sin: le col de Nick, le menton de Sin

Alice. Ouy. Sauf vostre honneur en verite vous pronouncies les mots ausi droict, que le Natifs d' Angleterre

Kath. Ie ne doute point d' apprendre par de grace de Dieu, & en peu de temps

Alice. N' aue vos y desia oublie ce que ie vous a ensignie

Kath. Nome ie recitera a vous promptement, d' Hand, de Fingre, de Maylees

Alice. De Nayles, Madame

Kath. De Nayles, de Arme, de Ilbow

Alice. Sans vostre honeus d' Elbow

Kath. Ainsi de ie d' Elbow, de Nick, & de Sin: coment appelle vous les pied & de roba

Alice. Le Foot Madame, & le Count

Kath. Le Foot, & le Count: O Seignieur Dieu, il sont le mots de son mauvais corruptible grosse & impudique, & non pour le Dames de Honeur d' vser: Ie ne voudray pronouncer ce mots deuant le Seigneurs de France, pour toute le monde, fo le Foot & le Count, neant moys, Ie recitera vn autrefoys ma lecon ensembe, d' Hand, de Fingre, de Nayles, d' Arme, d' Elbow, de Nick, de Sin, de Foot, le Count

Alice. Excellent, Madame

Kath. C'est asses pour vne foyes, alons nous a diner. Enter.

Enter the King of France, the Dolphin, the Constable of France, and others.

King. 'Tis certaine he hath past the Riuer Some

Const. And if he be not fought withall, my Lord, Let vs not liue in France: let vs quit all, And giue our Vineyards to a barbarous People

Dolph. O Dieu viuant: Shall a few Sprayes of vs, The emptying of our Fathers Luxurie, Our Syens, put in wilde and sauage Stock, Spirt vp so suddenly into the Clouds, And ouer-looke their Grafters? Brit. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards: Mort du ma vie, if they march along Vnfought withall, but I will sell my Dukedome, To buy a slobbry and a durtie Farme In that nooke-shotten Ile of Albion

Const. Dieu de Battailes, where haue they this mettell? Is not their Clymate foggy, raw, and dull? On whom, as in despight, the Sunne lookes pale, Killing their Fruit with frownes. Can sodden Water, A Drench for sur-reyn'd Iades, their Barly broth, Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? And shall our quick blood, spirited with Wine, Seeme frostie? O, for honor of our Land, Let vs not hang like roping Isyckles Vpon our Houses Thatch, whiles a more frostie People Sweat drops of gallant Youth in our rich fields: Poore we call them, in their Natiue Lords

Dolphin. By Faith and Honor, Our Madames mock at vs, and plainely say, Our Mettell is bred out, and they will giue Their bodyes to the Lust of English Youth, To new-store France with Bastard Warriors

Brit. They bid vs to the English Dancing-Schooles, And teach Lauolta's high, and swift Carranto's, Saying, our Grace is onely in our Heeles, And that we are most loftie Run-awayes

King. Where is Montioy the Herald? speed him hence, Let him greet England with our sharpe defiance. Vp Princes, and with spirit of Honor edged, More sharper then your Swords, high to the field: Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France, You Dukes of Orleance, Burbon, and of Berry, Alanson, Brabant, Bar, and Burgonie, Iaques Chattillion, Rambures, Vandemont, Beumont, Grand Pree, Roussi, and Faulconbridge, Loys, Lestrale, Bouciquall, and Charaloyes, High Dukes, great Princes, Barons, Lords, and Kings; For your great Seats, now quit you of great shames: Barre Harry England, that sweepes through our Land With Penons painted in the blood of Harflew: Rush on his Hoast, as doth the melted Snow Vpon the Valleyes, whose low Vassall Seat, The Alpes doth spit, and void his rhewme vpon. Goe downe vpon him, you haue Power enough, And in a Captiue Chariot, into Roan Bring him our Prisoner

Const. This becomes the Great. Sorry am I his numbers are so few, His Souldiers sick, and famisht in their March: For I am sure, when he shall see our Army, Hee'le drop his heart into the sinck of feare, And for atchieuement, offer vs his Ransome

King. Therefore Lord Constable, hast on Montioy, And let him say to England, that we send, To know what willing Ransome he will giue. Prince Dolphin, you shall stay with vs in Roan

Dolph. Not so, I doe beseech your Maiestie

King. Be patient, for you shall remaine with vs. Now forth Lord Constable, and Princes all, And quickly bring vs word of Englands fall.

Exeunt.

Enter Captaines, English and Welch, Gower and Fluellen.

Gower. How now Captaine Fluellen, come you from the Bridge? Flu. I assure you, there is very excellent Seruices committed at the Bridge

Gower. Is the Duke of Exeter safe? Flu. The Duke of Exeter is as magnanimous as Agamemnon, and a man that I loue and honour with my soule, and my heart, and my dutie, and my liue, and my liuing, and my vttermost power. He is not, God be praysed and blessed, any hurt in the World, but keepes the Bridge most valiantly, with excellent discipline. There is an aunchient Lieutenant there at the Pridge, I thinke in my very conscience hee is as valiant a man as Marke Anthony, and hee is a man of no estimation in the World, but I did see him doe as gallant seruice

Gower. What doe you call him? Flu. Hee is call'd aunchient Pistoll

Gower. I know him not. Enter Pistoll.

Flu. Here is the man

Pist. Captaine, I thee beseech to doe me fauours: the Duke of Exeter doth loue thee well

Flu. I, I prayse God, and I haue merited some loue at his hands

Pist. Bardolph, a Souldier firme and sound of heart, and of buxome valour, hath by cruell Fate, and giddie Fortunes furious fickle Wheele, that Goddesse blind, that stands vpon the rolling restlesse Stone

Flu. By your patience, aunchient Pistoll: Fortune is painted blinde, with a Muffler afore his eyes, to signifie to you, that Fortune is blinde; and shee is painted also with a Wheele, to signifie to you, which is the Morall of it, that shee is turning and inconstant, and mutabilitie, and variation: and her foot, looke you, is fixed vpon a Sphericall Stone, which rowles, and rowles, and rowles: in good truth, the Poet makes a most excellent description of it: Fortune is an excellent Morall

Pist. Fortune is Bardolphs foe, and frownes on him: for he hath stolne a Pax, and hanged must a be: a damned death: let Gallowes gape for Dogge, let Man goe free, and let not Hempe his Wind-pipe suffocate: but Exeter hath giuen the doome of death, for Pax of little price. Therefore goe speake, the Duke will heare thy voyce; and let not Bardolphs vitall thred bee cut with edge of Penny-Cord, and vile reproach. Speake Captaine for his Life, and I will thee requite

Flu. Aunchient Pistoll, I doe partly vnderstand your meaning

Pist. Why then reioyce therefore

Flu. Certainly Aunchient, it is not a thing to reioyce at: for if, looke you, he were my Brother, I would desire the Duke to vse his good pleasure, and put him to execution; for discipline ought to be vsed

Pist. Dye, and be dam'd, and Figo for thy friendship

Flu. It is well

Pist. The Figge of Spaine. Enter.

Flu. Very good

Gower. Why, this is an arrant counterfeit Rascall, I remember him now: a Bawd, a Cut-purse

Flu. Ile assure you, a vtt'red as praue words at the Pridge, as you shall see in a Summers day: but it is very well: what he ha's spoke to me, that is well I warrant you, when time is serue

Gower. Why 'tis a Gull, a Foole, a Rogue, that now and then goes to the Warres, to grace himselfe at his returne into London, vnder the forme of a Souldier: and such fellowes are perfit in the Great Commanders Names, and they will learne you by rote where Seruices were done; at such and such a Sconce, at such a Breach, at such a Conuoy: who came off brauely, who was shot, who disgrac'd, what termes the Enemy stood on: and this they conne perfitly in the phrase of Warre; which they tricke vp with new-tuned Oathes: and what a Beard of the Generalls Cut, and a horride Sute of the Campe, will doe among foming Bottles, and Ale-washt Wits, is wonderfull to be thought on: but you must learne to know such slanders of the age, or else you may be maruellously mistooke

Flu. I tell you what, Captaine Gower: I doe perceiue hee is not the man that hee would gladly make shew 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 Maiestie

King. How now Fluellen, cam'st thou from the Bridge? Flu. I, so please your Maiestie: The Duke of Exeter ha's very gallantly maintain'd the Pridge; the French is gone off, looke you, and there is gallant and most praue passages: marry, th' athuersarie was haue possession of the Pridge, but he is enforced to retyre, and the Duke of Exeter is Master of the Pridge: I can tell your Maiestie, the Duke is a praue man

King. What men haue you lost, Fluellen? Flu. The perdition of th' athuersarie hath beene very great, reasonnable great: marry for my part, I thinke the Duke hath lost neuer a man, but one that is like to be executed for robbing a Church, one Bardolph, if your Maiestie 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, sometimes plew, and sometimes red, but his nose is executed, and his fire's out

King. Wee would haue all such offendors so cut off: and we giue expresse charge, that in our Marches through the Countrey, there be nothing compell'd from the Villages; nothing taken, but pay'd for: none of the French vpbrayded or abused in disdainefull Language; for when Leuitie and Crueltie play for a Kingdome, the gentler Gamester is the soonest winner.

Tucket. Enter Mountioy.

Mountioy. You know me by my habit

King. Well then, I know thee: what shall I know of thee? Mountioy. My Masters mind

King. Vnfold it

Mountioy. Thus sayes my King: Say thou to Harry of England, Though we seem'd dead, we did but sleepe: Aduantage is a better Souldier then rashnesse. Tell him, wee could haue rebuk'd him at Harflewe, but that wee thought not good to bruise an iniurie, till it were full ripe. Now wee speake vpon our Q. and our voyce is imperiall: England shall repent his folly, see his weakenesse, and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore consider of his ransome, which must proportion the losses we haue borne, the subiects we haue lost, the disgrace we haue digested; which in weight to re-answer, his pettinesse would bow vnder. For our losses, his Exchequer is too poore; for th' effusion of our bloud, the Muster of his Kingdome too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his owne person kneeling at our feet, but a weake and worthlesse satisfaction. To this adde defiance: and tell him for conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose condemnation is pronounc't: So farre my King and Master; so much my Office

King. What is thy name? I know thy qualitie

Mount. Mountioy

King. Thou doo'st thy Office fairely. Turne thee backe, And tell thy King, I doe not seeke him now, But could be willing to march on to Callice, Without impeachment: for to say the sooth, Though 'tis no wisdome to confesse so much Vnto an enemie of Craft and Vantage, My people are with sicknesse much enfeebled, My numbers lessen'd: and those few I haue, Almost no better then so many French; Who when they were in health, I tell thee Herald, I thought, vpon one payre of English Legges Did march three Frenchmen. Yet forgiue 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, heere 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 Mountioy. Goe bid thy Master well aduise himselfe. If we may passe, we will: if we be hindred, We shall your tawnie ground with your red blood Discolour: and so Mountioy, fare you well. The summe of all our Answer is but this: We would not seeke a Battaile as we are, Nor as we are, we say we will not shun it: So tell your Master

Mount. I shall deliuer so: Thankes to your Highnesse

Glouc. I hope they will not come vpon vs now

King. We are in Gods hand, Brother, not in theirs: March to the Bridge, it now drawes toward night, Beyond the Riuer wee'le encampe our selues, And on to morrow bid them march away.

Exeunt.

Enter the Constable of France, the Lord Ramburs, Orleance, Dolphin, with others.

Const. Tut, I haue the best Armour of the World: would it were day

Orleance. You haue an excellent Armour: but let my Horse haue his due

Const. It is the best Horse of Europe

Orleance. Will it neuer be Morning? Dolph. My Lord of Orleance, and my Lord High Constable, you talke of Horse and Armour? Orleance. You are as well prouided of both, as any Prince in the World

Dolph. What a long Night is this? I will not change my Horse with any that treades but on foure postures: ch' ha: he bounds from the Earth, as if his entrayles were hayres: le Cheual volante, the Pegasus, ches les narines de feu. When I bestryde him, I soare, I am a Hawke: he trots the ayre: the Earth sings, when he touches it: the basest horne of his hoofe, is more Musicall then the Pipe of Hermes

Orleance. Hee'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 Elements of Earth and Water neuer appeare in him, but only in patient stillnesse while his Rider mounts him: hee is indeede a Horse, and all other Iades you may call Beasts

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

Orleance. No more Cousin

Dolph. Nay, the man hath no wit, that cannot from the rising of the Larke to the lodging of the Lambe, varie deserued prayse on my Palfray: it is a Theame as fluent as the Sea: Turne the Sands into eloquent tongues, and my Horse is argument for them all: 'tis a subiect for a Soueraigne to reason on, and for a Soueraignes Soueraigne to ride on: And for the World, familiar to vs, and vnknowne, 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 haue heard a Sonnet begin so to ones Mistresse

Dolph. Then did they imitate that which I compos'd to my Courser, for my Horse is my Mistresse

Orleance. Your Mistresse beares well

Dolph. Me well, which is the prescript prayse and perfection of a good and particular Mistresse

Const. Nay, for me thought yesterday your Mistresse shrewdly 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 Hose off, and in your strait Strossers

Const. You haue good iudgement in Horsemanship

Dolph. Be warn'd by me then: they that ride so, and ride not warily, fall into foule Boggs: I had rather haue my Horse to my Mistresse

Const. I had as liue haue my Mistresse a Iade

Dolph. I tell thee Constable, my Mistresse weares his owne hayre

Const. I could make as true a boast as that, if I had a Sow to my Mistresse

Dolph. Le chien est retourne a son propre vemissement est la leuye lauee au bourbier: thou mak'st vse of any thing

Const. Yet doe I not vse my Horse for my Mistresse, or any such Prouerbe, so little kin to the purpose

Ramb. My Lord Constable, the Armour that I saw in your Tent to night, are those Starres or Sunnes vpon 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 superfluously, and 'twere more honor some were away

Const. Eu'n as your Horse beares your prayses, who would trot as well, were some of your bragges dismounted

Dolph. Would I were able to loade him with his desert. Will it neuer be day? I will trot to morrow a mile, and my way shall be paued with English Faces

Const. I will not say so, for feare I should be fac't out of my way: but I would it were morning, for I would faine be about the eares of the English

Ramb. Who will goe to Hazard with me for twentie Prisoners? Const. You must first goe your selfe to hazard, ere you haue them

Dolph. 'Tis Mid-night, Ile goe arme my selfe. Enter.

Orleance. The Dolphin longs for morning

Ramb. He longs to eate the English

Const. I thinke he will eate all he kills

Orleance. 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 actiue Gentleman of France

Const. Doing is actiuitie, and he will still be doing

Orleance. He neuer did harme, that I heard of

Const. Nor will doe none to morrow: hee will keepe that good name still

Orleance. I know him to be valiant

Const. I was told that, by one that knowes him better then you

Orleance. What's hee? Const. Marry hee told me so himselfe, and hee sayd hee car'd not who knew it

Orleance. Hee needes not, it is no hidden vertue in him

Const. By my faith Sir, but it is: neuer any body saw it, but his Lacquey: 'tis a hooded valour, and when it appeares, it will bate

Orleance. Ill will neuer sayd well

Const. I will cap that Prouerbe with, There is flatterie in friendship

Orleance. And I will take vp that with, Giue the Deuill his due

Const. Well plac't: there stands your friend for the Deuill: haue at the very eye of that Prouerbe with, A Pox of the Deuill

Orleance. You are the better at Prouerbs, by how much a Fooles Bolt is soone shot

Const. You haue shot ouer

Orleance. 'Tis not the first time you were ouer-shot. Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My Lord high Constable, the English 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

Orleance. What a wretched and peeuish fellow is this King of England, to mope with his fat-brain'd followers so farre out of his knowledge

Const. If the English had any apprehension, they would runne away

Orleance. That they lack: for if their heads had any intellectuall Armour, they could neuer weare such heauie Head-pieces

Ramb. That Iland of England breedes very valiant Creatures; their Mastiffes are of vnmatchable courage

Orleance. Foolish Curres, that runne winking into the mouth of a Russian Beare, and haue their heads crusht like rotten Apples: you may as well say, that's a valiant Flea, that dare eate his breakefast on the Lippe of a Lyon

Const. Iust, iust: and the men doe sympathize with the Mastiffes, in robustious and rough comming on, leauing their Wits with their Wiues: and then giue them great Meales of Beefe, and Iron and Steele; they will eate like Wolues, and fight like Deuils

Orleance. I, but these English are shrowdly out of Beefe

Const. Then shall we finde to morrow, they haue only stomackes to eate, and none to fight. Now is it time to arme: come, shall we about it? Orleance. It is now two a Clock: but let me see, by ten Wee shall haue each a hundred English men.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

Chorus.

Now entertaine coniecture of a time, When creeping Murmure and the poring Darke Fills the wide Vessell of the Vniuerse. From Camp to Camp, through the foule Womb of Night The Humme of eyther Army stilly sounds; That the fixt Centinels almost receiue The secret Whispers of each others Watch. Fire answers fire, and through their paly flames Each Battaile sees the others vmber'd face. Steed threatens Steed, in high and boastfull Neighs Piercing the Nights dull Eare: and from the Tents, The Armourers accomplishing the Knights, With busie Hammers closing Riuets vp, Giue dreadfull note of preparation. The Countrey Cocks doe crow, the Clocks doe towle: And the third howre of drowsie Morning nam'd, Prowd of their Numbers, and secure in Soule, The confident and ouer-lustie French, Doe the low-rated English play at Dice; And chide the creeple-tardy-gated Night, Who like a foule and ougly 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, Inuesting lanke-leane Cheekes, and Warre-worne Coats, Presented them vnto the gazing Moone So many horride Ghosts. 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 Countreymen. Vpon his Royall Face there is no note, How dread an Army hath enrounded him; Nor doth he dedicate one iot of Colour Vnto the wearie and all-watched Night: But freshly lookes, and ouer-beares Attaint, With chearefull semblance, and sweet Maiestie: That euery Wretch, pining and pale before, Beholding him, plucks comfort from his Lookes. A Largesse vniuersall, like the Sunne, His liberall Eye doth giue to euery one, Thawing cold feare, that meane and gentle all Behold, as may vnworthinesse define. A little touch of Harry in the Night, And so our Scene must to the Battaile flye: Where, O for pitty, we shall much disgrace, With foure or fiue most vile and ragged foyles, (Right ill dispos'd, in brawle ridiculous) The Name of Agincourt: Yet sit and see, Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries bee. Enter.

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 Almightie, There is some soule of goodnesse in things euill, Would men obseruingly distill it out. For our bad Neighbour makes vs early stirrers, Which is both healthfull, and good husbandry. Besides, they are our outward Consciences, And Preachers to vs all; admonishing, That we should dresse vs fairely for our end. Thus may we gather Honey from the Weed, And make a Morall of the Diuell 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 lye I like a King

King. 'Tis good for men to loue their present paines, Vpon example, so the Spirit is eased: And when the Mind is quickned, out of doubt The Organs, though defunct and dead before, Breake vp their drowsie Graue, and newly moue With casted slough, and fresh legeritie. 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 Pauillion

Gloster. We shall, my Liege

Erping. Shall I attend your Grace? King. No, my good Knight: Goe with my Brothers to my Lords of England: I and my Bosome must debate a while, 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 Pistoll

Pist. Che vous la? King. A friend

Pist. Discusse vnto me, art thou Officer, or art thou base, common, and popular? King. I am a Gentleman of a Company

Pist. Trayl'st thou the puissant Pyke? King. Euen so: what are you? Pist. As good a Gentleman as the Emperor

King. Then you are a better then the King

Pist. The King's a Bawcock, and a Heart of Gold, a Lad of Life, an Impe of Fame, of Parents good, of Fist most valiant: I kisse his durtie shooe, and from heartstring I loue the louely Bully. What is thy Name? King. Harry le Roy

Pist. Le Roy? a Cornish Name: art thou of Cornish Crew? King. No, I am a Welchman

Pist. Know'st thou Fluellen? King. Yes

Pist. Tell him Ile knock his Leeke about his Pate vpon S[aint]. Dauies day

King. Doe not you weare your Dagger in your Cappe that day, least he knock that about yours

Pist. Art thou his friend? King. And his Kinsman too

Pist. The Figo for thee then

King. I thanke you: God be with you

Pist. My name is Pistol call'd. Enter.

King. It sorts well with your fiercenesse.

Manet King.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Gower. Captaine Fluellen

Flu. 'So, in the Name of Iesu Christ, speake fewer: it is the greatest admiration in the vniuersall World, when the true and aunchient Prerogatifes and Lawes of the Warres is not kept: if you would take the paines but to examine the Warres of Pompey the Great, you shall finde, I warrant you, that there is no tiddle tadle nor pibble bable in Pompeyes Campe: I warrant you, you shall finde the Ceremonies of the Warres, and the Cares of it, and the Formes of it, and the Sobrietie of it, and the Modestie of it, to be otherwise

Gower. Why the Enemie is lowd, you heare him all Night

Flu. If the Enemie is an Asse and a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe; is it meet, thinke you, that wee should also, looke you, be an Asse and a Foole, and a prating Coxcombe, in your owne conscience now? Gow. I will speake lower

Flu. I pray you, and beseech you, that you will. Enter.

King. Though it appeare a little out of fashion, There is much care and valour in this Welchman. Enter three Souldiers, Iohn Bates, Alexander Court, and Michael Williams.

Court. Brother Iohn Bates, is not that the Morning which breakes yonder? Bates. I thinke it be: but wee haue no great cause to desire the approach of day

Williams. Wee see yonder the beginning of the day, but I thinke wee shall neuer see the end of it. Who goes there? King. A Friend

Williams. Vnder what Captaine serue you? King. Vnder Sir Iohn Erpingham

Williams. A good old Commander, and a most kinde Gentleman: I pray you, what thinkes he of our estate? King. Euen as men wrackt vpon a Sand, that looke to be washt off the next Tyde

Bates. He hath not told his thought to the King? King. No: nor it is not meet he should: for though I speake it to you, I thinke the King is but a man, as I am: the Violet smells to him, as it doth to me; the Element shewes to him, as it doth to me; all his Sences haue but humane Conditions: his Ceremonies layd by, in his Nakednesse he appeares but a man; and though his affections are higher mounted then ours, yet when they stoupe, they stoupe with the like wing: therefore, when he sees reason of feares, as we doe; his feares, out of doubt, be of the same rellish as ours are: yet in reason, no man should possesse him with any appearance of feare; least hee, by shewing it, should dis-hearten his Army

Bates. He may shew what outward courage he will: but I beleeue, as cold a Night as 'tis, hee could wish himselfe in Thames vp to the Neck; and so I would he were, and I by him, at all aduentures, so we were quit here

King. By my troth, I will speake my conscience of the King: I thinke hee would not wish himselfe any where, but where hee is

Bates. Then I would he were here alone; so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a many poore mens liues saued

King. I dare say, you loue him not so ill, to wish him here alone: howsoeuer you speake this to feele other mens minds, me thinks I could not dye any where so contented, as in the Kings company; his Cause being iust, and his Quarrell honorable

Williams. That's more then we know

Bates. I, or more then wee should seeke after; for wee know enough, if wee know wee are the Kings Subiects: if his Cause be wrong, our obedience to the King wipes the Cryme of it out of vs

Williams. But if the Cause be not good, the King himselfe hath a heauie Reckoning to make, when all those Legges, and Armes, and Heads, chopt off in a Battaile, shall ioyne together at the latter day, and cry all, Wee dyed at such a place, some swearing, some crying for a Surgean; some vpon their Wiues, left poore behind them; some vpon the Debts they owe, some vpon their Children rawly left: I am afear'd, there are few dye well, that dye in a Battaile: for how can they charitably dispose of any thing, when Blood is their argument? Now, if these men doe not dye well, it will be a black matter for the King, that led them to it; who to disobey, were against all proportion of subiection

King. So, if a Sonne that is by his Father sent about Merchandize, doe sinfully miscarry vpon the Sea; the imputation of his wickednesse, by your rule, should be imposed vpon his Father that sent him: or if a Seruant, vnder his Masters command, transporting a summe of Money, be assayled by Robbers, and dye in many irreconcil'd Iniquities; you may call the businesse of the Master the author of the Seruants damnation: but this is not so: The King is not bound to answer the particular endings of his Souldiers, the Father of his Sonne, nor the Master of his Seruant; for they purpose not their death, when they purpose their seruices. Besides, there is no King, be his Cause neuer so spotlesse, if it come to the arbitrement of Swords, can trye it out with all vnspotted Souldiers: some (peraduenture) haue on them the guilt of premeditated and contriued Murther; some, of beguiling Virgins with the broken Seales of Periurie; some, making the Warres their Bulwarke, that haue before gored the gentle Bosome of Peace with Pillage and Robberie. Now, if these men haue defeated the Law, and outrunne Natiue punishment; though they can out-strip men, they haue no wings to flye from God. Warre is his Beadle, Warre is his Vengeance: so that here men are punisht, for before breach of the Kings Lawes, in now the Kings Quarrell: where they feared the death, they haue borne life away; and where they would bee safe, they perish. Then if they dye vnprouided, no more is the King guiltie of their damnation, then hee was before guiltie of those Impieties, for the which they are now visited. Euery Subiects Dutie is the Kings, but euery Subiects Soule is his owne. Therefore should euery Souldier in the Warres doe as euery sicke man in his Bed, wash euery Moth out of his Conscience: and dying so, Death is to him aduantage; or not dying, the time was blessedly lost, wherein such preparation was gayned: and in him that escapes, it were not sinne to thinke, that making God so free an offer, he let him outliue that day, to see his Greatnesse, and to teach others how they should prepare

Will. 'Tis certaine, euery man that dyes ill, the ill vpon his owne head, the King is not to answer it

Bates. I doe not desire hee should answer for me, and yet I determine to fight lustily for him

King. I my selfe heard the King say he would not be ransom'd

Will. I, hee said so, to make vs fight chearefully: but when our throats are cut, hee may be ransom'd, and wee ne're the wiser

King. If I liue to see it, I will neuer trust his word after

Will. You pay him then: that's a perillous shot out of an Elder Gunne, that a poore and a priuate displeasure can doe against a Monarch: you may as well goe about to turne the Sunne to yce, with fanning in his face with a Peacocks feather: You'le neuer trust his word after; come, 'tis a foolish saying

King. Your reproofe is something too round, I should be angry with you, if the time were conuenient

Will. Let it bee a Quarrell betweene vs, if you liue

King. I embrace it

Will. How shall I know thee againe? King. Giue me any Gage of thine, and I will weare it in my Bonnet: Then if euer thou dar'st acknowledge it, I will make it my Quarrell

Will. Heere's my Gloue: Giue mee another of thine

King. There

Will. This will I also weare in my Cap: if euer thou come to me, and say, after to morrow, This is my Gloue, by this Hand I will take thee a box on the eare

King. If euer I liue to see it, I will challenge it

Will. Thou dar'st as well be hang'd

King. Well, I will doe it, though I take thee in the Kings companie

Will. Keepe thy word: fare thee well

Bates. Be friends you English fooles, be friends, wee haue French Quarrels enow, if you could tell how to reckon.

Exit Souldiers.

King. Indeede the French may lay twentie French Crownes to one, they will beat vs, for they beare them on their shoulders: but it is no English Treason to cut French Crownes, and to morrow the King himselfe will be a Clipper. Vpon the King, let vs our Liues, our Soules, Our Debts, our carefull Wiues, Our Children, and our Sinnes, lay on the King: We must beare all. O hard Condition, Twin-borne with Greatnesse, Subiect to the breath of euery foole, whose sence No more can feele, but his owne wringing. What infinite hearts-ease must Kings neglect, That priuate men enioy? And what haue Kings, that Priuates haue not too, Saue Ceremonie, saue generall Ceremonie? And what art thou, thou Idoll Ceremonie? What kind of God art thou? that suffer'st more Of mortall griefes, then doe thy worshippers. What are thy Rents? what are thy Commings in? O Ceremonie, shew me but thy worth. What? is thy Soule of Odoration? Art thou ought else but Place, Degree, and Forme, Creating awe and feare in other men? Wherein thou art lesse happy, being fear'd, Then they in fearing. What drink'st thou oft, in stead of Homage sweet, But poyson'd flatterie? O, be sick, great Greatnesse, And bid thy Ceremonie giue thee cure. Thinks thou the fierie Feuer will goe out With Titles blowne from Adulation? Will it giue place to flexure and low bending? Canst thou, when thou command'st the beggers knee, Command the health of it? No, thou prowd Dreame, That play'st so subtilly with a Kings Repose. I am a King that find thee: and I know, 'Tis not the Balme, the Scepter, and the Ball, The Sword, the Mase, the Crowne Imperiall, The enter-tissued Robe of Gold and Pearle, The farsed Title running 'fore the King, The Throne he sits on: nor the Tyde of Pompe, That beates vpon the high shore of this World: No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous Ceremonie; Not all these, lay'd in Bed Maiesticall, Can sleepe so soundly, as the wretched Slaue: Who with a body fill'd, and vacant mind, Gets him to rest, cram'd with distressefull bread, Neuer sees horride Night, the Child of Hell: But like a Lacquey, from the Rise to Set, Sweates in the eye of Phebus; and all Night Sleepes in Elizium: next day after dawne, Doth rise and helpe Hiperio[n] to his Horse, And followes so the euer-running yeere With profitable labour to his Graue: And but for Ceremonie, such a Wretch, Winding vp Dayes with toyle, and Nights with sleepe, Had the fore-hand and vantage of a King. The Slaue, a Member of the Countreyes peace, Enioyes it; but in grosse braine little wots, What watch the King keepes, to maintaine the peace; Whose howres, the Pesant best aduantages. Enter Erpingham.

Erp. My Lord, your Nobles iealous of your absence, Seeke through your Campe to find you

King. Good old Knight, collect them all together At my Tent: Ile be before thee

Erp. I shall doo't, my Lord. Enter.

King. O God of Battailes, steele my Souldiers hearts, Possesse them not with feare: Take from them now The sence of reckning of th' opposed numbers: Pluck their hearts from them. Not to day, O Lord, O not to day, thinke not vpon the fault My Father made, in compassing the Crowne. I Richards body haue interred new, And on it haue bestowed more contrite teares, Then from it issued forced drops of blood. Fiue hundred poore I haue in yeerely pay, Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold vp Toward Heauen, to pardon blood: And I haue built two Chauntries, Where the sad and solemne Priests sing still For Richards Soule. More will I doe: Though all that I can doe, is nothing worth; Since that my Penitence comes after all, Imploring pardon. Enter Gloucester.

Glouc. My Liege

King. My Brother Gloucesters voyce? I: I know thy errand, I will goe with thee: The day, my friend, and all things stay for me.

Exeunt.

Enter the Dolphin, Orleance, Ramburs, and Beaumont.

Orleance. The Sunne doth gild our Armour vp, my Lords

Dolph. Monte Cheual: My Horse, Verlot Lacquay: Ha

Orleance. Oh braue Spirit

Dolph. Via les ewes & terre

Orleance. Rien puis le air & feu

Dolph. Cein, Cousin Orleance. Enter Constable.

Now my Lord Constable? Const. Hearke how our Steedes, for present Seruice neigh

Dolph. 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, wil you haue them weep our Horses blood? How shall we then behold their naturall teares? Enter Messenger.

Messeng. The English are embattail'd, you French Peeres

Const. To Horse you gallant Princes, straight to Horse. Doe but behold yond poore and starued Band, And your faire shew shall suck away their Soules, Leauing them but the shales and huskes of men. There is not worke enough for all our hands, Scarce blood enough in all their sickly Veines, To giue each naked Curtleax a stayne, That our French Gallants shall to day draw out, And sheath for lack of sport. Let vs but blow on them, The vapour of our Valour will o're-turne them. 'Tis positiue against all exceptions, Lords, That our superfluous Lacquies, and our Pesants, Who in vnnecessarie action swarme About our Squares of Battaile, were enow To purge this field of such a hilding Foe; Though we vpon this Mountaines Basis by, Tooke stand for idle speculation: But that our Honours must not. What's to say? A very little little let vs doe, And all is done: then let the Trumpets sound The Tucket Sonuance, and the Note to mount: For our approach shall so much dare the field, That England shall couch downe in feare, and yeeld. Enter Graundpree.

Grandpree. Why do you stay so long, my Lords of France? Yond Iland Carrions, desperate of their bones, Ill-fauoredly become the Morning field: Their ragged Curtaines poorely are let loose, And our Ayre shakes them passing scornefully. Bigge Mars seemes banqu'rout in their begger'd Hoast, And faintly through a rustie Beuer peepes. The Horsemen sit like fixed Candlesticks, With Torch-staues in their hand: and their poore Iades Lob downe their heads, dropping the hides 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 knauish Crowes, Flye o're them all, impatient for their howre. Description cannot sute it selfe in words, To demonstrate the Life of such a Battaile, In life so liuelesse, as it shewes it selfe

Const. They haue said their prayers, And they stay for death

Dolph. Shall we goe send them Dinners, and fresh Sutes, And giue their fasting Horses Prouender, 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 vse it for my haste. Come, come away, The Sunne is high, and we out-weare the day.

Exeunt.

Enter Gloucester, Bedford, Exeter, Erpingham with all his Hoast: Salisbury, and Westmerland.

Glouc. Where is the King? Bedf. The King himselfe is rode to view their Battaile

West. Of fighting men they haue full threescore thousand

Exe. There's fiue to one, besides they all are fresh

Salisb. Gods Arme strike with vs, 'tis a fearefull oddes. God buy' you Princes all; Ile to my Charge: If we no more meet, till we meet in Heauen; Then ioyfully, my Noble Lord of Bedford, My deare Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter, And my kind Kinsman, Warriors all, adieu

Bedf. Farwell good Salisbury, & good luck go with thee: And yet I doe thee wrong, to mind thee of it, For thou art fram'd of the firme truth of valour

Exe. Farwell kind Lord: fight valiantly to day

Bedf. 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 wishes so? My Cousin Westmerland. No, my faire Cousin: If we are markt to dye, we are enow To doe our Countrey losse: and if to liue, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. Gods will, I pray thee wish not one man more. By Ioue, I am not couetous for Gold, Nor care I who doth feed vpon my cost: It yernes me not, if men my Garments weare; Such outward things dwell not in my desires. But if it be a sinne to couet Honor, I am the most offending Soule aliue. No 'faith, my Couze, wish not a man from England: Gods peace, I would not loose so great an Honor, As one man more me thinkes would share from me, For the best hope I haue. O, doe not wish 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 Conuoy put into his Purse: We would not dye in that mans companie, That feares his fellowship, to dye with vs. This day is call'd the Feast of Crispian: He that out-liues 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 see this day, and liue old age, Will yeerely on the Vigil feast his neighbours, And say, to morrow is Saint Crispian. Then will he strip his sleeue, and shew his skarres: Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot: But hee'le remember, with aduantages, What feats he did that day. Then shall our Names, Familiar in his mouth as household words, Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester, Be in their flowing Cups freshly remembred. This story shall the good man teach his sonne: And Crispine Crispian shall ne're 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 sheds 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 themselues accurst they were not here; And hold their Manhoods cheape, whiles any speakes, That fought with vs vpon Saint Crispines day. Enter Salisbury.

Sal. My Soueraign Lord, bestow your selfe with speed: The French are brauely in their battailes set, And will with all expedience charge on vs

King. All things are ready, if our minds be so

West. Perish the man, whose mind is backward now

King. Thou do'st not wish more helpe from England, Couze? West. Gods will, my Liege, would you and I alone, Without more helpe, could fight this Royall battaile

King. Why now thou hast vnwisht fiue thousand men: Which likes me better, then to wish vs one. You know your places: God be with you all.

Tucket. Enter Montioy.

Mont. Once more I come to know of thee King Harry, If for thy Ransome thou wilt now compound, Before thy most assured Ouerthrow: For certainly, thou art so neere the Gulfe, Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy The Constable desires thee, thou wilt mind Thy followers of Repentance; that their Soules May make a peacefull and a sweet retyre From off these fields: where (wretches) their poore bodies Must lye and fester

King. Who hath sent thee now? Mont. The Constable of France

King. I pray thee beare my former Answer back: Bid them atchieue 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 liu'd, was kill'd with hunting him. A many of our bodyes shall no doubt Find Natiue Graues: vpon the which, I trust Shall witnesse liue in Brasse of this dayes worke. And those that leaue 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 vp to Heauen, Leauing their earthly parts to choake your Clyme, The smell whereof shall breed a Plague in France. Marke then abounding valour in our English: That being dead, like to the bullets crasing, Breake out into a second course of mischiefe, Killing in relapse of Mortalitie. Let me speake prowdly: Tell the Constable, We are but Warriors for the working day: Our Gaynesse and our Gilt are all besmyrcht With raynie Marching in the painefull field. There's not a piece of feather in our Hoast: Good argument (I hope) we will not flye: And time hath worne vs into slouenrie. 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 seruice. If they doe this, As if God please, they shall; my Ransome then Will soone be leuyed. Herauld, saue thou thy labour: Come thou no more for Ransome, gentle Herauld, They shall haue none, I sweare, but these my ioynts: Which if they haue, as I will leaue vm them, Shall yeeld them little, tell the Constable

Mont. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well: Thou neuer shalt heare Herauld any more. Enter.

King. I feare thou wilt once more come againe for a Ransome. Enter Yorke.

Yorke. My Lord, most humbly on my knee I begge The leading of the Vaward

King. Take it, braue Yorke. Now Souldiers march away, And how thou pleasest God, dispose the day.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter Pistoll, French Souldier, Boy.

Pist. Yeeld Curre

French. Ie pense que vous estes le Gentilhome de bon qualitee

Pist. Qualtitie calmie custure me. Art thou a Gentleman? What is thy Name? discusse

French. O Seigneur Dieu

Pist. O Signieur Dewe should be a Gentleman: perpend my words O Signieur Dewe, and marke: O Signieur Dewe, thou dyest on point of Fox, except O Signieur thou doe giue to me egregious Ransome

French. O prennes miserecordie aye pitez de moy

Pist. Moy shall not serue, I will haue fortie Moyes: for I will fetch thy rymme out at thy Throat, in droppes of Crimson blood

French. Est il impossible d' eschapper le force de ton bras

Pist. Brasse, Curre? thou damned and luxurious Mountaine Goat, offer'st me Brasse? French. O perdonne moy

Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a Tonne of Moyes? Come hither boy, aske me this slaue in French what is his Name

Boy. Escoute comment estes vous appelle? French. Mounsieur le Fer

Boy. He sayes his Name is M. Fer

Pist. M. Fer: Ile fer him, and firke him, and ferret him: discusse the same in French vnto him

Boy. I doe not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firke

Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat

French. Que dit il Mounsieur? Boy. Il me commande a vous dire que vous faite vous prest, car ce soldat icy est disposee tout asture de couppes vostre gorge

Pist. Owy, cuppele gorge permafoy pesant, vnlesse thou giue me Crownes, braue Crownes; or mangled shalt thou be by this my Sword

French. O Ie vous supplie pour l' amour de Dieu: ma pardonner, Ie suis le Gentilhome de bon maison, garde ma vie, & Ie vous donneray deux cent escus

Pist. What are his words? Boy. He prayes you to saue his life, he is a Gentleman of a good house, and for his ransom he will giue you two hundred Crownes

Pist. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I the Crownes will take

Fren. Petit Monsieur que dit il? Boy. Encore qu'il et contra son Iurement, de pardonner aucune prisonner: neantmons pour les escues que vous layt a promets, il est content a vous donnes le liberte le franchisement

Fre. Sur mes genoux se vous donnes milles remercious, et Ie me estime heurex que Ie intombe, entre les main d' vn Cheualier Ie pense le plus braue valiant et tres distime signieur d' Angleterre

Pist. Expound vnto me boy

Boy. He giues you vpon his knees a thousand thanks, and he esteemes himselfe happy, that he hath falne into the hands of one (as he thinkes) the most braue, valorous and thrice-worthy signeur of England

Pist. As I sucke blood, I will some mercy shew. Follow mee

Boy. Saaue vous le grand Capitaine? I did neuer know so full a voyce issue from so emptie a heart: but the saying is true, The empty vessel makes the greatest sound, Bardolfe and Nym had tenne times more valour, then this roaring diuell i'th olde play, that euerie one may payre his nayles with a woodden dagger, and they are both hang'd, and so would this be, if hee durst steale any thing aduenturously. I must stay with the Lackies with the luggage of our camp, the French might haue a good pray of vs, if he knew of it, for there is none to guard it but boyes. Enter.

Enter Constable, Orleance, Burbon, Dolphin, and Rambures.

Con. O Diable

Orl. O signeur le iour et perdia, toute et perdie

Dol. Mor Dieu ma vie, all is confounded all, Reproach, and euerlasting shame Sits mocking in our Plumes.

A short Alarum.

O meschante Fortune, do not runne away

Con. Why all our rankes are broke

Dol. O perdurable shame, let's stab our selues: Be these the wretches that we plaid at dice for? Orl. Is this the King we sent too, for his ransome? Bur. Shame, and eternall shame, nothing but shame, Let vs dye 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 base Pander hold the Chamber doore, Whilst a base slaue, no gentler then my dogge, His fairest daughter is contaminated

Con. Disorder that hath spoyl'd vs, friend vs now, Let vs on heapes go offer vp our liues

Orl. We are enow yet liuing in the Field, To smother vp the English in our throngs, If any order might be thought vpon

Bur. The diuell take Order now, Ile to the throng; Let life be short, else shame will be too long. Enter.

Alarum. Enter the King and his trayne, with Prisoners.

King. Well haue we done, thrice-valiant Countrimen, But all's not done, yet keepe the French the field

Exe. The D[uke]. of York commends him to your Maiesty King. Liues he good Vnckle: thrice within this houre I saw him downe; thrice vp againe, and fighting, From Helmet to the spurre, all blood he was

Exe. In which array (braue Soldier) doth he lye, Larding the plaine: and by his bloody side, (Yoake-fellow to his honour-owing-wounds) The Noble Earle of Suffolke also lyes. Suffolke first dyed, and Yorke all hagled ouer Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped, And takes him by the Beard, kisses the gashes That bloodily did yawne vpon his face. He cryes aloud; Tarry my Cosin Suffolke, My soule shall thine keepe company to heauen: Tarry (sweet soule) for mine, then flye a-brest: As in this glorious and well-foughten field We kept together in our Chiualrie. Vpon these words I came, and cheer'd him vp, He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand, And with a feeble gripe, sayes: Deere my Lord, Commend my seruice to my Soueraigne, So did he turne, and ouer Suffolkes necke He threw his wounded arme, and kist his lippes, And so espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd A Testament of Noble-ending-loue: The prettie and sweet manner of it forc'd Those waters from me, which I would haue stop'd, But I had not so much of man in mee, And all my mother came into mine eyes, And gaue me vp to teares

King. I blame you not, For hearing this, I must perforce compound With mixtfull eyes, or they will issue to.

Alarum

But hearke, what new alarum is this same? The French haue re-enforc'd their scatter'd men: Then euery souldiour kill his Prisoners, Giue the word through.

Exit

Actus Quartus.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Flu. Kill the poyes and the luggage, 'Tis expressely against the Law of Armes, tis as arrant a peece of knauery marke you now, as can bee offert in your Conscience now, is it not? Gow. Tis certaine, there's not a boy left aliue, and the Cowardly Rascalls that ranne from the battaile ha' done this slaughter: besides they haue burned and carried away all that was in the Kings Tent, wherefore the King most worthily hath caus'd euery soldiour to cut his prisoners throat. O 'tis a gallant King

Flu. I, hee was porne at Monmouth Captaine Gower: 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 magnanimous, are all one reckonings, saue the phrase is a litle variations

Gower. I thinke Alexander the Great was borne in Macedon, his Father was called Phillip of Macedon, as I take it

Flu. I thinke it is in Macedon where Alexander is porne: I tell you Captaine, if you looke in the Maps of the Orld, I warrant you sall finde in the comparisons betweene Macedon & Monmouth, that the situations looke you, is both alike. There is a Riuer in Macedon, & there is also moreouer a Riuer at Monmouth, it is call'd Wye at Monmouth: but it is out of my praines, what is the name of the other Riuer: 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 Monmouthes life is come after 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 displeasures, and his indignations, and also being a little intoxicates in his praines, did in his Ales and his angers (looke you) kill his best friend Clytus

Gow. Our King is not like him in that, he neuer 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 finished. I speak but in the figures, and comparisons of it: as Alexander kild his friend Clytus, being in his Ales and his Cuppes; so also Harry Monmouth being in his right wittes, and his good iudgements, turn'd away the fat Knight with the great belly doublet: he was full of iests, and gypes, and knaueries, and mockes, I haue forgot his name

Gow. Sir Iohn Falstaffe

Flu. That is he: Ile tell you, there is good men porne at Monmouth

Gow. Heere comes his Maiesty.

Alarum. Enter King Harry and Burbon with prisoners. Flourish.

King. I was not angry since I came to France, Vntill this instant. Take a Trumpet Herald, Ride thou vnto the Horsemen on yond hill: If they will fight with vs, bid them come downe, Or voyde the field: they do offend our sight. If they'l do neither, we will come to them, And make them sker away, as swift as stones Enforced from the old Assyrian slings: Besides, wee'l cut the throats of those we haue, And not a man of them that we shall take, Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so. Enter Montioy.

Exe. Here comes the Herald of the French, my Liege Glou. His eyes are humbler then they vs'd to be

King. How now, what meanes this Herald? Knowst thou not, That I haue fin'd these bones of mine for ransome? Com'st thou againe for ransome? Her. No great King: I come to thee for charitable License, That we may wander ore this bloody field, To booke our dead, and then to bury them, To sort our Nobles from our common men. For many of our Princes (woe the while) Lye drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood: So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbes In blood of Princes, and with wounded steeds Fret fet-locke deepe in gore, and with wilde rage Yerke out their armed heeles at their dead masters, Killing them twice. O giue vs leaue great King, To view the field in safety, and dispose Of their dead bodies

Kin. I tell thee truly Herald, I know not if the day be ours or no, For yet a many of your horsemen peere, And gallop ore the field

Her. The day is yours

Kin. Praised be God, and not our strength for it: What is this Castle call'd that stands 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 please your Maiesty) and your great Vncle Edward the Placke Prince of Wales, as I haue read in the Chronicles, fought a most praue pattle here in France

Kin. They did Fluellen

Flu. Your Maiesty sayes very true: If your Maiesties is remembred of it, the Welchmen did good seruice in a Garden where Leekes did grow, wearing Leekes in their Monmouth caps, which your Maiesty know to this houre is an honourable badge of the seruice: And I do beleeue your Maiesty takes no scorne to weare the Leeke vppon S[aint]. Tauies day

King. I weare it for a memorable honor: For I am Welch you know good Countriman

Flu. All the water in Wye, cannot wash your Maiesties Welsh plood out of your pody, I can tell you that: God plesse it, and preserue it, as long as it pleases his Grace, and his Maiesty too

Kin. Thankes good my Countrymen

Flu. By Ieshu, I am your Maiesties Countreyman, I care not who know it: I will confesse it to all the Orld, I need not to be ashamed of your Maiesty, praised be God so long as your Maiesty is an honest man

King. Good keepe me so. Enter Williams.

Our Heralds go with him, Bring me iust notice of the numbers dead On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither

Exe. Souldier, you must come to the King

Kin. Souldier, why wear'st thou that Gloue in thy Cappe? Will. And't please your Maiesty, tis the gage of one that I should fight withall, if he be aliue

Kin. An Englishman? Wil. And't please your Maiesty, a Rascall that swagger'd with me last night: who if aliue, and euer dare to challenge this Gloue, I haue sworne to take him a boxe a'th ere: or if I can see my Gloue in his cappe, which he swore as he was a Souldier he would weare (if aliue) I wil strike it out soundly

Kin. What thinke you Captaine Fluellen, is it fit this souldier keepe his oath

Flu. Hee is a Crauen and a Villaine else, and't please your Maiesty in my conscience

King. It may bee, his enemy is a Gentleman of great sort quite from the answer of his degree

Flu. Though he be as good a Ientleman as the diuel is, as Lucifer and Belzebub himselfe, it is necessary (looke your Grace) that he keepe his vow and his oath: If hee bee periur'd (see you now) his reputation is as arrant a villaine and a Iacke sawce, as euer his blacke shoo trodd vpon Gods ground, and his earth, in my conscience law King. Then keepe thy vow sirrah, when thou meet'st the fellow

Wil. So, I wil my Liege, as I liue

King. Who seru'st thou vnder? Will. Vnder Captaine Gower, my Liege

Flu. Gower is a good Captaine, and is good knowledge and literatured in the Warres

King. Call him hither to me, Souldier

Will. I will my Liege. Enter.

King. Here Fluellen, weare thou this fauour for me, and sticke it in thy Cappe: when Alanson and my selfe were downe together, I pluckt this Gloue from his Helme: If any man challenge this, hee is a friend to Alanson, and an enemy to our Person; if thou encounter any such, apprehend him, and thou do'st me loue

Flu. Your Grace doo's me as great Honors as can be desir'd in the hearts of his Subiects: I would faine see the man, that ha's but two legges, that shall find himselfe agreefd at this Gloue; that is all: but I would faine see it once, and please God of his grace that I might see

King. Know'st thou Gower? Flu. He is my deare friend, and please you

King. Pray thee goe seeke him, and bring him to my Tent

Flu. I will fetch him. Enter.

King. My Lord of Warwick, and my Brother Gloster, Follow Fluellen closely at the heeles. The Gloue which I haue giuen him for a fauour, May haply purchase him a box a'th' eare. It is the Souldiers: I by bargaine should Weare it my selfe. Follow good Cousin Warwick: If that the Souldier strike him, as I iudge By his blunt bearing, he will keepe his word; Some sodaine mischiefe may arise of it: For I doe know Fluellen valiant, And toucht with Choler, hot as Gunpowder, And quickly will returne an iniurie. Follow, and see there be no harme betweene them. Goe you with me, Vnckle of Exeter.

Exeunt.

Enter Gower and Williams.

Will. I warrant it is to Knight you, Captaine. Enter Fluellen.

Flu. Gods will, and his pleasure, Captaine, I beseech you now, come apace to the King: there is more good toward you peraduenture, then is in your knowledge to dreame of

Will. Sir, know you this Gloue? Flu. Know the Gloue? I know the Gloue is a Gloue

Will. I know this, and thus I challenge it.

Strikes him.

Flu. 'Sblud, an arrant Traytor as anyes in the Vniuersall World, or in France, or in England

Gower. How now Sir? you Villaine

Will. Doe you thinke Ile be forsworne? Flu. Stand away Captaine Gower, I will giue Treason his payment into plowes, I warrant you

Will. I am no Traytor

Flu. That's a Lye in thy Throat. I charge you in his Maiesties Name apprehend him, he's a friend of the Duke Alansons. Enter Warwick and Gloucester.

Warw. How now, how now, what's the matter? Flu. My Lord of Warwick, heere is, praysed be God for it, a most contagious Treason come to light, looke you, as you shall desire in a Summers day. Heere is his Maiestie. Enter King and Exeter.

King. How now, what's the matter? Flu. My Liege, heere is a Villaine, and a Traytor, that looke your Grace, ha's strooke the Gloue which your Maiestie is take out of the Helmet of Alanson

Will. My Liege, this was my Gloue, here is the fellow of it: and he that I gaue it to in change, promis'd to weare it in his Cappe: I promis'd to strike him, if he did: I met this man with my Gloue in his Cappe, and I haue been as good as my word

Flu. Your Maiestie heare now, sauing your Maiesties Manhood, what an arrant rascally, beggerly, lowsie Knaue it is: I hope your Maiestie is peare me testimonie and witnesse, and will auouchment, that this is the Gloue of Alanson, that your Maiestie is giue me, in your Conscience now

King. Giue me thy Gloue Souldier; Looke, heere is the fellow of it: 'Twas I indeed thou promised'st to strike, And thou hast giuen me most bitter termes

Flu. And please your Maiestie, let his Neck answere for it, if there is any Marshall Law in the World

King. How canst thou make me satisfaction? Will. All offences, my Lord, come from the heart: neuer came any from mine, that might offend your Maiestie

King. It was our selfe thou didst abuse

Will. Your Maiestie came not like your selfe: you appear'd to me but as a common man; witnesse the Night, your Garments, your Lowlinesse: and what your Highnesse suffer'd vnder that shape, I beseech you take it for your owne fault, and not mine: for had you beene as I tooke you for, I made no offence; therefore I beseech your Highnesse pardon me

King. Here Vnckle Exeter, fill this Gloue with Crownes, And giue it to this fellow. Keepe it fellow, And weare it for an Honor in thy Cappe, Till I doe challenge it. Giue him the Crownes: And Captaine, you must needs be friends with him

Flu. By this Day and this Light, the fellow ha's mettell enough in his belly: Hold, there is twelue-pence for you, and I pray you to serue God, and keepe you out of prawles and prabbles, and quarrels and dissentions, and I warrant you it is the better for you

Will. I will none of your Money

Flu. It is with a good will: I can tell you it will serue you to mend your shooes: come, wherefore should you be so pashfull, your shooes is not so good: 'tis a good silling I warrant you, or I will change it. Enter Herauld.

King. Now Herauld, are the dead numbred? Herald. Heere is the number of the slaught'red French

King. What Prisoners of good sort are taken, Vnckle? Exe. Charles Duke of Orleance, Nephew to the King, Iohn Duke of Burbon, and Lord Bouchiquald: Of other Lords and Barons, Knights and Squires, Full fifteene hundred, besides common men

King. This Note doth tell me of ten thousand French That in the field lye slaine: of Princes in this number, And Nobles bearing Banners, there lye dead One hundred twentie six: added to these, Of Knights, Esquires, and gallant Gentlemen, Eight thousand and foure hundred: of the which, Fiue hundred were but yesterday dubb'd Knights. So that in these ten thousand they haue lost, There are but sixteene hundred Mercenaries: The rest are Princes, Barons, Lords, Knights, Squires, And Gentlemen of bloud and qualitie. The Names of those their Nobles that lye dead: Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France, Iaques of Chatilion, Admirall of France, The Master of the Crosse-bowes, Lord Rambures, Great Master of France, the braue Sir Guichard Dolphin, Iohn Duke of Alanson, Anthonie Duke of Brabant, The Brother to the Duke of Burgundie, And Edward Duke of Barr: of lustie Earles, Grandpree and Roussie, Fauconbridge and Foyes, Beaumont and Marle, Vandemont and Lestrale. Here was a Royall fellowship of death. Where is the number of our English dead? Edward the Duke of Yorke, the Earle of Suffolke, Sir Richard Ketly, Dauy Gam Esquire; None else of name: and of all other men, But fiue and twentie. O God, thy Arme was heere: And not to vs, but to thy Arme alone, Ascribe we all: when, without stratagem, But in plaine shock, and euen play of Battaile, Was euer knowne so great and little losse? On one part and on th' other, take it God, For it is none but thine

Exet. 'Tis wonderfull

King. Come, goe we in procession to the Village: And be it death proclaymed through our Hoast, To boast of this, or take that prayse from God, Which is his onely

Flu. Is it not lawfull and please your Maiestie, to tell how many is kill'd? King. Yes Captaine: but with this acknowledgement, That God fought for vs

Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did vs great good

King. Doe we all holy Rights: Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum, The dead with charitie enclos'd in Clay: And then to Callice, and to England then, Where ne're from France arriu'd more happy men.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Chorus.

Vouchsafe to those that haue not read the Story, That I may prompt them: and of such as haue, I humbly pray them to admit th' excuse Of time, of numbers, and due course of things, Which cannot in their huge and proper life, Be here presented. Now we beare the King Toward Callice: Graunt him there; there seene, Heaue him away vpon your winged thoughts, Athwart the Sea: Behold the English beach Pales in the flood; with Men, Wiues, and Boyes, Whose shouts & claps out-voyce the deep-mouth'd Sea, Which like a mightie Whiffler 'fore the King, Seemes to prepare his way: So let him land, And solemnly see him set on to London. So swift a pace hath Thought, that euen now You may imagine him vpon Black-Heath: Where, that his Lords desire him, to haue borne His bruised Helmet, and his bended Sword Before him, through the Citie: he forbids it, Being free from vainnesse, and selfe-glorious pride; Giuing full Trophee, Signall, and Ostent, Quite from himselfe, to God. But now behold, In the quick Forge and working-house of Thought, How London doth powre out her Citizens, The Maior and all his Brethren in best sort, Like to the Senatours of th' antique Rome, With the Plebeians swarming at their heeles, Goe forth and fetch their Conqu'ring Cæsar in: As by a lower, but by louing likelyhood, Were now the Generall of our gracious Empresse, As in good time he may, from Ireland comming, Bringing Rebellion broached on his Sword; How many would the peacefull Citie 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 Inuites the King of Englands stay at home: The Emperour's comming in behalfe of France, To order peace betweene them: and omit All the occurrences, what euer chanc't, Till Harryes backe returne againe to France: There must we bring him; and my selfe haue play'd The interim, by remembring you 'tis past. Then brooke abridgement, and your eyes aduance, After your thoughts, straight backe againe to France. Enter.

Enter Fluellen and Gower.

Gower. Nay, that's right: but why weare you your Leeke to day? S[aint]. Dauies day is past

Flu. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things: I will tell you asse my friend, Captaine Gower; the rascally, scauld, beggerly, lowsie, pragging Knaue Pistoll, which you and your selfe, and all the World, know to be no petter then a fellow, looke you now, of no merits: hee is come to me, and prings me pread and sault yesterday, 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 see him once againe, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires. Enter Pistoll.

Gower. Why heere hee comes, swelling like a Turkycock

Flu. 'Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his Turkycocks. God plesse you aunchient Pistoll: you scuruie lowsie Knaue, God plesse you

Pist. Ha, art thou bedlam? doest thou thirst, base Troian, to haue me fold vp Parcas fatall Web? Hence; I am qualmish at the smell of Leeke

Flu. I peseech you heartily, scuruie lowsie Knaue, at my desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eate, looke you, this Leeke; because, looke you, you doe not loue it, nor your affections, and your appetites and your disgestions doo's not agree with it, I would desire you to eate it

Pist. Not for Cadwallader and all his Goats

Flu. There is one Goat for you.

Strikes him.

Will you be so good, scauld Knaue, as eate it? Pist. Base Troian, thou shalt dye

Flu. You say very true, scauld Knaue, when Gods will is: I will desire you to liue in the meane time, and eate your Victuals: come, there is sawce for it. You call'd me yesterday Mountaine-Squier, but I will make you to day a squire of low degree. I pray you fall too, if you can mocke a Leeke, you can eate a Leeke

Gour. Enough Captaine, you haue astonisht him

Flu. I say, I will make him eate some part of my leeke, or I will peate his pate foure dayes: bite I pray you, it is good for your greene wound, and your ploodie Coxecombe

Pist. Must I bite

Flu. Yes certainly, and out of doubt and out of question too, and ambiguities

Pist. By this Leeke, I will most horribly reuenge I eate and eate I sweare

Flu. Eate I pray you, will you haue some more sauce to your Leeke: there is not enough Leeke to sweare by

Pist. Quiet thy Cudgell, thou dost see I eate

Flu. Much good do you scald knaue, heartily. Nay, pray you throw none away, the skinne is good for your broken Coxcombe; when you take occasions to see Leekes heereafter, I pray you mocke at 'em, that is all

Pist. Good

Flu. I, Leekes is good: hold you, there is a groat to heale your pate

Pist. Me a groat? Flu. Yes verily, and in truth you shall take it, or I haue another Leeke in my pocket, which you shall eate

Pist. I take thy groat in earnest of reuenge

Flu. If I owe you any thing, I will pay you in Cudgels, you shall be a Woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels: God bu'y you, and keepe you, & heale your pate.

Exit

Pist. All hell shall stirre for this

Gow. Go, go, you are a counterfeit cowardly Knaue, will you mocke at an ancient Tradition began vppon an honourable respect, and worne as a memorable Trophee of predeceased valor, and dare not auouch in your deeds any of your words. I haue seene you gleeking & galling at this Gentleman twice or thrice. You thought, because he could not speake English in the natiue garb, he could not therefore handle an English Cudgell: you finde it otherwise, and henceforth let a Welsh correction, teach you a good English condition, fare ye well.

Exit

Pist. Doeth fortune play the huswife with me now? Newes haue I that my Doll is dead i'th Spittle of a malady of France, and there my rendeuous is quite cut off: Old I do waxe, and from my wearie limbes honour is Cudgeld. Well, Baud Ile turne, and something leane to Cut-purse of quicke hand: To England will I steale, and there Ile steale: And patches will I get vnto these cudgeld scarres, And swore I got them in the Gallia warres. Enter.

Enter at one doore, King Henry, Exeter, Bedford, Warwicke, and other Lords. At another, Queene Isabel, the King, the Duke of Bourgougne, and other French.

King. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met; Vnto our brother France, and to our Sister Health and faire time of day: Ioy and good wishes To our most faire and Princely Cosine Katherine: And as a branch and member of this Royalty, By whom this great assembly is contriu'd, We do salute you Duke of Burgogne, And Princes French and Peeres health to you all

Fra. Right ioyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother England, fairely met, So are you Princes (English) euery one

Quee. So happy be the Issue brother Ireland Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting, As we are now glad to behold your eyes, Your eyes which hitherto haue borne In them against the French that met them in their bent, The fatall Balls of murthering Basiliskes: The venome of such Lookes we fairely hope Haue lost their qualitie, and that this day Shall change all griefes and quarrels into loue

Eng. To cry Amen to that, thus we appeare

Quee. You English Princes all, I doe salute you

Burg. My dutie to you both, on equall loue. Great Kings of France and England: that I haue labour'd With all my wits, my paines, and strong endeuors, To bring your most Imperiall Maiesties Vnto this Barre, and Royall enterview; Your Mightinesse on both parts best can witnesse. Since then my Office hath so farre preuayl'd, That Face to Face, and Royall Eye to Eye, You haue 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 ioyfull Births, Should not in this best Garden of the World, Our fertile France, put vp her louely Visage? Alas, shee hath from France too long been chas'd, And all her Husbandry doth lye on heapes, Corrupting in it owne fertilitie. Her Vine, the merry chearer of the heart, Vnpruned, dyes: her Hedges euen pleach'd, Like Prisoners wildly ouer-growne with hayre, Put forth disorder'd Twigs: her fallow Leas, The Darnell, Hemlock, and ranke Femetary, Doth root vpon; while that the Culter rusts, That should deracinate such Sauagery: The euen Meade, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled Cowslip, Burnet, and greene Clouer, Wanting the Sythe, withall vncorrected, ranke; Conceiues by idlenesse, and nothing teemes, But hatefull Docks, rough Thistles, Keksyes, Burres, Loosing both beautie and vtilitie; And all our Vineyards, Fallowes, Meades, and Hedges, Defectiue in their natures, grow to wildnesse. Euen so our Houses, and our selues, and Children, Haue lost, or doe not learne, for want of time, The Sciences that should become our Countrey; But grow like Sauages, as Souldiers will, That nothing doe, but meditate on Blood, To Swearing, and sterne Lookes, defus'd Attyre, And euery thing that seemes vnnaturall. Which to reduce into our former fauour, You are assembled: and my speech entreats, That I may know the Let, why gentle Peace Should not expell these inconueniences, And blesse vs with her former qualities

Eng. If Duke of Burgonie, you would the Peace, Whose want giues growth to th' imperfections Which you haue cited; you must buy that Peace With full accord to all our iust demands, Whose Tenures and particular effects You haue enschedul'd briefely 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 vrg'd, Lyes in his Answer

France. I haue but with a curselarie eye O're-glanc't the Articles: Pleaseth your Grace To appoint some of your Councell presently To sit with vs once more, with better heed To re-suruey them; we will suddenly Passe our accept and peremptorie Answer

England. Brother we shall. Goe Vnckle Exeter, And Brother Clarence, and you Brother Gloucester, Warwick, and Huntington, goe with the King, And take with you free power, to ratifie, Augment, or alter, as your Wisdomes best Shall see aduantageable for our Dignitie, Any thing in or out of our Demands, And wee'le consigne thereto. Will you, faire Sister, Goe with the Princes, or stay here with vs? Quee. Our gracious Brother, I will goe with them: Happily a Womans Voyce may doe some good, When Articles too nicely vrg'd, be stood on

England. Yet leaue our Cousin Katherine here with vs, She is our capitall Demand, compris'd Within the fore-ranke of our Articles

Quee. She hath good leaue.

Exeunt. omnes.

Manet King and Katherine

King. Faire Katherine, and most faire, Will you vouchsafe to teach a Souldier tearmes, Such as will enter at a Ladyes eare, And pleade his Loue-suit to her gentle heart

Kath. Your Maiestie shall mock at me, I cannot speake your England

King. O faire Katherine, if you will loue me soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to heare you confesse 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 Ie suis semblable a les Anges? Lady. Ouy verayment (sauf vostre Grace) ainsi dit il

King. I said so, deare Katherine, and I must not blush to affirme it

Kath. O bon Dieu, les langues des hommes sont plein de tromperies

King. What sayes she, faire one? that the tongues of men are full of deceits? Lady. Ouy, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits: dat is de Princesse

King. The Princesse is the better English-woman: yfaith Kate, my wooing is fit for thy vnderstanding, I am glad thou canst speake no better English, for if thou could'st, thou would'st finde me such a plaine King, that thou wouldst thinke, I had sold my Farme to buy my Crowne. I know no wayes to mince it in loue, but directly to say, I loue you; then if you vrge me farther, then to say, Doe you in faith? I weare out my suite: Giue me your answer, yfaith doe, and so clap hands, and a bargaine: how say you, Lady? Kath. Sauf vostre honeur, me vnderstand well

King. Marry, if you would put me to Verses, or to Dance for your sake, Kate, why you vndid me: for the one I haue neither words nor measure; and for the other, I haue no strength in measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could winne a Lady at Leape-frogge, or by vawting into my Saddle, with my Armour on my backe; vnder the correction of bragging be it spoken. I should quickly leape into a Wife: Or if I might buffet for my Loue, or bound my Horse for her fauours, I could lay on like a Butcher, and sit like a Iack an Apes, neuer off. But before God Kate, I cannot looke greenely, nor gaspe out my eloquence, nor I haue no cunning in protestation; onely downe-right Oathes, which I neuer vse till vrg'd, nor neuer breake for vrging. If thou canst loue a fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth Sunne-burning? that neuer lookes in his Glasse, for loue of any thing he sees there? let thine Eye be thy Cooke. I speake to thee plaine Souldier: If thou canst loue me for this, take me? if not? to say to thee that I shall dye, is true; but for thy loue, by the L[ord]. No: yet I loue thee too. And while thou liu'st, deare Kate, take a fellow of plaine and vncoyned Constancie, for he perforce must do thee right, because he hath not the gift to wooe in other places: for these fellowes of infinit tongue, that can ryme themselues into Ladyes fauours, they doe alwayes reason themselues out againe. What? a speaker is but a prater, a Ryme is but a Ballad; a good Legge will fall, 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 neuer changes, but keepes his course truly. If thou would haue 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 Loue? speake my faire, and fairely, I pray thee

Kath. Is it possible dat I sould loue de ennemie of Fraunce? King. No, it is not possible you should loue the Enemie of France, Kate; but in louing me, you should loue the Friend of France: for I loue France so well, that I will not part with a Village of it; I will haue 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 vpon my tongue, like a new-married Wife about her Husbands Necke, hardly to be shooke off; Ie quand sur le possession de Fraunce, & quand vous aues le possession de moy. (Let mee see, what then? Saint Dennis bee my speede) Donc vostre est Fraunce, & vous estes mienne. It is as easie for me, Kate, to conquer the Kingdome, as to speake so much more French: I shall neuer moue thee in French, vnlesse it be to laugh at me

Kath. Sauf vostre honeur, le Francois ques vous parleis, il & melieus que l' Anglois le quel Ie parle

King. No faith is't not, Kate: but thy speaking of my Tongue, and I thine, most truely falsely, must needes be graunted to be much at one. But Kate, doo'st thou vnderstand thus much English? Canst thou loue mee? Kath. I cannot tell

King. Can any of your Neighbours tell, Kate? Ile aske them. Come, I know thou louest me: and at night, when you come into your Closet, you'le question this Gentlewoman about me; and I know, Kate, you will to her disprayse those parts in me, that you loue with your heart: but good Kate, mocke me mercifully, the rather gentle Princesse, because I loue thee cruelly. If euer thou beest mine, Kate, as I haue a sauing Faith within me tells me thou shalt; I get thee with skambling, and thou must therefore needes proue a good Souldier-breeder: Shall not thou and I, betweene Saint Dennis and Saint George, compound a Boy, halfe French halfe English, that shall goe to Constantinople, and take the Turke by the Beard. Shall wee not? what say'st thou, my faire Flower-de-Luce

Kate. I doe not know dat

King. No: 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise: doe but now promise Kate, you will endeauour for your French part of such a Boy; and for my English moytie, take the Word of a King, and a Batcheler. How answer you. La plus belle Katherine du monde mon trescher & deuin deesse

Kath. Your Maiestee aue fause Frenche enough to deceiue de most sage Damoiseil dat is en Fraunce

King. Now fye vpon my false French: by mine Honor in true English, I loue thee Kate; by which Honor, I dare not sweare thou louest me, yet my blood begins to flatter me, that thou doo'st; notwithstanding the poore and vntempering effect of my Visage. Now beshrew my Fathers Ambition, hee was thinking of Ciuill Warres when hee got me, therefore was I created with a stubborne out-side, with an aspect of Iron, that when I come to wooe Ladyes, I fright them: but in faith Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appeare. My comfort is, that Old Age, that ill layer vp of Beautie, can doe no more spoyle vpon my Face. Thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt weare me, if thou weare me, better and better: and therefore tell me, most faire Katherine, will you haue me? Put off your Maiden Blushes, auouch 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, England 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 finde the best King of Good-fellowes. Come your Answer in broken Musick; for thy Voyce is Musick, and thy English broken: Therefore Queene of all, Katherine, breake thy minde to me in broken English; wilt thou haue me? Kath. Dat is as it shall please de Roy mon pere

King. Nay, it will please him well, Kate; it shall please him, Kate

Kath. Den it sall also content me

King. Vpon that I kisse your Hand, and I call you my Queene

Kath. Laisse mon Seigneur, laisse, laisse, may foy: Ie ne veus point que vous abbaisse vostre grandeus, en baisant le main d' une nostre Seigneur indignie seruiteur excuse moy. Ie vous supplie mon tres-puissant Seigneur

King. Then I will kisse your Lippes, Kate

Kath. Les Dames & Damoisels pour estre baisee deuant leur nopcese il net pas le costume de Fraunce

King. Madame, my Interpreter, what sayes shee? Lady. Dat it is not be de fashon pour le Ladies of Fraunce; I cannot tell wat is buisse en Anglish

King. To kisse

Lady. Your Maiestee entendre bettre que moy

King. It is not a fashion for the Maids in Fraunce to kisse before they are marryed, would she say? Lady. Ouy 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 Countreyes fashion: wee are the makers of Manners, Kate; and the libertie that followes our Places, stoppes the mouth of all finde-faults, as I will doe yours, for vpholding the nice fashion of your Countrey, in denying me a Kisse: therefore patiently, and yeelding. You haue Witch-craft in your Lippes, Kate: there is more eloquence in a Sugar touch of them, then in the Tongues of the French Councell; and they should sooner perswade Harry of England, then a generall Petition of Monarchs. Heere comes your Father. Enter the French Power, and the English Lords.

Burg. God saue your Maiestie, my Royall Cousin, teach you our Princesse English? King. I would haue her learne, my faire Cousin, how perfectly I loue her, and that is good English

Burg. Is shee not apt? King. Our Tongue is rough, Coze, and my Condition is not smooth: so that hauing neyther the Voyce nor the Heart of Flatterie about me, I cannot so coniure vp the Spirit of Loue in her, that hee will appeare in his true likenesse

Burg. Pardon the franknesse of my mirth, if I answer you for that. If you would coniure in her, you must make a Circle: if coniure vp Loue in her in his true likenesse, hee must appeare naked, and blinde. Can you blame her then, being a Maid, yet ros'd ouer with the Virgin Crimson of Modestie, if shee deny the apparance of a naked blinde Boy in her naked seeing selfe? It were (my Lord) a hard Condition for a Maid to consigne to

King. Yet they doe winke and yeeld, as Loue is blind and enforces

Burg. They are then excus'd, my Lord, when they see not what they doe

King. Then good my Lord, teach your Cousin to consent 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 warme kept, are like Flyes at Bartholomew-tyde, blinde, though they haue their eyes, and then they will endure handling, which before would not abide looking on

King. This Morall tyes me ouer to Time, and a hot Summer; and so I shall catch the Flye, your Cousin, in the latter end, and she must be blinde to

Burg. As Loue is my Lord, before it loues

King. It is so: and you may, some of you, thanke Loue for my blindnesse, who cannot see many a faire French Citie for one faire French Maid that stands in my way

French King. Yes my Lord, you see them perspectiuely: the Cities turn'd into a Maid; for they are all gyrdled with Maiden Walls, that Warre hath entred

England. Shall Kate be my Wife? France. So please you

England. I am content, so the Maiden Cities you talke of, may wait on her: so the Maid that stood in the way for my Wish, shall shew me the way to my Will

France. Wee haue consented to all tearmes of reason

England. Is't so, my Lords of England? West. The King hath graunted euery Article: His Daughter first; and in sequele, all, According to their firme proposed natures

Exet. Onely he hath not yet subscribed this: Where your Maiestie demands, That the King of France hauing any occasion to write for matter of Graunt, shall name your Highnesse in this forme, and with this addition, in French: Nostre trescher filz Henry Roy d' Angleterre Heretere de Fraunce: and thus in Latine; Praeclarissimus Filius noster Henricus Rex Angliæ & Heres Franciae

France. Nor this I haue not Brother so deny'd, But your request shall make me let it passe

England. I pray you then, in loue and deare allyance, Let that one Article ranke with the rest, And thereupon giue me your Daughter

France. Take her faire Sonne, and from her blood rayse vp Issue to me, that the contending Kingdomes Of France and England, whose very shoares looke pale, With enuy of each others happinesse, May cease their hatred; and this deare Coniunction Plant Neighbour-hood and Christian-like accord In their sweet Bosomes: that neuer Warre aduance His bleeding Sword 'twixt England and faire France

Lords. Amen

King. Now welcome Kate: and beare me witnesse all, That here I kisse her as my Soueraigne 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 loue, So be there 'twixt your Kingdomes such a Spousall, That neuer may ill Office, or fell Iealousie, Which troubles oft the Bed of blessed Marriage, Thrust in betweene the Paction of these Kingdomes, To make diuorce of their incorporate League: That English may as French, French Englishmen, Receiue each other. God speake this Amen

All. Amen

King. Prepare we for our Marriage: on which day, My Lord of Burgundy wee'le take your Oath And all the Peeres, for suretie of our Leagues. Then shall I sweare to Kate, and you to me, And may our Oathes well kept and prosp'rous be.

Senet. Exeunt.

Enter Chorus.

Thus farre with rough, and all-vnable Pen, Our bending Author hath pursu'd the Story, In little roome confining mightie men, Mangling by starts the full course of their glory. Small time: but in that small, most greatly liued This Starre of England. Fortune made his Sword; By which, the Worlds best Garden he atchieued: 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 lost France, and made his England bleed: Which oft our Stage hath showne; and for their sake, In your faire minds let this acceptance take.

FINIS. The Life of Henry the Fift.

The first Part of Henry the Sixt

Actus Primus. Scoena 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, Protector; the Duke of Exeter Warwicke, the Bishop of Winchester, and the Duke of Somerset.

Bedford. Hung be y heauens with black, yield day to night; Comets importing change of Times and States, Brandish your crystall Tresses in the Skie, And with them scourge the bad reuolting Stars, That haue consented vnto Henries death: King Henry the Fift, too famous to liue long, England ne're lost a King of so much worth

Glost. England ne're had a King vntill his time: Vertue he had, deseruing to command, His brandisht Sword did blinde men with his beames, His Armes spred wider then a Dragons Wings: His sparkling Eyes, repleat with wrathfull fire, More dazled and droue back his Enemies, Then mid-day Sunne, fierce bent against their faces. What should I say? his Deeds exceed all speech: He ne're lift vp his Hand, but conquered

Exe. We mourne in black, why mourn we not in blood? Henry is dead, and neuer shall reuiue: Vpon a Woodden Coffin we attend; And Deaths dishonourable Victorie, We with our stately presence glorifie, Like Captiues bound to a Triumphant Carre. What? shall we curse the Planets of Mishap, That plotted thus our Glories ouerthrow? Or shall we thinke the subtile-witted French, Coniurers and Sorcerers, that afraid of him, By Magick Verses haue contriu'd his end

Winch. He was a King, blest of the King of Kings. Vnto the French, the dreadfull Iudgement-Day So dreadfull will not be, as was his sight. The Battailes of the Lord of Hosts he fought: The Churches Prayers made him so prosperous

Glost. The Church? where is it? Had not Church-men pray'd, His thred of Life had not so soone decay'd. None doe you like, but an effeminate Prince, Whom like a Schoole-boy you may ouer-awe

Winch. Gloster, what ere we like, thou art Protector, And lookest to command the Prince and Realme. Thy Wife is prowd, she holdeth thee in awe, More then God or Religious Church-men may

Glost. Name not Religion, for thou lou'st the Flesh, And ne're throughout the yeere to Church thou go'st, Except it be to pray against thy foes

Bed. Cease, cease these Iarres, & rest your minds in peace: Let's to the Altar: Heralds wayt on vs; In stead of Gold, wee'le offer vp our Armes, Since Armes auayle not, now that Henry's dead, Posteritie await for wretched yeeres, When at their Mothers moistned eyes, Babes shall suck, Our Ile be made a Nourish of salt Teares, And none but Women left to wayle the dead. Henry the Fift, thy Ghost I inuocate: Prosper this Realme, keepe it from Ciuill Broyles, Combat with aduerse Planets in the Heauens; A farre more glorious Starre thy Soule will make, Then Iulius Cæsar, or bright- Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My honourable Lords, health to you all: Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, Of losse, of slaughter, and discomfiture: Guyen, Champaigne, Rheimes, Orleance, Paris Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost

Bedf. What say'st thou man, before dead Henry's Coarse? Speake softly, or the losse of those great Townes Will make him burst his Lead, and rise from death

Glost. Is Paris lost? is Roan yeelded vp? If Henry were recall'd to life againe, These news would cause him once more yeeld the Ghost

Exe. How were they lost? what trecherie was vs'd? Mess. No trecherie, but want of Men and Money. Amongst the Souldiers this is muttered, That here you maintaine seuerall Factions: And whil'st a Field should be dispatcht and fought, You are disputing of your Generals. One would haue lingring Warres, with little cost; Another would flye swift, but wanteth Wings: A third thinkes, without expence at all, By guilefull faire words, Peace may be obtayn'd. Awake, awake, English Nobilitie, Let not slouth dimme your Honors, new begot; Cropt are the Flower-de-Luces in your Armes Of Englands Coat, one halfe is cut away

Exe. Were our Teares wanting to this Funerall, These Tidings would call forth her flowing Tides

Bedf. Me they concerne, Regent I am of France: Giue me my steeled Coat, Ile fight for France. Away with these disgracefull wayling Robes; Wounds will I lend the French, in stead of Eyes, To weepe their intermissiue Miseries. Enter to them another Messenger.

Mess. Lords view these Letters, full of bad mischance. France is reuolted from the English quite, Except some petty Townes, of no import. The Dolphin Charles is crowned King in Rheimes: The Bastard of Orleance with him is ioyn'd: Reynold, Duke of Aniou, doth take his part, The Duke of Alanson flyeth to his side. Enter.

Exe. The Dolphin crown'd King? all flye to him? O whither shall we flye from this reproach? Glost. We will not flye, but to our enemies throats. Bedford, if thou be slacke, Ile fight it out

Bed. Gloster, why doubtst thou of my forwardnesse? An Army haue I muster'd in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is ouer-run. Enter another Messenger.

Mes. My gracious Lords, to adde to your laments, Wherewith you now bedew King Henries hearse, I must informe you of a dismall fight, Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot, and the French

Win. What? wherein Talbot ouercame, is't so? 3.Mes. O no: wherein Lord Talbot was o'rethrown: The circumstance Ile tell you more at large. The tenth of August last, this dreadfull Lord, Retyring from the Siege of Orleance, Hauing full scarce six thousand in his troupe, By three and twentie thousand of the French Was round incompassed, and set vpon: No leysure had he to enranke his men. He wanted Pikes to set before his Archers: In stead whereof, sharpe 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, aboue humane thought, Enacted wonders with his Sword and Lance. Hundreds he sent to Hell, and none durst stand him: Here, there, and euery where enrag'd, he slew. The French exclaym'd, the Deuill was in Armes, All the whole Army stood agaz'd on him. His Souldiers spying his vndaunted Spirit, A Talbot, a Talbot, cry'd out amaine, And rusht into the Bowels of the Battaile. Here had the Conquest fully been seal'd vp, If Sir Iohn Falstaffe had not play'd the Coward. He being in the Vauward, plac't behinde, With purpose to relieue and follow them, Cowardly fled, not hauing struck one stroake. Hence grew the generall wrack and massacre: Enclosed were they with their Enemies. A base Wallon, to win the Dolphins grace, Thrust Talbot with a Speare into the Back, Whom all France, with their chiefe assembled strength, Durst not presume to looke once in the face

Bedf. Is Talbot slaine then? I will slay my selfe, For liuing idly here, in pompe and ease, Whil'st such a worthy Leader, wanting ayd, Vnto his dastard foe-men is betray'd

3.Mess. O no, he liues, but is tooke Prisoner, And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford: Most of the rest slaughter'd, or tooke likewise

Bedf. His Ransome there is none but I shall pay. Ile hale the Dolphin headlong from his Throne, His Crowne shall be the Ransome of my friend: Foure of their Lords Ile change for one of ours. Farwell 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, Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake

3.Mess. So you had need, for Orleance is besieg'd, The English Army is growne weake and faint: The Earle of Salisbury craueth supply, And hardly keepes his men from mutinie, Since they so few, watch such a multitude

Exe. Remember Lords your Oathes to Henry sworne: Eyther to quell the Dolphin vtterly, Or bring him in obedience to your yoake

Bedf. I doe remember it, and here take my leaue, To goe about my preparation.

Exit Bedford.

Glost. Ile to the Tower with all the hast I can, To view th' Artillerie and Munition, And then I will proclayme young Henry King.

Exit Gloster.

Exe. To Eltam will I, where the young King is, Being ordayn'd his speciall Gouernor, And for his safetie there Ile best deuise. Enter.

Winch. Each hath his Place and Function to attend: I am left out; for me nothing remaines: But long I will not be Iack out of Office. The King from Eltam I intend to send, And sit at chiefest Sterne of publique Weale. Enter.

Sound a Flourish.

Enter Charles, Alanson, and Reigneir, marching with Drum and Souldiers.

Charles. Mars his true mouing, euen as in the Heauens, So in the Earth, to this day is not knowne. Late did he shine vpon the English side: Now we are Victors, vpon vs he smiles. What Townes of any moment, but we haue? At pleasure here we lye, neere Orleance: Otherwhiles, the famisht English, like pale Ghosts, Faintly besiege vs one houre in a moneth

Alan. They want their Porredge, & their fat Bul Beeues: Eyther they must be dyeted like Mules, And haue their Prouender ty'd to their mouthes, Or pitteous they will looke, like drowned Mice

Reigneir. Let's rayse the Siege: why liue we idly here? Talbot is taken, whom we wont to feare: Remayneth none but mad-brayn'd Salisbury, And he may well in fretting spend his gall, Nor men nor Money hath he to make Warre

Charles. Sound, sound Alarum, we will rush on them. Now for the honour of the forlorne French: Him I forgiue my death, that killeth me, When he sees me goe back one foot, or flye.

Exeunt.

Here Alarum, they are beaten back by the English, with great losse.

Enter Charles, Alanson, and Reigneir.

Charles. Who euer saw the like? what men haue I? Dogges, Cowards, Dastards: I would ne're haue fled, But that they left me 'midst my Enemies

Reigneir. Salisbury is a desperate Homicide, He fighteth as one weary of his life: The other Lords, like Lyons wanting foode, Doe rush vpon vs as their hungry prey

Alanson. Froysard, a Countreyman of ours, records, England all Oliuers and Rowlands breed, During the time Edward the third did raigne: More truly now may this be verified; For none but Samsons and Goliasses It sendeth forth to skirmish: one to tenne? Leane raw-bon'd Rascals, who would e'er suppose, They had such courage and audacitie? Charles. Let's leaue this Towne, For they are hayre-brayn'd Slaues, And hunger will enforce them to be more eager: Of old I know them; rather with their Teeth The Walls they'le teare downe, then forsake the Siege

Reigneir. I thinke by some odde Gimmors or Deuice Their Armes are set, like Clocks, still to strike on; Else ne're could they hold out so as they doe: By my consent, wee'le euen let them alone

Alanson. Be it so. Enter the Bastard of Orleance.

Bastard. Where's the Prince Dolphin? I haue newes for him

Dolph. Bastard of Orleance, thrice welcome to vs

Bast. Me thinks your looks are sad, your chear appal'd. Hath the late ouerthrow wrought this offence? Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand: A holy Maid hither with me I bring, Which by a Vision sent to her from Heauen, Ordayned is to rayse this tedious Siege, And driue the English forth the bounds of France: The spirit of deepe Prophecie she hath, Exceeding the nine Sibyls of old Rome: What's past, and what's to come, she can descry. Speake, shall I call her in? beleeue my words, For they are certaine, and vnfallible

Dolph. Goe call her in: but first, to try her skill, Reignier stand thou as Dolphin in my place; Question her prowdly, let thy Lookes be sterne, By this meanes shall we sound what skill she hath. Enter Ioane Puzel.

Reigneir. Faire Maid, is't thou wilt doe these wondrous feats? Puzel. Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile me? Where is the Dolphin? Come, come from behinde, I know thee well, though neuer seene before. Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me; In priuate will I talke with thee apart: Stand back you Lords, and giue vs leaue a while

Reigneir. She takes vpon her brauely at first dash

Puzel. Dolphin, I am by birth a Shepheards Daughter, My wit vntrayn'd in any kind of Art: Heauen 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 display'd my cheekes, Gods Mother deigned to appeare to me, And in a Vision full of Maiestie, Will'd me to leaue my base Vocation, And free my Countrey from Calamitie: Her ayde she promis'd, and assur'd successe. In compleat Glory shee reueal'd her selfe: And whereas I was black and swart before, With those cleare Rayes, which shee infus'd on me, That beautie am I blest with, which you may see. Aske me what question thou canst possible, And I will answer vnpremeditated: My Courage trie by Combat, if thou dar'st, And thou shalt finde that I exceed my Sex. Resolue on this, thou shalt be fortunate, If thou receiue me for thy Warlike Mate

Dolph. Thou hast astonisht me with thy high termes: Onely this proofe Ile of thy Valour make, In single Combat thou shalt buckle with me; And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true, Otherwise I renounce all confidence

Puzel. I am prepar'd: here is my keene-edg'd Sword, Deckt with fine Flower-de-Luces on each side, The which at Touraine, in S[aint]. 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 liue, Ile ne're flye from a man.

Here they fight, and Ioane de Puzel ouercomes.

Dolph. Stay, stay thy hands, thou art an Amazon, And fightest with the Sword of Debora

Puzel. Christs Mother helpes me, else I were too weake

Dolph. Who e're helps thee, 'tis thou that must help me: Impatiently I burne with thy desire, My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd. Excellent Puzel, if thy name be so, Let me thy seruant, and not Soueraigne be, 'Tis the French Dolphin sueth to thee thus

Puzel. I must not yeeld to any rights of Loue, For my Profession's sacred from aboue: When I haue chased all thy Foes from hence, Then will I thinke vpon a recompence

Dolph. Meane time looke gracious on thy prostrate Thrall

Reigneir. My Lord me thinkes is very long in talke

Alans. Doubtlesse he shriues this woman to her smock, Else ne're could he so long protract his speech

Reigneir. Shall wee disturbe him, since hee keepes no meane? Alan. He may meane more then we poor men do know, These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues

Reigneir. My Lord, where are you? what deuise you on? Shall we giue o're Orleance, or no? Puzel. Why no, I say: distrustfull Recreants, Fight till the last gaspe: Ile be your guard

Dolph. What shee sayes, Ile confirme: wee'le fight it out

Puzel. Assign'd am I to be the English Scourge. This night the Siege assuredly Ile rayse: Expect Saint Martins Summer, Halcyons dayes, Since I haue entred into these Warres. Glory is like a Circle in the Water, Which neuer ceaseth to enlarge it selfe, Till by broad spreading, it disperse to naught. With Henries death, the English Circle ends, Dispersed are the glories it included: Now am I like that prowd insulting Ship, Which Cæsar and his fortune bare at once

Dolph. Was Mahomet inspired with a Doue? Thou with an Eagle art inspired then. Helen, the Mother of Great Constantine, Nor yet S[aint]. Philips daughters were like thee. Bright Starre of Venus, falne downe on the Earth, How may I reuerently worship thee enough? Alanson. Leaue off delayes, and let vs rayse the Siege

Reigneir. Woman, do what thou canst to saue our honors, Driue them from Orleance, and be immortaliz'd

Dolph. Presently wee'le try: come, let's away about it, No Prophet will I trust, if shee proue false.

Exeunt.

Enter Gloster, with his Seruing-men.

Glost. I am come to suruey the Tower this day; Since Henries death, I feare there is Conueyance: Where be these Warders, that they wait not here? Open the Gates, 'tis Gloster that calls

1.Warder. Who's there, that knocks so imperiously? Glost.1.Man. It is the Noble Duke of Gloster

2.Warder. Who ere he be, you may not be let in

1.Man. Villaines, answer you so the Lord Protector? 1.Warder. The Lord protect him, so we answer him, We doe no otherwise then wee are will'd

Glost. Who willed you? or whose will stands but mine? There's none Protector of the Realme, but I: Breake vp the Gates, Ile be your warrantize; Shall I be flowted thus by dunghill Groomes?

Glosters men rush at the Tower Gates, and Wooduile the Lieutenant speakes within.

Wooduile. What noyse is this? what Traytors haue wee here? Glost. Lieutenant, is it you whose voyce I heare? Open the Gates, here's Gloster that would enter

Wooduile. Haue patience Noble Duke, I may not open, The Cardinall of Winchester forbids: From him I haue expresse commandement, That thou nor none of thine shall be let in

Glost. Faint-hearted Wooduile, prizest him 'fore me? Arrogant Winchester, that haughtie Prelate, Whom Henry our late Soueraigne ne're could brooke? Thou art no friend to God, or to the King: Open the Gates, or Ile shut thee out shortly

Seruingmen. Open the Gates vnto the Lord Protector, Or wee'le burst them open, if that you come not quickly. Enter to the Protector at the Tower Gates, Winchester and his men in Tawney Coates.

Winchest. How now ambitious Vmpheir, what meanes this? Glost. Piel'd Priest, doo'st thou command me to be shut out? Winch. I doe, thou most vsurping Proditor, And not Protector of the King or Realme

Glost. Stand back thou manifest Conspirator, Thou that contriued'st to murther our dead Lord, Thou that giu'st Whores Indulgences to sinne, Ile canuas thee in thy broad Cardinalls Hat, If thou proceed in this thy insolence

Winch. Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a foot: This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain, To slay thy Brother Abel, if thou wilt

Glost. I will not slay thee, but Ile driue thee back: Thy Scarlet Robes, as a Childs bearing Cloth, Ile vse, to carry thee out of this place

Winch. Doe what thou dar'st, I beard thee to thy face

Glost. What? am I dar'd, and bearded to my face? Draw men, for all this priuiledged place, Blew Coats to Tawny Coats. Priest, beware your Beard, I meane to tugge it, and to cuffe you soundly. Vnder my feet I stampe thy Cardinalls Hat: In spight of Pope, or dignities of Church, Here by the Cheekes Ile drag thee vp and downe

Winch. Gloster, thou wilt answere this before the Pope

Glost. Winchester Goose, I cry, a Rope, a Rope. Now beat them hence, why doe you let them stay? Thee Ile chase hence, thou Wolfe in Sheepes array. Out Tawney-Coates, out Scarlet Hypocrite.

Here Glosters men beat out the Cardinalls men, and enter in the hurly-burly the Maior of London, and his Officers.

Maior. Fye Lords, that you being supreme Magistrates, Thus contumeliously should breake the Peace

Glost. Peace Maior, thou know'st little of my wrongs: Here's Beauford, that regards nor God nor King, Hath here distrayn'd the Tower to his vse

Winch. Here's Gloster, a Foe to Citizens, One that still motions Warre, and neuer Peace, O're-charging your free Purses with large Fines; That seekes to ouerthrow Religion, Because he is Protector of the Realme; And would haue Armour here out of the Tower, To Crowne himselfe King, and suppresse the Prince

Glost. I will not answer thee with words, but blowes.

Here they skirmish againe.

Maior. Naught rests for me, in this tumultuous strife, But to make open Proclamation. Come Officer, as lowd as e're thou canst, cry: All manner of men, assembled here in Armes this day, against Gods Peace and the Kings, wee charge and command you, in his Highnesse Name, to repayre to your seuerall dwelling places, and not to weare, handle, or vse any Sword, Weapon, or Dagger hence-forward, vpon paine of death

Glost. Cardinall, Ile be no breaker of the Law: But we shall meet, and breake our minds at large

Winch. Gloster, wee'le meet to thy cost, be sure: Thy heart-blood I will haue for this dayes worke

Maior. Ile call for Clubs, if you will not away: This Cardinall's more haughtie then the Deuill

Glost. Maior farewell: thou doo'st but what thou may'st

Winch. Abhominable Gloster, guard thy Head, For I intend to haue it ere long.

Exeunt.

Maior. See the Coast clear'd, and then we will depart. Good God, these Nobles should such stomacks beare, I my selfe fight not once in fortie yeere.

Exeunt.

Enter the Master Gunner of Orleance, and his Boy.

M.Gunner. Sirrha, thou know'st how Orleance is besieg'd, And how the English haue the Suburbs wonne

Boy. Father I know, and oft haue shot at them, How e're vnfortunate, I miss'd my ayme

M.Gunner. But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd by me: Chiefe Master Gunner am I of this Towne, Something I must doe to procure me grace: The Princes espyals haue informed me, How the English, in the Suburbs close entrencht, Went through a secret Grate of Iron Barres, In yonder Tower, to ouer-peere the Citie, And thence discouer, how with most aduantage They may vex vs with Shot or with Assault. To intercept this inconuenience, A Peece of Ordnance 'gainst it I haue plac'd, And euen these three dayes haue I watcht, If I could see them. Now doe thou watch, For I can stay no longer. If thou spy'st any, runne and bring me word, And thou shalt finde me at the Gouernors. Enter.

Boy. Father, I warrant you, take you no care, Ile neuer trouble you, if I may spye them. Enter.

Enter Salisbury and Talbot on the Turrets, with others.

Salisb. Talbot, my life, my ioy, againe return'd? How wert thou handled, being Prisoner? Or by what meanes got's thou to be releas'd? Discourse I prethee on this Turrets top

Talbot. The Earle of Bedford had a Prisoner, Call'd the braue Lord Ponton de Santrayle, For him was I exchang'd, and ransom'd. But with a baser man of Armes by farre, Once in contempt they would haue barter'd me: Which I disdaining, scorn'd, and craued death, Rather then I would be so pil'd esteem'd: In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd. But O, the trecherous Falstaffe wounds my heart, Whom with my bare fists I would execute, If I now had him brought into my power

Salisb. Yet tell'st thou not, how thou wert entertain'd

Tal. With scoffes and scornes, and contumelious taunts, In open Market-place produc't they me, To be a publique spectacle to all: Here, sayd they, is the Terror of the French, The Scar-Crow that affrights our Children so. Then broke I from the Officers that led me, And with my nayles digg'd stones out of the ground, To hurle at the beholders of my shame. My grisly countenance made others flye, None durst come neere, for feare of suddaine death. In Iron Walls they deem'd me not secure: So great feare of my Name 'mongst them were spread, That they suppos'd I could rend Barres of Steele, And spurne in pieces Posts of Adamant. Wherefore a guard of chosen Shot I had, That walkt about me euery Minute while: And if I did but stirre out of my Bed, Ready they were to shoot me to the heart. Enter the Boy with a Linstock.

Salisb. I grieue to heare what torments you endur'd, But we will be reueng'd sufficiently. Now it is Supper time in Orleance: Here, through this Grate, I count each one, And view the Frenchmen how they fortifie: Let vs looke in, the sight will much delight thee: Sir Thomas Gargraue, and Sir William Glansdale, Let me haue your expresse opinions, Where is best place to make our Batt'ry next? Gargraue. I thinke at the North Gate, for there stands Lords

Glansdale. And I heere, at the Bulwarke of the Bridge

Talb. For ought I see, this Citie must be famisht, Or with light Skirmishes enfeebled.

Here they shot, and Salisbury falls downe.

Salisb. O Lord haue mercy on vs, wretched sinners

Gargraue. O Lord haue mercy on me, wofull man

Talb. What chance is this, that suddenly hath crost vs? Speake Salisbury; at least, if thou canst, speake: How far'st thou, Mirror of all Martiall men? One of thy Eyes, and thy Cheekes side struck off? Accursed Tower, accursed fatall Hand, That hath contriu'd this wofull Tragedie. In thirteene Battailes, Salisbury o'recame: Henry the Fift he first trayn'd to the Warres. Whil'st any Trumpe did sound, or Drum struck vp, His Sword did ne're leaue striking in the field. Yet liu'st thou Salisbury? though thy speech doth fayle, One Eye thou hast to looke to Heauen for grace. The Sunne with one Eye vieweth all the World. Heauen be thou gracious to none aliue, If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands. Beare hence his Body, I will helpe to bury it. Sir Thomas Gargraue, hast thou any life? Speake vnto Talbot, nay, looke vp to him. Salisbury cheare thy Spirit with this comfort, Thou shalt not dye whiles- He beckens with his hand, and smiles on me: As who should say, When I am dead and gone, Remember to auenge me on the French. Plantaginet I will, and like thee, Play on the Lute, beholding the Townes burne: Wretched shall France be onely in my Name.

Here an Alarum, and it Thunders and Lightens.

What stirre is this? what tumult's in the Heauens? Whence commeth this Alarum, and the noyse? Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My Lord, my Lord, the French haue gather'd head. The Dolphin, with one Ioane de Puzel ioyn'd, A holy Prophetesse, new risen vp, Is come with a great Power, to rayse the Siege.

Here Salisbury lifteth himselfe vp, and groanes.

Talb. Heare, heare, how dying Salisbury doth groane, It irkes his heart he cannot be reueng'd. Frenchmen, Ile be a Salisbury to you. Puzel or Pussel, Dolphin or Dog-fish, Your hearts Ile stampe out with my Horses heeles, And make a Quagmire of your mingled braines. Conuey me Salisbury into his Tent, And then wee'le try what these dastard Frenchmen dare.

Alarum. Exeunt.

Here an Alarum againe, and Talbot pursueth the Dolphin, and driueth him: Then enter Ioane de Puzel, driuing Englishmen before her. Then enter Talbot.

Talb. Where is my strength, my valour, and my force? Our English Troupes retyre, I cannot stay them, A Woman clad in Armour chaseth them. Enter Puzel.

Here, here shee comes. Ile haue a bowt with thee: Deuill, or Deuils Dam, Ile coniure thee: Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a Witch, And straightway giue thy Soule to him thou seru'st

Puzel. Come, come, 'tis onely I that must disgrace thee.

Here they fight.

Talb. Heauens, can you suffer Hell so to preuayle? My brest Ile burst with straining of my courage, And from my shoulders crack my Armes asunder, But I will chastise this high-minded Strumpet.

They fight againe.

Puzel. Talbot farwell, thy houre is not yet come, I must goe Victuall Orleance forthwith:

A short Alarum: then enter the Towne with Souldiers.

O're-take me if thou canst, I scorne thy strength. Goe, goe, cheare vp thy hungry-starued men, Helpe Salisbury to make his Testament, This Day is ours, as many more shall be. Enter.

Talb. My thoughts are whirled like a Potters Wheele, I know not where I am, nor what I doe: A Witch by feare, not force, like Hannibal, Driues back our troupes, and conquers as she lists: So Bees with smoake, and Doues with noysome stench, Are from their Hyues and Houses driuen away. They call'd vs, for our fiercenesse, English Dogges, Now like to Whelpes, we crying runne away.

A short Alarum.

Hearke Countreymen, eyther renew the fight, Or teare the Lyons out of Englands Coat; Renounce your Soyle, giue Sheepe in Lyons stead: Sheepe run not halfe so trecherous from the Wolfe, Or Horse or Oxen from the Leopard, As you flye from your oft-subdued slaues.

Alarum. Here another Skirmish.

It will not be, retyre into your Trenches: You all consented vnto Salisburies death, For none would strike a stroake in his reuenge. Puzel is entred into Orleance, In spight of vs, or ought that we could doe. O would I were to dye with Salisbury, The shame hereof, will make me hide my head.

Exit Talbot.

Alarum, Retreat, Flourish.

Enter on the Walls, Puzel, Dolphin, Reigneir, Alanson, and Souldiers.

Puzel. Aduance our wauing Colours on the Walls, Rescu'd is Orleance from the English. Thus Ioane de Puzel hath perform'd her word

Dolph. Diuinest Creature, Astrea's Daughter, How shall I honour thee for this successe? Thy promises are like Adonis Garden, That one day bloom'd, and fruitfull were the next. France, triumph in thy glorious Prophetesse, Recouer'd is the Towne of Orleance, More blessed hap did ne're befall our State

Reigneir. Why ring not out the Bells alowd, Throughout the Towne? Dolphin command the Citizens make Bonfires, And feast and banquet in the open streets, To celebrate the ioy that God hath giuen vs

Alans. All France will be repleat with mirth and ioy, When they shall heare how we haue play'd the men

Dolph. 'Tis Ioane, not we, by whom the day is wonne: For which, I will diuide my Crowne with her, And all the Priests and Fryers in my Realme, Shall in procession sing her endlesse prayse. A statelyer Pyramis to her Ile reare, Then Rhodophe's or Memphis euer was. In memorie of her, when she is dead, Her Ashes, in an Vrne more precious Then the rich-iewel'd Coffer of Darius, Transported, shall be at high Festiuals Before the Kings and Queenes of France. No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry, But Ioane de Puzel shall be France's Saint. Come in, and let vs Banquet Royally, After this Golden Day of Victorie.

Flourish. 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 perceiue Neere to the walles, by some apparant signe Let vs haue knowledge at the Court of Guard

Sent. Sergeant you shall. Thus are poore Seruitors (When others sleepe vpon their quiet beds) Constrain'd to watch in darknesse, raine, and cold. Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy, with scaling Ladders: Their Drummes beating a Dead March.

Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy, By whose approach, the Regions of Artoys, Wallon, and Picardy, are friends to vs: This happy night, the Frenchmen are secure, Hauing all day carows'd and banquetted, Embrace we then this opportunitie, As fitting best to quittance their deceite, Contriu'd by Art, and balefull Sorcerie

Bed. Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame, Dispairing of his owne armes fortitude, To ioyne with Witches, and the helpe of Hell

Bur. Traitors haue neuer other company. But what's that Puzell whom they tearme so pure? Tal. A Maid, they say

Bed. A Maid? And be so martiall? Bur. Pray God she proue not masculine ere long: If vnderneath the Standard of the French She carry Armour, as she hath begun

Tal. Well, let them practise and conuerse with spirits. God is our Fortresse, in whose conquering name Let vs resolue to scale their flinty bulwarkes

Bed. Ascend braue Talbot, we will follow thee

Tal. Not altogether: Better farre I guesse, That we do make our entrance seuerall wayes: That if it chance the one of vs do faile, The other yet may rise against their force

Bed. Agreed; Ile to yond corner

Bur. And I to this

Tal. And heere will Talbot mount, or make his graue. Now Salisbury, for thee and for the right Of English Henry, shall this night appeare How much in duty, I am bound to both

Sent. Arme, arme, the enemy doth make assault.

Cry, S[aint]. George, A Talbot.

The French leape ore the walles in their shirts. Enter seuerall wayes, Bastard, Alanson, Reignier, halfe ready, and halfe vnready.

Alan. How now my Lords? what all vnreadie so? Bast. Vnready? I and glad we scap'd so well

Reig. 'Twas time (I trow) to wake and leaue our beds, Hearing Alarums at our Chamber doores

Alan. Of all exploits since first I follow'd Armes, Nere heard I of a warlike enterprize More venturous, or desperate then this

Bast. I thinke this Talbot be a Fiend of Hell

Reig. If not of Hell, the Heauens sure fauour him

Alans. Here commeth Charles, I maruell how he sped? Enter Charles and Ioane.

Bast. Tut, holy Ioane was his defensiue Guard

Charl. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitfull Dame? Didst thou at first, to flatter vs withall, Make vs partakers of a little gayne, That now our losse might be ten times so much? Ioane. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend? At all times will you haue my Power alike? Sleeping or waking, must I still preuayle, Or will you blame and lay the fault on me? Improuident Souldiors, had your Watch been good, This sudden Mischiefe neuer could haue falne

Charl. Duke of Alanson, this was your default, That being Captaine of the Watch to Night, Did looke no better to that weightie Charge

Alans. Had all your Quarters been as safely kept, As that whereof I had the gouernment, We had not beene thus shamefully surpriz'd

Bast. Mine was secure

Reig. And so was mine, my Lord

Charl. And for my selfe, most part of all this Night Within her Quarter, and mine owne Precinct, I was imploy'd in passing to and fro, About relieuing of the Centinels. Then how, or which way, should they first breake in? Ioane. Question (my Lords) no further of the case, 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 Souldiors, scatter'd and disperc't, And lay new Platformes to endammage them.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter a Souldier, crying, a Talbot, a Talbot: they flye, leauing their Clothes behind.

Sould. Ile be so bold to take what they haue left: The Cry of Talbot serues me for a Sword, For I haue loaden me with many Spoyles, Vsing no other Weapon but his Name. Enter.

Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundie.

Bedf. The Day begins to breake, and Night is fled, Whose pitchy Mantle ouer-vayl'd the Earth. Here sound Retreat, and cease our hot pursuit.

Retreat.

Talb. Bring forth the Body of old Salisbury, And here aduance it in the Market-Place, The middle Centure of this cursed Towne. Now haue I pay'd my Vow vnto his Soule: For euery drop of blood was drawne from him, There hath at least fiue Frenchmen dyed to night. And that hereafter Ages may behold What ruine happened in reuenge of him, Within their chiefest Temple Ile erect A Tombe, wherein his Corps shall be interr'd: Vpon the which, that euery one may reade, Shall be engrau'd the sacke of Orleance, The trecherous manner of his mournefull death, And what a terror he had beene to France. But Lords, in all our bloudy Massacre, I muse we met not with the Dolphins Grace, His new-come Champion, vertuous Ioane of Acre, Nor any of his false Confederates

Bedf. 'Tis thought Lord Talbot, when the fight began, Rows'd on the sudden from their drowsie 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 discerne, For smoake, and duskie vapours of the night, Am sure I scar'd the Dolphin and his Trull, When Arme in Arme they both came swiftly running, Like to a payre of louing Turtle-Doues, That could not liue asunder day or night. After that things are set in order here, Wee'le follow them with all the power we haue. Enter a Messenger.

Mess. All hayle, my Lords: which of this Princely trayne Call ye the Warlike Talbot, for his Acts So much applauded through the Realme of France? Talb. Here is the Talbot, who would speak with him? Mess. The vertuous Lady, Countesse of Ouergne, With modestie admiring thy Renowne, By me entreats (great Lord) thou would'st vouchsafe To visit her poore Castle where she lyes, That she may boast she hath beheld the man, Whose glory fills the World with lowd report

Burg. Is it euen so? Nay, then I see our Warres Will turne vnto a peacefull Comick sport, When Ladyes craue to be encountred with. You may not (my Lord) despise her gentle suit

Talb. Ne're trust me then: for when a World of men Could not preuayle with all their Oratorie, Yet hath a Womans kindnesse ouer-rul'd: And therefore tell her, I returne great thankes, And in submission will attend on her. Will not your Honors beare me company? Bedf. No, truly, 'tis more then manners will: And I haue heard it sayd, Vnbidden Guests Are often welcommest when they are gone

Talb. Well then, alone (since there's no remedie) I meane to proue this Ladyes courtesie. Come hither Captaine, you perceiue my minde.

Whispers.

Capt. I doe my Lord, and meane accordingly.

Exeunt.

Enter Countesse.

Count. Porter, remember what I gaue in charge, And when you haue done so, bring the Keyes to me

Port. Madame, I will. Enter.

Count. The Plot is layd, if all things fall out right, I shall as famous be by this exploit, As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus death. Great is the rumour of this dreadfull Knight, And his atchieuements of no lesse account: Faine would mine eyes be witnesse with mine eares, To giue their censure of these rare reports. Enter Messenger and Talbot.

Mess. Madame, according as your Ladyship desir'd, By Message crau'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 fear'd abroad? That with his Name the Mothers still their Babes? I see Report is fabulous and false. I thought I should haue seene some Hercules, A second Hector, for his grim aspect, And large proportion of his strong knit Limbes. Alas, this is a Child, a silly Dwarfe: It cannot be, this weake and writhled shrimpe Should strike such terror to his Enemies

Talb. Madame, I haue beene bold to trouble you: But since your Ladyship is not at leysure, Ile sort some other time to visit you

Count. What meanes he now? Goe aske him, whither he goes? Mess. Stay my Lord Talbot, for my Lady craues, To know the cause 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 Prisoner

Talb. Prisoner? to whom? Count. To me, blood-thirstie Lord: And for that cause I trayn'd thee to my House. Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me, For in my Gallery thy Picture hangs: But now the substance shall endure the like, And I will chayne these Legges and Armes of thine, That hast by Tyrannie these many yeeres Wasted our Countrey, slaine our Citizens, And sent our Sonnes and Husbands captiuate

Talb. Ha, ha, ha

Count. Laughest thou Wretch? Thy mirth shall turne to moane

Talb. I laugh to see your Ladyship so fond, To thinke, that you haue ought but Talbots shadow, Whereon to practise your seueritie

Count. Why? art not thou the man? Talb. I am indeede

Count. Then haue I substance too

Talb. No, no, I am but shadow of my selfe: You are deceiu'd, my substance is not here; For what you see, is but the smallest part, And least 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 these contrarieties agree? Talb. That will I shew you presently.

Winds his Horne, Drummes strike vp, a Peale of Ordenance: Enter Souldiors.

How say you Madame? are you now perswaded, That Talbot is but shadow of himselfe? These are his substance, sinewes, armes, and strength, With which he yoaketh your rebellious Neckes, Razeth your Cities, and subuerts your Townes, And in a moment makes them desolate

Count. Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse, I finde thou art no lesse then Fame hath bruited, And more then may be gathered by thy shape. Let my presumption not prouoke thy wrath, For I am sorry, that with reuerence I did not entertaine thee as thou art

Talb. Be not dismay'd, faire Lady, nor misconster The minde of Talbot, as you did mistake The outward composition of his body. What you haue done, hath not offended me: Nor other satisfaction doe I craue, But onely with your patience, that we may Taste of your Wine, and see what Cates you haue, For Souldiers stomacks alwayes serue 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 meanes this silence? Dare no man answer in a Case of Truth? Suff. Within the Temple Hall we were too lowd, The Garden here is more conuenient

York. Then say at once, if I maintain'd the Truth: Or else was wrangling Somerset in th' error? Suff. Faith I haue beene a Truant in the Law, And neuer yet could frame my will to it, And therefore frame the Law vnto my will

Som. Iudge you, my Lord of Warwicke, then betweene vs

War. Between two Hawks, which flyes the higher pitch, Between two Dogs, which hath the deeper mouth, Between two Blades, which beares the better temper, Between two Horses, which doth beare him best, Between two Girles, which hath the merryest eye, I haue perhaps some shallow spirit of Iudgement: But in these nice sharpe Quillets of the Law, Good faith I am no wiser then a Daw

York. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance: The truth appeares so naked on my side, That any purblind eye may find it out

Som. And on my side it is so well apparrell'd, So cleare, so shining, and so euident, That it will glimmer through a blind-mans eye

York. Since you are tongue-ty'd, and so loth to speake, In dumbe significants proclayme your thoughts: Let him that is a true-borne Gentleman, And stands vpon the honor of his birth, If he suppose that I haue pleaded truth, From off this Bryer pluck a white Rose with me

Som. Let him that is no Coward, nor no Flatterer, But dare maintaine the partie of the truth, Pluck a red Rose from off this Thorne with me

War. I loue no Colours: and without all colour Of base insinuating flatterie, I pluck this white Rose with Plantagenet

Suff. I pluck this red Rose, 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 vpon whose side The fewest Roses are cropt from the Tree, Shall yeeld the other in the right opinion

Som. Good Master Vernon, it is well obiected: If I haue fewest, I subscribe in silence

York. And I

Vernon. Then for the truth, and plainnesse of the Case, I pluck this pale and Maiden Blossome here, Giuing my Verdict on the white Rose side

Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off, Least bleeding, you doe paint the white Rose 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

Som. Well, well, come on, who else? Lawyer. Vnlesse my Studie and my Bookes be false, The argument you held, was wrong in you; In signe whereof, I pluck a white Rose too

Yorke. Now Somerset, where is your argument? Som. Here in my Scabbard, meditating, that Shall dye your white Rose in a bloody red

York. Meane time your cheeks do counterfeit our Roses: For pale they looke with feare, as witnessing The truth on our side

Som. No Plantagenet: Tis not for feare, but anger, that thy cheekes Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our Roses, And yet thy tongue will not confesse thy error

Yorke. Hath not thy Rose a Canker, Somerset? Som. Hath not thy Rose a Thorne, Plantagenet? Yorke. I, sharpe and piercing to maintaine his truth, Whiles thy consuming Canker eates his falsehood

Som. Well, Ile find friends to weare my bleeding Roses, That shall maintaine what I haue said is true, Where false Plantagenet dare not be seene

Yorke. Now by this Maiden Blossome in my hand, I scorne thee and thy fashion, peeuish Boy

Suff. Turne not thy scornes this way, Plantagenet

Yorke. 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 conuersing with him

Warw. Now by Gods will thou wrong'st him, Somerset: His Grandfather was Lyonel Duke of Clarence, Third Sonne to the third Edward King of England: Spring Crestlesse Yeomen from so deepe a Root? Yorke. He beares him on the place's Priuiledge, Or durst not for his crauen 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, stand'st not thou attainted, Corrupted, and exempt from ancient Gentry? His Trespas yet liues guiltie in thy blood, And till thou be restor'd, thou art a Yeoman

Yorke. My Father was attached, not attainted, Condemn'd to dye for Treason, but no Traytor; And that Ile proue on better men then Somerset, Were growing time once ripened to my will. For your partaker Poole, and you your selfe, 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 vs ready for thee still: And know vs by these Colours for thy Foes, For these, my friends in spight of thee shall weare

Yorke. And by my Soule, this pale and angry Rose, As Cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, Will I for euer, and my Faction weare, Vntill it wither with me to my Graue, Or flourish to the height of my Degree

Suff. Goe forward, and be choak'd with thy ambition: And so farwell, vntill I meet thee next. Enter.

Som. Haue with thee Poole: Farwell ambitious Richard. Enter.

Yorke. How I am brau'd, and must perforce endure it? Warw. This blot that they obiect against your House, Shall be whipt out in the next Parliament, Call'd for the Truce of Winchester and Gloucester: And if thou be not then created Yorke, I will not liue to be accounted Warwicke. Meane time, in signall of my loue to thee, Against prowd Somerset, and William Poole, Will I vpon thy partie weare this Rose. And here I prophecie: this brawle to day, Growne to this faction in the Temple Garden, Shall send betweene the Red-Rose and the White, A thousand Soules to Death and deadly Night

Yorke. Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you, That you on my behalfe would pluck a Flower

Ver. In your behalfe still will I weare the same

Lawyer. And so will I

Yorke. Thankes gentle. Come, let vs foure to Dinner: I dare say, This Quarrell will drinke Blood another day.

Exeunt.

Enter Mortimer, brought in a Chayre, and Iaylors.

Mort. Kind Keepers of my weake decaying Age, Let dying Mortimer here rest himselfe. Euen like a man new haled from the Wrack, So fare my Limbes with long Imprisonment: And these gray Locks, the Pursuiuants of death, Nestor-like aged, in an Age of Care, Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. These Eyes like Lampes, whose wasting Oyle is spent, Waxe dimme, as drawing to their Exigent. Weake Shoulders, ouer-borne with burthening Griefe, And pyth-lesse Armes, like to a withered 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 Graue, As witting I no other comfort haue. But tell me, Keeper, will my Nephew come? Keeper. Richard Plantagenet, my Lord, will come: We sent vnto the Temple, vnto his Chamber, And answer was return'd, that he will come

Mort. Enough: my Soule shall then be satisfied. Poore Gentleman, his wrong doth equall mine. Since Henry Monmouth first began to reigne, Before whose Glory I was great in Armes, This loathsome sequestration haue I had; And euen since then, hath Richard beene obscur'd, Depriu'd of Honor and Inheritance. But now, the Arbitrator of Despaires, Iust Death, kinde Vmpire of mens miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismisse me hence: I would his troubles likewise were expir'd, That so he might recouer what was lost. Enter Richard.

Keeper. My Lord, your louing Nephew now is come

Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come? Rich. I, Noble Vnckle, thus ignobly vs'd, Your Nephew, late despised Richard, comes

Mort. Direct mine Armes, I may embrace his Neck, And in his Bosome spend my latter gaspe. Oh tell me when my Lippes doe touch his Cheekes, That I may kindly giue one fainting Kisse. And now declare sweet Stem from Yorkes great Stock, Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd? Rich. First, leane thine aged Back against mine Arme, And in that ease, Ile tell thee my Disease. This day in argument vpon a Case, Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me: Among which tearmes, he vs'd his lauish tongue, And did vpbrayd me with my Fathers death; Which obloquie set barres before my tongue, Else with the like I had requited him. Therefore good Vnckle, for my Fathers sake, In honor of a true Plantagenet, And for Alliance sake, declare the cause My Father, Earle of Cambridge, lost his Head

Mort. That cause (faire Nephew) that imprison'd me, And hath detayn'd me all my flowring Youth, Within a loathsome Dungeon, there to pyne, Was cursed Instrument of his decease

Rich. Discouer 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. Henry the Fourth, Grandfather to this King, Depos'd his Nephew Richard, Edwards Sonne, The first begotten, and the lawfull Heire Of Edward King, the Third of that Descent. During whose Reigne, the Percies of the North, Finding his Vsurpation most vniust, Endeuour'd my aduancement to the Throne. The reason mou'd these Warlike Lords to this, Was, for that (young Richard thus remou'd, Leauing no Heire begotten of his Body) I was the next by Birth and Parentage: For by my Mother, I deriued am From Lionel Duke of Clarence, third Sonne To King Edward the Third; whereas hee, From Iohn of Gaunt doth bring his Pedigree, Being but fourth of that Heroick Lyne. But marke: as in this haughtie great attempt, They laboured, to plant the rightfull Heire, I lost my Libertie, and they their Liues. Long after this, when Henry the Fift (Succeeding his Father Bullingbrooke) did reigne; Thy Father, Earle of Cambridge, then deriu'd From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of Yorke, Marrying my Sister, that thy Mother was; Againe, in pitty of my hard distresse, Leuied an Army, weening to redeeme, And haue install'd me in the Diademe: But as the rest, so fell that Noble Earle, And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, In whom the Title rested, were supprest

Rich. Of which, my Lord, your Honor is the last

Mort. True; and thou seest, that I no Issue haue, And that my fainting words doe warrant death: Thou art my Heire; the rest, I wish thee gather: But yet be wary in thy studious care

Rich. Thy graue admonishments preuayle with me: But yet me thinkes, my Fathers execution Was nothing lesse then bloody Tyranny

Mort. With silence, Nephew, be thou pollitick, Strong fixed is the House of Lancaster, And like a Mountaine, not to be remou'd. But now thy Vnckle is remouing hence, As Princes doe their Courts, when they are cloy'd With long continuance in a setled place

Rich. O Vnckle, would some part of my young yeeres Might but redeeme the passage of your Age

Mort. Thou do'st then wrong me, as y slaughterer doth, Which giueth many Wounds, when one will kill. Mourne not, except thou sorrow for my good, Onely giue order for my Funerall. And so 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 Prison hast thou spent a Pilgrimage, And like a Hermite ouer-past thy dayes. Well, I will locke his Councell in my Brest, And what I doe imagine, let that rest. Keepers conuey him hence, and I my selfe Will see his Buryall better then his Life. Enter.

Here dyes the duskie Torch of Mortimer, Choakt with Ambition of the meaner sort. And for those Wrongs, those bitter Iniuries, 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' aduantage of my good. Enter.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Flourish. Enter King, Exeter, Gloster, Winchester, Warwick. Somerset, Suffolk, Richard Plantagenet. Gloster offers to put vp a Bill: Winchester snatches it, teares it.

Winch. Com'st thou with deepe premeditated Lines? With written Pamphlets, studiously deuis'd? Humfrey of Gloster, if thou canst accuse, Or ought intend'st to lay vnto my charge, Doe it without inuention, suddenly, As I with sudden, and extemporall speech, Purpose to answer what thou canst obiect

Glo. Presumptuous Priest, this place co[m]mands my patie[n]ce, Or thou should'st finde thou hast dis-honor'd me. Thinke not, although in Writing I preferr'd The manner of thy vile outragious Crymes, That therefore I haue forg'd, or am not able Verbatim to rehearse the Methode of my Penne. No Prelate, such is thy audacious wickednesse, Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious prancks, As very Infants prattle of thy pride. Thou art a most pernitious Vsurer, Froward by nature, Enemie to Peace, Lasciuious, wanton, more then well beseemes A man of thy Profession, 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. Beside, I feare me, if thy thoughts were sifted, The King, thy Soueraigne, is not quite exempt From enuious mallice of thy swelling heart

Winch. Gloster, I doe defie thee. Lords vouchsafe To giue me hearing what I shall reply. If I were couetous, ambitious, or peruerse, As he will haue me: how am I so poore? Or how haps it, I seeke not to aduance Or rayse my selfe? but keepe my wonted Calling. And for Dissention, who preferreth Peace More then I doe? except I be prouok'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 hee, No one, but hee, should be about the King; And that engenders Thunder in his breast, And makes him rore these Accusations 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, sawcie Priest? Winch. And am not I a Prelate of the Church? Glost. Yes, as an Out-law in a Castle keepes, And vseth it, to patronage his Theft

Winch. Vnreuerent Glocester

Glost. Thou art reuerent, Touching thy Spirituall Function, not thy Life

Winch. Rome shall remedie this

Warw. Roame thither then. My Lord, it were your dutie to forbeare

Som. I, see the Bishop be not ouer-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 vnhallow'd, what of that? Is not his Grace Protector to the King? Rich. Plantagenet I see must hold his tongue, Least it be said, Speake Sirrha when you should: Must your bold Verdict enter talke with Lords? Else would I haue a fling at Winchester

King. Vnckles of Gloster, and of Winchester, The speciall Watch-men of our English Weale, I would preuayle, if Prayers might preuayle, To ioyne your hearts in loue and amitie. Oh, what a Scandall is it to our Crowne, That two such Noble Peeres as ye should iarre? Beleeue me, Lords, my tender yeeres can tell, Ciuill dissention is a viperous Worme, That gnawes the Bowels of the Common-wealth.

A noyse within, Downe with the Tawny-Coats.

King. What tumult's this? Warw. An Vprore, I dare warrant, Begun through malice of the Bishops men.

A noyse againe, Stones, Stones.

Enter Maior.

Maior. Oh my good Lords, and vertuous Henry, Pitty the Citie of London, pitty vs: The Bishop, and the Duke of Glosters men, Forbidden late to carry any Weapon, Haue fill'd their Pockets full of peeble stones; And banding themselues in contrary parts, Doe pelt so fast at one anothers Pate, That many haue their giddy braynes knockt out: Our Windowes are broke downe in euery 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 selfe, To hold your slaughtring hands, and keepe the Peace: Pray' Vnckle Gloster mittigate this strife

1.Seruing. Nay, if we be forbidden Stones, wee'le fall to it with our Teeth

2.Seruing. Doe what ye dare, we are as resolute.

Skirmish againe.

Glost. You of my household, leaue this peeuish broyle, And set this vnaccustom'd fight aside

3.Seru. My Lord, we know your Grace to be a man Iust, and vpright; and for your Royall Birth, Inferior to none, but to his Maiestie: And ere that we will suffer such a Prince, So kinde a Father of the Common-weale, To be disgraced by an Inke-horne Mate, Wee and our Wiues and Children all will fight, And haue our bodyes 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, stay, I say: And if you loue 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 Winchester, 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 broyles? Warw. Yeeld my Lord Protector, yeeld Winchester, Except you meane with obstinate repulse To slay your Soueraigne, and destroy the Realme. You see what Mischiefe, and what Murther too, Hath beene enacted through your enmitie: Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood

Winch. He shall submit, or I will neuer yeeld

Glost. Compassion on the King commands me stoupe, Or I would see his heart out, ere the Priest Should euer get that priuiledge of me

Warw. Behold my Lord of Winchester, the Duke Hath banisht moodie discontented fury, As by his smoothed Browes it doth appeare: Why looke you still so sterne, and tragicall? Glost. Here Winchester, I offer thee my Hand

King. Fie Vnckle Beauford, I haue heard you preach, That Mallice was a great and grieuous sinne: And will not you maintaine the thing you teach? But proue a chiefe offendor in the same

Warw. Sweet King: the Bishop hath a kindly gyrd: For shame my Lord of Winchester relent; What, shall a Child instruct you what to doe? Winch. Well, Duke of Gloster, I will yeeld to thee Loue for thy Loue, and Hand for Hand I giue

Glost. I, but I feare me with a hollow Heart. See here my Friends and louing Countreymen, This token serueth for a Flagge of Truce, Betwixt our selues, and all our followers: So helpe me God, as I dissemble not

Winch. So helpe me God, as I intend it not

King. Oh louing Vnckle, kinde Duke of Gloster, How ioyfull am I made by this Contract. Away my Masters, trouble vs no more, But ioyne in friendship, as your Lords haue done

1.Seru. Content, Ile to the Surgeons

2.Seru. And so will I

3.Seru. And I will see what Physick the Tauerne affords.

Exeunt.

Warw. Accept this Scrowle, most gracious Soueraigne, Which in the Right of Richard Plantagenet, We doe exhibite to your Maiestie

Glo. Well vrg'd, my Lord of Warwick: for sweet Prince, And if your Grace marke euery circumstance, You haue great reason to doe Richard right, Especially for those occasions At Eltam Place I told your Maiestie

King. And those occasions, Vnckle, were of force: Therefore my louing Lords, our pleasure is, That Richard be restored to his Blood

Warw. Let Richard be restored to his Blood, So shall his Fathers wrongs be recompenc't

Winch. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester

King. If Richard will be true, not that all alone, But all the whole Inheritance I giue, That doth belong vnto the House of Yorke, From whence you spring, by Lineall Descent

Rich. Thy humble seruant vowes obedience, And humble seruice, till the point of death

King. Stoope then, and set your Knee against my Foot, And in reguerdon of that dutie done, I gyrt thee with the valiant Sword of Yorke: Rise Richard, like a true Plantagenet, And rise created Princely Duke of Yorke

Rich. And so thriue Richard, as thy foes may fall, And as my dutie springs, so perish they, That grudge one thought against your Maiesty

All. Welcome high Prince, the mighty Duke of Yorke

Som. Perish base Prince, ignoble Duke of Yorke

Glost. Now will it best auaile your Maiestie, To crosse the Seas, and to be Crown'd in France: The presence of a King engenders loue Amongst his Subiects, and his loyall Friends, As it dis-animates his Enemies

King. When Gloster sayes the word, King Henry goes, For friendly counsaile cuts off many Foes

Glost. Your Ships alreadie are in readinesse.

Senet. Flourish. Exeunt.

Manet Exeter.

Exet. I, we may march in England, or in France, Not seeing what is likely to ensue: This late dissention growne betwixt the Peeres, Burnes vnder fained ashes of forg'd loue, And will at last breake out into a flame, As festred members rot but by degree, Till bones and flesh and sinewes fall away, So will this base and enuious discord breed. And now I feare that fatall Prophecie, Which in the time of Henry, nam'd the Fift, Was in the mouth of euery sucking Babe, That Henry borne at Monmouth should winne all, And Henry borne at Windsor, loose all: Which is so plaine, that Exeter doth wish, His dayes may finish, ere that haplesse time. Enter.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Pucell disguis'd, with foure Souldiors with Sacks vpon their backs.

Pucell. These are the Citie Gates, the Gates of Roan, Through which our Pollicy must make a breach. Take heed, be wary how you place your words, Talke like the vulgar sort of Market men, That come to gather Money for their Corne. If we haue entrance, as I hope we shall, And that we finde the slouthfull Watch but weake, Ile by a signe giue notice to our friends, That Charles the Dolphin may encounter them

Souldier. Our Sacks shall be a meane to sack the City, And we be Lords and Rulers ouer Roan, Therefore wee'le knock.

Knock.

Watch. Che la

Pucell. Peasauns la pouure gens de Fraunce, Poore Market folkes that come to sell their Corne

Watch. Enter, goe in, the Market Bell is rung

Pucell. Now Roan, Ile shake thy Bulwarkes to the ground.

Exeunt.

Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson.

Charles. Saint Dennis blesse this happy Stratageme, And once againe wee'le sleepe secure in Roan

Bastard. Here entred Pucell, and her Practisants: Now she is there, how will she specifie? Here is the best and safest passage in

Reig. By thrusting out a Torch from yonder Tower, Which once discern'd, shewes that her meaning is, No way to that (for weaknesse) which she entred. Enter Pucell on the top, thrusting out a Torch burning.

Pucell. Behold, this is the happy Wedding Torch, That ioyneth Roan vnto her Countreymen, But burning fatall to the Talbonites

Bastard. See Noble Charles the Beacon of our friend, The burning Torch in yonder Turret stands

Charles. Now shine it like a Commet of Reuenge, A Prophet to the fall of all our Foes

Reig. Deferre no time, delayes haue dangerous ends, Enter and cry, the Dolphin, presently, And then doe execution on the Watch.

Alarum.

An Alarum. Talbot in an Excursion.

Talb. France, thou shalt rue this Treason with thy teares, If Talbot but suruiue thy Trecherie. Pucell that Witch, that damned Sorceresse, Hath wrought this Hellish Mischiefe vnawares, That hardly we escap't the Pride of France. Enter.

An Alarum: Excursions. Bedford brought in sicke in a Chayre.

Enter Talbot and Burgonie without: within, Pucell, Charles, Bastard, and Reigneir on the Walls.

Pucell. God morrow Gallants, want ye Corn for Bread? I thinke the Duke of Burgonie will fast, Before hee'le buy againe at such a rate. 'Twas full of Darnell: doe you like the taste? Burg. Scoffe on vile Fiend, and shamelesse Curtizan, I trust ere long to choake thee with thine owne, And make thee curse the Haruest of that Corne

Charles. Your Grace may starue (perhaps) before that time

Bedf. Oh let no words, but deedes, reuenge this Treason

Pucell. What will you doe, good gray-beard? Breake a Launce, and runne a-Tilt at Death, Within a Chayre

Talb. Foule Fiend of France, and Hag of all despight, Incompass'd with thy lustfull Paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant Age, And twit with Cowardise a man halfe dead? Damsell, Ile haue a bowt with you againe, Or else let Talbot perish with this shame

Pucell. Are ye so hot, Sir: yet Pucell hold thy peace, If Talbot doe but Thunder, Raine will follow.

They whisper together in counsell.

God speed the Parliament: who shall be the Speaker? Talb. Dare yee come forth, and meet vs in the field? Pucell. Belike your Lordship takes vs then for fooles, To try if that our owne be ours, or no

Talb. I speake not to that rayling Hecate, But vnto thee Alanson, and the rest. Will ye, like Souldiors, come and fight it out? Alans. Seignior no

Talb. Seignior hang: base Muleters of France, Like Pesant foot-Boyes doe they keepe the Walls, And dare not take vp Armes, like Gentlemen

Pucell. Away Captaines, let's get vs from the Walls, For Talbot meanes no goodnesse by his Lookes. God b'uy my Lord, we came but to tell you That wee are here.

Exeunt. from the Walls.

Talb. And there will we be too, ere it be long, Or else reproach be Talbots greatest fame. Vow Burgonie, by honor of thy House, Prickt on by publike Wrongs sustain'd in France, Either to get the Towne againe, or dye. And I, as sure as English Henry liues, And as his Father here was Conqueror; As sure as in this late betrayed Towne, Great Cordelions Heart was buryed; So sure I sweare, to get the Towne, or dye

Burg. My Vowes are equall 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 crasie 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 vs 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 vanquished his foes. Me thinkes I should reuiue the Souldiors hearts, Because I euer found them as my selfe

Talb. Vndaunted spirit in a dying breast, Then be it so: Heauens keepe old Bedford safe. And now no more adoe, braue Burgonie, But gather we our Forces out of hand, And set vpon our boasting Enemie. Enter.

An Alarum: Excursions. Enter Sir Iohn Falstaffe, and a Captaine.

Capt. Whither away Sir Iohn Falstaffe, in such haste? Falst. Whither away? to saue my selfe by flight, We are like to haue the ouerthrow againe

Capt. What? will you flye, and leaue Lord Talbot? Falst. I, all the Talbots in the World, to saue my life. Enter.

Capt. Cowardly Knight, ill fortune follow thee. Enter.

Retreat. Excursions. Pucell, Alanson, and Charles flye.

Bedf. Now quiet Soule, depart when Heauen please, For I haue seene our Enemies ouerthrow. What is the trust or strength of foolish man? They that of late were daring with their scoffes, Are glad and faine by flight to saue themselues.

Bedford dyes, and is carryed in by two in his Chaire.

An Alarum. Enter Talbot, Burgonie, and the rest.

Talb. Lost, and recouered in a day againe, This is a double Honor, Burgonie: Yet Heauens haue glory for this Victorie

Burg. Warlike and Martiall Talbot, Burgonie Inshrines thee in his heart, and there erects Thy noble Deeds, as Valors Monuments

Talb. Thanks gentle Duke: but where is Pucel now? I thinke her old Familiar is asleepe. Now where's the Bastards braues, and Charles his glikes? What all amort? Roan hangs her head for griefe, That such a valiant Company are fled. 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, pleaseth Burgonie

Talb. But yet before we goe, let's not forget The Noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd, But see his Exequies fulfill'd in Roan. A brauer Souldier neuer couched Launce, A gentler Heart did neuer sway in Court. But Kings and mightiest Potentates must die, For that's the end of humane miserie.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson, Pucell.

Pucell. Dismay not (Princes) at this accident, Nor grieue that Roan is so recouered: Care is no cure, but rather corrosiue, For things that are not to be remedy'd. Let frantike Talbot triumph for a while, And like a Peacock sweepe along his tayle, Wee'le pull his Plumes, and take away his Trayne, If Dolphin and the rest will be but rul'd

Charles. We haue been guided by thee hitherto, And of thy Cunning had no diffidence, One sudden Foyle shall neuer breed distrust

Bastard. Search out thy wit for secret pollicies, And we will make thee famous through the World

Alans. Wee'le set thy Statue in some holy place, And haue thee reuerenc't like a blessed Saint. Employ thee then, sweet Virgin, for our good

Pucell. Then thus it must be, this doth Ioane deuise: By faire perswasions, mixt with sugred words, We will entice the Duke of Burgonie To leaue the Talbot, and to follow vs

Charles. I marry Sweeting, if we could doe that, France were no place for Henryes Warriors, Nor should that Nation boast it so with vs, But be extirped from our Prouinces

Alans. For euer should they be expuls'd from France, And not haue Title of an Earledome here

Pucell. Your Honors shall perceiue how I will worke, To bring this matter to the wished end.

Drumme sounds a farre off.

Hearke, by the sound of Drumme you may perceiue Their Powers are marching vnto Paris-ward.

Here sound an English March.

There goes the Talbot with his Colours spred, And all the Troupes of English after him.

French March.

Now in the Rereward comes the Duke and his: Fortune in fauor makes him lagge behinde. Summon a Parley, we will talke with him.

Trumpets sound a Parley.

Charles. A Parley with the Duke of Burgonie

Burg. Who craues a Parley with the Burgonie? Pucell. The Princely Charles of France, thy Countreyman

Burg. What say'st thou Charles? for I am marching hence

Charles. Speake Pucell, and enchaunt him with thy words

Pucell. Braue Burgonie, vndoubted hope of France, Stay, let thy humble Hand-maid speake to thee

Burg. Speake on, but be not ouer-tedious

Pucell. Looke on thy Country, look on fertile France, And see the Cities and the Townes defac't, By wasting Ruine of the cruell Foe, As lookes the Mother on her lowly Babe, When Death doth close his tender-dying Eyes. See, see the pining Maladie of France: Behold the Wounds, the most vnnaturall Wounds, Which thou thy selfe hast giuen her wofull Brest. Oh turne thy edged Sword another way, Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that helpe: One drop of Blood drawne from thy Countries Bosome, Should grieue thee more then streames of forraine gore. Returne thee therefore with a floud of Teares, And wash away thy Countries stayned Spots

Burg. Either she hath bewitcht me with her words, Or Nature makes me suddenly relent

Pucell. Besides, all French and France exclaimes on thee, Doubting thy Birth and lawfull Progenie. Who ioyn'st thou with, but with a Lordly Nation, That will not trust thee, but for profits sake? When Talbot hath set footing once in France, And fashion'd thee that Instrument of Ill, Who then, but English Henry, will be Lord, And thou be thrust out, like a Fugitiue? Call we to minde, and marke but this for proofe: Was not the Duke of Orleance thy Foe? And was he not in England Prisoner? But when they heard he was thine Enemie, They set him free, without his Ransome pay'd, In spight of Burgonie and all his friends. See then, thou fight'st against thy Countreymen, And ioyn'st with them will be thy slaughter-men. Come, come, returne; returne thou wandering Lord, Charles and the rest will take thee in their armes

Burg. I am vanquished: These haughtie wordes of hers Haue batt'red me like roaring Cannon-shot, And made me almost yeeld vpon my knees. Forgiue me Countrey, and sweet Countreymen: And Lords accept this heartie kind embrace. My Forces and my Power of Men are yours. So farwell Talbot, Ile no longer trust thee

Pucell. Done like a Frenchman: turne and turne againe

Charles. Welcome braue Duke, thy friendship makes vs fresh

Bastard. And doth beget new Courage in our Breasts

Alans. Pucell hath brauely play'd her part in this, And doth deserue a Coronet of Gold

Charles. Now let vs on, my Lords, And ioyne our Powers, And seeke how we may preiudice the Foe.

Exeunt.

Scoena Quarta.

Enter the King, Gloucester, Winchester, Yorke, Suffolke, Somerset, Warwicke, Exeter: To them, with his Souldiors, Talbot.

Talb. My gracious Prince, and honorable Peeres, Hearing of your arriuall in this Realme, I haue a while giuen Truce vnto my Warres, To doe my dutie to my Soueraigne. In signe whereof, this Arme, that hath reclaym'd To your obedience, fiftie Fortresses, Twelue Cities, and seuen walled Townes of strength, Beside fiue hundred Prisoners of esteeme; Lets fall his Sword before your Highnesse feet: And with submissiue loyaltie of heart Ascribes the Glory of his Conquest got, First to my God, and next vnto your Grace

King. Is this the Lord Talbot, Vnckle Gloucester, That hath so long beene resident in France? Glost. Yes, if it please your Maiestie, my Liege

King. Welcome braue Captaine, and victorious Lord. When I was young (as yet I am not old) I doe remember how my Father said, A stouter Champion neuer handled Sword. Long since we were resolued of your truth, Your faithfull seruice, and your toyle in Warre: Yet neuer haue you tasted our Reward, Or beene reguerdon'd with so much as Thanks, Because till now, we neuer saw your face. Therefore stand vp, and for these good deserts, We here create you Earle of Shrewsbury, And in our Coronation take your place.

Senet. Flourish. Exeunt.

Manet Vernon and Basset.

Vern. Now Sir, to you that were so hot at Sea, Disgracing of these Colours that I weare, In honor of my Noble Lord of Yorke Dar'st thou maintaine the former words thou spak'st? Bass. Yes Sir, as well as you dare patronage The enuious barking of your sawcie Tongue, Against my Lord the Duke of Somerset

Vern. Sirrha, thy Lord I honour as he is

Bass. Why, what is he? as good a man as Yorke

Vern. Hearke ye: not so: in witnesse take ye that.

Strikes him.

Bass. Villaine, thou knowest The Law of Armes is such, That who so drawes a Sword, 'tis present death, Or else this Blow should broach thy dearest Bloud. But Ile vnto his Maiestie, and craue, I may haue libertie to venge this Wrong, When thou shalt see, Ile meet thee to thy cost

Vern. Well miscreant, Ile be there as soone as you, And after meete you, sooner then you would.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter King, Glocester, Winchester, Yorke, Suffolke, Somerset, Warwicke, Talbot, and Gouernor Exeter.

Glo. Lord Bishop set the Crowne vpon his head

Win. God saue King Henry of that name the sixt

Glo. Now Gouernour of Paris take your oath, That you elect no other King but him; Esteeme none Friends, but such as are his Friends, And none your Foes, but such as shall pretend Malicious practises against his State: This shall ye do, so helpe you righteous God. Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. My gracious Soueraigne, as I rode from Calice, To haste vnto your Coronation: A Letter was deliuer'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 (base Knight) when I did meete the next, To teare the Garter from thy Crauens legge, Which I haue done, because (vnworthily) Thou was't installed in that High Degree. Pardon me Princely Henry, and the rest: This Dastard, at the battell of Poictiers, When (but in all) I was sixe thousand strong, And that the French were almost ten to one, Before we met, or that a stroke was giuen, Like to a trustie Squire, did run away. In which assault, we lost twelue hundred men. My selfe, and diuers Gentlemen beside, Were there surpriz'd, and taken prisoners. Then iudge (great Lords) if I haue done amisse: 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 haughtie Courage, Such as were growne to credit by the warres: Not fearing Death, nor shrinking for Distresse, But alwayes resolute, in most extreames. He then, that is not furnish'd in this sort, Doth but vsurpe 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 presume to boast of Gentle blood

K. Staine to thy Countrymen, thou hear'st thy doom: Be packing therefore, thou that was't a knight: Henceforth we banish thee on paine of death. And now Lord Protector, view the Letter Sent from our Vnckle Duke of Burgundy

Glo. What meanes his Grace, that he hath chaung'd his Stile? No more but plaine and bluntly? (To the King.) Hath he forgot he is his Soueraigne? Or doth this churlish Superscription Pretend some alteration in good will? What's heere? I haue vpon especiall cause, Mou'd with compassion of my Countries wracke, Together with the pittifull complaints Of such as your oppression feedes vpon, Forsaken your pernitious Faction, And ioyn'd with Charles, the rightfull king of France. O monstrous Treachery: Can this be so? That in alliance, amity, and oathes, There should be found such false dissembling guile? King. What? doth my Vnckle Burgundy reuolt? Glo. He doth my Lord, and is become your foe

King. Is that the worst this Letter doth containe? Glo. It is the worst, and all (my Lord) he writes

King. Why then Lord Talbot there shal talk with him, And giue him chasticement for this abuse. How say you (my Lord) are you not content? Tal. Content, my Liege? Yes: But y I am preuented, I should haue begg'd I might haue bene employd

King. Then gather strength, and march vnto him straight: Let him perceiue how ill we brooke his Treason, And what offence it is to flout his Friends

Tal. I go my Lord, in heart desiring still You may behold confusion of your foes. Enter Vernon and Bassit.

Ver. Grant me the Combate, gracious Soueraigne

Bas. And me (my Lord) grant me the Combate too

Yorke. This is my Seruant, heare him Noble Prince

Som. And this is mine (sweet Henry) fauour him

King. Be patient Lords, and giue them leaue to speak. Say Gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaime, And wherefore craue you Combate? Or with whom? Ver. With him (my Lord) for he hath done me wrong

Bas. And I with him, for he hath done me wrong

King. What is that wrong, wherof you both complain First let me know, and then Ile answer you

Bas. Crossing the Sea, from England into France, This Fellow heere with enuious carping tongue, Vpbraided me about the Rose I weare, Saying, the sanguine colour of the Leaues Did represent my Masters blushing cheekes: 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 tearmes. In confutation 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 forged queint conceite To set a glosse vpon his bold intent, Yet know (my Lord) I was prouok'd by him, And he first tooke exceptions at this badge, Pronouncing that the palenesse of this Flower, Bewray'd the faintnesse of my Masters heart

Yorke. Will not this malice Somerset be left? Som. Your priuate grudge my Lord of York, wil out, Though ne're so cunningly you smother it

King. Good Lord, what madnesse rules in brainesicke men, When for so slight and friuolous a cause, Such factious aemulations shall arise? Good Cosins both of Yorke and Somerset, Quiet your selues (I pray) and be at peace

Yorke. Let this dissention first be tried by fight, And then your Highnesse shall command a Peace

Som. The quarrell toucheth none but vs alone, Betwixt our selues let vs decide it then

Yorke. There is my pledge, accept it Somerset

Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first

Bass. Confirme it so, mine honourable Lord

Glo. Confirme it so? Confounded be your strife, And perish ye with your audacious prate, Presumptuous vassals, are you not asham'd With this immodest clamorous outrage, To trouble and disturbe the King, and Vs? And you my Lords, me thinkes you do not well To beare with their peruerse Obiections: Much lesse to take occasion from their mouthes, To raise a mutiny betwixt your selues. Let me perswade you take a better course

Exet. It greeues his Highnesse, Good my Lords, be Friends

King. Come hither you that would be Combatants: Henceforth I charge you, as you loue our fauour, Quite to forget this Quarrell, and the cause. And you my Lords: Remember where we are, In France, amongst a fickle wauering Nation: If they perceyue dissention in our lookes, And that within our selues we disagree; How will their grudging stomackes be prouok'd To wilfull Disobedience, and Rebell? Beside, What infamy will there arise, When Forraigne Princes shall be certified, That for a toy, a thing of no regard, King Henries Peeres, and cheefe Nobility, Destroy'd themselues, and lost the Realme of France? Oh thinke vpon the Conquest of my Father, My tender yeares, and let vs not forgoe That for a trifle, that was bought with blood. Let me be Vmper in this doubtfull strife: I see no reason if I weare this Rose, That any one should therefore be suspitious I more incline to Somerset, than Yorke: Both are my kinsmen, and I loue them both. As well they may vpbray'd me with my Crowne, Because (forsooth) 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 vs still continue peace, and loue. Cosin of Yorke, we institute your Grace To be our Regent in these parts of France: And good my Lord of Somerset, vnite Your Troopes of horsemen, with his Bands of foote, And like true Subiects, sonnes of your Progenitors, Go cheerefully together, and digest Your angry Choller on your Enemies. Our Selfe, my Lord Protector, and the rest, After some respit, will returne to Calice; From thence to England, where I hope ere long To be presented by your Victories, With Charles, Alanson, and that Traiterous rout.

Exeunt. Manet Yorke, Warwick, Exeter, Vernon.

War. My Lord of Yorke, I promise you the King Prettily (me thought) did play the Orator

Yorke. 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

York. And if I wish he did. But let it rest, Other affayres must now be managed.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Manet Exeter.

Exet. Well didst thou Richard to suppresse thy voice: For had the passions of thy heart burst out, I feare we should haue seene 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 sees This iarring discord of Nobilitie, This shouldering of each other in the Court, This factious bandying of their Fauourites, But that it doth presage some ill euent. 'Tis much, when Scepters are in Childrens hands: But more, when Enuy breeds vnkinde deuision, There comes the ruine, there begins confusion. Enter.

Enter Talbot with Trumpe and Drumme, before Burdeaux.

Talb. Go to the Gates of Burdeaux Trumpeter, Summon their Generall vnto the Wall.

Sounds.

Enter Generall aloft.

English Iohn Talbot (Captaines) call you forth, Seruant in Armes to Harry King of England, And thus he would. Open your Citie Gates, Be humble to vs, call my Soueraigne yours, And do him homage as obedient Subiects, And Ile withdraw me, and my bloody power. But if you frowne vpon this proffer'd Peace, You tempt the fury of my three attendants, Leane Famine, quartering Steele, and climbing Fire, Who in a moment, eeuen with the earth, Shall lay your stately, and ayre-brauing Towers, If you forsake the offer of their loue

Cap. Thou ominous and fearefull Owle of death, Our Nations terror, and their bloody scourge, The period of thy Tyranny approacheth, On vs thou canst not enter but by death: For I protest we are well fortified, And strong enough to issue out and fight. If thou retire, the Dolphin well appointed, Stands with the snares of Warre to tangle thee. On either hand thee, there are squadrons pitcht, To wall thee from the liberty of Flight; And no way canst thou turne thee for redresse, But death doth front thee with apparant spoyle, And pale destruction meets thee in the face: Ten thousand French haue tane the Sacrament, To ryue their dangerous Artillerie Vpon no Christian soule but English Talbot: Loe, there thou standst a breathing valiant man Of an inuincible vnconquer'd spirit: This is the latest Glorie of thy praise, That I thy enemy dew thee withall: For ere the Glasse that now begins to runne, Finish the processe of his sandy houre, These eyes that see thee now well coloured, Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead.

Drum a farre off.

Harke, harke, the Dolphins drumme, a warning bell, Sings heauy Musicke to thy timorous soule, And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.

Exit

Tal. He Fables not, I heare the enemie: Out some light Horsemen, and peruse their Wings. O negligent and heedlesse 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 English Deere, be then in blood, Not Rascall-like to fall downe with a pinch, But rather moodie mad: And desperate Stagges, Turne on the bloody Hounds with heads of Steele, And make the Cowards stand aloofe at bay: Sell euery man his life as deere as mine, And they shall finde deere Deere of vs my Friends. God, and S[aint]. George, Talbot and Englands right, Prosper our Colours in this dangerous fight. Enter a Messenger that meets Yorke. Enter Yorke with Trumpet, and many Soldiers.

Yorke. Are not the speedy scouts return'd againe, That dog'd the mighty Army of the Dolphin? Mess. They are return'd my Lord, and giue it out, That he is march'd to Burdeaux with his power To fight with Talbot as he march'd along. By your espyals were discouered Two mightier Troopes then that the Dolphin led, Which ioyn'd with him, and made their march for Burdeaux Yorke. A plague vpon that Villaine Somerset, That thus delayes my promised supply Of horsemen, that were leuied for this siege. Renowned Talbot doth expect my ayde, And I am lowted by a Traitor Villaine, And cannot helpe the noble Cheualier: God comfort him in this necessity: If he miscarry, farewell Warres in France. Enter another Messenger

2.Mes. Thou Princely Leader of our English strength, Neuer so needfull on the earth of France, Spurre to the rescue of the Noble Talbot, Who now is girdled with a waste of Iron, And hem'd about with grim destruction: To Burdeaux warlike Duke, to Burdeaux Yorke, Else farwell Talbot, France, and Englands honor

Yorke. O God, that Somerset who in proud heart Doth stop my Cornets, were in Talbots place, So should wee saue a valiant Gentleman, By forfeyting a Traitor, and a Coward: Mad ire, and wrathfull fury makes me weepe, That thus we dye, while remisse Traitors sleepe

Mes. O send some succour to the distrest Lord

Yorke. He dies, we loose: I breake my warlike word: We mourne, France smiles: We loose, they dayly get, All long of this vile Traitor Somerset

Mes. Then God take mercy on braue Talbots soule, And on his Sonne yong Iohn, who two houres since, I met in trauaile toward his warlike Father; This seuen yeeres did not Talbot see his sonne, And now they meete where both their liues are done

Yorke. Alas, what ioy shall noble Talbot haue, To bid his yong sonne welcome to his Graue: Away, vexation almost stoppes my breath, That sundred friends greete in the houre of death. Lucie farewell, no more my fortune can, But curse the cause I cannot ayde the man. Maine, Bloys, Poytiers, and Toures, are wonne away, Long all of Somerset, and his delay.

Exit

Mes. Thus while the Vulture of sedition, Feedes in the bosome of such great Commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to losse: The Conquest of our scarse-cold Conqueror, That euer-liuing man of Memorie, Henrie the fift: Whiles they each other crosse, Liues, Honours, Lands, and all, hurrie to losse. Enter Somerset with his Armie.

Som. It is too late, I cannot send them now: This expedition was by Yorke and Talbot, Too rashly plotted. All our generall force, Might with a sally of the very Towne Be buckled with: the ouer-daring Talbot Hath sullied all his glosse of former Honor By this vnheedfull, desperate, wilde aduenture: Yorke set him on to fight, and dye in shame, That Talbot dead, great Yorke might beare the name

Cap. Heere is Sir William Lucie, who with me Set from our ore-matcht forces forth for ayde

Som. How now Sir William, whether were you sent? Lu. Whether my Lord, from bought & sold L[ord]. Talbot, Who ring'd about with bold aduersitie, Cries out for noble Yorke and Somerset, To beate assayling death from his weake Regions, And whiles the honourable Captaine there Drops bloody swet from his warre-wearied limbes, And in aduantage lingring lookes for rescue, You his false hopes, the trust of Englands honor, Keepe off aloofe with worthlesse emulation: Let not your priuate discord keepe away The leuied succours that should lend him ayde, While he renowned Noble Gentleman Yeeld vp his life vnto a world of oddes. Orleance the Bastard, Charles, Burgundie, Alanson, Reignard, compasse him about, And Talbot perisheth by your default

Som. Yorke set him on, Yorke should haue sent him ayde

Luc. And Yorke as fast vpon your Grace exclaimes, Swearing that you with-hold his leuied hoast, Collected for this expidition

Som. York lyes: He might haue sent, & had the Horse: I owe him little Dutie, and lesse Loue, And take foule scorne to fawne on him by sending

Lu. The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now intrapt the Noble-minded Talbot: Neuer to England shall he beare his life, But dies betraid to fortune by your strife

Som. Come go, I will dispatch the Horsemen strait: Within sixe houres, they will be at his ayde

Lu. Too late comes rescue, he is tane or slaine, For flye he could not, if he would haue fled: And flye would Talbot neuer though he might

Som. If he be dead, braue Talbot then adieu

Lu. His Fame liues in the world. His Shame in you.

Exeunt.

Enter Talbot and his Sonne.

Tal. O yong Iohn Talbot, I did send for thee To tutor thee in stratagems of Warre, That Talbots name might be in thee reuiu'd, When saplesse Age, and weake vnable limbes Should bring thy Father to his drooping Chaire. But O malignant and ill-boading Starres, Now thou art come vnto a Feast of death, A terrible and vnauoyded danger: Therefore deere Boy, mount on my swiftest horse, And Ile direct thee how thou shalt escape By sodaine flight. Come, dally not, be gone

Iohn. Is my name Talbot? and am I your Sonne? And shall I flye? O, if you loue my Mother, Dishonor not her Honorable Name, To make a Bastard, and a Slaue of me: The World will say, he is not Talbots blood, That basely fled, when Noble Talbot stood

Talb. Flye, to reuenge my death, if I be slaine

Iohn. He that flyes so, will ne're returne againe

Talb. If we both stay, we both are sure to dye

Iohn. Then let me stay, and Father doe you flye: Your losse is great, so your regard should be; My worth vnknowne, no losse is knowne in me. Vpon my death, the French can little boast; In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost. Flight cannot stayne the Honor you haue wonne, But mine it will, that no Exploit haue done. You fled for Vantage, euery one will sweare: But if I bow, they'le say it was for feare. There is no hope that euer I will stay, If the first howre I shrinke and run away: Here on my knee I begge Mortalitie, Rather then Life, preseru'd with Infamie

Talb. Shall all thy Mothers hopes lye in one Tombe? Iohn. I, rather then Ile shame my Mothers Wombe

Talb. Vpon my Blessing I command thee goe

Iohn. To fight I will, but not to flye the Foe

Talb. Part of thy Father may be sau'd in thee

Iohn. No part of him, but will be shame in mee

Talb. Thou neuer hadst Renowne, nor canst not lose it

Iohn. Yes, your renowned Name: shall flight abuse it? Talb. Thy Fathers charge shal cleare thee from y staine

Iohn. You cannot witnesse for me, being slaine. If Death be so apparant, then both flye

Talb. And leaue my followers here to fight and dye? My Age was neuer tainted with such shame

Iohn. And shall my Youth be guiltie of such blame? No more can I be seuered from your side, Then can your selfe, your selfe in twaine diuide: Stay, goe, doe what you will, the like doe I; For liue I will not, if my Father dye

Talb. Then here I take my leaue of thee, faire Sonne, Borne to eclipse thy Life this afternoone: Come, side by side, together liue and dye, And Soule with Soule from France to Heauen flye. Enter.

Alarum: Excursions, wherein Talbots Sonne is hemm'd about, and Talbot rescues him.

Talb. Saint George, and Victory; fight Souldiers, fight: The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word, And left vs to the rage of France his Sword. Where is Iohn Talbot? pawse, and take thy breath, I gaue thee Life, and rescu'd thee from Death

Iohn. O twice my Father, twice am I thy Sonne: The Life thou gau'st me first, was lost and done, Till with thy Warlike Sword, despight of Fate, To my determin'd time thou gau'st new date

Talb. When fro[m] the Dolphins Crest thy Sword struck fire, It warm'd thy Fathers heart with prowd desire Of bold-fac't Victorie. Then Leaden Age, Quicken'd with Youthfull Spleene, and Warlike Rage, Beat downe Alanson, Orleance, Burgundie, And from the Pride of Gallia rescued thee. The irefull Bastard Orleance, that drew blood From thee my Boy, and had the Maidenhood Of thy first fight, I soone encountred, And interchanging blowes, I quickly shed Some of his Bastard blood, and in disgrace Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base, 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 braue Boy. Here purposing the Bastard to destroy, Came in strong rescue. Speake thy Fathers care: Art thou not wearie, Iohn? How do'st thou fare? Wilt thou yet leaue the Battaile, Boy, and flie, Now thou art seal'd the Sonne of Chiualrie? Flye, to reuenge my death when I am dead, The helpe of one stands me in little stead. Oh, too much folly is it, well I wot, To hazard all our liues 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 Reuenge, thy Youth, and Englands Fame: All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay; All these are sau'd, if thou wilt flye away

Iohn. The Sword of Orleance hath not made me smart, These words of yours draw Life-blood from my Heart. On that aduantage, bought with such a shame, To saue a paltry Life, and slay bright Fame, Before young Talbot from old Talbot flye, The Coward Horse that beares me, fall and dye: And like me to the pesant Boyes of France, To be Shames scorne, and subiect of Mischance. Surely, by all the Glorie you haue 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, Thou Icarus, thy Life to me is sweet: If thou wilt fight, fight by thy Fathers side, And commendable prou'd, let's dye in pride. Enter.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led.

Talb. Where is my other Life? mine owne is gone. O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant Iohn? Triumphant Death, smear'd with Captiuitie, Young Talbots Valour makes me smile at thee. When he perceiu'd me shrinke, and on my Knee, His bloodie Sword he brandisht ouer mee, And like a hungry Lyon did commence Rough deeds of Rage, and sterne Impatience: But when my angry Guardant stood alone, Tendring my ruine, and assayl'd of none, Dizzie-ey'd Furie, and great rage of Heart, Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clustring Battaile of the French: And in that Sea of Blood, my Boy did drench His ouer-mounting Spirit; and there di'de My Icarus, my Blossome, in his pride. Enter with Iohn Talbot, borne.

Seru. O my deare Lord, loe where your Sonne is borne

Tal. Thou antique Death, which laugh'st vs here to scorn, Anon from thy insulting Tyrannie, Coupled in bonds of perpetuitie, Two Talbots winged through the lither Skie, In thy despight shall scape Mortalitie. O thou whose wounds become hard fauoured death, Speake to thy father, ere thou yeeld thy breath, Braue death by speaking, whither he will or no: Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy Foe. Poore Boy, he smiles, me thinkes, as who should say, 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 these harmes. Souldiers adieu: I haue what I would haue, Now my old armes are yong Iohn Talbots graue.

Dyes

Enter Charles, Alanson, Burgundie, Bastard, and Pucell.

Char. Had Yorke and Somerset brought rescue in, We should haue found a bloody day of this

Bast. How the yong whelpe of Talbots raging wood, Did flesh his punie-sword in Frenchmens blood

Puc. Once I encountred him, and thus I said: Thou Maiden youth, be vanquisht by a Maide. But with a proud Maiesticall high scorne He answer'd thus: Yong Talbot was not borne To be the pillage of a Giglot Wench: So rushing in the bowels of the French, He left me proudly, as vnworthy fight

Bur. Doubtlesse he would haue made a noble Knight: See where he lyes inherced in the armes Of the most bloody Nursser of his harmes

Bast. Hew them to peeces, hack their bones assunder, Whose life was Englands glory, Gallia's wonder

Char. Oh no forbeare: For that which we haue fled During the life, let vs not wrong it dead. Enter Lucie.

Lu. Herald, conduct me to the Dolphins Tent, To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day

Char. On what submissiue message art thou sent? Lucy. Submission Dolphin? Tis a meere French word: We English Warriours wot not what it meanes. I come to know what Prisoners thou hast tane, And to suruey the bodies of the dead

Char. For prisoners askst thou? Hell our prison is. But tell me whom thou seek'st? Luc. But where's the great Alcides of the field, Valiant Lord Talbot Earle of Shrewsbury? Created for his rare successe in Armes, Great Earle of Washford, Waterford, and Valence, Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Vrchinfield, Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton, Lord Cromwell of Wingefield, Lord Furniuall of Sheffeild, The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge, Knight of the Noble Order of S[aint]. George, Worthy S[aint]. Michael, and the Golden Fleece, Great Marshall to Henry the sixt, Of all his Warres within the Realme of France

Puc. Heere's a silly stately stile indeede: The Turke that two and fiftie Kingdomes hath, Writes not so tedious a Stile as this. Him that thou magnifi'st with all these Titles, Stinking and fly-blowne lyes heere at our feete

Lucy. Is Talbot slaine, 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. Giue me their Bodyes, that I may beare them hence, And giue them Buriall, as beseemes their worth

Pucel. I thinke this vpstart is old Talbots Ghost, He speakes with such a proud commanding spirit: For Gods sake let him haue him, to keepe them here, They would but stinke, and putrifie the ayre

Char. Go take their bodies hence

Lucy. Ile beare them hence: but from their ashes shal be reard A Phoenix that shall make all France affear'd

Char. So we be rid of them, do with him what y wilt. And now to Paris in this conquering vaine, All will be ours, now bloody Talbots slaine. Enter.

Scena secunda.

SENNET.

Enter King, Glocester, and Exeter.

King. Haue you perus'd the Letters from the Pope, The Emperor, and the Earle of Arminack? Glo. I haue my Lord, and their intent is this, They humbly sue vnto your Excellence, To haue 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 meanes To stop effusion of our Christian blood, And stablish quietnesse on euery side

King. I marry Vnckle, for I alwayes thought It was both impious and vnnaturall, That such immanity and bloody strife Should reigne among Professors of one Faith

Glo. Beside 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 Authoritie in France, Proffers his onely daughter to your Grace, In marriage, with a large and sumptuous Dowrie

King. Marriage Vnckle? Alas my yeares are yong: And fitter is my studie, and my Bookes, Then wanton dalliance with a Paramour. Yet call th' Embassadors, and as you please, So let them haue their answeres euery one: I shall be well content with any choyce Tends to Gods glory, and my Countries weale. Enter Winchester, and three Ambassadors.

Exet. What, is my Lord of Winchester install'd, And call'd vnto a Cardinalls degree? Then I perceiue, that will be verified Henry the Fift did sometime prophesie. If once he come to be a Cardinall, Hee'l make his cap coequall with the Crowne

King. My Lords Ambassadors, your seuerall suites Haue bin consider'd and debated on, Your purpose is both good and reasonable: And therefore are we certainly resolu'd, To draw conditions of a friendly peace, Which by my Lord of Winchester we meane Shall be transported presently to France

Glo. And for the proffer of my Lord your Master, I haue inform'd his Highnesse so at large, As liking of the Ladies vertuous gifts, Her Beauty, and the valew of her Dower, He doth intend she shall be Englands Queene

King. In argument and proofe of which contract, Beare her this Iewell, pledge of my affection. And so my Lord Protector see them guarded, And safely brought to Douer, wherein ship'd Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

Exeunt.

Win. Stay my Lord Legate, you shall first receiue The summe of money which I promised Should be deliuered to his Holinesse, For cloathing me in these graue Ornaments

Legat. I will attend vpon your Lordships leysure

Win. Now Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferiour to the proudest Peere; Humfrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceiue, That neither in birth, or for authoritie, The Bishop will be ouer-borne by thee: Ile either make thee stoope, and bend thy knee, Or sacke this Country with a mutiny.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alanson, Bastard, Reignier, and Ione.

Char. These newes (my Lords) may cheere our drooping spirits: 'Tis said, the stout Parisians do reuolt, And turne againe vnto the warlike French

Alan. Then march to Paris Royall Charles of France, And keepe not backe your powers in dalliance

Pucel. Peace be amongst them if they turne to vs, Else ruine combate with their Pallaces. Enter Scout.

Scout. Successe vnto our valiant Generall, And happinesse to his accomplices

Char. What tidings send our Scouts? I prethee speak

Scout. The English Army that diuided was Into two parties, is now conioyn'd in one, And meanes to giue you battell presently

Char. Somewhat too sodaine Sirs, the warning is, But we will presently prouide for them

Bur. I trust the Ghost of Talbot is not there: Now he is gone my Lord, you neede not feare

Pucel. Of all base passions, Feare is most accurst. Command the Conquest Charles, it shall be thine: 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 Periapts, And ye choise spirits that admonish me, And giue me signes of future accidents.

Thunder.

You speedy helpers, that are substitutes 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 vnder earth, Helpe me this once, that France may get the field.

They walke, and speake not.

Oh hold me not with silence ouer-long: Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, Ile lop a member off, and giue it you, In earnest of a further benefit: So you do condiscend to helpe me now.

They hang their heads.

No hope to haue redresse? My body shall Pay recompence, if you will graunt my suite.

They shake their heads.

Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice, Intreate you to your wonted furtherance? Then take my soule; my body, soule, and all, Before that England giue the French the foyle.

They depart.

See, they forsake me. Now the time is come, That France must vale her lofty 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. Enter.

Excursions. Burgundie and Yorke fight hand to hand. French flye.

Yorke. Damsell of France, I thinke I haue you fast, Vnchaine your spirits now with spelling Charmes, And try if they can gaine your liberty. A goodly prize, fit for the diuels grace. See how the vgly Witch doth bend her browes, As if with Circe, she would change my shape

Puc. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be: Yor. Oh, Charles the Dolphin is a proper man, No shape but his can please your dainty eye

Puc. A plaguing mischeefe light on Charles, and thee, And may ye both be sodainly surpriz'd By bloudy hands, in sleeping on your beds

Yorke. Fell banning Hagge, Inchantresse hold thy tongue

Puc. I prethee giue me leaue to curse awhile

Yorke. Curse Miscreant, when thou comst to the stake

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Suffolke with Margaret in his hand.

Suff. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.

Gazes on her.

Oh Fairest Beautie, do not feare, nor flye: For I will touch thee but with reuerend hands, I kisse these fingers for eternall peace, And lay them gently on thy tender side. Who art thou, say? that I may honor thee

Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a King, The King of Naples, who so ere thou art

Suff. An Earle I am, and Suffolke am I call'd. Be not offended Natures myracle, Thou art alotted to be tane by me: So doth the Swan her downie Signets saue, Keeping them prisoner vnderneath his wings: Yet if this seruile vsage once offend, Go, and be free againe, as Suffolkes friend.

She is going

Oh stay: I haue no power to let her passe, My hand would free her, but my heart sayes no. As playes the Sunne vpon the glassie streames, Twinkling another counterfetted beame, So seemes this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. Faine would I woe her, yet I dare not speake: Ile call for Pen and Inke, and write my minde: Fye De la Pole, disable not thy selfe: Hast not a Tongue? Is she not heere? Wilt thou be daunted at a Womans sight? I: Beauties Princely Maiesty is such, 'Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough

Mar. Say Earle of Suffolke, if thy name be so, What ransome must I pay before I passe? For I perceiue I am thy prisoner

Suf. How canst thou tell she will deny thy suite, Before thou make a triall of her loue? M. Why speak'st thou not? What ransom must I pay? Suf. She's beautifull; and therefore to be Wooed: 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 Paramour? Mar. I were best to leaue 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 dispensation may bee 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 woodden thing

Mar. He talkes of wood: It is some Carpenter

Suf. Yet so my fancy may be satisfied, And peace established betweene these Realmes. But there remaines a scruple in that too: For though her Father be the King of Naples, Duke of Aniou and Mayne, yet is he poore, And our Nobility will scorne the match

Mar. Heare ye Captaine? Are you not at leysure? Suf. It shall be so, disdaine they ne're so much: Henry is youthfull, and will quickly yeeld. Madam, I haue a secret to reueale

Mar. What though I be inthral'd, he seems a knight And will not any way dishonor me

Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say

Mar. Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French, And then I need not craue his curtesie

Suf. Sweet Madam, giue me hearing in a cause

Mar. Tush, women haue bene captiuate ere now

Suf. Lady, wherefore talke you so? Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but Quid for Quo

Suf. Say gentle Princesse, would you not suppose Your bondage happy, to be made a Queene? Mar. To be a Queene in bondage, is more vile, Than is a slaue, in base seruility: For Princes should be free

Suf. And so shall you, If happy Englands Royall King be free

Mar. Why what concernes his freedome vnto mee? Suf. Ile vndertake to make thee Henries Queene, To put a Golden Scepter in thy hand, And set a precious Crowne vpon thy head, If thou wilt condiscend to be my- Mar. What? Suf. His loue

Mar. I am vnworthy to be Henries wife

Suf. No gentle Madam, I vnworthy am To woe so faire a Dame to be his wife, And haue no portion in the choice my selfe. How say you Madam, are ye so content? Mar. And if my Father please, I am content

Suf. Then call our Captaines and our Colours forth, And Madam, at your Fathers Castle walles, Wee'l craue a parley, to conferre with him.

Sound. Enter Reignier on the Walles.

See Reignier see, thy daughter prisoner

Reig. To whom? Suf. To me

Reig. Suffolke, what remedy? I am a Souldier, and vnapt to weepe, Or to exclaime on Fortunes ficklenesse

Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough my Lord, Consent, and for thy Honor giue consent, Thy daughter shall be wedded to my King, Whom I with paine haue wooed and wonne thereto: And this her easie held imprisonment, Hath gain'd thy daughter Princely libertie

Reig. Speakes Suffolke as he thinkes? Suf. Faire Margaret knowes, That Suffolke doth not flatter, face, or faine

Reig. Vpon thy Princely warrant, I descend, To giue thee answer of thy iust demand

Suf. And heere I will expect thy comming.

Trumpets sound. Enter Reignier.

Reig. Welcome braue Earle into our Territories, Command in Aniou what your Honor pleases

Suf. Thankes Reignier, happy for so sweet a Childe, Fit to be made companion with a King: What answer makes your Grace vnto my suite? Reig. Since thou dost daigne to woe her little worth, To be the Princely Bride of such a Lord: Vpon condition I may quietly Enioy mine owne, the Country Maine and Aniou, Free from oppression, or the stroke of Warre, My daughter shall be Henries, if he please

Suf. That is her ransome, I deliuer her, And those two Counties I will vndertake Your Grace shall well and quietly enioy

Reig. And I againe in Henries Royall name, As Deputy vnto that gracious King, Giue thee her hand for signe of plighted faith

Suf. Reignier of France, I giue thee Kingly thankes, Because this is in Trafficke of a King. And yet me thinkes I could be well content To be mine owne Atturney in this case. Ile ouer then to England with this newes. And make this marriage to be solemniz'd: So farewell Reignier, set this Diamond safe In Golden Pallaces as it becomes

Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace The Christian Prince King Henrie were he heere

Mar. Farewell my Lord, good wishes, praise, & praiers, Shall Suffolke euer haue of Margaret.

Shee is going.

Suf. Farwell sweet Madam: but hearke you Margaret, No Princely commendations to my King? Mar. Such commendations as becomes a Maide, A Virgin, and his Seruant, say to him

Suf. Words sweetly plac'd, and modestie directed, But Madame, I must trouble you againe, No louing Token to his Maiestie? Mar. Yes, my good Lord, a pure vnspotted heart, Neuer yet taint with loue, I send the King

Suf. And this withall.

Kisse her.

Mar. That for thy selfe, I will not so presume, To send such peeuish tokens to a King

Suf. Oh wert thou for my selfe: but Suffolke stay, Thou mayest not wander in that Labyrinth, There Minotaurs and vgly Treasons lurke, Solicite Henry with her wonderous praise. Bethinke thee on her Vertues that surmount, Mad naturall Graces that extinguish Art, Repeate their semblance often on the Seas, That when thou com'st to kneele at Henries feete, Thou mayest bereaue him of his wits with wonder.

Exit

Enter Yorke, Warwicke, Shepheard, Pucell.

Yor. Bring forth that Sorceresse condemn'd to burne

Shep. Ah Ione, this kils thy Fathers heart out-right, Haue I sought euery Country farre and neere, And now it is my chance to finde thee out, Must I behold thy timelesse cruell death: Ah Ione, sweet daughter Ione, Ile die with thee

Pucel. Decrepit Miser, base ignoble Wretch, I am am descended of a gentler blood. Thou art no Father, nor no Friend of mine

Shep. Out, out: My Lords, and please you, 'tis not so I did beget her, all the Parish knowes: Her Mother liueth yet, can testifie She was the first fruite of my Bach'ler-ship

War. Gracelesse, wilt thou deny thy Parentage? Yorke. This argues what her kinde of life hath beene, Wicked and vile, and so her death concludes

Shep. Fye Ione, that thou wilt be so obstacle: God knowes, thou art a collop of my flesh, And for thy sake haue I shed many a teare: Deny me not, I prythee, gentle Ione

Pucell. Pezant auant. You haue suborn'd this man Of purpose, to obscure my Noble birth

Shep. 'Tis true, I gaue a Noble to the Priest, The morne that I was wedded to her mother. Kneele downe and take my blessing, good my Gyrle. Wilt thou not stoope? Now cursed be the time Of thy natiuitie: I would the Milke Thy mother gaue thee when thou suck'st her brest, Had bin a little Rats-bane for thy sake. Or else, when thou didst keepe my Lambes a-field, I wish some rauenous Wolfe had eaten thee. Doest thou deny thy Father, cursed Drab? O burne her, burne her, hanging is too good. Enter.

Yorke. Take her away, for she hath liu'd too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities

Puc. First let me tell you whom you haue condemn'd; Not me, begotten of a Shepheard Swaine, But issued from the Progeny of Kings. Vertuous and Holy, chosen from aboue, By inspiration of Celestiall Grace, To worke exceeding myracles on earth. I neuer had to do with wicked Spirits. But you that are polluted with your lustes, Stain'd with the guiltlesse blood of Innocents, Corrupt and tainted with a thousand Vices: Because you want the grace that others haue, You iudge it straight a thing impossible To compasse Wonders, but by helpe of diuels. No misconceyued, Ione of Aire hath beene A Virgin from her tender infancie, Chaste, and immaculate in very thought, Whose Maiden-blood thus rigorously effus'd, Will cry for Vengeance, at the Gates of Heauen

Yorke. I, I: away with her to execution

War. And hearke ye sirs: because she is a Maide, Spare for no Faggots, let there be enow: Place barrelles of pitch vpon the fatall stake, That so her torture may be shortned

Puc. Will nothing turne your vnrelenting hearts? Then Ione discouer thine infirmity, That warranteth by Law, to be thy priuiledge. I am with childe ye bloody Homicides: Murther not then the Fruite within my Wombe, Although ye hale me to a violent death

Yor. Now heauen forfend, the holy Maid with child? War. The greatest miracle that ere ye wrought. Is all your strict precisenesse come to this? Yorke. She and the Dolphin haue bin iugling, I did imagine what would be her refuge

War. Well go too, we'll haue no Bastards liue, Especially since Charles must Father it

Puc. You are deceyu'd, my childe is none of his, It was Alanson that inioy'd my loue

Yorke. Alanson that notorious Macheuile? It dyes, and if it had a thousand liues

Puc. Oh giue me leaue, I haue deluded you, 'Twas neyther Charles, nor yet the Duke I nam'd, But Reignier King of Naples that preuayl'd

War. A married man, that's most intollerable

Yor. Why here's a Gyrle: I think she knowes not wel (There were so many) whom she may accuse

War. It's signe she hath beene liberall and free

Yor. And yet forsooth she is a Virgin pure. Strumpet, thy words condemne thy Brat, and thee. Vse no intreaty, for it is in vaine

Pu. Then lead me hence: with whom I leaue my curse. May neuer glorious Sunne reflex his beames Vpon the Countrey where you make abode: But darknesse, and the gloomy shade of death Inuiron you, till Mischeefe and Dispaire, Driue you to break your necks, or hang your selues.

Exit

Enter Cardinall.

Yorke. Breake thou in peeces, and consume to ashes, Thou fowle accursed minister of Hell

Car. Lord Regent, I do greete your Excellence With Letters of Commission from the King. For know my Lords, the States of Christendome, Mou'd with remorse of these out-ragious broyles, Haue earnestly implor'd a generall peace, Betwixt our Nation, and the aspyring French; And heere at hand, the Dolphin and his Traine Approacheth, to conferre about some matter

Yorke. Is all our trauell turn'd to this effect, After the slaughter of so many Peeres, So many Captaines, Gentlemen, and Soldiers, That in this quarrell haue beene ouerthrowne, And sold their bodyes for their Countryes benefit, Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace? Haue we not lost most part of all the Townes, By Treason, Falshood, and by Treacherie, Our great Progenitors had conquered: Oh Warwicke, Warwicke, I foresee with greefe The vtter losse of all the Realme of France

War. Be patient Yorke, if we conclude a Peace It shall be with such strict and seuere Couenants, As little shall the Frenchmen gaine thereby. Enter Charles, Alanson, Bastard, Reignier.

Char. Since Lords of England, it is thus agreed, That peacefull truce shall be proclaim'd in France, We come to be informed by your selues, What the conditions of that league must be

Yorke. Speake Winchester, for boyling choller chokes The hollow passage of my poyson'd voyce, By sight of these our balefull enemies

Win. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus: That in regard King Henry giues consent, Of meere compassion, and of lenity, To ease your Countrie of distressefull Warre, And suffer you to breath in fruitfull peace, You shall become true Liegemen to his Crowne. And Charles, vpon condition thou wilt sweare To pay him tribute, and submit thy selfe, Thou shalt be plac'd as Viceroy vnder him, And still enioy 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 priuiledge of a priuate man? This proffer is absurd, and reasonlesse

Char. 'Tis knowne already that I am possest With more then halfe the Gallian Territories, And therein reuerenc'd for their lawfull King. Shall I for lucre of the rest vn-vanquisht, Detract so much from that prerogatiue, As to be call'd but Viceroy of the whole? No Lord Ambassador, Ile rather keepe That which I haue, than coueting for more Be cast from possibility of all

Yorke. Insulting Charles, hast thou by secret meanes Vs'd intercession to obtaine a league, And now the matter growes to compremize, Stand'st thou aloofe vpon Comparison. Either accept the Title thou vsurp'st, Of benefit proceeding from our King, And not of any challenge of Desert, Or we will plague thee with incessant Warres

Reig. My Lord, you do not well in obstinacy, To cauill in the course of this Contract: If once it be neglected, ten to one We shall not finde like opportunity

Alan. To say the truth, it is your policie, To saue your Subiects from such massacre And ruthlesse slaughters as are dayly seene By our proceeding in Hostility, And therefore take this compact of a Truce, Although you breake it, when your pleasure serues

War. How sayst thou Charles? Shall our Condition stand? Char. It Shall: Onely reseru'd, you claime no interest In any of our Townes of Garrison

Yor. Then sweare Allegeance to his Maiesty, As thou art Knight, neuer to disobey, Nor be Rebellious to the Crowne of England, Thou nor thy Nobles, to the Crowne of England. So, now dismisse your Army when ye please: Hang vp your Ensignes, let your Drummes be still, For heere we entertaine a solemne peace.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Suffolke in conference with the King, Glocester, and Exeter.

King. Your wondrous rare description (noble Earle) Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me: Her vertues graced with externall gifts, Do breed Loues setled passions in my heart, And like as rigour of tempestuous gustes Prouokes the mightiest Hulke against the tide, So am I driuen by breath of her Renowne, Either to suffer Shipwracke, or arriue Where I may haue fruition of her Loue

Suf. Tush my good Lord, this superficiall tale, Is but a preface of her worthy praise: The cheefe perfections of that louely Dame, (Had I sufficient skill to vtter them) Would make a volume of inticing lines, Able to rauish any dull conceit. And which is more, she is not so Diuine, 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 intents, To Loue, and Honor Henry as her Lord

King. And otherwise, will Henry ne're presume: Therefore my Lord Protector, giue consent, That Marg'ret may be Englands Royall Queene

Glo. So should I giue consent to flatter sinne, You know (my Lord) your Highnesse is betroath'd Vnto another Lady of esteeme, How shall we then dispense with that contract, And not deface your Honor with reproach? Suf. As doth a Ruler with vnlawfull Oathes, Or one that at a Triumph, hauing vow'd To try his strength, forsaketh yet the Listes By reason of his Aduersaries oddes. A poore Earles daughter is vnequall oddes, And therefore may be broke without offence

Gloucester. Why what (I pray) is Margaret more then that? Her Father is no better than an Earle, Although in glorious Titles he excell

Suf. Yes my Lord, her Father is a King, The King of Naples, and Ierusalem, And of such great Authoritie in France, As his alliance will confirme our peace, And keepe the Frenchmen in Allegeance

Glo. And so the Earle of Arminacke may doe, Because he is neere Kinsman vnto Charles

Exet. Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower, Where Reignier sooner will receyue, than giue

Suf. A Dowre my Lords? Disgrace not so your King, That he should be so abiect, base, and poore, To choose for wealth, and not for perfect Loue. Henry is able to enrich his Queene, And not to seeke a Queene to make him rich, So worthlesse Pezants bargaine for their Wiues, As Market men for Oxen, Sheepe, or Horse. 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, Most of all these reasons bindeth vs, In our opinions she should be preferr'd. For what is wedlocke forced? but a Hell, An Age of discord and continuall strife, Whereas the contrarie bringeth blisse, 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 peerelesse feature, ioyned with her birth, Approues her fit for none, but for a King. Her valiant courage, and vndaunted spirit, (More then in women commonly is seene) Will answer our hope in issue of a King. For Henry, sonne vnto a Conqueror, Is likely to beget more Conquerors, If with a Lady of so high resolue, (As is faire Margaret) he be link'd in loue. Then yeeld my Lords, and heere conclude with mee, That Margaret shall be Queene, and none but shee

King. Whether it be through force of your report, My Noble Lord of Suffolke: Or for that My tender youth was neuer yet attaint With any passion of inflaming Loue, I cannot tell: but this I am assur'd, I feele such sharpe dissention 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 couenants, and procure That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe 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 vp a tenth. Be gone I say, for till you do returne, I rest perplexed with a thousand Cares. And you (good Vnckle) banish all offence: If you do censure me, by what you were, Not what you are, I know it will excuse This sodaine execution of my will. And so conduct me, where from company, I may reuolue and ruminate my greefe. Enter.

Glo. I greefe I feare me, both at first and last.

Exit Glocester.

Suf. Thus Suffolke hath preuail'd, and thus he goes As did the youthfull Paris once to Greece, With hope to finde the like euent in loue, But prosper better than the Troian did: Margaret shall now be Queene, and rule the King: But I will rule both her, the King, and Realme.

Exit

FINIS. The first Part of Henry the Sixt.

The second Part of Henry the Sixt

with the death of the Good Duke Hvmfrey

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Flourish of Trumpets: Then Hoboyes.

Enter King, Duke Humfrey, Salisbury, Warwicke, and Beauford on the one side. The Queene, Suffolke, Yorke, Somerset, and Buckingham, on the other.

Suffolke. As by your high Imperiall Maiesty, I had in charge at my depart for France, As Procurator to your Excellence, To marry Princes Margaret for your Grace; So in the Famous Ancient City, Toures, In presence of the Kings of France, and Sicill, The Dukes of Orleance, Calaber, Britaigne, and Alanson, Seuen Earles, twelue Barons, & twenty reuerend Bishops I haue perform'd my Taske, and was espous'd, And humbly now vpon my bended knee, In sight of England, and her Lordly Peeres, Deliuer vp my Title in the Queene To your most gracious hands, that are the Substance Of that great Shadow I did represent: The happiest Gift, that euer Marquesse gaue, The Fairest Queene, that euer King receiu'd

King. Suffolke arise. Welcome Queene Margaret, I can expresse no kinder signe of Loue Then this kinde kisse: O Lord, that lends me life, Lend me a heart repleate with thankfulnesse: For thou hast giuen me in this beauteous Face A world of earthly blessings to my soule, If Simpathy of Loue vnite our thoughts

Queen. Great King of England, & my gracious Lord, The mutuall conference that my minde hath had, By day, by night; waking, and in my dreames, In Courtly company, or at my Beades, With you mine Alder liefest Soueraigne, Makes me the bolder to salute my King, With ruder termes, such as my wit affoords, And ouer ioy of heart doth minister

King. Her sight did rauish, but her grace in Speech, Her words yclad with wisedomes Maiesty, Makes me from Wondring, fall to Weeping ioyes, Such is the Fulnesse of my hearts content. Lords, with one cheerefull voice, Welcome my Loue

All kneel. Long liue Qu[eene]. Margaret, Englands happines

Queene. We thanke you all.

Florish

Suf. My Lord Protector, so it please your Grace, Heere are the Articles of contracted peace, Betweene our Soueraigne, and the French King Charles, For eighteene moneths concluded by consent

Glo. Reads. Inprimis, It is agreed betweene the French K[ing]. Charles, and William de la Pole Marquesse of Suffolke, Ambassador for Henry King of England, That the said Henry shal espouse the Lady Margaret, daughter vnto Reignier King of Naples, Sicillia, and Ierusalem, and Crowne her Queene of England, ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing. Item, That the Dutchy of Aniou, and the County of Main, shall be released and deliuered to the King her father

King. Vnkle, how now? Glo. Pardon me gracious Lord, Some sodaine qualme hath strucke me at the heart, And dim'd mine eyes, that I can reade no further

King. Vnckle of Winchester, I pray read on

Win. Item, It is further agreed betweene them, That the Dutchesse of Aniou and Maine, shall be released and deliuered ouer to the King her Father, and shee sent ouer of the King of Englands owne proper Cost and Charges, without hauing any Dowry

King. They please vs well. Lord Marques kneel down, We heere create thee the first Duke of Suffolke, And girt thee with the Sword. Cosin of Yorke, We heere discharge your Grace from being Regent I'th parts of France, till terme of eighteene Moneths Be full expyr'd. Thankes Vncle Winchester, Gloster, Yorke, Buckingham, Somerset, Salisburie, and Warwicke. We thanke you all for this great fauour done, In entertainment to my Princely Queene. Come, let vs in, and with all speede prouide To see her Coronation be perform'd.

Exit King, Queene, and Suffolke.

Manet the rest.

Glo. Braue Peeres of England, Pillars of the State, To you Duke Humfrey must vnload his greefe: Your greefe, the common greefe of all the Land. What? did my brother Henry spend his youth, His valour, coine, and people in the warres? Did he so often lodge in open field: In Winters cold, and Summers parching heate, To conquer France, his true inheritance? And did my brother Bedford toyle his wits, To keepe by policy what Henrie got: Haue you your selues, Somerset, Buckingham, Braue Yorke, Salisbury, and victorious Warwicke, Receiud deepe scarres in France and Normandie: Or hath mine Vnckle Beauford, and my selfe, With all the Learned Counsell of the Realme, Studied so long, sat in the Councell house, Early and late, debating too and fro How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe, And hath his Highnesse in his infancie, Crowned in Paris in despight of foes, And shall these Labours, and these Honours dye? Shall Henries Conquest, Bedfords vigilance, Your Deeds of Warre, and all our Counsell dye? O Peeres of England, shamefull is this League, Fatall this Marriage, cancelling your Fame, Blotting your names from Bookes of memory, Racing the Charracters of your Renowne, Defacing Monuments of Conquer'd France, Vndoing all as all had neuer bin

Car. Nephew, what meanes this passionate discourse? This preroration with such circumstance: For France, 'tis ours; and we will keepe it still

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 giuen the Dutchy of Aniou and Mayne, Vnto the poore King Reignier, whose 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 greefe that they are past recouerie. For were there hope to conquer them againe, My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no teares. Aniou and Maine? My selfe did win them both: Those Prouinces, these Armes of mine did conquer, And are the Citties that I got with wounds, Deliuer'd vp againe with peacefull words? Mort Dieu

Yorke. For Suffolkes Duke, may he be suffocate, That dims the Honor of this Warlike Isle: France should haue torne and rent my very hart, Before I would haue yeelded to this League. I neuer read but Englands Kings haue had Large summes of Gold, and Dowries with their wiues, And our King Henry giues away his owne, To match with her that brings no vantages

Hum. A proper iest, and neuer heard before, That Suffolke should demand a whole Fifteenth, For Costs and Charges in transporting her: She should haue staid in France, and steru'd in France Before - Car. My Lord of Gloster, now ye grow too hot, It was the pleasure of my Lord the King

Hum. My Lord of Winchester I know your minde. 'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike: But 'tis my presence that doth trouble ye, Rancour will out, proud Prelate, in thy face I see thy furie: If I longer stay, We shall begin our ancient bickerings: Lordings farewell, and say when I am gone, I prophesied, France will be lost ere long.

Exit Humfrey.

Car. So, there goes our Protector in a rage: 'Tis knowne to you he is mine enemy: Nay more, an enemy vnto you all, And no great friend, I feare me to the King; Consider Lords, he is the next of blood, And heyre apparant to the English Crowne: Had Henrie 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 wise and circumspect. What though the common people fauour him, Calling him, Humfrey the good Duke of Gloster, Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voyce, Iesu maintaine your Royall Excellence, With God preserue the good Duke Humfrey: I feare me Lords, for all this flattering glosse, He will be found a dangerous Protector

Buc. Why should he then protect our Soueraigne? He being of age to gouerne of himselfe. Cosin of Somerset, ioyne you with me, And altogether with the Duke of Suffolke, Wee'l quickly hoyse Duke Humfrey from his seat

Car. This weighty businesse will not brooke delay, Ile to the Duke of Suffolke presently.

Exit Cardinall.

Som. Cosin of Buckingham, though Humfries pride And greatnesse of his place be greefe to vs, Yet let vs watch the haughtie Cardinall, His insolence is more intollerable Then all the Princes in the Land beside, If Gloster be displac'd, hee'l be Protector

Buc. Or thou, or I Somerset will be Protectors, Despite Duke Humfrey, or the Cardinall.

Exit Buckingham, and Somerset.

Sal. Pride went before, Ambition followes him. While these do labour for their owne preferment, Behooues it vs to labor for the Realme. I neuer saw but Humfrey Duke of Gloster, Did beare him like a Noble Gentleman: Oft haue I seene the haughty Cardinall, More like a Souldier then a man o'th' Church, As stout and proud as he were Lord of all, Sweare like a Ruffian, 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 fauour of the Commons, Excepting none but good Duke Humfrey. And Brother Yorke, thy Acts in Ireland, In bringing them to ciuill Discipline: Thy late exploits done in the heart of France, When thou wert Regent for our Soueraigne, Haue made thee fear'd and honor'd of the people, Ioyne we together for the publike 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 Humfries deeds, While they do tend the profit of the Land

War. So God helpe Warwicke, as he loues the Land, And common profit of his Countrey

Yor. And so sayes Yorke, For he hath greatest cause

Salisbury. Then lets make hast away, And looke vnto the maine

Warwicke. Vnto the maine? Oh Father, Maine is lost, That Maine, which by maine force Warwicke did winne, And would haue kept, so long as breath did last: Main-chance father you meant, but I meant Maine, Which I will win from France, or else be slaine.

Exit Warwicke, and Salisbury. Manet Yorke.

Yorke. Aniou and Maine are giuen to the French, Paris is lost, the state of Normandie 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 giue away, and not their owne. Pirates may make cheape penyworths of their pillage, And purchase Friends, and giue to Curtezans, Still reuelling like Lords till all be gone, While as the silly Owner of the goods Weepes ouer them, and wrings his haplesse hands, And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloofe, While all is shar'd, and all is borne away, Ready to sterue, and dare not touch his owne. So Yorke must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue, While his owne Lands are bargain'd for, and sold: Me thinkes the Realmes of England, France, & Ireland, Beare that proportion to my flesh and blood, As did the fatall brand Althaea burnt, Vnto the Princes heart of Calidon: Aniou and Maine both giuen vnto the French? Cold newes for me: for I had hope of France, Euen as I haue of fertile Englands soile. A day will come, when Yorke shall claime his owne, And therefore I will take the Neuils parts, And make a shew of loue to proud Duke Humfrey, And when I spy aduantage, claime the Crowne, For that's the Golden marke I seeke to hit: Nor shall proud Lancaster vsurpe my right, Nor hold the Scepter in his childish Fist, Nor weare the Diadem vpon his head, Whose Church-like humors fits not for a Crowne. Then Yorke be still a-while, till time do serue: Watch thou, and wake when others be asleepe, To prie into the secrets of the State, Till Henrie surfetting in ioyes of loue, With his new Bride, & Englands deere bought Queen, And Humfrey with the Peeres be falne at iarres: Then will I raise aloft the Milke-white-Rose, With whose sweet smell the Ayre shall be perfum'd, And in my Standard beare the Armes of Yorke, To grapple with the house of Lancaster, And force perforce Ile make him yeeld the Crowne, Whose bookish Rule, hath pull'd faire England downe.

Exit Yorke.

Enter Duke Humfrey and his wife Elianor.

Elia. Why droopes my Lord like ouer-ripen'd Corn, Hanging the head at Ceres plenteous load? Why doth the Great Duke Humfrey knit his browes, As frowning at the Fauours of the world? Why are thine eyes fixt to the sullen earth, Gazing on that which seemes to dimme thy sight? What seest thou there? King Henries Diadem, Inchac'd with all the Honors of the world? If so, Gaze on, and grouell on thy face, Vntill thy head be circled with the same. Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious Gold. What, is't too short? Ile lengthen it with mine, And hauing both together heau'd it vp, Wee'l both together lift our heads to heauen, And neuer more abase our sight so low, As to vouchsafe one glance vnto the ground

Hum. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost loue thy Lord, Banish 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

Eli. What dream'd my Lord, tell me, and Ile requite it With sweet rehearsall of my mornings dreame? Hum. Me thought this staffe mine Office-badge in Court Was broke in twaine: by whom, I haue forgot, But as I thinke, it was by'th Cardinall, 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

Eli. Tut, this was nothing but an argument, That he that breakes a sticke of Glosters groue, Shall loose his head for his presumption. But list to me my Humfrey, my sweete Duke: Me thought I sate in Seate of Maiesty, In the Cathedrall Church of Westminster, And in that Chaire where Kings & Queens wer crownd, Where Henrie and Dame Margaret kneel'd to me, And on my head did set the Diadem

Hum. Nay Elinor, then must I chide outright: Presumptuous Dame, ill-nurter'd Elianor, Art thou not second Woman in the Realme? And the Protectors wife belou'd of him? Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command, Aboue 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 Disgraces feete? Away from me, and let me heare no more

Elia. What, what, my Lord? Are you so chollericke With Elianor, for telling but her dreame? Next time Ile keepe my dreames vnto my selfe, And not be check'd

Hum. Nay be not angry, I am pleas'd againe. Enter Messenger.

Mess. My Lord Protector, 'tis his Highnes pleasure, You do prepare to ride vnto S[aint]. Albons, Where as the King and Queene do meane to Hawke

Hu. I go. Come Nel thou wilt ride with vs?

Ex[it]. Hum[frey]

Eli. Yes my good Lord, Ile follow presently. Follow I must, I cannot go before, While Gloster beares this base and humble minde. Were I a Man, a Duke, and next of blood, I would remoue these tedious stumbling blockes, And smooth my way vpon their headlesse neckes. And being a woman, I will not be slacke To play my part in Fortunes Pageant. Where are you there? Sir Iohn; nay feare not man, We are alone, here's none but thee, & I. Enter Hume.

Hume. Iesus preserue your Royall Maiesty

Elia. What saist thou? Maiesty: I am but Grace

Hume. But by the grace of God, and Humes aduice, Your Graces Title shall be multiplied

Elia. What saist thou man? Hast thou as yet confer'd With Margerie Iordane the cunning Witch, With Roger Bollingbrooke the Coniurer? And will they vndertake to do me good? Hume. This they haue promised to shew your Highnes A Spirit rais'd from depth of vnder ground, That shall make answere to such Questions, As by your Grace shall be propounded him

Elianor. It is enough, Ile thinke vpon the Questions: When from Saint Albones we doe make returne, Wee'le see these things effected to the full. Here Hume, take this reward, make merry man With thy Confederates in this weightie cause.

Exit Elianor

Hume. Hume must make merry with the Duchesse Gold: Marry and shall: but how now, Sir Iohn Hume? Seale vp your Lips, and giue no words but Mum, The businesse asketh silent secrecie. Dame Elianor giues Gold, to bring the Witch: Gold cannot come amisse, were she a Deuill. Yet haue 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 Elianors aspiring humor) Haue hyred me to vnder-mine the Duchesse, And buzze these Coniurations in her brayne. They say, A craftie Knaue do's need no Broker, Yet am I Suffolke and the Cardinalls Broker. Hume, if you take not heed, you shall goe neere To call them both a payre of craftie Knaues. Well, so it stands: and thus I feare at last, Humes Knauerie will be the Duchesse Wracke, And her Attainture, will be Humphreyes fall: Sort how it will, I shall haue Gold for all. Enter.

Enter three or foure Petitioners, the Armorers Man being one.

1.Pet. My Masters, let's stand close, my Lord Protector will come this way by and by, and then wee may deliuer our Supplications in the Quill

2.Pet. Marry the Lord protect him, for hee's a good man, Iesu blesse him. Enter Suffolke, and Queene.

Peter. Here a comes me thinkes, and the Queene with him: Ile be the first sure

2.Pet. Come backe foole, this is the Duke of Suffolk, and not my Lord Protector

Suff. How now fellow: would'st any thing with me? 1.Pet. I pray my Lord pardon me, I tooke ye for my Lord Protector

Queene. To my Lord Protector? Are your Supplications to his Lordship? Let me see them: what is thine? 1.Pet. Mine is, and't please your Grace, against Iohn Goodman, my Lord Cardinals Man, 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 Suffolke, for enclosing the Commons of Melforde. How now, Sir Knaue? 2.Pet. Alas Sir, I am but a poore Petitioner of our whole Towneship

Peter. Against my Master Thomas Horner, for saying, That the Duke of Yorke was rightfull Heire to the Crowne

Queene. What say'st thou? Did the Duke of Yorke say, hee was rightfull Heire to the Crowne? Peter. That my Mistresse was? No forsooth: my Master said, That he was, and that the King was an Vsurper

Suff. Who is there? Enter Seruant.

Take this fellow in, and send for his Master with a Purseuant presently: wee'le heare more of your matter before the King.

Enter.

Queene. And as for you that loue to be protected Vnder the Wings of our Protectors Grace, Begin your Suites anew, and sue to him.

Teare the Supplication.

Away, base Cullions: Suffolke let them goe

All. Come, let's be gone. Enter.

Queene. My Lord of Suffolke, say, is this the guise? Is this the Fashions in the Court of England? Is this the Gouernment of Britaines Ile? And this the Royaltie of Albions King? What, shall King Henry be a Pupill still, Vnder the surly Glosters Gouernance? Am I a Queene in Title and in Stile, And must be made a Subiect to a Duke? I tell thee Poole, when in the Citie Tours Thou ran'st a-tilt in honor of my Loue, And stol'st 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 Aue-Maries on his Beades: His Champions, are the Prophets and Apostles, His Weapons, holy Sawes of sacred Writ, His Studie is his Tilt-yard, and his Loues Are brazen Images of Canonized Saints. I would the Colledge of the Cardinalls Would chuse him Pope, and carry him to Rome, And set the Triple Crowne vpon 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

Queene. Beside the haughtie Protector, haue we Beauford The imperious Churchman; Somerset, Buckingham, And grumbling Yorke: 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 Neuils: Salisbury and Warwick are no simple Peeres

Queene. Not all these Lords do vex me halfe so much, As that prowd Dame, the Lord Protectors Wife: She sweepes it through the Court with troups of Ladies, More like an Empresse, then Duke Humphreyes Wife: Strangers in Court, doe take her for the Queene: She beares a Dukes Reuenewes on her backe, And in her heart she scornes our Pouertie: Shall I not liue to be aueng'd on her? Contemptuous base-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 Suffolke gaue two Dukedomes for his Daughter

Suff. Madame, my selfe haue lym'd a Bush for her, And plac't a Quier of such enticing Birds, That she will light to listen to the Layes, And neuer mount to trouble you againe. So let her rest: and Madame list to me, For I am bold to counsaile you in this; Although we fancie not the Cardinall, Yet must we ioyne with him and with the Lords, Till we haue brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace. As for the Duke of Yorke, this late Complaint Will make but little for his benefit: So one by one wee'le weed them all at last, And you your selfe shall steere the happy Helme. Enter.

Sound a Sennet.

Enter the King, Duke Humfrey, Cardinall, Buckingham, Yorke, Salisbury, Warwicke, and the Duchesse.

King. For my part, Noble Lords, I care not which, Or Somerset, or Yorke, all's one to me

Yorke. If Yorke haue ill demean'd himselfe in France, Then let him be denay'd the Regentship

Som. If Somerset be vnworthy of the Place, Let Yorke be Regent, I will yeeld to him

Warw. Whether your Grace be worthy, yea or no, Dispute not that, Yorke is the worthyer

Card. Ambitious Warwicke, let thy betters speake

Warw. The Cardinall's not my better in the field

Buck. All in this presence are thy betters, Warwicke

Warw. Warwicke may liue to be the best of all

Salisb. Peace Sonne, and shew some reason Buckingham Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this? Queene. Because the King forsooth will haue it so

Humf. Madame, the King is old enough himselfe To giue his Censure: These are no Womens matters

Queene. If he be old enough, what needs your Grace To be Protector of his Excellence? Humf. Madame, I am Protector of the Realme, And at his pleasure will resigne my Place

Suff. Resigne it then, and leaue thine insolence. Since thou wert King; as who is King, but thou? The Common-wealth hath dayly run to wrack, The Dolphin hath preuayl'd beyond the Seas, And all the Peeres and Nobles of the Realme Haue beene as Bond-men to thy Soueraigntie

Card. The Commons hast thou rackt, the Clergies Bags Are lanke and leane with thy Extortions

Som. Thy sumptuous Buildings, and thy Wiues Attyre Haue cost a masse of publique Treasurie

Buck. Thy Crueltie in execution Vpon Offendors, hath exceeded Law, And left thee to the mercy of the Law

Queene. Thy sale of Offices and Townes in France, If they were knowne, as the suspect is great, Would make thee quickly hop without thy Head.

Exit Humfrey.

Giue me my Fanne: what, Mynion, can ye not?

She giues the Duchesse a box on the eare.

I cry you mercy, Madame: was it you? Duch. Was't I? yea, I it was, prowd French-woman: Could I come neere your Beautie with my Nayles, I could set my ten Commandements in your face

King. Sweet Aunt be quiet, 'twas against her will

Duch. Against her will, good King? looke to't in time, Shee'le hamper thee, and dandle thee like a Baby: Though in this place most Master weare no Breeches, She shall not strike Dame Elianor vnreueng'd.

Exit Elianor.

Buck. Lord Cardinall, I will follow Elianor, And listen after Humfrey, how he proceedes: Shee's tickled now, her Fume needs no spurres, Shee'le gallop farre enough to her destruction.

Exit Buckingham.

Enter Humfrey.

Humf. Now Lords, my Choller being ouer-blowne, With walking once about the Quadrangle, I come to talke of Common-wealth Affayres. As for your spightfull false Obiections, Proue them, and I lye open to the Law: But God in mercie so deale with my Soule, As I in dutie loue my King and Countrey. But to the matter that we haue in hand: I say, my Soueraigne, Yorke is meetest man To be your Regent in the Realme of France

Suff. Before we make election, giue me leaue To shew some reason, of no little force, That Yorke is most vnmeet of any man

Yorke. Ile tell thee, Suffolke, why I am vnmeet. First, for I cannot flatter thee in Pride: Next, if I be appointed for the Place, My Lord of Somerset will keepe me here, Without Discharge, Money, or Furniture, Till France be wonne into the Dolphins hands: Last time I danc't attendance on his will, Till Paris was besieg'd, famisht, and lost

Warw. That can I witnesse, and a fouler fact Did neuer Traytor in the Land commit

Suff. Peace head-strong Warwicke

Warw. Image of Pride, why should I hold my peace? Enter Armorer and his Man.

Suff. Because here is a man accused of Treason, Pray God the Duke of Yorke excuse himselfe

Yorke. Doth any one accuse Yorke for a Traytor? King. What mean'st thou, Suffolke? tell me, what are these? Suff. Please it your Maiestie, this is the man That doth accuse his Master of High Treason; His words were these: That Richard, Duke of Yorke, Was rightfull Heire vnto the English Crowne, And that your Maiestie was an Vsurper

King. Say man, were these thy words? Armorer. And't shall please your Maiestie, I neuer sayd nor thought any such matter: God is my witnesse, I am falsely accus'd by the Villaine

Peter. By these tenne bones, my Lords, hee did speake them to me in the Garret one Night, as wee were scowring my Lord of Yorkes Armor

Yorke. Base Dunghill Villaine, and Mechanicall, Ile haue thy Head for this thy Traytors speech: I doe beseech your Royall Maiestie, Let him haue all the rigor of the Law

Armorer. Alas, my Lord, hang me if euer I spake the words: my accuser is my Prentice, and when I did correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow vpon his knees he would be euen with me: I haue good witnesse of this; therefore I beseech your Maiestie, doe not cast away an honest man for a Villaines accusation

King. Vnckle, what shall we say to this in law? Humf. This doome, my Lord, if I may iudge: Let Somerset be Regent o're the French, Because in Yorke this breedes suspition; And let these haue a day appointed them For single Combat, in conuenient place, For he hath witnesse of his seruants malice: This is the Law, and this Duke Humfreyes doome

Som. I humbly thanke your Royall Maiestie

Armorer. And I accept the Combat willingly

Peter. Alas, my Lord, I cannot fight; for Gods sake pitty my case: the spight of man preuayleth against me. O Lord haue mercy vpon me, I shall neuer be able to fight a blow: O Lord my heart

Humf. Sirrha, or you must fight, or else be hang'd

King. Away with them to Prison: and the day of Combat, shall be the last of the next moneth. Come Somerset, wee'le see thee sent away.

Flourish. Exeunt.

Enter the Witch, the two Priests, and Bullingbrooke.

Hume. Come my Masters, the Duchesse I tell you expects performance of your promises

Bulling. Master Hume, we are therefore prouided: will her Ladyship behold and heare our Exorcismes? Hume. I, what else? feare you not her courage

Bulling. I haue heard her reported to be a Woman of an inuincible spirit: but it shall be conuenient, Master Hume, that you be by her aloft, while wee be busie below; and so I pray you goe in Gods Name, and leaue vs.

Exit Hume.

Mother Iordan, be you prostrate, and grouell on the Earth; Iohn Southwell reade you, and let vs to our worke. Enter Elianor aloft.

Elianor. Well said my Masters, and welcome all: To this geere, the sooner the better

Bullin. Patience, good Lady, Wizards know their times: Deepe Night, darke Night, the silent of the Night, The time of Night when Troy was set on fire, The time when Screech-owles cry, and Bandogs howle, And Spirits walke, and Ghosts breake vp their Graues; That time best fits the worke we haue in hand. Madame, sit you, and feare not: whom wee rayse, Wee will make fast within a hallow'd Verge.

Here doe the Ceremonies belonging, and make the Circle, Bullingbrooke or Southwell reades, Coniuro te, &c. It Thunders and Lightens terribly: then the Spirit riseth.

Spirit. Ad sum

Witch. Asmath, by the eternall God, Whose name and power thou tremblest at, Answere that I shall aske: for till thou speake, Thou shalt not passe from hence

Spirit. Aske what thou wilt; that I had sayd, and done

Bulling. First of the King: What shall of him become? Spirit. The Duke yet liues, that Henry shall depose: But him out-liue, and dye a violent death

Bulling. What fates await the Duke of Suffolke? Spirit. By Water shall he dye, and take his end

Bulling. What shall befall the Duke of Somerset? Spirit. Let him shun Castles, Safer shall he be vpon the sandie Plaines, Then where Castles mounted stand. Haue done, for more I hardly can endure

Bulling. Discend to Darknesse, and the burning Lake: False Fiend auoide.

Thunder and Lightning. Exit Spirit.

Enter the Duke of Yorke and the Duke of Buckingham with their Guard, and breake in.

Yorke. Lay hands vpon these Traytors, and their trash: Beldam I thinke we watcht you at an ynch. What Madame, are you there? the King & Commonweale Are deepely indebted for this peece of paines; My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not, See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts

Elianor. Not halfe so bad as thine to Englands King, Iniurious Duke, that threatest where's no cause

Buck. True Madame, none at all: what call you this? Away with them, let them be clapt vp close, And kept asunder: you Madame shall with vs. Stafford take her to thee. Wee'le see your Trinkets here all forth-comming. All away. Enter.

Yorke. Lord Buckingham, me thinks you watcht her well: A pretty Plot, well chosen to build vpon. Now pray my Lord, let's see the Deuils Writ. What haue we here?

Reades.

The Duke yet liues, that Henry shall depose: But him out-liue, and dye a violent death. Why this is iust, Aio aeacida Romanos vincere posso. Well, to the rest: Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolke? By Water shall he dye, and take his end. What shall betide the Duke of Somerset? Let him shunne Castles, Safer shall he be vpon the sandie Plaines, Then where Castles mounted stand. Come, come, my Lords, These Oracles are hardly attain'd, And hardly vnderstood. The King is now in progresse towards Saint Albones, With him, the Husband of this louely Lady: Thither goes these Newes, As fast as Horse can carry them: A sorry Breakfast for my Lord Protector

Buck. Your Grace shal giue me leaue, my Lord of York, To be the Poste, in hope of his reward

Yorke. At your pleasure, my good Lord. Who's within there, hoe? Enter a Seruingman.

Inuite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick To suppe with me to morrow Night. Away.

Exeunt.

Enter the King, Queene, Protector, Cardinall, and Suffolke, with Faulkners hallowing.

Queene. Beleeue me Lords, for flying at the Brooke, I saw not better sport these seuen yeeres day: Yet by your leaue, the Winde was very high, And ten to one, old Ioane had not gone out

King. But what a point, my Lord, your Faulcon made, And what a pytch she flew aboue the rest: To see how God in all his Creatures workes, Yea Man and Birds are fayne of climbing high

Suff. No maruell, and it like your Maiestie, My Lord Protectors Hawkes doe towre so well, They know their Master loues to be aloft, And beares his thoughts aboue his Faulcons Pitch

Glost. My Lord, 'tis but a base ignoble minde, That mounts no higher then a Bird can sore: Card. I thought as much, hee would be aboue the Clouds

Glost. I my Lord Cardinall, how thinke you by that? Were it not good your Grace could flye to Heauen? King. The Treasurie of euerlasting Ioy

Card. Thy Heauen is on Earth, thine Eyes & Thoughts Beat on a Crowne, the Treasure of thy Heart, Pernitious Protector, dangerous Peere, That smooth'st it so with King and Common-weale

Glost. What, Cardinall? Is your Priest-hood growne peremptorie? Tantæne animis Coelestibus iræ, Church-men so hot? Good Vnckle hide such mallice: With such Holynesse can you doe it? Suff. No mallice 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 Suffolke, England knowes thine insolence

Queene. And thy Ambition, Gloster

King. I prythee peace, good Queene, And whet not on these furious 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 Vnckle, would't were come to that

Card. Marry, when thou dar'st

Glost. Make vp no factious numbers for the matter, In thine owne person answere thy abuse

Card. I, where thou dar'st not peepe: And if thou dar'st, this Euening, On the East side of the Groue

King. How now, my Lords? Card. Beleeue me, Cousin Gloster, Had not your man put vp the Fowle so suddenly, We had had more sport. Come with thy two-hand Sword

Glost. True Vnckle, are ye aduis'd? The East side of the Groue: Cardinall, I am with you

King. Why how now, Vnckle Gloster? Glost. Talking of Hawking; nothing else, my Lord. Now by Gods Mother, Priest, Ile shaue your Crowne for this, Or all my Fence shall fayle

Card. Medice teipsum, Protector see to't well, protect your selfe

King. The Windes grow high, So doe your Stomacks, Lords: How irkesome is this Musick to my heart? When such Strings iarre, 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 proclayme? One. A Miracle, a Miracle

Suffolke. Come to the King, and tell him what Miracle

One. Forsooth, a blinde man at Saint Albones Shrine, Within this halfe houre hath receiu'd his sight, A man that ne're saw in his life before

King. Now God be prays'd, that to beleeuing Soules Giues Light in Darknesse, Comfort in Despaire. Enter the Maior of Saint Albones, and his Brethren, bearing the man betweene two in a Chayre.

Card. Here comes the Townes-men, on Procession, To present your Highnesse with the man

King. Great is his comfort in this Earthly Vale, Although by his sight his sinne be multiplyed

Glost. Stand by, my Masters, bring him neere the King, His Highnesse pleasure is to talke with him

King. Good-fellow, tell vs here the circumstance, That we for thee may glorifie the Lord. What, hast thou beene long blinde, and now restor'd? Simpc. Borne blinde, and't please your Grace

Wife. I indeede was he

Suff. What Woman is this? Wife. His Wife, and't like your Worship

Glost. Hadst thou been his Mother, thou could'st haue better told

King. Where wert thou borne? Simpc. At Barwick in the North, and't like your Grace

King. Poore Soule, Gods goodnesse hath beene great to thee: Let neuer Day nor Night vnhallowed passe, But still remember what the Lord hath done

Queene. Tell me, good-fellow, Cam'st thou here by Chance, or of Deuotion, To this holy Shrine? Simpc. God knowes of pure Deuotion, Being call'd a hundred times, and oftner, In my sleepe, by good Saint Albon: Who said; Symon, come; come offer at my Shrine, And I will helpe thee

Wife. Most true, forsooth: And many time and oft my selfe haue heard a Voyce, To call him so

Card. What, art thou lame? Simpc. I, God Almightie helpe me

Suff. How cam'st thou so? Simpc. A fall off of a Tree

Wife. A Plum-tree, Master

Glost. How long hast thou beene blinde? 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 deare

Glost. 'Masse, thou lou'dst Plummes well, that would'st venture so

Simpc. Alas, good Master, my Wife desired some Damsons, and made me climbe, with danger of my Life

Glost. A subtill Knaue, but yet it shall not serue: Let me see thine Eyes; winck now, now open them, In my opinion, yet thou seest not well

Simpc. Yes Master, cleare as day, I thanke God and Saint Albones

Glost. Say'st thou me so: what Colour is this Cloake of? Simpc. Red Master, Red as Blood

Glost. Why that's well said: What Colour is my Gowne of? Simpc. Black forsooth, Coale-Black, as Iet

King. Why then, thou know'st what Colour Iet is of? Suff. And yet I thinke, Iet did he neuer see

Glost. But Cloakes and Gownes, before this day, a many

Wife. Neuer before this day, in all his life

Glost. Tell me Sirrha, what's my Name? Simpc. Alas Master, I know not

Glost. What's his Name? Simpc. I know not

Glost. Nor his? Simpc. No indeede, Master

Glost. What's thine owne Name? Simpc. Saunder Simpcoxe, and if it please you, Master

Glost. Then Saunder, sit there, The lying'st Knaue in Christendome. If thou hadst beene borne blinde, Thou might'st as well haue knowne all our Names, As thus to name the seuerall Colours we doe weare. Sight may distinguish of Colours: But suddenly to nominate them all, It is impossible. My Lords, Saint Albone here hath done a Miracle: And would ye not thinke it, Cunning to be great, That could restore this Cripple to his Legges againe

Simpc. O Master, that you could? Glost. My Masters of Saint Albones, Haue you not Beadles in your Towne, And Things call'd Whippes? Maior. Yes, my Lord, if it please your Grace

Glost. Then send for one presently

Maior. Sirrha, goe fetch the Beadle hither straight. Enter.

Glost. Now fetch me a Stoole hither by and by. Now Sirrha, if you meane to saue your selfe from Whipping, leape me ouer this Stoole, and runne away

Simpc. Alas Master, I am not able to stand alone: You goe about to torture me in vaine. Enter a Beadle with Whippes.

Glost. Well Sir, we must haue you finde your Legges. Sirrha Beadle, whippe him till he leape ouer that same Stoole

Beadle. I will, my Lord. Come on Sirrha, off with your Doublet, quickly

Simpc. Alas Master, what shall I doe? I am not able to stand.

After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leapes ouer the Stoole, and runnes away: and they follow, and cry, A Miracle.

King. O God, seest thou this, and bearest so long? Queene. It made me laugh, to see the Villaine runne

Glost. Follow the Knaue, and take this Drab away

Wife. Alas Sir, we did it for pure need

Glost. Let the[m] be whipt through euery Market Towne, Till they come to Barwick, from whence they came. Enter.

Card. Duke Humfrey ha's done a Miracle to day

Suff. True: made the Lame to leape and flye away

Glost. But you haue 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 vnfold: A sort of naughtie persons, lewdly bent, Vnder the Countenance and Confederacie Of Lady Elianor, the Protectors Wife, The Ring-leader and Head of all this Rout, Haue practis'd dangerously against your State, Dealing with Witches and with Coniurers, Whom we haue apprehended in the Fact, Raysing vp wicked Spirits from vnder ground, Demanding of King Henries Life and Death, And other of your Highnesse Priuie Councell, As more at large your Grace shall vnderstand

Card. And so my Lord Protector, by this meanes 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, leaue to afflict my heart: Sorrow and griefe haue vanquisht all my powers; And vanquisht as I am, I yeeld to thee, Or to the meanest Groome

King. O God, what mischiefes work the wicked ones? Heaping confusion on their owne heads thereby

Queene. Gloster, see here the Taincture of thy Nest, And looke thy selfe be faultlesse, thou wert best

Glost. Madame, for my selfe, to Heauen I doe appeale, How I haue lou'd my King, and Common-weale: And for my Wife, I know not how it stands, Sorry I am to heare what I haue heard, Noble shee is: but if shee haue forgot Honor and Vertue, and conuers't with such, As like to Pytch, defile Nobilitie; I banish her my Bed, and Companie, And giue her as a Prey to Law and Shame, That hath dis-honored Glosters honest Name

King. Well, for this Night we will repose vs here: To morrow toward London, back againe, To looke into this Businesse thorowly, And call these foule Offendors to their Answeres; And poyse the Cause in Iustice equall Scales, Whose Beame stands sure, whose rightful cause preuailes.

Flourish. Exeunt.

Enter Yorke, Salisbury, and Warwick.

Yorke. Now my good Lords of Salisbury & Warwick, Our simple Supper ended, giue me leaue, In this close Walke, to satisfie my selfe, In crauing your opinion of my Title, Which is infallible, to Englands Crowne

Salisb. My Lord, I long to heare it at full

Warw. Sweet Yorke begin: and if thy clayme be good, The Neuills are thy Subiects to command

Yorke. Then thus: Edward the third, my Lords, had seuen Sonnes: The first, Edward the Black-Prince, Prince of Wales; The second, William of Hatfield; and the third, Lionel, Duke of Clarence; next to whom, Was Iohn of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster; The fift, was Edmond Langley, Duke of Yorke; The sixt, was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloster; William of Windsor was the seuenth, and last. Edward the Black-Prince dyed before his Father, And left behinde him Richard, his onely Sonne, Who after Edward the third's death, raign'd as 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 she came, And him to Pumfret; where, as all you know, Harmelesse Richard was murthered traiterously

Warw. Father, the Duke hath told the truth; Thus got the House of Lancaster the Crowne

Yorke. Which now they hold by force, and not by right: For Richard, the first Sonnes Heire, being dead, The Issue of the next Sonne should haue reign'd

Salisb. But William of Hatfield dyed without an Heire

Yorke. The third Sonne, Duke of Clarence, From whose Line I clayme the Crowne, Had Issue Phillip, a Daughter, Who marryed Edmond Mortimer, Earle of March: Edmond had Issue, Roger, Earle of March; Roger had Issue, Edmond, Anne, and Elianor

Salisb. This Edmond, in the Reigne of Bullingbrooke, As I haue read, layd clayme vnto the Crowne, And but for Owen Glendour, had beene King; Who kept him in Captiuitie, till he dyed. But, to the rest

Yorke. His eldest Sister, Anne, My Mother, being Heire vnto the Crowne, Marryed Richard, Earle of Cambridge, Who was to Edmond Langley, Edward the thirds fift Sonnes Sonne; By her I clayme the Kingdome: She was Heire to Roger, Earle of March, Who was the Sonne of Edmond Mortimer, Who marryed Phillip, sole Daughter Vnto Lionel, Duke of Clarence. So, if the Issue of the elder Sonne Succeed before the younger, I am King

Warw. What plaine proceedings is more plain then this? Henry doth clayme the Crowne from Iohn of Gaunt, The fourth Sonne, Yorke claymes it from the third: Till Lionels Issue fayles, his should not reigne. It fayles not yet, but flourishes in thee, And in thy Sonnes, faire slippes of such a Stock. Then Father Salisbury, kneele we together, And in this priuate Plot be we the first, That shall salute our rightfull Soueraigne With honor of his Birth-right to the Crowne

Both. Long liue our Soueraigne Richard, Englands King

Yorke. We thanke you Lords: But I am not your King, till I be Crown'd, And that my Sword be stayn'd With heart-blood of the House of Lancaster: And that's not suddenly to be perform'd, But with aduice and silent secrecie. Doe you as I doe in these dangerous dayes, Winke at the Duke of Suffolkes insolence, At Beaufords Pride, at Somersets Ambition, At Buckingham, and all the Crew of them, Till they haue snar'd the Shepheard of the Flock, That vertuous Prince, the good Duke Humfrey: 'Tis that they seeke; and they, in seeking that, Shall finde their deaths, if Yorke can prophecie

Salisb. My Lord, breake we off; we know your minde at full

Warw. My heart assures me, that the Earle of Warwick Shall one day make the Duke of Yorke a King

Yorke. And Neuill, this I doe assure my selfe, Richard shall liue to make the Earle of Warwick The greatest man in England, but the King.

Exeunt.

Sound Trumpets. Enter the King and State, with Guard, to banish the Duchesse.

King. Stand forth Dame Elianor Cobham, Glosters Wife: In sight of God, and vs, your guilt is great, Receiue the Sentence of the Law for sinne, Such as by Gods Booke are adiudg'd to death. You foure from hence to Prison, back againe; From thence, vnto the place of Execution: The Witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes, And you three shall be strangled on the Gallowes. You Madame, for you are more Nobly borne, Despoyled of your Honor in your Life, Shall, after three dayes open Penance done, Liue in your Countrey here, in Banishment, With Sir Iohn Stanly, in the Ile of Man

Elianor. Welcome is Banishment, welcome were my Death

Glost. Elianor, the Law thou seest hath iudged thee, I cannot iustifie whom the Law condemnes: Mine eyes are full of teares, my heart of griefe. Ah Humfrey, this dishonor in thine age, Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground. I beseech your Maiestie giue me leaue to goe; Sorrow would sollace, and mine Age would ease

King. Stay Humfrey, Duke of Gloster, Ere thou goe, giue vp thy Staffe, Henry will to himselfe Protector be, And God shall be my hope, my stay, my guide, And Lanthorne to my feete: And goe in peace, Humfrey, no lesse belou'd, Then when thou wert Protector to thy King

Queene. I see no reason, why a King of yeeres Should be to be protected like a Child, God and King Henry gouerne Englands Realme: Giue vp your Staffe, Sir, and the King his Realme

Glost. My Staffe? Here, Noble Henry, is my Staffe: As willingly doe I the same resigne, As ere thy Father Henry made it mine; And euen as willingly at thy feete I leaue it, As others would ambitiously receiue it. Farewell good King: when I am dead, and gone, May honorable Peace attend thy Throne.

Exit Gloster.

Queene. Why now is Henry King, and Margaret Queen, And Humfrey, Duke of Gloster, scarce himselfe, That beares so shrewd a mayme: two Pulls at once; His Lady banisht, and a Limbe lopt off. This Staffe of Honor raught, there let it stand, Where it best fits to be, in Henries hand

Suff. Thus droupes this loftie Pyne, & hangs his sprayes, Thus Elianors Pride dyes in her youngest dayes

Yorke. Lords, let him goe. Please it your Maiestie, This is the day appointed for the Combat, And ready are the Appellant and Defendant, The Armorer and his Man, to enter the Lists, So please your Highnesse to behold the fight

Queene. I, good my Lord: for purposely therefore Left I the Court, to see this Quarrell try'de

King. A Gods Name see the Lysts and all things fit, Here let them end it, and God defend the right

Yorke. I neuer saw a fellow worse bestead, Or more afraid to fight, then is the Appellant, The seruant of this Armorer, my Lords. Enter at one Doore the Armorer and his Neighbors, drinking to him so much, that hee is drunke; and he enters with a Drumme before him, and his Staffe, with a Sand-bagge fastened to it: and at the other Doore 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 Sack; and feare not Neighbor, you shall doe well enough

2.Neighbor. And here Neighbour, here's a Cuppe of Charneco

3.Neighbor. And here's a Pot of good Double-Beere Neighbor: drinke, and feare not your Man

Armorer. Let it come yfaith, and Ile pledge you all, and a figge for Peter

1.Prent. Here Peter, I drinke to thee, and be not afraid

2.Prent. Be merry Peter, and feare not thy Master, Fight for credit of the Prentices

Peter. I thanke you all: drinke, and pray for me, I pray you, for I thinke I haue taken my last Draught in this World. Here Robin, and if I dye, I giue thee my Aporne; and Will, thou shalt haue my Hammer: and here Tom, take all the Money that I haue. O Lord blesse me, I pray God, for I am neuer able to deale with my Master, hee hath learnt so much fence already

Salisb. Come, leaue your drinking, and fall to blowes. Sirrha, what's thy Name? Peter. Peter forsooth

Salisb. Peter? what more? Peter. Thumpe

Salisb. Thumpe? Then see thou thumpe thy Master well

Armorer. Masters, I am come hither as it were vpon my Mans instigation, to proue him a Knaue, and my selfe an honest man: and touching the Duke of Yorke, I will take my death, I neuer meant him any ill, nor the King, nor the Queene: and therefore Peter haue at thee with a downe-right blow

Yorke. Dispatch, this Knaues tongue begins to double. Sound Trumpets, Alarum to the Combattants.

They fight, and Peter strikes him downe.

Armorer. Hold Peter, hold, I confesse, I confesse Treason

Yorke. Take away his Weapon: Fellow thanke God, and the good Wine in thy Masters way

Peter. O God, haue I ouercome mine Enemies in this presence? O Peter, thou hast preuayl'd in right

King. Goe, take hence that Traytor from our sight, For by his death we doe perceiue his guilt, And God in Iustice hath reueal'd to vs The truth and innocence of this poore fellow, Which he had thought to haue murther'd wrongfully. Come fellow, follow vs for thy Reward.

Sound a flourish. Exeunt.

Enter Duke Humfrey and his Men in Mourning Cloakes.

Glost. Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a Cloud: And after Summer, euermore succeedes Barren Winter, with his wrathfull nipping Cold; So Cares and Ioyes abound, as Seasons fleet. Sirs, what's a Clock? Seru. Tenne, my Lord

Glost. Tenne is the houre that was appointed me, To watch the comming of my punisht Duchesse: Vnneath may shee endure the Flintie Streets, To treade them with her tender-feeling feet. Sweet Nell, ill can thy Noble Minde abrooke The abiect People, gazing on thy face, With enuious Lookes 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 Miseries. Enter the Duchesse in a white Sheet, and a Taper burning in her hand, with the Sherife and Officers.

Seru. So please your Grace, wee'le take her from the Sherife

Gloster. No, stirre not for your liues, let her passe by

Elianor. Come you, my Lord, to see my open shame? Now thou do'st 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 lookes, And in thy Closet pent vp, rue my shame, And banne thine Enemies, both mine and thine

Glost. Be patient, gentle Nell, forget this griefe

Elianor. Ah Gloster, teach me to forget my selfe: 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 vp in shame, with Papers on my back, And follow'd with a Rabble, that reioyce To see my teares, and heare my deepe-fet groanes. The ruthlesse Flint doth cut my tender feet, And when I start, the enuious people laugh, And bid me be aduised how I treade. Ah Humfrey, can I beare this shamefull yoake? Trowest thou, that ere Ile looke vpon the World, Or count them happy, that enioyes the Sunne? No: Darke shall be my Light, and Night my Day. To thinke vpon my Pompe, shall be my Hell. Sometime Ile say, I am Duke Humfreyes Wife, And he a Prince, and Ruler of the Land: Yet so he rul'd, and such a Prince he was, As he stood by, whilest I, his forlorne Duchesse, Was made a wonder, and a pointing stock To euery idle Rascall follower. But be thou milde, and blush not at my shame, Nor stirre at nothing, till the Axe of Death Hang ouer thee, as sure it shortly will. For Suffolke, he that can doe all in all With her, that hateth thee and hates vs all, And Yorke, and impious Beauford, that false Priest, Haue all lym'd Bushes to betray thy Wings, And flye thou how thou canst, they'le tangle thee. But feare not thou, vntill thy foot be snar'd, Nor neuer seeke preuention of thy foes

Glost. Ah Nell, forbeare: thou aymest all awry. I must offend, before I be attainted: And had I twentie times so many foes, And each of them had twentie times their power, All these could not procure me any scathe, So long as I am loyall, true, and crimelesse. Would'st haue me rescue thee from this reproach? 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 sort thy heart to patience, These few dayes wonder will be quickly worne. Enter a Herald.

Her. I summon your Grace to his Maiesties Parliament, Holden at Bury, the first of this next Moneth

Glost. And my consent ne're ask'd herein before? This is close dealing. Well, I will be there. My Nell, I take my leaue: and Master Sherife, Let not her Penance exceede the Kings Commission

Sh. And't please your Grace, here my Commission stayes: And Sir Iohn Stanly is appointed now, To take her with him to the Ile of Man

Glost. Must you, Sir Iohn, protect my Lady here? Stanly. So am I giuen in charge, may't please your Grace

Glost. Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray You vse her well: the World may laugh againe, And I may liue to doe you kindnesse, if you doe it her. And so Sir Iohn, farewell

Elianor. What, gone my Lord, and bid me not farewell? Glost. Witnesse my teares, I cannot stay to speake.

Exit Gloster.

Elianor. Art thou gone to? all comfort goe with thee, For none abides with me: my Ioy, is Death; Death, at whose Name I oft haue beene afear'd, Because I wish'd this Worlds eternitie. Stanley, I prethee goe, and take me hence, I care not whither, for I begge no fauor; Onely conuey me where thou art commanded

Stanley. Why, Madame, that is to the Ile of Man, There to be vs'd according to your State

Elianor. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach: And shall I then be vs'd reproachfully? Stanley. Like to a Duchesse, and Duke Humfreyes Lady, According to that State you shall be vs'd

Elianor. Sherife farewell, and better then I fare, Although thou hast beene Conduct of my shame

Sherife. It is my Office, and Madame pardon me

Elianor. I, I, farewell, thy Office is discharg'd: Come Stanley, shall we goe? Stanley. Madame, your Penance done, Throw off this Sheet, And goe we to attyre you for our Iourney

Elianor. My shame will not be shifted with my Sheet: No, it will hang vpon my richest Robes, And shew it selfe, attyre me how I can. Goe, leade the way, I long to see my Prison.

Exeunt.

Sound a Senet. Enter King, Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke, Yorke, Buckingham, Salisbury, and Warwicke, to the Parliament.

King. I muse my Lord of Gloster is not come: 'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, What e're occasion keepes him from vs now

Queene. Can you not see? or will ye not obserue The strangenesse of his alter'd Countenance? With what a Maiestie he beares himselfe, How insolent of late he is become, How prowd, how peremptorie, and vnlike himselfe. We know the time since he was milde and affable, And if we did but glance a farre-off Looke, Immediately he was vpon his Knee, That all the Court admir'd him for submission. But meet him now, and be it in the Morne, When euery one will giue the time of day, He knits his Brow, and shewes an angry Eye, And passeth by with stiffe vnbowed Knee, Disdaining dutie that to vs belongs. Small Curres are not regarded when they grynne, But great men tremble when the Lyon rores, And Humfrey is no little Man in England. First note, that he is neere you in discent, And should you fall, he is the next will mount. Me seemeth then, it is no Pollicie, Respecting what a rancorous minde he beares, And his aduantage following your decease, That he should come about your Royall Person, Or be admitted to your Highnesse Councell. By flatterie hath he wonne the Commons hearts: And when he please to make Commotion, 'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him. Now 'tis the Spring, and Weeds are shallow-rooted, Suffer them now, and they'le o're-grow the Garden, And choake the Herbes for want of Husbandry. The reuerent care I beare vnto my Lord, Made me collect these dangers in the Duke. If it be fond, call it a Womans feare: Which feare, if better Reasons can supplant, I will subscribe, and say I wrong'd the Duke. My Lord of Suffolke, Buckingham, and Yorke, Reproue my allegation, if you can, Or else conclude my words effectuall

Suff. Well hath your Highnesse seene into this Duke: And had I first beene put to speake my minde, I thinke I should haue told your Graces Tale. The Duchesse, by his subornation, Vpon my Life began her diuellish practises: Or if he were not priuie to those Faults, Yet by reputing of his high discent, As next the King, he was successiue Heire, And such high vaunts of his Nobilitie, Did instigate the Bedlam braine-sick Duchesse, By wicked meanes to frame our Soueraignes fall. Smooth runnes the Water, where the Brooke is deepe, And in his simple shew he harbours Treason. The Fox barkes not, when he would steale the Lambe. No, no, my Soueraigne, Glouster is a man Vnsounded yet, and full of deepe deceit

Card. Did he not, contrary to forme of Law, Deuise strange deaths, for small offences done? Yorke. And did he not, in his Protectorship, Leuie great summes of Money through the Realme, For Souldiers pay in France, and neuer sent it? By meanes whereof, the Townes each day reuolted

Buck. Tut, these are petty faults to faults vnknowne, Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humfrey

King. My Lords at once: the care you haue of vs, To mowe downe Thornes that would annoy our Foot, Is worthy prayse: but shall I speake my conscience, Our Kinsman Gloster is as innocent, From meaning Treason to our Royall Person, As is the sucking Lambe, or harmelesse Doue: The Duke is vertuous, milde, and too well giuen, To dreame on euill, or to worke my downefall

Qu. Ah what's more dangerous, then this fond affiance? Seemes he a Doue? his feathers are but borrow'd, For hee's disposed as the hatefull Rauen. Is he a Lambe? his Skinne is surely lent him, For hee's enclin'd as is the rauenous Wolues. Who cannot steale a shape, that meanes deceit? Take heed, my Lord, the welfare of vs all, Hangs on the cutting short that fraudfull man. Enter Somerset

Som. All health vnto my gracious Soueraigne

King. Welcome Lord Somerset: What Newes from France? Som. That all your Interest in those Territories, Is vtterly bereft you: all is lost

King. Cold Newes, Lord Somerset: but Gods will be done

Yorke. Cold Newes for me: for I had hope of France, As firmely as I hope for fertile England. Thus are my Blossomes blasted in the Bud, And Caterpillers eate my Leaues away: But I will remedie this geare ere long, Or sell my Title for a glorious Graue. Enter Gloucester.

Glost. All happinesse vnto my Lord the King: Pardon, my Liege, that I haue stay'd so long

Suff. Nay Gloster, know that thou art come too soone, Vnlesse thou wert more loyall then thou art: I doe arrest thee of High Treason here

Glost. Well Suffolke, thou shalt not see me blush, Nor change my Countenance for this Arrest: A Heart vnspotted, is not easily daunted. The purest Spring is not so free from mudde, As I am cleare from Treason to my Soueraigne. Who can accuse me? wherein am I guiltie? Yorke. 'Tis thought, my Lord, That you tooke Bribes of France, And being Protector, stay'd the Souldiers pay, By meanes whereof, his Highnesse hath lost France

Glost. Is it but thought so? What are they that thinke it? I neuer rob'd the Souldiers of their pay, Nor euer had one penny Bribe from France. So helpe me God, as I haue 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 vse, Be brought against me at my Tryall day. No: many a Pound of mine owne proper store, Because I would not taxe the needie Commons, Haue I dis-pursed to the Garrisons, And neuer ask'd for restitution

Card. It serues you well, my Lord, to say so much

Glost. I say no more then truth, so helpe me God

Yorke. In your Protectorship, you did deuise Strange Tortures for Offendors, neuer heard of, That England was defam'd by Tyrannie

Glost. Why 'tis well known, that whiles I was Protector, Pittie was all the fault that was in me: For I should melt at an Offendors teares, And lowly words were Ransome for their fault: Vnlesse it were a bloody Murtherer, Or foule felonious Theefe, that fleec'd poore passengers, I neuer gaue them condigne punishment. Murther indeede, that bloodie sinne, I tortur'd Aboue the Felon, or what Trespas else

Suff. My Lord, these faults are easie, quickly answer'd: But mightier Crimes are lay'd vnto your charge, Whereof you cannot easily purge your selfe. I doe arrest you in his Highnesse Name, And here commit you to my Lord Cardinall To keepe, vntill your further time of Tryall

King. My Lord of Gloster, 'tis my speciall hope, That you will cleare your selfe from all suspence, My Conscience tells me you are innocent

Glost. Ah gracious Lord, these dayes are dangerous: Vertue is choakt with foule Ambition, And Charitie chas'd hence by Rancours hand; Foule Subornation is predominant, And Equitie exil'd your Highnesse Land. I know, their Complot is to haue my Life: And if my death might make this Iland happy, And proue the Period of their Tyrannie, I would expend it with all willingnesse. But mine is made the Prologue to their Play: For thousands more, that yet suspect no perill, Will not conclude their plotted Tragedie. Beaufords red sparkling eyes blab his hearts mallice, And Suffolks cloudie Brow his stormie hate; Sharpe Buckingham vnburthens with his tongue, The enuious Load that lyes vpon his heart: And dogged Yorke, that reaches at the Moone, Whose ouer-weening Arme I haue pluckt back, By false accuse doth leuell at my Life. And you, my Soueraigne Lady, with the rest, Causelesse haue lay'd disgraces on my head, And with your best endeuour haue stirr'd vp My liefest Liege to be mine Enemie: I, all of you haue lay'd your heads together, My selfe had notice of your Conuenticles, And all to make away my guiltlesse Life. I shall not want false Witnesse, to condemne me, Nor store of Treasons, to augment my guilt: The ancient Prouerbe will be well effected, A Staffe is quickly found to beat a Dogge

Card. My Liege, his rayling is intollerable. If those that care to keepe your Royall Person From Treasons secret Knife, and Traytors Rage, Be thus vpbrayded, chid, and rated at, And the Offendor graunted scope of speech, 'Twill make them coole in zeale vnto your Grace

Suff. Hath he not twit our Soueraigne Lady here With ignominious words, though Clarkely coucht? As if she had suborned some to sweare False allegations, to o'rethrow his state

Qu. But I can giue the loser leaue to chide

Glost. Farre truer spoke then meant: I lose indeede, Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false, And well such losers may haue leaue to speake

Buck. Hee'le wrest the sence, and hold vs here all day. Lord Cardinall, he is your Prisoner

Card. Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure

Glost. Ah, thus King Henry throwes away his Crutch, Before his Legges be firme to beare his Body. Thus is the Shepheard beaten from thy side, And Wolues are gnarling, who shall gnaw thee first. Ah that my feare were false, ah that it were; For good King Henry, thy decay I feare.

Exit Gloster.

King. My Lords, what to your wisdomes seemeth best, Doe, or vndoe, as if our selfe were here

Queene. What, will your Highnesse leaue the Parliament? King. I Margaret: my heart is drown'd with griefe, Whose floud begins to flowe within mine eyes; My Body round engyrt with miserie: For what's more miserable then Discontent? Ah Vnckle Humfrey, in thy face I see The Map of Honor, Truth, and Loyaltie: And yet, good Humfrey, is the houre to come, That ere I prou'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith. What lowring Starre now enuies thy estate? That these great Lords, and Margaret our Queene, Doe seeke subuersion of thy harmelesse Life. Thou neuer didst them wrong, nor no man wrong: And as the Butcher takes away the Calfe, And binds the Wretch, and beats it when it strayes, Bearing it to the bloody Slaughter-house; Euen so remorselesse haue they borne him hence: And as the Damme runnes lowing vp and downe, Looking the way her harmelesse young one went, And can doe naught but wayle her Darlings losse; Euen so my selfe bewayles good Glosters case With sad vnhelpefull teares, and with dimn'd eyes; Looke after him, and cannot doe him good: So mightie are his vowed Enemies. His fortunes I will weepe, and 'twixt each groane, Say, who's a Traytor? Gloster he is none. Enter.

Queene. Free Lords: Cold Snow melts with the Sunnes hot Beames: Henry, my Lord, is cold in great Affaires, Too full of foolish pittie: and Glosters shew Beguiles him, as the mournefull Crocodile With sorrow snares relenting passengers; Or as the Snake, roll'd in a flowring Banke, With shining checker'd slough doth sting a Child, That for the beautie thinkes it excellent. Beleeue me Lords, were none more wise then I, And yet herein I iudge mine owne Wit good; This Gloster should be quickly rid the World, To rid vs from the feare we haue of him

Card. That he should dye, is worthie pollicie, But yet we want a Colour for his death: 'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of Law

Suff. But in my minde, that were no pollicie: The King will labour still to saue his Life, The Commons haply rise, to saue his Life; And yet we haue but triuiall argument, More then mistrust, that shewes him worthy death

Yorke. So that by this, you would not haue him dye

Suff. Ah Yorke, no man aliue, so faine as I

Yorke. 'Tis Yorke that hath more reason for his death. But my Lord Cardinall, and you my Lord of Suffolke, Say as you thinke, and speake it from your Soules: Wer't not all one, an emptie Eagle were set, To guard the Chicken from a hungry Kyte, As place Duke Humfrey for the Kings Protector? Queene. So the poore Chicken should be sure of death

Suff. Madame 'tis true: and wer't not madnesse then, To make the Fox surueyor of the Fold? Who being accus'd a craftie Murtherer, His guilt should be but idly posted ouer, Because his purpose is not executed. No: let him dye, in that he is a Fox, By nature prou'd an Enemie to the Flock, Before his Chaps be stayn'd with Crimson blood, As Humfrey prou'd by Reasons to my Liege. And doe not stand on Quillets how to slay him: Be it by Gynnes, by Snares, by Subtletie, Sleeping, or Waking, 'tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good deceit, Which mates him first, that first intends deceit

Queene. 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 preserue my Soueraigne from his Foe, Say but the word, and I will be his Priest

Card. But I would haue him dead, my Lord of Suffolke, Ere you can take due Orders for a Priest: Say you consent, and censure well the deed, And Ile prouide his Executioner, I tender so the safetie of my Liege

Suff. Here is my Hand, the deed is worthy doing

Queene. And so say I

Yorke. And I: and now we three haue spoke it, It skills not greatly who impugnes our doome. Enter a Poste.

Post. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amaine, To signifie, that Rebels there are vp, And put the Englishmen vnto the Sword. Send Succours (Lords) and stop the Rage betime, Before the Wound doe grow vncurable; For being greene, there is great hope of helpe

Card. A Breach that craues a quick expedient stoppe. What counsaile giue you in this weightie cause? Yorke. That Somerset be sent as Regent thither: 'Tis meet that luckie Ruler be imploy'd, Witnesse the fortune he hath had in France

Som. If Yorke, with all his farre-fet pollicie, Had beene the Regent there, in stead of me, He neuer would haue stay'd in France so long

Yorke. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done. I rather would haue lost my Life betimes, Then bring a burthen of dis-honour home, By staying there so long, till all were lost. Shew me one skarre, character'd on thy Skinne, Mens flesh preseru'd so whole, doe seldome winne

Qu. Nay then, this sparke will proue a raging fire, If Wind and Fuell be brought, to feed it with: No more, good Yorke; sweet Somerset be still. Thy fortune, Yorke, hadst thou beene Regent there, Might happily haue prou'd farre worse then his

Yorke. What, worse then naught? nay, then a shame take all

Somerset. And in the number, thee, that wishest shame

Card. My Lord of Yorke, trie what your fortune is: Th' vnciuill 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 Countie some, And trie your hap against the Irishmen? Yorke. I will, my Lord, so please his Maiestie

Suff. Why, our Authoritie is his consent, And what we doe establish, he confirmes: Then, Noble Yorke, take thou this Taske in hand

Yorke. I am content: Prouide me Souldiers, Lords, Whiles I take order for mine owne affaires

Suff. A charge, Lord Yorke, that I will see perform'd. But now returne we to the false Duke Humfrey

Card. No more of him: for I will deale with him, That henceforth he shall trouble vs no more: And so breake off, the day is almost spent, Lord Suffolke, you and I must talke of that euent

Yorke. My Lord of Suffolke, within foureteene dayes At Bristow I expect my Souldiers, For there Ile shippe them all for Ireland

Suff. Ile see it truly done, my Lord of Yorke.

Exeunt.

Manet Yorke.

Yorke. Now Yorke, or neuer, steele thy fearfull thoughts, And change misdoubt to resolution; Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art; Resigne to death, it is not worth th' enioying: Let pale-fac't feare keepe with the meane-borne man, And finde no harbor in a Royall heart. Faster the[n] Spring-time showres, comes thoght on thoght, And not a thought, but thinkes on Dignitie. My Brayne, more busie then the laboring Spider, Weaues tedious Snares to trap mine Enemies. Well Nobles, well: 'tis politikely done, To send me packing with an Hoast of men: I feare me, you but warme the starued Snake, Who cherisht in your breasts, will sting your hearts. 'Twas men I lackt, and you will giue them me; I take it kindly: yet be well assur'd, You put sharpe Weapons in a mad-mans hands. Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mightie Band, I will stirre vp in England some black Storme, Shall blowe ten thousand Soules to Heauen, or Hell: And this fell Tempest shall not cease to rage, Vntill the Golden Circuit on my Head, Like to the glorious Sunnes transparant Beames, Doe calme the furie of this mad-bred Flawe. And for a minister of my intent, I haue seduc'd a head-strong Kentishman, Iohn Cade of Ashford, To make Commotion, as full well he can, Vnder the title of Iohn Mortimer. In Ireland haue I seene this stubborne Cade Oppose himselfe against a Troupe of Kernes, And fought so long, till that his thighes with Darts Were almost like a sharpe-quill'd Porpentine: And in the end being rescued, I haue seene Him capre vpright, like a wilde Morisco, Shaking the bloody Darts, as he his Bells. Full often, like a shag-hayr'd craftie Kerne, Hath he conuersed with the Enemie, And vndiscouer'd, come to me againe, And giuen me notice of their Villanies. This Deuill here shall be my substitute; For that Iohn Mortimer, which now is dead, In face, in gate, in speech he doth resemble. By this, I shall perceiue the Commons minde, How they affect the House and Clayme of Yorke. Say he be taken, rackt, and tortured; I know, no paine they can inflict vpon him, Will make him say, I mou'd him to those Armes. Say that he thriue, as 'tis great like he will, Why then from Ireland come I with my strength, And reape the Haruest which that Rascall sow'd. For Humfrey; being dead, as he shall be, And Henry put apart: the next for me. Enter.

Enter two or three running ouer the Stage, from the Murther of Duke Humfrey.

1. Runne to my Lord of Suffolke: let him know We haue dispatcht the Duke, as he commanded

2. Oh, that it were to doe: what haue we done? Didst euer heare a man so penitent? Enter Suffolke.

1. Here comes my Lord

Suff. Now Sirs, haue you dispatcht this thing? 1. I, my good Lord, hee's dead

Suff. Why that's well said. Goe, get you to my House, I will reward you for this venturous deed: The King and all the Peeres are here at hand. Haue you layd faire the Bed? Is all things well, According as I gaue directions? 1. 'Tis, my good Lord

Suff. Away, be gone.

Exeunt.

Sound Trumpets. Enter the King, the Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke, Somerset, with Attendants.

King. Goe call our Vnckle to our presence straight: Say, we intend to try his Grace to day, If he be guiltie, as 'tis published

Suff. Ile call him presently, my Noble Lord. Enter

King. Lords take your places: and I pray you all Proceed no straiter 'gainst our Vnckle Gloster, Then from true euidence, of good esteeme, He be approu'd in practise culpable

Queene. God forbid any Malice should preuayle, That faultlesse may condemne a Noble man: Pray God he may acquit him of suspition

King. I thanke thee Nell, these wordes content mee much. Enter Suffolke.

How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou? Where is our Vnckle? what's the matter, Suffolke? Suff. Dead in his Bed, my Lord: Gloster is dead

Queene. Marry God forfend

Card. Gods secret Iudgement: I did dreame to Night, The Duke was dumbe, and could not speake a word.

King sounds.

Qu. How fares my Lord? Helpe Lords, the King is dead

Som. Rere vp his Body, wring him by the Nose

Qu. Runne, goe, helpe, helpe: Oh Henry ope thine eyes

Suff. He doth reuiue againe, Madame be patient

King. Oh Heauenly God

Qu. How fares my gracious Lord? Suff. Comfort my Soueraigne, gracious Henry comfort

King. What, doth my Lord of Suffolke comfort me? Came he right now to sing a Rauens Note, Whose dismall tune bereft my Vitall powres: And thinkes he, that the chirping of a Wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breast, Can chase away the first-conceiued sound? Hide not thy poyson with such sugred words, Lay not thy hands on me: forbeare I say, Their touch affrights me as a Serpents sting. Thou balefull Messenger, out of my sight: Vpon thy eye-balls, murderous Tyrannie Sits in grim Maiestie, to fright the World. Looke not vpon me, for thine eyes are wounding; Yet doe not goe away: come Basiliske, And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight: For in the shade of death, I shall finde ioy; In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead

Queene. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolke thus? Although the Duke was enemie to him, Yet he most Christian-like laments his death: And for my selfe, Foe as he was to me, Might liquid teares, or heart-offending groanes, Or blood-consuming sighes recall his Life; I would be blinde with weeping, sicke with grones, Looke pale as Prim-rose with blood-drinking sighes, And all to haue the Noble Duke aliue. What know I how the world may deeme of me? For it is knowne we were but hollow Friends: It may be iudg'd I made the Duke away, So shall my name with Slanders tongue be wounded, And Princes Courts be fill'd with my reproach: This get I by his death: Aye me vnhappie, To be a Queene, and Crown'd with infamie

King. Ah woe is me for Gloster, wretched man

Queen. Be woe for me, more wretched then he is. What, Dost thou turne away, and hide thy face? I am no loathsome Leaper, looke on me. What? Art thou like the Adder waxen deafe? Be poysonous too, and kill thy forlorne Queene. Is all thy comfort shut in Glosters Tombe? Why then Dame Elianor was neere thy ioy. Erect his Statue, and worship it, And make my Image but an Ale-house signe. Was I for this nye wrack'd vpon the Sea, And twice by aukward winde from Englands banke Droue backe againe vnto my Natiue Clime. What boaded this? but well fore-warning winde Did seeme to say, seeke not a Scorpions Nest, Nor set no footing on this vnkinde Shore. What did I then? But curst the gentle gusts, And he that loos'd them forth their Brazen Caues, And bid them blow towards Englands blessed shore, Or turne our Sterne vpon a dreadfull Rocke: Yet aeolus would not be a murtherer, But left that hatefull office vnto thee. The pretty vaulting Sea refus'd to drowne me, Knowing that thou wouldst haue me drown'd on shore With teares as salt as Sea, through thy vnkindnesse. 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, perish Elianor. As farre as I could ken thy Chalky Cliffes, When from thy Shore, the Tempest beate vs backe, I stood vpon the Hatches in the storme: And when the duskie sky, began to rob My earnest-gaping-sight of thy Lands view, I tooke a costly Iewell from my necke, A Hart it was bound in with Diamonds, And threw it towards thy Land: The Sea receiu'd it, And so I wish'd thy body might my Heart: And euen with this, I lost faire Englands view, And bid mine eyes be packing with my Heart, And call'd them blinde and duskie Spectacles, For loosing ken of Albions wished Coast. How often haue I tempted Suffolkes tongue (The agent of thy foule inconstancie) To sit and watch me as Ascanius did, When he to madding Dido would vnfold His Fathers Acts, commenc'd in burning Troy. Am I not witcht like her? Or thou not false like him? Aye me, I can no more: Dye Elinor, For Henry weepes, that thou dost liue so long.

Noyse within. Enter Warwicke, and many Commons.

War. It is reported, mighty Soueraigne, That good Duke Humfrey Traiterously is murdred By Suffolke, and the Cardinall Beaufords meanes: The Commons like an angry Hiue of Bees That want their Leader, scatter vp and downe, And care not who they sting in his reuenge. My selfe haue calm'd their spleenfull mutinie, Vntill they heare the order of his death

King. That he is dead good Warwick, 'tis too true, But how he dyed, God knowes, not Henry: Enter his Chamber, view his breathlesse Corpes, And comment then vpon his sodaine death

War. That shall I do my Liege; Stay Salsburie With the rude multitude, till I returne

King. O thou that iudgest all things, stay my thoghts: My thoughts, that labour to perswade my soule, Some violent hands were laid on Humfries life: If my suspect be false, forgiue me God, For iudgement onely doth belong to thee: Faine would I go to chafe his palie lips, With twenty thousand kisses, and to draine Vpon his face an Ocean of salt teares, To tell my loue vnto his dumbe deafe trunke, And with my fingers feele his hand, vnfeeling: But all in vaine are these meane Obsequies,

Bed put forth.

And to suruey his dead and earthy Image: What were it but to make my sorrow greater? Warw. Come hither gracious Soueraigne, view this body

King. That is to see how deepe my graue is made, For with his soule fled all my worldly solace: For seeing him, I see my life in death

War. As surely as my soule intends to liue With that dread King that tooke our state vpon him, To free vs from his Fathers wrathfull curse, I do beleeue that violent hands were laid Vpon the life of this thrice-famed Duke

Suf. A dreadfull Oath, sworne with a solemn tongue: What instance giues Lord Warwicke for his vow

War. See how the blood is setled in his face. Oft haue I seene a timely-parted Ghost, Of ashy semblance, meager, pale, and bloodlesse, Being all descended to the labouring heart, Who in the Conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aydance 'gainst the enemy, Which with the heart there cooles, and ne're returneth, To blush and beautifie the Cheeke againe. But see, his face is blacke, and full of blood: His eye-balles further out, than when he liued, Staring full gastly, like a strangled man: His hayre vprear'd, his nostrils stretcht with strugling: His hands abroad display'd, as one that graspt And tugg'd for Life, and was by strength subdude. Looke on the sheets his haire (you see) is sticking, His well proportion'd Beard, made ruffe and rugged, Like to the Summers Corne by Tempest lodged: It cannot be but he was murdred heere, The least of all these signes were probable

Suf. Why Warwicke, who should do the D[uke]. to death? My selfe and Beauford had him in protection, And we I hope sir, are no murtherers

War. But both of you were vowed D[uke]. Humfries foes, And you (forsooth) 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. Than you belike suspect these Noblemen, As guilty of Duke Humfries timelesse death

Warw. Who finds the Heyfer dead, and bleeding fresh, And sees fast-by, a Butcher with an Axe, But will suspect, 'twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the Partridge in the Puttocks Nest, But may imagine how the Bird was dead, Although the Kyte soare with vnbloudied Beake? Euen so suspitious is this Tragedie

Qu. Are you the Butcher, Suffolk? where's your Knife? Is Beauford tearm'd a Kyte? where are his Tallons? Suff. I weare no Knife, to slaughter sleeping men, But here's a vengefull Sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scowred in his rancorous heart, That slanders me with Murthers Crimson Badge. Say, if thou dar'st, prowd Lord of Warwickshire, That I am faultie in Duke Humfreyes death

Warw. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolke dare him? Qu. He dares not calme his contumelious Spirit, Nor cease to be an arrogant Controller, Though Suffolke dare him twentie thousand times

Warw. Madame be still: with reuerence may I say, For euery word you speake in his behalfe, Is slander to your Royall Dignitie

Suff. Blunt-witted Lord, ignoble in demeanor, If euer Lady wrong'd her Lord so much, Thy Mother tooke into her blamefull Bed Some sterne vntutur'd Churle; and Noble Stock Was graft with Crab-tree slippe, whose Fruit thou art, And neuer of the Neuils Noble Race

Warw. But that the guilt of Murther bucklers thee, And I should rob the Deaths-man of his Fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my Soueraignes presence makes me milde, I would, false murd'rous Coward, on thy Knee Make thee begge pardon for thy passed speech, And say, it was thy Mother that thou meant'st, That thou thy selfe wast borne in Bastardie; And after all this fearefull Homage done, Giue thee thy hyre, and send thy Soule to Hell, Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men

Suff. Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy blood, If from this presence thou dar'st goe with me

Warw. Away euen now, or I will drag thee hence: Vnworthy though thou art, Ile cope with thee, And doe some seruice to Duke Humfreyes Ghost.

Exeunt.

King. What stronger Brest-plate then a heart vntainted? Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his Quarrell iust; And he but naked, though lockt vp in Steele, Whose Conscience with Iniustice is corrupted.

A noyse within.

Queene. What noyse is this? Enter Suffolke and Warwicke, with their Weapons drawne.

King. Why how now Lords? Your wrathfull Weapons drawne, Here in our presence? Dare you be so bold? Why what tumultuous clamor haue we here? Suff. The trayt'rous Warwick, with the men of Bury, Set all vpon me, mightie Soueraigne. Enter Salisbury.

Salisb. Sirs stand apart, the King shall know your minde. Dread Lord, the Commons send you word by me, Vnlesse Lord Suffolke straight be done to death, Or banished faire Englands Territories, They will by violence teare him from your Pallace, And torture him with grieuous lingring death. They say, by him the good Duke Humfrey dy'de: They say, in him they feare your Highnesse death; And meere instinct of Loue and Loyaltie, Free from a stubborne opposite intent, As being thought to contradict your liking, Makes them thus forward in his Banishment. 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 not withstanding such a strait Edict, Were there a Serpent seene, with forked Tongue, That slyly glyded towards your Maiestie, It were but necessarie you were wak't: Least being suffer'd in that harmefull slumber, 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 fell Serpents as false Suffolke is; With whose inuenomed and fatall sting, Your louing Vnckle, twentie times his worth, They say is shamefully bereft of life

Commons within. An answer from the King, my Lord of Salisbury

Suff. 'Tis like the Commons, rude vnpolisht Hindes, Could send such Message to their Soueraigne: But you, my Lord, were glad to be imploy'd, To shew 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 louing care; And had I not beene cited so by them, Yet did I purpose as they doe entreat: For sure, my thoughts doe hourely prophecie, Mischance vnto my State by Suffolkes meanes. And therefore by his Maiestie I sweare, Whose farre-vnworthie Deputie I am, He shall not breathe infection in this ayre, But three dayes longer, on the paine of death

Qu. Oh Henry, let me pleade for gentle Suffolke

King. Vngentle Queene, to call him gentle Suffolke. No more I say: if thou do'st pleade for him, Thou wilt but adde encrease vnto my Wrath. Had I but sayd, I would haue kept my Word; But when I sweare, it is irreuocable: If after three dayes space thou here bee'st 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 mee, I haue great matters to impart to thee. Enter.

Qu. Mischance and Sorrow goe along with you, Hearts Discontent, and sowre Affliction, Be play-fellowes to keepe you companie: There's two of you, the Deuill make a third, And three-fold Vengeance tend vpon your steps

Suff. Cease, gentle Queene, these Execrations, And let thy Suffolke take his heauie leaue

Queen. Fye Coward woman, and soft harted wretch, Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy

Suf. A plague vpon them: wherefore should I cursse them? Would curses kill, as doth the Mandrakes grone, I would inuent as bitter searching termes, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to heare, Deliuer'd strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signes of deadly hate, As leane-fac'd enuy in her loathsome caue. My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words, Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten Flint, Mine haire be fixt an end, as one distract: I, euery ioynt should seeme to curse and ban, And euen 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 sweetest shade, a groue of Cypresse Trees: Their cheefest Prospect, murd'ring Basiliskes: Their softest Touch, as smart as Lyzards stings: Their Musicke, frightfull as the Serpents hisse, And boading Screech-Owles, make the Consort full. All the foule terrors in darke seated hell - Q. Enough sweet Suffolke, thou torment'st thy selfe, And these dread curses like the Sunne 'gainst glasse, Or like an ouer-charged Gun, recoile, And turnes the force of them vpon thy selfe

Suf. You bad me ban, and will you bid me leaue? Now by the ground that I am banish'd from, Well could I curse away a Winters night, Though standing naked on a Mountaine top, Where byting cold would neuer let grasse grow, And thinke it but a minute spent in sport

Qu. Oh, let me intreat thee cease, giue me thy hand, That I may dew it with my mournfull teares: Nor let the raine of heauen wet this place, To wash away my wofull Monuments. Oh, could this kisse be printed in thy hand, That thou might'st thinke vpon these by the Seale, Through whom a thousand sighes are breath'd for thee. So get thee gone, that I may know my greefe, 'Tis but surmiz'd, whiles thou art standing by, As one that surfets, thinking on a want: I will repeale thee, or be well assur'd, Aduenture to be banished my selfe: And banished I am, if but from thee. Go, speake not to me; euen now be gone. Oh go not yet. Euen thus, two Friends condemn'd, Embrace, and kisse, and take ten thousand leaues, Loather a hundred times to part then dye; Yet now farewell, and farewell Life with thee

Suf. Thus is poore Suffolke ten times banished, Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee. 'Tis not the Land I care for, wer't thou thence, A Wildernesse is populous enough, So Suffolke had thy heauenly company: For where thou art, there is the World it selfe, With euery seuerall pleasure in the World: And where thou art not, Desolation. I can no more: Liue thou to ioy thy life; My selfe no ioy in nought, but that thou liu'st. Enter Vaux.

Queene. Whether goes Vaux so fast? What newes I prethee? Vaux. To signifie vnto his Maiesty, That Cardinal Beauford is at point of death: For sodainly a greeuous sicknesse tooke him, That makes him gaspe, and stare, and catch the aire, Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth. Sometime he talkes, as if Duke Humfries Ghost Were by his side: Sometime, he calles the King, And whispers to his pillow, as to him, The secrets of his ouer-charged soule, And I am sent to tell his Maiestie, That euen now he cries alowd for him

Qu. Go tell this heauy Message to the King.

Exit

Aye me! What is this World? What newes are these? But wherefore greeue I at an houres poore losse, Omitting Suffolkes exile, my soules Treasure? Why onely Suffolke mourne I not for thee? And with the Southerne clouds, contend in teares? Theirs 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

Suf. If I depart from thee, I cannot liue, And in thy sight to dye, what were it else, But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? Heere could I breath my soule into the ayre, As milde and gentle as the Cradle-babe, Dying with mothers dugge betweene it's lips. Where from thy sight, I should be raging mad, And cry out for thee to close vp mine eyes: To haue thee with thy lippes to stop my mouth: So should'st thou eyther turne my flying soule, Or I should breathe it so into thy body, And then it liu'd in sweete Elizium. To dye by thee, were but to dye in iest, From thee to dye, were torture more then death: Oh let me stay, befall what may befall

Queen. Away: Though parting be a fretfull corosiue, It is applyed to a deathfull wound. To France sweet Suffolke: Let me heare from thee: For wheresoere thou art in this worlds Globe, Ile haue an Iris that shall finde thee out

Suf. I go

Qu. And take my heart with thee

Suf. A Iewell lockt into the wofulst Caske, That euer did containe a thing of worth, Euen as a splitted Barke, so sunder we: This way fall I to death

Qu. This way for me.

Exeunt.

Enter the King, Salisbury, and Warwicke, to the Cardinal in bed.

King. How fare's my Lord? Speake Beauford to thy Soueraigne

Ca. If thou beest death, Ile giue thee Englands Treasure, Enough to purchase such another Island, So thou wilt let me liue, and feele no paine

King. Ah, what a signe it is of euill life, Where death's approach is seene so terrible

War. Beauford, it is thy Soueraigne speakes to thee

Beau. Bring me vnto my Triall when you will. Dy'de he not in his bed? Where should he dye? Can I make men liue where they will or no? Oh torture me no more, I will confesse. Aliue againe? Then shew me where he is, Ile giue a thousand pound to looke vpon him. He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. Combe downe his haire; looke, looke, it stands vpright, Like Lime-twigs set to catch my winged soule: Giue me some drinke, and bid the Apothecarie Bring the strong poyson that I bought of him

King. Oh thou eternall mouer of the heauens, Looke with a gentle eye vpon this Wretch, Oh beate away the busie medling Fiend, That layes strong siege vnto this wretches soule, And from his bosome purge this blacke dispaire

War. See how the pangs of death do make him grin

Sal. Disturbe him not, let him passe peaceably

King. Peace to his soule, if Gods good pleasure be. Lord Card'nall, if thou think'st on heauens blisse, Hold vp thy hand, make signall of thy hope. He dies and makes no signe: Oh God forgiue him

War. So bad a death, argues a monstrous life

King. Forbeare to iudge, for we are sinners all. Close vp his eyes, and draw the Curtaine close, And let vs all to Meditation.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Fight at Sea. Ordnance goes off.

Enter Lieutenant, Suffolke, and others.

Lieu. The gaudy blabbing and remorsefull day, Is crept into the bosome of the Sea: And now loud houling Wolues arouse the Iades That dragge the Tragicke melancholy night: Who with their drowsie, slow, and flagging wings Cleape dead-mens graues, and from their misty Iawes, Breath foule contagious darknesse in the ayre: Therefore bring forth the Souldiers of our prize, For whilst our Pinnace Anchors in the Downes, Heere shall they make their ransome on the sand, Or with their blood staine this discoloured shore. Maister, this Prisoner freely giue 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 Master, let me know

Ma. A thousand Crownes, or else lay down your head Mate. And so much shall you giue, or off goes yours

Lieu. What thinke you much to pay 2000. Crownes, And beare the name and port of Gentlemen? Cut both the Villaines throats, for dy you shall: The liues of those which we haue lost in fight, Be counter-poys'd with such a pettie summe

1.Gent. Ile giue it sir, and therefore spare my life

2.Gent. And so will I, and write home for it straight

Whitm. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboord, And therefore to reuenge it, shalt thou dye, And so should these, if I might haue my will

Lieu. Be not so rash, take ransome, let him liue

Suf. Looke on my George, I am a Gentleman, Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be payed

Whit. And so am I: my name is Walter Whitmore. How now? why starts thou? What doth death affright? Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death: A cunning man did calculate my birth, And told me that by Water I should dye: Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded, Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly sounded

Whit. Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not, Neuer yet did base dishonour blurre our name, But with our sword we wip'd away the blot. Therefore, when Merchant-like I sell reuenge, Broke be my sword, my Armes torne and defac'd, And I proclaim'd a Coward through the world

Suf. Stay Whitmore, for thy Prisoner is a Prince, The Duke of Suffolke, William de la Pole

Whit. The Duke of Suffolke, muffled vp in ragges? Suf. I, but these ragges are no part of the Duke

Lieu. But Ioue was neuer slaine as thou shalt be, Obscure and lowsie Swaine, King Henries blood

Suf. The honourable blood of Lancaster Must not be shed by such a iaded Groome: Hast thou not kist thy hand, and held my stirrop? Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth Mule, And thought thee 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 haue feasted with Queene Margaret? Remember it, and let it make thee Crest-falne, I, and alay this thy abortiue Pride: How in our voyding Lobby hast thou stood, And duly wayted for my comming forth? This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalfe, And therefore shall it charme thy riotous tongue

Whit. Speak Captaine, shall I stab the forlorn Swain

Lieu. First let my words stab him, as he hath me

Suf. Base slaue, thy words are blunt, and so art thou

Lieu. Conuey him hence, and on our long boats side, Strike off his head

Suf. Thou dar'st not for thy owne

Lieu. Poole, Sir Poole? Lord, I kennell, puddle, sinke, whose filth and dirt Troubles the siluer Spring, where England drinkes: Now will I dam vp 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'dst at good Duke Humfries death, Against the senselesse windes shall grin in vaine, Who in contempt shall hisse 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, Hauing neyther Subiect, Wealth, nor Diadem: By diuellish policy art thou growne great, And like ambitious Sylla ouer-gorg'd, With gobbets of thy Mother-bleeding heart. By thee Aniou and Maine were sold to France. The false reuolting Normans thorough thee, Disdaine to call vs Lord, and Piccardie Hath slaine their Gouernors, surpriz'd our Forts, And sent the ragged Souldiers wounded home. The Princely Warwicke, and the Neuils all, Whose dreadfull swords were neuer drawne in vaine, As hating thee, and rising vp in armes. And now the House of Yorke thrust from the Crowne, By shamefull murther of a guiltlesse King, And lofty proud incroaching tyranny, Burnes with reuenging fire, whose hopefull colours Aduance our halfe-fac'd Sunne, striuing to shine; Vnder the which is writ, Inuitis nubibus. The Commons heere in Kent are vp in armes, And to conclude, Reproach and Beggerie, Is crept into the Pallace of our King, And all by thee: away, conuey him hence

Suf. O that I were a God, to shoot forth Thunder Vpon these paltry, seruile, abiect Drudges: Small things make base men proud. This Villaine heere, Being Captaine of a Pinnace, threatens more Then Bargulus the strong Illyrian Pyrate. Drones sucke not Eagles blood, but rob Bee-hiues: It is impossible that I should dye By such a lowly Vassall as thy selfe. Thy words moue Rage, and not remorse in me: I go of Message from the Queene to France: I charge thee waft me safely crosse the Channell

Lieu. Water: W. Come Suffolke, I must waft thee to thy death

Suf. Pine gelidus timor occupat artus, it is thee I feare

Wal. Thou shalt haue cause to feare before I leaue 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, vntaught to pleade for fauour. Farre be it, we should honor such as these With humble suite: no, rather let my head Stoope to the blocke, then these knees bow to any, Saue to the God of heauen, and to my King: And sooner dance vpon a bloody pole, Then stand vncouer'd to the Vulgar Groome. True Nobility, is exempt from feare: 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 neuer be forgot. Great men oft dye by vilde Bezonions. A Romane Sworder, and Bandetto slaue Murder'd sweet Tully. Brutus Bastard hand Stab'd Iulius Cæsar. Sauage Islanders Pompey the Great, and Suffolke dyes by Pyrats.

Exit Water with Suffolke.

Lieu. And as for these whose ransome we haue set, It is our pleasure one of them depart: Therefore come you with vs, and let him go.

Exit Lieutenant, and the rest.

Manet the first Gent. Enter Walter with the body.

Wal. There let his head, and liuelesse bodie lye, Vntill the Queene his Mistris bury it.

Exit Walter

1.Gent. O barbarous and bloudy spectacle, His body will I beare vnto the King: If he reuenge it not, yet will his Friends, So will the Queene, that liuing, held him deere. Enter Beuis, and Iohn Holland.

Beuis. Come and get thee a sword, though made of a Lath, they haue bene vp these two dayes

Hol. They haue the more neede to sleepe now then

Beuis. I tell thee, Iacke Cade the Cloathier, meanes to dresse the Common-wealth and turne it, and set a new nap vpon it

Hol. So he had need, for 'tis thred-bare. Well, I say, it was neuer merrie world in England, since Gentlemen came vp

Beuis. O miserable Age: Vertue is not regarded in Handy-crafts men

Hol. The Nobilitie thinke scorne to goe in Leather Aprons

Beuis. 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 labouring men, and therefore should we be Magistrates

Beuis. Thou hast hit it: for there's no better signe of a braue minde, then a hard hand

Hol. I see them, I see them: There's Bests Sonne, the Tanner of Wingham

Beuis. Hee shall haue the skinnes of our enemies, to make Dogges Leather of

Hol. And Dicke the Butcher

Beuis. Then is sin strucke downe like an Oxe, and iniquities throate cut like a Calfe

Hol. And Smith the Weauer

Beu. Argo, their thred of life is spun

Hol. Come, come, let's fall in with them.

Drumme. Enter Cade, Dicke Butcher, Smith the Weauer, and a Sawyer, with infinite numbers.

Cade. Wee Iohn Cade, so tearm'd of our supposed Father

But. Or rather of stealing a Cade of Herrings

Cade. For our enemies shall faile before vs, inspired with the spirit of putting down Kings and Princes. Command 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 descended of the Lacies

But. She was indeed a Pedlers daughter, & sold many Laces

Weauer. But now of late, not able to trauell 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, vnder a hedge: for his Father had neuer a house but the Cage

Cade. Valiant I am

Weauer. A must needs, for beggery is valiant

Cade. I am able to endure much

But. No question of that: for I haue seene him whipt three Market dayes together

Cade. I feare neither sword, nor fire

Wea. He neede not feare the sword, for his Coate is of proofe

But. But me thinks he should stand in feare of fire, being burnt i'th hand for stealing of Sheepe

Cade. Be braue then, for your Captaine is Braue, and Vowes Reformation. There shall be in England, seuen halfe peny Loaues sold for a peny: the three hoop'd pot, shall haue ten hoopes, and I wil make it Fellony to drink small Beere. 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 saue your Maiesty

Cade. I thanke you good people. There shall bee no mony, all shall eate and drinke on my score, and I will apparrell them all in one Liuery, that they may agree like Brothers, and worship 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 a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent Lambe should be made Parchment; that Parchment being scribeld ore, should vndoe a man. Some say the Bee stings, but I say, 'tis the Bees waxe: for I did but seale once to a thing, and I was neuer mine owne man since. How now? Who's there? Enter a Clearke.

Weauer. The Clearke of Chartam: hee can write and reade, and cast accompt

Cade. O monstrous

Wea. We tooke him setting of boyes Copies

Cade. Here's a Villaine

Wea. Ha's a Booke in his pocket with red Letters in't Cade. Nay then he is a Coniurer

But. Nay, he can make Obligations, and write Court hand

Cade. I am sorry for't: The man is a proper man of mine Honour: vnlesse I finde him guilty he shall not die. Come hither sirrah, I must examine thee: What is thy name? Clearke. Emanuell

But. They vse to writ it on the top of Letters: 'Twill go hard with you

Cade. Let me alone: Dost thou vse to write thy name? Or hast thou a marke to thy selfe, like a honest plain dealing man? Clearke. Sir I thanke God, I haue bin so well brought vp, that I can write my name

All. He hath confest: away with him: he's 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.

Mich. Where's our Generall? Cade. Heere I am thou particular fellow

Mich. Fly, fly, fly, Sir Humfrey Stafford and his brother are hard by, with the Kings Forces

Cade. Stand villaine, stand, or Ile fell thee downe: he shall be encountred with a man as good as himselfe. He is but a Knight, is a? Mich. No

Cade. To equall him I will make my selfe a knight, presently; Rise vp Sir Iohn Mortimer. Now haue at him. Enter Sir Humfrey 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: forsake this Groome. The King is mercifull, if you reuolt

Bro. But angry, wrathfull, and inclin'd to blood, If you go forward: therefore yeeld, or dye

Cade. As for these silken-coated slaues I passe not, It is to you good people, that I speake, Ouer whom (in time to come) I hope to raigne: For I am rightfull heyre vnto the Crowne

Staff. Villaine, thy Father was a Playsterer, And thou thy selfe a Sheareman, art thou not? Cade. And Adam was a Gardiner

Bro. And what of that? Cade. Marry, this Edmund Mortimer Earle of March, married the Duke of Clarence daughter, did he not? Staf. I sir

Cade. By her he had two children at one birth

Bro. That's false

Cade. I, there's the question; But I say, 'tis true: The elder of them being put to nurse, Was by a begger-woman stolne away, And ignorant of his birth and parentage, Became a Bricklayer, when he came to age. His sonne am I, deny it if you can

But. Nay, 'tis too true, therefore he shall be King

Wea. Sir, he made a Chimney in my Fathers house, & the brickes are aliue at this day to testifie it: therefore deny it not

Staf. And will you credit this base Drudges Wordes, that speakes he knowes not what

All. I marry will we: therefore get ye gone

Bro. Iacke Cade, the D[uke]. of York hath taught you this

Cade. He lyes, for I inuented it my selfe. Go too Sirrah, tell the King from me, that for his Fathers sake Henry the fift, (in whose time, boyes went to Span-counter for French Crownes) I am content he shall raigne, but Ile be Protector ouer him

Butcher. And furthermore, wee'l haue the Lord Sayes head, for selling the Dukedome of Maine

Cade And good reason: for thereby is England main'd And faine to go with a staffe, but that my puissance holds it vp. Fellow-Kings, I tell you, that that Lord Say hath gelded the Commonwealth, and made it an Eunuch: & more then that, he can speake French, and therefore hee is a Traitor

Staf. O grosse and miserable 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 Councellour, or no? All. No, no, and therefore wee'l haue his head

Bro. Well, seeing gentle words will not preuayle, Assaile them with the Army of the King

Staf. Herald away, and throughout euery Towne, Proclaime them Traitors that are vp with Cade, That those which flye before the battell ends, May euen in their Wiues and Childrens sight, Be hang'd vp for example at their doores: And you that be the Kings Friends follow me. Enter.

Cade. And you that loue the Commons, follow me: Now shew your selues men, 'tis for Liberty. We will not leaue one Lord, one Gentleman: Spare none, but such as go in clouted shooen, For they are thrifty honest men, and such As would (but that they dare not) take our parts

But. They are all in order, and march toward vs

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 slaine. Enter Cade and the rest.

Cade. Where's Dicke, the Butcher of Ashford? But. Heere sir

Cade. They fell before thee like Sheepe and Oxen, & thou behaued'st thy selfe, as if thou hadst beene in thine owne Slaughter-house: Therfore thus will I reward thee, the Lent shall bee as long againe as it is, and thou shalt haue a License to kill for a hundred lacking one

But. I desire no more

Cade. And to speake truth, thou deseru'st no lesse. This Monument of the victory will I beare, and the bodies shall be dragg'd at my horse heeles, till I do come to London, where we will haue the Maiors sword born before vs

But. If we meane to thriue, and do good, breake open the Gaoles, and let out the Prisoners

Cade. Feare not that I warrant thee. Come, let's march towards London.

Exeunt.

Enter the King with a Supplication, and the Queene with Suffolkes head, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Say.

Queene. Oft haue I heard that greefe softens the mind, And makes it fearefull and degenerate, Thinke therefore on reuenge, and cease to weepe. But who can cease to weepe, and looke on this. Heere may his head lye on my throbbing brest: But where's the body that I should imbrace? Buc. What answer makes your Grace to the Rebells Supplication? King. Ile send some holy Bishop to intreat: For God forbid, so many simple soules Should perish by the Sword. And I my selfe, Rather then bloody Warre shall cut them short, Will parley with Iacke Cade their Generall. But stay, Ile read it ouer once againe

Qu. Ah barbarous villaines: Hath this louely face, Rul'd like a wandering Plannet ouer me, And could it not inforce them to relent, That were vnworthy to behold the same

King. Lord Say, Iacke Cade hath sworne to haue thy head

Say. I, but I hope your Highnesse shall haue his

King. How now Madam? Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolkes death? I feare me (Loue) if that I had beene dead, Thou would'st not haue mourn'd so much for me

Qu. No my Loue, I should not mourne, but dye for thee. Enter a Messenger.

King. How now? What newes? Why com'st thou in such haste? Mes. The Rebels are in Southwarke: Fly my Lord: Iacke Cade proclaimes himselfe Lord Mortimer, Descended from the Duke of Clarence house, And calles your Grace Vsurper, openly, And vowes to Crowne himselfe in Westminster. His Army is a ragged multitude Of Hindes and Pezants, rude and mercilesse: Sir Humfrey Stafford, and his Brothers death, Hath giuen them heart and courage to proceede: All Schollers, Lawyers, Courtiers, Gentlemen, They call false 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 Suffolke now aliue, These Kentish Rebels would be soone appeas'd

King. Lord Say, the Traitors hateth thee, Therefore away with vs to Killingworth

Say. So might your Graces person be in danger. The sight of me is odious in their eyes: And therefore in this Citty will I stay, And liue alone as secret as I may. Enter another Messenger.

Mess. Iacke Cade hath gotten London-bridge. The Citizens flye and forsake their houses: The Rascall people, thirsting after prey, Ioyne with the Traitor, and they ioyntly sweare To spoyle the City, and your Royall Court

Buc. Then linger not my Lord, away, take horse

King. Come Margaret, God our hope will succor vs

Qu. My hope is gone, now Suffolke is deceast

King. Farewell my Lord, trust not the Kentish Rebels Buc. Trust no body for feare you betraid

Say. The trust I haue, is in mine innocence, And therefore am I bold and resolute.

Exeunt.

Enter Lord Scales vpon the Tower walking. Then enters two or three Citizens below.

Scales. How now? Is Iacke Cade slaine? 1.Cit. No my Lord, nor likely to be slaine: For they haue wonne the Bridge, Killing all those that withstand them: The L[ord]. Maior craues 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 heere with them my selfe, The Rebels haue assay'd to win the Tower. But get you to Smithfield, and gather head, And thither I will send you Mathew Goffe. Fight for your King, your Countrey, and your Liues, And so farwell, for I must hence againe.

Exeunt.

Enter Iacke Cade and the rest, and strikes his staffe on London stone.

Cade. Now is Mortimer Lord of this City, And heere sitting vpon London Stone, I charge and command, that of the Cities cost The pissing Conduit run nothing but Clarret Wine This first yeare of our raigne. And now henceforward it shall be Treason for any, That calles me other then Lord Mortimer. Enter a Soldier running.

Soul. Iacke Cade, Iacke Cade

Cade. Knocke him downe there.

They kill him.

But. If this Fellow be wise, hee'l neuer 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 set London Bridge on fire, And if you can, burne downe the Tower too. Come, let's away.

Exeunt. omnes.

Alarums. Mathew Goffe is slain, and all the rest. Then enter Iacke Cade, with his Company.

Cade. So sirs: now go some and pull down the Sauoy: Others to'th Innes of Court, downe with them all

But. I haue a suite vnto your Lordship

Cade. Bee it a Lordshippe, thou shalt haue it for that word

But. Onely that the Lawes of England may come out of your mouth

Iohn. Masse 'twill be sore Law then, for he was thrust in the mouth with a Speare, and 'tis not whole yet

Smith. Nay Iohn, it wil be stinking Law, for his breath stinkes with eating toasted cheese

Cade. I haue thought vpon it, it shall bee so. Away, burne all the Records of the Realme, my mouth shall be the Parliament of England

Iohn. Then we are like to haue biting Statutes Vnlesse his teeth be pull'd out

Cade. And hence-forward all things shall be in Common. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. My Lord, a prize, a prize, heeres the Lord Say, which sold the Townes in France. He that made vs pay one and twenty Fifteenes, and one shilling to the pound, the last Subsidie. Enter George, with the Lord Say.

Cade. Well, hee 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 answer to my Maiesty, for giuing vp of Normandie vnto Mounsieur Basimecu, the Dolphine of France? Be it knowne vnto thee by these presence, euen the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the Beesome that must sweepe the Court cleane of such filth as thou art: Thou hast most traiterously corrupted the youth of the Realme, in erecting a Grammar Schoole: and whereas before, our Fore-fathers had no other Bookes but the Score and the Tally, thou hast caused printing to be vs'd, and contrary to the King, his Crowne, and Dignity, thou hast built a Paper-Mill. It will be prooued to thy Face, that thou hast men about thee, that vsually talke of a Nowne and a Verbe, and such abhominable wordes, as no Christian eare can endure to heare. Thou hast appointed Iustices of Peace, to call poore men before them, about matters they were not able to answer. Moreouer, thou hast put them in prison, and because they could not reade, thou hast hang'd them, when (indeede) onely for that cause they haue beene most worthy to liue. Thou dost ride in 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 Doublets

Dicke. And worke in their shirt to, as my selfe for example, that am a butcher

Say. You men of Kent

Dic. What say you of Kent

Say. Nothing but this: 'Tis bona terra, mala gens

Cade. Away with him, away with him, he speaks Latine

Say. Heare me but speake, and beare mee wher'e you will: Kent, in the Commentaries Cæsar writ, Is term'd the ciuel'st place of all this Isle: Sweet is the Country, because full of Riches, The People Liberall, Valiant, Actiue, Wealthy, Which makes me hope you are not void of pitty. I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandie, Yet to recouer them would loose my life: Iustice with fauour haue I alwayes done, Prayres and Teares haue mou'd me, Gifts could neuer. When haue I ought exacted at your hands? Kent to maintaine, the King, the Realme and you, Large gifts haue I bestow'd on learned Clearkes, Because my Booke preferr'd me to the King. And seeing Ignorance is the curse of God, Knowledge the Wing wherewith we flye to heauen. Vnlesse you be possest with diuellish spirits, You cannot but forbeare to murther me: This Tongue hath parlied vnto Forraigne Kings For your behoofe

Cade. Tut, when struck'st thou one blow in the field? Say. Great men haue reaching hands: oft haue I struck Those that I neuer saw, and strucke them dead

Geo. O monstrous Coward! What, to come behinde Folkes? Say. These cheekes are pale for watching for your good Cade. Giue him a box o'th' eare, and that wil make 'em red againe

Say. Long sitting to determine poore mens causes, Hath made me full of sicknesse and diseases

Cade. Ye shall haue a hempen Candle then, & the help of hatchet

Dicke. Why dost thou quiuer man? Say. The Palsie, and not feare prouokes me

Cade. Nay, he noddes at vs, as who should say, Ile be euen with you. Ile see if his head will stand steddier on a pole, or no: Take him away, and behead him

Say. Tell me: wherein haue I offended most? Haue I affected wealth, or honor? Speake. Are my Chests fill'd vp with extorted Gold? Is my Apparrell sumptuous to behold? Whom haue I iniur'd, that ye seeke my death? These hands are free from guiltlesse bloodshedding, This breast from harbouring foule deceitfull thoughts. O let me liue

Cade. I feele remorse in my selfe with his words: but Ile bridle it: he shall dye, and it bee but for pleading so well for his life. Away with him, he ha's a Familiar vnder his Tongue, he speakes not a Gods name. Goe, take him away I say, and strike off his head presently, and then breake into his Sonne in Lawes house, Sir Iames Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them both vppon two poles hither

All. It shall be done

Say. Ah Countrimen: If when you make your prair's, God should be so obdurate as your selues: How would it fare with your departed soules, And therefore yet relent, and saue 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, vnlesse he pay me tribute: there shall not a maid be married, but she shall pay to me her Maydenhead ere they haue it: Men shall hold of mee in Capite. And we charge and command, that their wiues be as free as heart can wish, or tongue can tell

Dicke. My Lord, When shall we go to Cheapside, and take vp commodities vpon our billes? Cade. Marry presently

All. O braue. Enter one with the heads.

Cade. But is not this brauer: Let them kisse one another: For they lou'd well When they were aliue. Now part them againe, Least they consult about the giuing vp Of some more Townes in France. Soldiers, Deferre the spoile of the Citie vntill night: For with these borne before vs, in steed of Maces, Will we ride through the streets, & at euery Corner Haue them kisse. Away.

Exit

Alarum, and Retreat. Enter againe Cade, and all his rabblement.

Cade. Vp Fish-streete, downe Saint Magnes corner, kill and knocke downe, throw them into Thames:

Sound a parley.

What noise is this I heare? Dare any be so bold to sound Retreat or Parley When I command them kill? Enter Buckingham, and old Clifford.

Buc. I heere they be, that dare and will disturb thee: Know Cade, we come Ambassadors from the King Vnto the Commons, whom thou hast misled, And heere pronounce free pardon to them all, That will forsake thee, and go home in peace

Clif. What say ye Countrimen, will ye relent And yeeld to mercy, whil'st 'tis offered you, Or let a rabble leade you to your deaths. Who loues the King, and will imbrace his pardon, Fling vp his cap, and say, God saue his Maiesty. Who hateth him, and honors not his Father, Henry the fift, that made all France to quake, Shake he his weapon at vs, and passe by

All. God saue the King, God saue the King

Cade. What Buckingham and Clifford are ye so braue? And you base Pezants, do ye beleeue him, will you needs be hang'd with your Pardons about your neckes? Hath my sword therefore broke through London gates, that you should leaue me at the White-heart in Southwarke. I thought ye would neuer haue giuen out these Armes til you had recouered your ancient Freedome. But you are all Recreants and Dastards, and delight to liue in slauerie to the Nobility. Let them breake your backes with burthens, take your houses ouer your heads, rauish your Wiues and Daughters before your faces. For me, I will make shift for one, and so Gods Cursse light vppon you all

All. Wee'l follow Cade, Wee'l follow Cade

Clif. Is Cade the sonne of Henry the fift, That thus you do exclaime 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 hath no home, no place to flye too: Nor knowes he how to liue, but by the spoile, Vnlesse by robbing of your Friends, and vs. Wer't not a shame, that whilst you liue at iarre, The fearfull French, whom you late vanquished Should make a start ore-seas, and vanquish you? Me thinkes alreadie in this ciuill broyle, I see them Lording it in London streets, Crying Villiago vnto all they meete. Better ten thousand base-borne Cades miscarry, Then you should stoope vnto a Frenchmans mercy. To France, to France, and get what you haue lost: Spare England, for it is your Natiue Coast: Henry hath mony, you are strong and manly: God on our side, doubt not of Victorie

All. A Clifford, a Clifford, Wee'l follow the King, and Clifford

Cade. Was euer Feather so lightly blowne too & fro, as this multitude? The name of Henry the fift, hales them to an hundred mischiefes, and makes them leaue mee desolate. I see them lay their heades together to surprize me. My sword make way for me, for heere is no staying: in despight of the diuels and hell, haue through the verie middest of you, and heauens and honor be witnesse, that no want of resolution in mee, but onely my Followers base and ignominious treasons, makes me betake mee to my heeles.

Exit

Buck. What, is he fled? Go some and follow him, And he that brings his head vnto the King, Shall haue a thousand Crownes for his reward.

Exeunt. some of them.

Follow me souldiers, wee'l deuise a meane, To reconcile you all vnto the King.

Exeunt. omnes.

Sound Trumpets. Enter King, Queene, and Somerset on the Tarras.

King. Was euer King that ioy'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 months olde. Was neuer Subiect long'd to be a King, As I do long and wish to be a Subiect. Enter Buckingham and Clifford.

Buc. Health and glad tydings to your Maiesty

Kin. Why Buckingham, is the Traitor Cade surpris'd? Or is he but retir'd to make him strong? Enter Multitudes with Halters about their Neckes

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 heauen set ope thy euerlasting gates, To entertaine my vowes of thankes and praise. Souldiers, this day haue you redeem'd your liues, And shew'd how well you loue your Prince & Countrey: Continue still in this so good a minde, And Henry though he be infortunate, Assure your selues will neuer be vnkinde: And so with thankes, and pardon to you all, I do dismisse you to your seuerall Countries

All. God saue the King, God saue the King. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Please it your Grace to be aduertised, The Duke of Yorke is newly come from Ireland, And with a puissant and a mighty power Of Gallow-glasses and stout Kernes, Is marching hitherward in proud array, And still proclaimeth as he comes along, His Armes are onely to remoue from thee The Duke of Somerset, whom he tearmes a Traitor

King. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and Yorke distrest, Like to a Ship, that hauing scap'd a Tempest, Is straight way calme, and boorded with a Pyrate. But now is Cade driuen backe, his men dispierc'd, And now is Yorke in Armes, to second him. I pray thee Buckingham go and meete him, And aske him what's the reason of these Armes: Tell him, Ile send Duke Edmund to the Tower, And Somerset we will commit thee thither, Vntill his Army be dismist from him

Somerset. My Lord, Ile yeelde my selfe to prison willingly, Or vnto death, to do my Countrey good

King. In any case, be not to rough in termes, 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 vnto your good

King. Come wife, let's in, and learne to gouern better, For yet may England curse my wretched raigne.

Flourish. Exeunt.

Enter Cade.

Cade. Fye on Ambitions: fie on my selfe, that haue a sword, and yet am ready to famish. These fiue daies haue I hid me in these Woods, and durst not peepe out, for all the Country is laid for me: but now am I so hungry, that if I might haue a Lease of my life for a thousand yeares, I could stay no longer. Wherefore on a Bricke wall haue I climb'd into this Garden, to see if I can eate Grasse, or picke a Sallet another while, which is not amisse 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 brain-pan had bene cleft with a brown Bill; and many a time when I haue beene dry, & brauely marching, it hath seru'd me insteede of a quart pot to drinke in: and now the word Sallet must serue me to feed on. Enter Iden.

Iden. Lord, who would liue turmoyled in the Court, And may enioy such quiet walkes as these? This small inheritance my Father left me, Contenteth me, and worth a Monarchy. I seeke not to waxe great by others warning, Or gather wealth I care not with what enuy: Sufficeth, that I haue maintaines my state, And sends the poore well pleased from my gate

Cade. Heere's the Lord of the soile come to seize me for a stray, for entering his Fee-simple without leaue. 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 Theefe to come to rob my grounds: Climbing my walles inspight of me the Owner, But thou wilt braue me with these sawcie termes? Cade. Braue thee? I by the best blood that euer was broach'd, and beard thee to. Looke on mee well, I haue eate no meate these fiue dayes, yet come thou and thy fiue men, and if I doe not leaue you all as dead as a doore naile, I pray God I may neuer eate grasse more

Iden. Nay, it shall nere be said, while England stands, That Alexander Iden an Esquire of Kent, Tooke oddes to combate a poore famisht man. Oppose thy stedfast 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 finger to my fist, Thy legge a sticke compared with this Truncheon, My foote shall fight with all the strength thou hast, And if mine arme be heaued in the Ayre, Thy graue is digg'd already in the earth: As for words, whose greatnesse answer's words, Let this my sword report what speech forbeares

Cade. By my Valour: the most compleate Champion that euer I heard. Steele, if thou turne the edge, or cut not out the burly bon'd Clowne in chines of Beefe, ere thou sleepe in thy Sheath, I beseech Ioue on my knees thou mayst be turn'd to Hobnailes.

Heere they Fight.

O I am slaine, Famine and no other hath slaine me, let ten thousand diuelles come against me, and giue me but the ten meales I haue lost, and I'de defie them all. Wither Garden, and be henceforth a burying place to all that do dwell in this house, because the vnconquered soule of Cade is fled

Iden. Is't Cade that I haue slain, that monstrous traitor? Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deede, 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 that thy Master got

Cade. Iden farewell, and be proud of thy victory: Tell Kent from me, she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the World to be Cowards: For I that neuer feared any, am vanquished by Famine, not by Valour.

Dyes.

Id. How much thou wrong'st me, heauen be my iudge; Die damned Wretch, the curse of her that bare thee: And as I thrust thy body in with my sword, So wish I, I might thrust thy soule to hell. Hence will I dragge thee headlong by the heeles Vnto a dunghill, which shall be thy graue, And there cut off thy most vngracious head, Which I will beare in triumph to the King, Leauing thy trunke for Crowes to feed vpon. Enter.

Enter Yorke, and his Army of Irish, with Drum and Colours.

Yor. From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right, And plucke the Crowne from feeble Henries head. Ring Belles alowd, burne Bonfires cleare and bright To entertaine great Englands lawfull King. Ah Sancta Maiestas! 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 giue due action to my words, Except a Sword or Scepter ballance it. A Scepter shall it haue, haue I a soule, On which Ile tosse the Fleure-de-Luce of France. Enter Buckingham.

Whom haue we heere? Buckingham to disturbe me? The king hath sent him sure: I must dissemble

Buc. Yorke, if thou meanest wel, I greet thee well

Yor. Humfrey 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 Subiect, as I am, Against thy Oath, and true Allegeance sworne, Should raise so great a power without his leaue? Or dare to bring thy Force so neere the Court? Yor. Scarse can I speake, my Choller is so great. Oh I could hew vp Rockes, and fight with Flint, I am so angry at these abiect tearmes. And now like Aiax Telamonius, On Sheepe or Oxen could I spend my furie. I am farre better borne then is the king: More like a King, more Kingly in my thoughts. But I must make faire weather yet a while, Till Henry be more weake, and I more strong. Buckingham, I prethee pardon me, That I haue giuen no answer all this while: My minde was troubled with deepe Melancholly. The cause why I haue brought this Armie hither, Is to remoue proud Somerset from the King, Seditious to his Grace, and to the State

Buc. That is too much presumption on thy part: But if thy Armes be to no other end, The King hath yeelded vnto thy demand: The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower

Yorke. Vpon thine Honor is he Prisoner? Buck. Vpon mine Honor he is Prisoner

Yorke. Then Buckingham I do dismisse my Powres. Souldiers, I thanke you all: disperse your selues: Meet me to morrow in S[aint]. Georges Field, You shall haue pay, and euery thing you wish. And let my Soueraigne, vertuous Henry, Command my eldest sonne, nay all my sonnes, As pledges of my Fealtie and Loue, Ile send them all as willing as I liue: Lands, Goods, Horse, Armor, any thing I haue Is his to vse, so Somerset may die

Buc. Yorke, I commend this kinde submission, We twaine will go into his Highnesse Tent. Enter King and Attendants.

King. Buckingham, doth Yorke intend no harme to vs That thus he marcheth with thee arme in arme? Yorke. In all submission and humility, Yorke doth present himselfe vnto your Highnesse

K. Then what intends these Forces thou dost bring? Yor. To heaue the Traitor Somerset from hence, And fight against that monstrous Rebell Cade, Who since I heard to be discomfited. Enter Iden with Cades head.

Iden. If one so rude, and of so meane condition May passe into the presence of a King: Loe, I present your Grace a Traitors head, The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew

King. The head of Cade? Great God, how iust art thou? Oh let me view his Visage being dead, That liuing wrought me such exceeding trouble. Tell me my Friend, art thou the man that slew him? Iden. I was, an't like your Maiesty

King. How art thou call'd? And what is thy degree? Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name, A poore Esquire of Kent, that loues his King

Buc. So please it you my Lord, 'twere not amisse He were created Knight for his good seruice

King. Iden, kneele downe, rise vp a Knight: We giue thee for reward a thousand Markes, And will, that thou henceforth attend on vs

Iden. May Iden liue to merit such a bountie, And neuer liue but true vnto his Liege. Enter Queene and Somerset.

K. See Buckingham, Somerset comes with th' Queene, 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

Yor. How now? is Somerset at libertie? Then Yorke vnloose thy long imprisoned thoughts, And let thy tongue be equall with thy heart. Shall I endure the sight of Somerset? False King, why hast thou broken faith with me, Knowing how hardly I can brooke abuse? King did I call thee? No: thou art not King: Not fit to gouerne and rule multitudes, Which dar'st 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 engirt these browes of mine, Whose Smile and Frowne, like to Achilles Speare Is able with the change, to kill and cure. Heere is hand to hold a Scepter vp, And with the same to acte controlling Lawes: Giue place: by heauen thou shalt rule no more O're him, whom heauen created for thy Ruler

Som. O monstrous Traitor! I arrest thee Yorke Of Capitall Treason 'gainst the King and Crowne: Obey audacious Traitor, kneele for Grace

York. Wold'st haue me kneele? First let me ask of thee, If they can brooke I bow a knee to man: Sirrah, call in my sonne to be my bale: I know ere they will haue me go to Ward, They'l pawne their swords of my infranchisement

Qu. Call hither Clifford, bid him come amaine, To say, if that the Bastard boyes of Yorke Shall be the Surety for their Traitor Father

Yorke. O blood-bespotted Neopolitan, Out-cast of Naples, Englands bloody Scourge, The sonnes of Yorke, thy betters in their birth, Shall be their Fathers baile, and bane to those 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

Yor. I thanke thee Clifford: Say, what newes with thee? Nay, do not fright vs with an angry looke: We are thy Soueraigne 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 chop away that factious pate of his

Qu. He is arrested, but will not obey: His sonnes (he sayes) shall giue their words for him

Yor. Will you not Sonnes? Edw. I Noble Father, if our words will serue

Rich. And if words will not, then our Weapons shal

Clif. Why what a brood of Traitors haue we heere? Yorke. 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 braue Beares, That with the very shaking of their Chaines, They may astonish these fell-lurking Curres, Bid Salsbury and Warwicke come to me. Enter the Earles of Warwicke, and Salisbury.

Clif. Are these thy Beares? Wee'l bate thy Bears to death, And manacle the Berard in their Chaines, If thou dar'st bring them to the bayting place

Rich. Oft haue I seene a hot ore-weening Curre, Run backe and bite, because he was with-held, Who being suffer'd with the Beares fell paw, Hath clapt his taile, betweene his legges and cride, And such a peece of seruice will you do, If you oppose your selues to match Lord Warwicke

Clif. Hence heape of wrath, foule indigested lumpe, As crooked in thy manners, as thy shape

Yor. Nay we shall heate you thorowly anon

Clif. Take heede least by your heate you burne your selues: King. Why Warwicke, hath thy knee forgot to bow? Old Salsbury, shame to thy siluer haire, Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sicke sonne, What wilt thou on thy death-bed play the Ruffian? And seeke for sorrow with thy Spectacles? Oh where is Faith? Oh, where is Loyalty? If it be banisht from the frostie head, Where shall it finde a harbour in the earth? Wilt thou go digge a graue to finde out Warre, And shame thine honourable Age with blood? Why art thou old, and want'st experience? Or wherefore doest abuse it, if thou hast it? For shame in dutie bend thy knee to me, That bowes vnto the graue with mickle age

Sal. My Lord, I haue considered with my selfe The Title of this most renowned Duke, And in my conscience, do repute his grace The rightfull heyre to Englands Royall seate

King. Hast thou not sworne Allegeance vnto me? Sal. I haue

Ki. Canst thou dispense with heauen for such an oath? Sal. It is great sinne, to sweare vnto a sinne: But greater sinne to keepe a sinfull oath: Who can be bound by any solemne Vow To do a murd'rous deede, to rob a man, To force a spotlesse Virgins Chastitie, To reaue the Orphan of his Patrimonie, To wring the Widdow from her custom'd right, And haue no other reason for this wrong, But that he was bound by a solemne Oath? Qu. A subtle Traitor needs no Sophister

King. Call Buckingham, and bid him arme himselfe

Yorke. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast, I am resolu'd for death and dignitie

Old Clif. The first I warrant thee, if dreames proue true War. You were best to go to bed, and dreame againe, To keepe thee from the Tempest of the field

Old Clif. I am resolu'd to beare a greater storme, Then any thou canst coniure vp to day: And that Ile write vpon thy Burgonet, Might I but know thee by thy housed Badge

War. Now by my Fathers badge, old Neuils Crest, The rampant Beare chain'd to the ragged staffe, This day Ile weare aloft my Burgonet, As on a Mountaine top, the Cedar shewes, That keepes his leaues inspight of any storme, Euen to affright thee with the view thereof

Old Clif. And from thy Burgonet Ile rend thy Beare, And tread it vnder foot with all contempt, Despight the Bearard, that protects the Beare

Yo.Clif. And so to Armes victorious Father, To quell the Rebels, and their Complices

Rich. Fie, Charitie for shame, speake not in spight, For you shall sup with Iesu Christ to night

Yo.Clif. Foule stygmaticke that's more then thou canst tell

Ric. If not in heauen, 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 sounds alarum, And dead mens cries do fill the emptie 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 Yorke.

War. How now my Noble Lord? What all a-foot

Yor. The deadly handed Clifford slew my Steed: But match to match I haue encountred him, And made a prey for Carrion Kytes and Crowes Euen of the bonnie beast he loued so well. Enter Clifford.

War. Of one or both of vs the time is come

Yor. Hold Warwick: seek thee out some other chace For I my selfe must hunt this Deere to death

War. Then nobly Yorke, 'tis for a Crown thou fightst: As I intend Clifford to thriue to day, It greeues my soule to leaue thee vnassail'd.

Exit War.

Clif. What seest thou in me Yorke? Why dost thou pause? Yorke. With thy braue bearing should I be in loue, But that thou art so fast mine enemie

Clif. Nor should thy prowesse want praise & esteeme, But that 'tis shewne ignobly, and in Treason

Yorke. So let it helpe me now against thy sword, As I in iustice, and true right expresse it

Clif. My soule and bodie on the action both

Yor. A dreadfull lay, addresse thee instantly

Clif. La fin Corrone les eumenes

Yor. Thus Warre hath giuen thee peace, for y art still, Peace with his soule, heauen if it be thy will. Enter yong Clifford.

Clif. Shame and Confusion all is on the rout, Feare frames disorder, and disorder wounds Where it should guard. O Warre, thou sonne of hell, Whom angry heauens do make their minister, Throw in the frozen bosomes of our part, Hot Coales of Vengeance. Let no Souldier flye. He that is truly dedicate to Warre, Hath no selfe-loue: nor he that loues himselfe, 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 heauen together. Now let the generall Trumpet blow his blast,

## Particularities, and pettie sounds

To cease. Was't thou ordain'd (deere Father) To loose thy youth in peace, and to atcheeue The Siluer Liuery of aduised Age, And in thy Reuerence, and thy Chaire-dayes, thus To die in Ruffian battell? Euen at this sight, 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, euen 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 haue to do with pitty. Meet I an infant of the house of Yorke, Into as many gobbits will I cut it As wilde Medea yong Absirtis did. In cruelty, will I seeke out my Fame. Come thou new ruine of olde Cliffords house: As did Aeneas old Anchyses beare, So beare I thee vpon my manly shoulders: But then, Aeneas bare a liuing loade; Nothing so heauy as these woes of mine. Enter Richard, and Somerset to fight.

Rich. So lye thou there: For vnderneath an Ale-house paltry signe, The Castle in S[aint]. Albons, Somerset Hath made the Wizard famous in his death: Sword, hold thy temper; Heart, be wrathfull still: Priests pray for enemies, but Princes kill.

Fight. Excursions.

Enter King, Queene, and others.

Qu. Away my Lord, you are slow, for shame away

King. Can we outrun the Heauens? Good Margaret stay

Qu. What are you made of? You'l nor fight nor fly: Now is it manhood, wisedome, and defence, To giue the enemy way, and to secure vs By what we can, which can no more but flye.

Alarum a farre off.

If you be tane, we then should see the bottome Of all our Fortunes: but if we haply scape, (As well we may, if not through your neglect) We shall to London get, where you are lou'd, And where this breach now in our Fortunes made May readily be stopt. Enter Clifford.

Clif. But that my hearts on future mischeefe set, I would speake blasphemy ere bid you flye: But flye you must: Vncureable discomfite Reignes in the hearts of all our present parts. Away for your releefe, and we will liue To see their day, and them our Fortune giue. Away my Lord, away.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Yorke, Richard, Warwicke, and Soldiers, with Drum & Colours.

Yorke. Of Salsbury, who can report of him, That Winter Lyon, who in rage forgets Aged contusions, and all brush of Time: And like a Gallant, in the brow of youth, Repaires him with Occasion. This happy day Is not it selfe, nor haue we wonne one foot, If Salsbury be lost

Rich. My Noble Father: Three times to day I holpe him to his horse, Three times bestrid him: Thrice I led him off, Perswaded him from any further act: 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' Masse so did we all. I thanke you Richard. God knowes how long it is I haue to liue: And it hath pleas'd him that three times to day You haue defended me from imminent death. Well Lords, we haue not got that which we haue, 'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites of such repayring Nature

Yorke. I know our safety is to follow them, For (as I heare) the King is fled to London, To call a present Court of Parliament: Let vs pursue him ere the Writs go forth. What sayes Lord Warwicke, shall we after them? War. After them: nay 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 vs befall.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The second Part of Henry the Sixt, with the death of the Good Duke HVMFREY.

The third Part of Henry the Sixt

with the death of the Duke of Yorke

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Alarum.

Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Richard, Norfolke, Mountague, Warwicke, and Souldiers.

Warwicke. I Wonder how the King escap'd our hands? Pl. While we pursu'd the Horsmen of y North, He slyly stole away, and left his men: Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland, Whose Warlike eares could neuer brooke retreat, Chear'd vp the drouping Army, and himselfe. Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford all a-brest Charg'd our maine Battailes Front: and breaking in, Were by the Swords of common Souldiers slaine

Edw. Lord Staffords Father, Duke of Buckingham, Is either slaine or wounded dangerous. I cleft his Beauer with a down-right blow: That this is true (Father) behold his blood

Mount. And Brother, here's the Earle of Wiltshires blood, Whom I encountred as the Battels ioyn'd

Rich. Speake thou for me, and tell them what I did

Plan. Richard hath best deseru'd of all my sonnes: But is your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset? Nor. Such hope haue all the line of Iohn of Gaunt

Rich. Thus do I hope to shake King Henries head

Warw. And so doe I, victorious Prince of Yorke. Before I see thee seated in that Throne, Which now the House of Lancaster vsurpes, I vow by Heauen, these eyes shall neuer close. This is the Pallace of the fearefull King, And this the Regall Seat: possesse it Yorke, For this is thine, and not King Henries Heires

Plant. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will, For hither we haue broken in by force

Norf. Wee'le all assist you: he that flyes, shall dye

Plant. Thankes gentle Norfolke, stay by me my Lords, And Souldiers stay and lodge by me this Night.

They goe vp.

Warw. And when the King comes, offer him no violence, Vnlesse he seeke to thrust you out perforce

Plant. The Queene this day here holds her Parliament, But little thinkes we shall be of her counsaile, By words or blowes here let vs 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 bashfull Henry depos'd, whose Cowardize Hath made vs by-words to our enemies

Plant. Then leaue me not, my Lords be resolute, I meane to take possession of my Right

Warw. Neither the King, nor he that loues him best, The prowdest hee that holds vp Lancaster, Dares stirre a Wing, if Warwick shake his Bells. Ile plant Plantagenet, root him vp who dares: Resolue thee Richard, clayme the English Crowne.

Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland, Westmerland, Exeter, and the rest.

Henry. My Lords, looke where the sturdie Rebell sits, Euen in the Chayre of State: belike he meanes, Backt by the power of Warwicke, that false Peere, To aspire vnto the Crowne, and reigne as King. Earle of Northumberland, he slew thy Father, And thine, Lord Clifford, & you both haue vow'd reuenge On him, his sonnes, his fauorites, and his friends

Northumb. If I be not, Heauens be reueng'd on me

Clifford. The hope thereof, makes Clifford mourne in Steele

Westm. What, shall we suffer this? lets pluck him down, My heart for anger burnes, I cannot brooke it

Henry. Be patient, gentle Earle of Westmerland

Clifford. Patience is for Poultroones, such as he: He durst not sit there, had your Father liu'd. My gracious Lord, here in the Parliament Let vs assayle the Family of Yorke

North. Well hast thou spoken, Cousin be it so

Henry. Ah, know you not the Citie fauours them, And they haue troupes of Souldiers at their beck? Westm. But when the Duke is slaine, 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 vse. Thou factious Duke of Yorke descend my Throne, And kneele for grace and mercie at my feet, I am thy Soueraigne

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 Father was a Traytor to the Crowne

Warw. Exeter thou art a Traytor to the Crowne, In following this vsurping Henry

Clifford. Whom should hee follow, but his naturall King? Warw. True Clifford, that's Richard Duke of Yorke

Henry. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my Throne? Yorke. It must and shall be so, content thy selfe

Warw. Be Duke of Lancaster, let him be King

Westm. He is both King, and Duke of Lancaster, And that the Lord of Westmerland shall maintaine

Warw. And Warwick shall disproue it. You forget, That we are those which chas'd you from the field, And slew your Fathers, and with Colours spread Marcht through the Citie to the Pallace Gates

Northumb. Yes Warwicke, I remember it to my griefe, And by his Soule, thou and thy House shall rue it

Westm. Plantagenet, of thee and these thy Sonnes, Thy Kinsmen, and thy Friends, Ile haue more liues Then drops of bloud were in my Fathers Veines

Cliff. Vrge it no more, lest that in stead of words, I send thee, Warwicke, such a Messenger, As shall reuenge his death, before I stirre

Warw. Poore Clifford, how I scorne his worthlesse Threats

Plant. Will you we shew 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 stoupe, And seiz'd vpon their Townes and Prouinces

Warw. Talke not of France, sith thou hast lost it all

Henry. The Lord Protector lost 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 loose: Father teare the Crowne from the Vsurpers Head

Edward. Sweet Father doe so, set it on your Head

Mount. Good Brother, As thou lou'st and honorest Armes, Let's fight it out, and not stand cauilling thus

Richard. Sound Drummes and Trumpets, and the King will flye

Plant. Sonnes peace

Henry. Peace thou, and giue King Henry leaue to speake

Warw. Plantagenet shal speake first: Heare him Lords, And be you silent and attentiue too, For he that interrupts him, shall not liue

Hen. Think'st thou, that I will leaue my Kingly Throne, Wherein my Grandsire and my Father sat? No: first shall Warre vnpeople this my Realme; I, and their Colours often borne in France, And now in England, to our hearts great sorrow, Shall be my Winding-sheet. Why faint you Lords? My Title's good, and better farre then his

Warw. Proue it Henry, and thou shalt 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, Whose Heire my Father was, and I am his

Plant. He rose against him, being his Soueraigne, And made him to resigne his Crowne perforce

Warw. Suppose, my Lords, he did it vnconstrayn'd, Thinke you 'twere preiudiciall 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 vs, Duke of Exeter? Exet. His is the right, and therefore pardon me

Plant. Why whisper you, my Lords, and answer not? Exet. My Conscience tells me he is lawfull King

Henry. All will reuolt from me, and turne to him

Northumb. Plantagenet, for all the Clayme thou lay'st, Thinke not, that Henry shall be so depos'd

Warw. Depos'd he shall be, in despight of all

Northumb. Thou art deceiu'd: 'Tis not thy Southerne power Of Essex, Norfolke, Suffolke, nor of Kent, Which makes thee thus presumptuous and prowd, Can set the Duke vp 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 swallow me aliue, Where I shall kneele to him that slew my Father

Henry. Oh Clifford, how thy words reuiue my heart

Plant. Henry of Lancaster, resigne thy Crowne: What mutter you, or what conspire you Lords? Warw. Doe right vnto this Princely Duke of Yorke, Or I will fill the House with armed men, And ouer the Chayre of State, where now he sits, Write vp his Title with vsurping blood.

He stampes with his foot, and the Souldiers shew themselues.

Henry. My Lord of Warwick, heare but one word, Let me for this my life time reigne as King

Plant. Confirme the Crowne to me and to mine Heires, And thou shalt reigne in quiet while thou liu'st

Henry. I am content: Richard Plantagenet Enioy the Kingdome after my decease

Clifford. What wrong is this vnto the Prince, your Sonne? Warw. What good is this to England, and himselfe? Westm. Base, fearefull, and despayring Henry

Clifford. How hast thou iniur'd both thy selfe and vs? Westm. I cannot stay to heare these Articles

Northumb. Nor I

Clifford. Come Cousin, let vs tell the Queene these Newes

Westm. Farwell faint-hearted and degenerate King, In whose cold blood no sparke of Honor bides

Northumb. Be thou a prey vnto the House of Yorke, And dye in Bands, for this vnmanly deed

Cliff. In dreadfull Warre may'st thou be ouercome, Or liue in peace abandon'd and despis'd

Warw. Turne this way Henry, and regard them not

Exeter. They seeke reuenge, 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 vnnaturally shall dis-inherite. But be it as it may: I here entayle The Crowne to thee and to thine Heires for euer, Conditionally, that heere thou take an Oath, To cease this Ciuill Warre: and whil'st I liue, To honor me as thy King, and Soueraigne: And neyther by Treason nor Hostilitie, To seeke to put me downe, and reigne thy selfe

Plant. This Oath I willingly take, and will performe

Warw. Long liue King Henry: Plantagenet embrace him

Henry. And long liue thou, and these thy forward Sonnes

Plant. Now Yorke and Lancaster are reconcil'd

Exet. Accurst be he that seekes to make them foes.

Senet. Here they come downe.

Plant. Farewell my gracious Lord, Ile to my Castle

Warw. And Ile keepe London with my Souldiers

Norf. And I to Norfolke with my followers

Mount. And I vnto the Sea, from whence I came

Henry. And I with griefe and sorrow to the Court. Enter the Queene.

Exeter. Heere comes the Queene, Whose Lookes bewray her anger: Ile steale away

Henry. Exeter so will I

Queene. Nay, goe not from me, I will follow thee

Henry. Be patient gentle Queene, and I will stay

Queene. Who can be patient in such extreames? Ah wretched man, would I had dy'de a Maid? And neuer seene thee, neuer borne thee Sonne, Seeing thou hast prou'd so vnnaturall a Father. Hath he deseru'd to loose his Birth-right thus? Hadst thou but lou'd him halfe so well as I, Or felt that paine which I did for him once, Or nourisht him, as I did with my blood; Thou would'st haue left thy dearest heart-blood there, Rather then haue made that sauage Duke thine Heire, And dis-inherited thine onely Sonne

Prince. Father, you cannot dis-inherite me: If you be King, why should not I succeede? Henry. Pardon me Margaret, pardon me sweet Sonne, The Earle of Warwick and the Duke enforc't me

Quee. Enforc't thee? Art thou King, and wilt be forc't? I shame to heare thee speake: ah timorous Wretch, Thou hast vndone thy selfe, thy Sonne, and me, And giu'n vnto the House of Yorke such head, As thou shalt reigne but by their sufferance. To entayle him and his Heires vnto 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 Callice, Sterne Falconbridge commands the Narrow Seas, The Duke is made Protector of the Realme, And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safetie findes The trembling Lambe, inuironned with Wolues. Had I beene there, which am a silly Woman, The Souldiers should haue toss'd me on their Pikes, Before I would haue granted to that Act. But thou preferr'st thy Life, before thine Honor. And seeing thou do'st, I here diuorce my selfe, Both from thy Table Henry, and thy Bed, Vntill that Act of Parliament be repeal'd, Whereby my Sonne is dis-inherited. The Northerne Lords, that haue forsworne thy Colours, Will follow mine, if once they see them spread: And spread they shall be, to thy foule disgrace, And vtter ruine of the House of Yorke. Thus doe I leaue thee: Come Sonne, let's away, Our Army is ready; come, wee'le after them

Henry. Stay gentle Margaret, and heare me speake

Queene. Thou hast spoke too much already: get thee gone

Henry. Gentle Sonne Edward, thou wilt stay me? Queene. I, to be murther'd by his Enemies

Prince. When I returne with victorie to the field, Ile see your Grace: till then, Ile follow her

Queene. Come Sonne away, we may not linger thus

Henry. Poore Queene, How loue to me, and to her Sonne, Hath made her breake out into termes of Rage. Reueng'd may she be on that hatefull Duke, Whose haughtie spirit, winged with desire, Will cost my Crowne, and like an emptie Eagle, Tyre on the flesh of me, and of my Sonne. The losse of those three Lords torments my heart: Ile write vnto them, and entreat them faire; Come Cousin, you shall be the Messenger

Exet. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. Enter.

Flourish. Enter Richard, Edward, and Mountague.

Richard. Brother, though I bee youngest, giue mee leaue

Edward. No, I can better play the Orator

Mount. But I haue reasons strong and forceable. Enter the Duke of Yorke.

Yorke. Why how now Sonnes, and Brother, at a strife? What is your Quarrell? how began it first? Edward. No Quarrell, but a slight Contention

Yorke. About what? Rich. About that which concernes your Grace and vs, The Crowne of England, Father, which is yours

Yorke. Mine Boy? not till King Henry be dead

Richard. Your Right depends not on his life, or death

Edward. Now you are Heire, therefore enioy it now: By giuing the House of Lancaster leaue to breathe, It will out-runne you, Father, in the end

Yorke. I tooke an Oath, that hee should quietly reigne

Edward. But for a Kingdome any Oath may be broken: I would breake a thousand Oathes, to reigne one yeere

Richard. No: God forbid your Grace should be forsworne

Yorke. I shall be, if I clayme by open Warre

Richard. Ile proue the contrary, if you'le heare mee speake

Yorke. Thou canst not, Sonne: it is impossible

Richard. An Oath is of no moment, being not tooke Before a true and lawfull Magistrate, That hath authoritie ouer him that sweares. Henry had none, but did vsurpe the place. Then seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, Your Oath, my Lord, is vaine and friuolous. Therefore to Armes: and Father doe but thinke, How sweet a thing it is to weare a Crowne, Within whose Circuit is Elizium, And all that Poets faine of Blisse and Ioy. Why doe we linger thus? I cannot rest, Vntill the White Rose that I weare, be dy'de Euen in the luke-warme blood of Henries heart

Yorke. Richard ynough: I will be King, or dye. Brother, thou shalt to London presently, And whet on Warwick to this Enterprise. Thou Richard shalt to the Duke of Norfolke, And tell him priuily of our intent. You Edward shall vnto my Lord Cobham, With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise. In them I trust: for they are Souldiors, Wittie, courteous, liberall, full of spirit. While you are thus imploy'd, what resteth more? But that I seeke occasion how to rise, And yet the King not priuie to my Drift, Nor any of the House of Lancaster. Enter Gabriel.

But stay, what Newes? Why comm'st thou in such poste? Gabriel. The Queene, With all the Northerne Earles and Lords, Intend here to besiege you in your Castle. She is hard by, with twentie thousand men: And therefore fortifie your Hold, my Lord

Yorke. I, with my Sword. What? think'st thou, that we feare them? Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me, My Brother Mountague shall poste to London. Let Noble Warwicke, Cobham, and the rest, Whom we haue left Protectors of the King, With powrefull Pollicie strengthen themselues, And trust not simple Henry, nor his Oathes

Mount. Brother, I goe: Ile winne them, feare it not. And thus most humbly I doe take my leaue.

Exit Mountague.

Enter Mortimer, and his Brother.

York. Sir Iohn, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine Vnckles, You are come to Sandall in a happie houre. The Armie of the Queene meane to besiege vs

Iohn. Shee shall not neede, wee'le meete her in the field

Yorke. What, with fiue thousand men? Richard. I, with fiue hundred, Father, for a neede. A Woman's generall: what should we feare?

A March afarre off.

Edward. I heare their Drummes: Let's set our men in order, And issue forth, and bid them Battaile straight

Yorke. Fiue men to twentie: though the oddes be great, I doubt not, Vnckle, of our Victorie. Many a Battaile haue I wonne in France, When as the Enemie hath beene tenne to one: Why should I not now haue the like successe?

Alarum. Exit.

Enter Rutland, and his Tutor.

Rutland. Ah, whither shall I flye, to scape their hands? Ah Tutor, looke where bloody Clifford comes. Enter Clifford.

Clifford. Chaplaine away, thy Priesthood saues thy life. As for the Brat of this accursed Duke, Whose Father slew my Father, he shall dye

Tutor. And I, my Lord, will beare him company

Clifford. Souldiers, away with him

Tutor. Ah Clifford, murther not this innocent Child, Least thou be hated both of God and Man. Enter.

Clifford. How now? is he dead alreadie? Or is it feare, that makes him close his eyes? Ile open them

Rutland. So looks the pent-vp Lyon o're the Wretch, That trembles vnder his deuouring Pawes: And so he walkes, insulting 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 threatning Looke. Sweet Clifford heare me speake, before I dye: I am too meane a subiect for thy Wrath, Be thou reueng'd on men, and let me liue

Clifford. In vaine thou speak'st, poore Boy: My Fathers blood hath stopt the passage Where thy words should enter

Rutland. Then let my Fathers blood open it againe, He is a man, and Clifford cope with him

Clifford. Had I thy Brethren here, their liues and thine Were not reuenge sufficient for me: No, if I digg'd vp thy fore-fathers Graues, And hung their rotten Coffins vp in Chaynes, It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. The sight of any of the House of Yorke, Is as a furie to torment my Soule: And till I root out their accursed Line, And leaue not one aliue, I liue in Hell. Therefore- Rutland. Oh let me pray, before I take my death: To thee I pray; sweet Clifford pitty me

Clifford. Such pitty as my Rapiers point affords

Rutland. I neuer did thee harme: why wilt thou slay me? Clifford. Thy Father hath

Rutland. But 'twas ere I was borne. Thou hast one Sonne, for his sake pitty me, Least in reuenge thereof, sith God is iust, He be as miserably slaine as I. Ah, let me liue in Prison all my dayes, And when I giue occasion of offence, Then let me dye, for now thou hast no cause

Clifford. No cause? thy Father slew my Father: therefore dye

Rutland. Dij faciant laudis summa sit ista tuæ

Clifford. Plantagenet, I come Plantagenet: And this thy Sonnes blood cleauing to my Blade, Shall rust vpon my Weapon, till thy blood Congeal'd with this, doe make me wipe off both. Enter.

Alarum. Enter Richard, Duke of Yorke.

Yorke. 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 pursu'd by hunger-starued Wolues. My Sonnes, God knowes what hath bechanced them: But this I know, they haue demean'd themselues Like men borne to Renowne, by Life or Death. Three times did Richard make a Lane to me, And thrice cry'de, Courage Father, fight it out: And full as oft came Edward to my side, With Purple Faulchion, painted to the Hilt, In blood of those that had encountred him: And when the hardyest Warriors did retyre, Richard cry'de, Charge, and giue no foot of ground, And cry'de, A Crowne, or else a glorious Tombe, A Scepter, or an Earthly Sepulchre. With this we charg'd againe: but out alas, We bodg'd againe, as I haue seene a Swan With bootlesse labour swimme against the Tyde, And spend her strength with ouer-matching Waues.

A short Alarum within.

Ah hearke, the fatall followers doe pursue, And I am faint, and cannot flye their furie: And were I strong, I would not shunne their furie, The Sands are numbred, that makes vp 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 furie to more rage: I am your Butt, and I abide your Shot

Northumb. Yeeld to our mercy, proud Plantagenet

Clifford. I, to such mercy, as his ruthlesse Arme With downe-right payment, shew'd vnto my Father. Now Phæton hath tumbled from his Carre, And made an Euening at the Noone-tide Prick

Yorke. My ashes, as the Phoenix, may bring forth A Bird, that will reuenge vpon you all: And in that hope, I throw mine eyes to Heauen, Scorning what ere you can afflict me with. Why come you not? what, multitudes, and feare? Cliff. So Cowards fight, when they can flye no further, So Doues doe peck the Faulcons piercing Tallons, So desperate Theeues, all hopelesse of their Liues, Breathe out Inuectiues 'gainst the Officers

Yorke. 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 slanders him with Cowardice, Whose frowne hath made thee faint and flye ere this

Clifford. I will not bandie with thee word for word, But buckler with thee blowes twice two for one

Queene. Hold valiant Clifford, for a thousand causes I would prolong a while the Traytors Life: Wrath makes him deafe; speake thou Northumberland

Northumb. 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 one to thrust his Hand betweene his Teeth, When he might spurne him with his Foot away? It is Warres prize, to take all Vantages, And tenne to one, is no impeach of Valour

Clifford. I, I, so striues the Woodcocke with the Gynne

Northumb. So doth the Connie struggle in the Net

York. So triumph Theeues vpon their conquer'd Booty, So True men yeeld with Robbers, so o're-matcht

Northumb. What would your Grace haue done vnto him now? Queene. Braue Warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come make him stand vpon 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 reuell'd in our Parliament, And made a Preachment of your high Descent? Where are your Messe of Sonnes, to back you now? The wanton Edward, and the lustie George? And where's that valiant Crook-back Prodigie, Dickie, your Boy, that with his grumbling voyce Was wont to cheare his Dad in Mutinies? Or with the rest, where is your Darling, Rutland? Looke Yorke, I stayn'd this Napkin with the blood That valiant Clifford, with his Rapiers point, Made issue from the Bosome of the Boy: And if thine eyes can water for his death, I giue thee this to drie thy Cheekes withall. Alas poore Yorke, but that I hate thee deadly, I should lament thy miserable state. I prythee grieue, to make me merry, Yorke. What, hath thy fierie heart so 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, raue, and fret, that I may sing and dance. Thou would'st be fee'd, I see, to make me sport: Yorke cannot speake, vnlesse he weare a Crowne. A Crowne for Yorke; and Lords, bow lowe to him: Hold you his hands, whilest I doe set 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 his adopted Heire. But how is it, that great Plantagenet Is crown'd so soone, 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 Glory, And rob his Temples of the Diademe, Now in his Life, against your holy Oath? Oh 'tis a fault too too vnpardonable. 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 stay, let's heare the Orizons hee makes

Yorke. Shee-Wolfe of France, But worse then Wolues of France, Whose Tongue more poysons then the Adders Tooth: How ill-beseeming is it in thy Sex, To triumph like an Amazonian Trull, Vpon their Woes, whom Fortune captiuates? But that thy Face is Vizard-like, vnchanging, Made impudent with vse of euill deedes. I would assay, prowd Queene, to make thee blush. To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriu'd, Were shame 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 wealthie as an English Yeoman. Hath that poore Monarch taught thee to insult? It needes not, nor it bootes thee not, prowd Queene, Vnlesse the Adage must be verify'd, That Beggers mounted, runne their Horse to death. 'Tis Beautie 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 Gouernment that makes them seeme Diuine, The want thereof, makes thee abhominable. Thou art as opposite to euery good, As the Antipodes are vnto vs, Or as the South to the Septentrion. Oh Tygres Heart, wrapt in a Womans Hide, How could'st thou drayne the Life-blood of the Child, To bid the Father wipe his eyes withall, And yet be seene to beare a Womans face? Women are soft, milde, pittifull, and flexible; Thou, sterne, obdurate, flintie, rough, remorselesse. Bidst thou me rage? why now thou hast thy wish. Would'st haue me weepe? why now thou hast thy will. For raging Wind blowes vp incessant showers, And when the Rage allayes, the Raine begins. These Teares are my sweet Rutlands Obsequies, And euery drop cryes vengeance for his death, 'Gainst thee fell Clifford, and thee false French-woman

Northumb. Beshrew me, but his passions moues me so, That hardly can I check my eyes from Teares

Yorke. That Face of his, The hungry Caniballs would not haue toucht, Would not haue stayn'd with blood: But you are more inhumane, more inexorable, Oh, tenne times more then Tygers of Hyrcania. See, ruthlesse Queene, a haplesse Fathers Teares: This Cloth thou dipd'st 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'st the heauie storie right, Vpon my Soule, the hearers will shed Teares: Yea, euen my Foes will shed fast-falling Teares, And say, Alas, it was a pittious deed. There, take the Crowne, and with the Crowne, my Curse, And in thy need, such comfort come to thee, As now I reape at thy too cruell hand. Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the World, My Soule to Heauen, my Blood vpon your Heads

Northumb. Had he been slaughter-man to all my Kinne, I should not for my Life but weepe with him, To see how inly Sorrow gripes his Soule

Queen. What, weeping ripe, my Lord Northumberland? Thinke but vpon the wrong he did vs all, And that will quickly drie 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

Yorke. Open thy Gate of Mercy, gracious God, My Soule flyes through these wounds, to seeke out thee

Queene. Off with his Head, and set it on Yorke Gates, So Yorke may ouer-looke the Towne of Yorke.

Flourish. Exit.

A March. Enter Edward, Richard, and their power.

Edward. I wonder how our Princely Father scap't: Or whether he be scap't away, or no, From Cliffords and Northumberlands pursuit? Had he been ta'ne, we should haue heard the newes; Had he beene slaine, we should haue heard the newes: Or had he scap't, me thinkes we should haue heard The happy tidings of his good escape. How fares my Brother? why is he so sad? Richard. I cannot ioy, vntill I be resolu'd Where our right valiant Father is become. I saw him in the Battaile range about, And watcht him how he singled Clifford forth. Me thought 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 hauing pincht a few, and made them cry, The rest 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 farwell of the glorious Sunne. How well resembles it the prime of Youth, Trimm'd like a Yonker, prauncing to his Loue? Ed. Dazle mine eyes, or doe I see three Sunnes? Rich. Three glorious Sunnes, each one a perfect Sunne, Not seperated with the racking Clouds, But seuer'd in a pale cleare-shining Skye. See, see, they ioyne, embrace, and seeme to kisse, As if they vow'd some League inuiolable. Now are they but one Lampe, one Light, one Sunne: In this, the Heauen figures some euent

Edward. 'Tis wondrous strange, The like yet neuer heard of. I thinke it cites vs (Brother) to the field, That wee, the Sonnes of braue Plantagenet, Each one alreadie blazing by our meedes, Should notwithstanding ioyne our Lights together, And ouer-shine the Earth, as this the World. What ere it bodes, hence-forward will I beare Vpon my Targuet three faire shining Sunnes

Richard. Nay, beare three Daughters: By your leaue, I speake it, You loue the Breeder better then the Male. Enter one blowing.

But what art thou, whose heauie Lookes fore-tell Some dreadfull story hanging on thy Tongue? Mess. Ah, one that was a wofull looker on, When as the Noble Duke of Yorke was slaine, Your Princely Father, and my louing Lord

Edward. Oh speake no more, for I haue heard too much

Richard. Say how he dy'de, for I will heare it all

Mess. Enuironed he was with many foes, And stood against them, as the hope of Troy Against the Greekes, that would haue entred Troy. But Hercules himselfe must yeeld to oddes: And many stroakes, though with a little Axe, Hewes downe and fells the hardest-tymber'd Oake. By many hands your Father was subdu'd, But onely slaught'red by the irefull Arme Of vn-relenting Clifford, and the Queene: Who crown'd the gracious Duke in high despight, Laugh'd in his face: and when with griefe he wept, The ruthlesse Queene gaue him, to dry his Cheekes, A Napkin, steeped in the harmelesse blood Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slaine: And after many scornes, many foule taunts, They tooke his Head, and on the Gates of Yorke They set the same, and there it doth remaine, The saddest spectacle that ere I view'd

Edward. Sweet Duke of Yorke, our Prop to leane vpon, Now thou art gone, wee haue no Staffe, no Stay. Oh Clifford, boyst'rous Clifford, thou hast slaine The flowre of Europe, for his Cheualrie, And trecherously hast thou vanquisht him, For hand to hand he would haue vanquisht thee. Now my Soules Pallace is become a Prison: Ah, would she breake from hence, that this my body Might in the ground be closed vp in rest: For neuer henceforth shall I ioy againe: Neuer, oh neuer shall I see more ioy

Rich. I cannot weepe: for all my bodies moysture Scarse serues to quench my Furnace-burning hart: Nor can my tongue vnloade my hearts great burthen, For selfe-same winde that I should speake withall, Is kindling coales that fires all my brest, And burnes me vp with flames, that tears would quench. To weepe, is to make lesse the depth of greefe: Teares then for Babes; Blowes, and Reuenge for mee. Richard, I beare thy name, Ile venge thy death, Or dye renowned by attempting it

Ed. His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee: His Dukedome, and his Chaire with me is left

Rich. Nay, if thou be that Princely Eagles Bird, Shew thy descent by gazing 'gainst the Sunne: For Chaire and Dukedome, Throne and Kingdome say, Either that is thine, or else thou wer't not his.

March. Enter Warwicke, Marquesse Mountacute, and their Army.

Warwick. How now faire Lords? What faire? What newes abroad? Rich. Great Lord of Warwicke, if we should recompt Our balefull newes, and at each words deliuerance Stab Poniards in our flesh, till all were told, The words would adde more anguish then the wounds. O valiant Lord, the Duke of Yorke is slaine

Edw. O Warwicke, Warwicke, that Plantagenet Which held thee deerely, as his Soules Redemption, Is by the sterne Lord Clifford done to death

War. Ten dayes ago, I drown'd these newes in teares. And now to adde more measure to your woes, I come to tell you things sith then befalne. After the bloody Fray at Wakefield fought, Where your braue Father breath'd his latest gaspe, Tydings, as swiftly as the Postes could runne, Were brought me of your Losse, and his Depart. I then in London, keeper of the King, Muster'd my Soldiers, gathered flockes of Friends, Marcht toward S[aint]. Albons, to intercept the Queene, Bearing the King in my behalfe along: For by my Scouts, I was aduertised That she was comming with a full intent To dash our late Decree in Parliament, Touching King Henries Oath, and your Succession: Short Tale to make, we at S[aint]. Albons met, Our Battailes ioyn'd, and both sides fiercely fought: But whether 'twas the coldnesse of the King, Who look'd full gently on his warlike Queene, That robb'd my Soldiers of their heated Spleene. Or whether 'twas report of her successe, Or more then common feare of Cliffords Rigour, Who thunders to his Captiues, Blood and Death, I cannot iudge: but to conclude with truth, Their Weapons like to Lightning, came and went: Our Souldiers like the Night-Owles lazie flight, Or like a lazie Thresher with a Flaile, Fell gently downe, as if they strucke their Friends. I cheer'd them vp with iustice of our Cause, With promise of high pay, and great Rewards: But all in vaine, they had no heart to fight, And we (in them) no hope to win the day, So that we fled: the King vnto the Queene, Lord George, your Brother, Norfolke, and my Selfe, In haste, post haste, are come to ioyne with you: For in the Marches heere we heard you were, Making another Head, to fight againe

Ed. Where is the Duke of Norfolke, gentle Warwick? And when came George from Burgundy to England? War. Some six miles off the Duke is with the Soldiers, And for your Brother he was lately sent From your kinde Aunt Dutchesse of Burgundie, With ayde of Souldiers to this needfull Warre

Rich. 'Twas oddes belike, when valiant Warwick fled; Oft haue I heard his praises in Pursuite, But ne're till now, his Scandall of Retire

War. Nor now my Scandall Richard, dost thou heare: For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine, Can plucke the Diadem from faint Henries head, And wring the awefull Scepter from his Fist, Were he as famous, and as bold in Warre, As he is fam'd for Mildnesse, Peace, and Prayer

Rich. I know it well Lord Warwick, blame me not, 'Tis loue I beare thy glories make me speake: But in this troublous time, what's to be done? Shall we go throw away our Coates of Steele, And wrap our bodies in blacke mourning Gownes, Numb'ring our Aue-Maries with our Beads? Or shall we on the Helmets of our Foes Tell our Deuotion with reuengefull Armes? If for the last, say I, and to it Lords

War. Why therefore Warwick came to seek you out, And therefore comes my Brother Mountague: Attend me Lords, the proud insulting Queene, With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland, And of their Feather, many moe proud Birds, Haue wrought the easie-melting King, like Wax. He swore consent to your Succession, His Oath enrolled in the Parliament. And now to London all the crew are gone, To frustrate both his Oath, and what beside May make against the house of Lancaster. Their power (I thinke) is thirty thousand strong: Now, if the helpe of Norfolke, and my selfe, With all the Friends that thou braue Earle of March, Among'st the louing Welshmen can'st procure, Will but amount to fiue and twenty thousand, Why Via, to London will we march, And once againe, bestride our foaming Steeds, And once againe cry Charge vpon our Foes, But neuer once againe turne backe and flye

Rich. I, now me thinks I heare great Warwick speak; Ne're may he liue to see a Sun-shine day, That cries Retire, if Warwicke bid him stay

Ed. Lord Warwicke, on thy shoulder will I leane, And when thou failst (as God forbid the houre) Must Edward fall, which perill heauen forefend

War. No longer Earle of March, but Duke of Yorke: The next degree, is Englands Royall Throne: For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd In euery Burrough as we passe along, And he that throwes not vp his cap for ioy, Shall for the Fault make forfeit of his head. King Edward, valiant Richard Mountague: Stay we no longer, dreaming of Renowne. But sound the Trumpets, and about our Taske

Rich. Then Clifford, were thy heart as hard as Steele, As thou hast shewne it flintie by thy deeds, I come to pierce it, or to giue thee mine

Ed. Then strike vp Drums, God and S[aint]. George for vs. Enter a Messenger.

War. How now? what newes? Mes. The Duke of Norfolke sends you word by me, The Queene is comming with a puissant Hoast, And craues your company, for speedy counsell

War. Why then it sorts, braue Warriors, let's away.

Exeunt. Omnes.

Flourish. Enter the King, the Queene, Clifford, Northum[berland] and Yong Prince, with Drumme and Trumpettes.

Qu. Welcome my Lord, to this braue town of Yorke, Yonders the head of that Arch-enemy, That sought to be incompast with your Crowne. Doth not the obiect cheere your heart, my Lord

K. I, as the rockes cheare them that feare their wrack, To see this sight, it irkes my very soule: With-hold reuenge (deere God) 'tis not my fault, Nor wittingly haue I infring'd my Vow

Clif. My gracious Liege, this too much lenity And harmfull pitty must be layd aside: To whom do Lyons cast their gentle Lookes? Not to the Beast, that would vsurpe their Den. Whose hand is that the Forrest Beare doth licke? Not his that spoyles her yong before her face. Who scapes the lurking Serpents mortall sting? Not he that sets his foot vpon her backe. The smallest Worme will turne, being troden on, And Doues will pecke in safegard of their Brood. Ambitious Yorke, did leuell at thy Crowne, Thou smiling, while he knit his angry browes. He but a Duke, would haue his Sonne a King, And raise his issue like a louing Sire. Thou being a King, blest with a goodly sonne, Did'st yeeld consent to disinherit him: Which argued thee a most vnlouing Father. Vnreasonable Creatures feed their young, And though mans face be fearefull to their eyes, Yet in protection of their tender ones, Who hath not seene them euen with those wings, Which sometime they haue vs'd with fearfull flight, Make warre with him that climb'd vnto their nest, Offering their owne liues in their yongs defence? For shame, my Liege, make them your President: Were it not pitty that this goodly Boy Should loose his Birth-right by his Fathers fault, And long heereafter say vnto his childe, What my great Grandfather, and Grandsire got, My carelesse Father fondly gaue away. Ah, what a shame were this? Looke on the Boy, And let his manly face, which promiseth Successefull Fortune steele thy melting heart, To hold thine owne, and leaue thine owne with him

King. Full well hath Clifford plaid the Orator, Inferring arguments of mighty force: But Clifford tell me, did'st thou neuer heare, That things ill got, had euer bad successe. And happy alwayes was it for that Sonne, Whose Father for his hoording went to hell: Ile leaue my Sonne my Vertuous deeds behinde, And would my Father had left me no more: For all the rest is held at such a Rate, As brings a thousand fold more care to keepe, Then in possession any iot of pleasure. Ah Cosin Yorke, would thy best Friends did know, How it doth greeue me that thy head is heere

Qu. My Lord cheere vp your spirits, our foes are nye, And this soft courage makes your Followers faint: You promist Knighthood to our forward sonne, Vnsheath your sword, and dub him presently. Edward, kneele downe

King. Edward Plantagenet, arise a Knight, And learne this Lesson; Draw thy Sword in right

Prin. My gracious Father, by your Kingly leaue, Ile draw it as Apparant to the Crowne, And in that quarrell, vse it to the death

Clif. Why that is spoken like a toward Prince. Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Royall Commanders, be in readinesse, For with a Band of thirty thousand men, Comes Warwicke backing of the Duke of Yorke, And in the Townes as they do march along, Proclaimes him King, and many flye to him, Darraigne your battell, for they are at hand

Clif. I would your Highnesse would depart the field, The Queene hath best successe when you are absent

Qu. I good my Lord, and leaue vs to our Fortune

King. Why, that's my fortune too, therefore Ile stay

North. Be it with resolution then to fight

Prin. My Royall Father, cheere these Noble Lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence: Vnsheath your Sword, good Father: Cry S[aint]. George.

March. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, Clarence, Norfolke, Mountague, and Soldiers.

Edw. Now periur'd Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace? And set thy Diadem vpon my head? Or bide the mortall Fortune of the field

Qu. Go rate thy Minions, proud insulting Boy, Becomes it thee to be thus bold in termes, Before thy Soueraigne, and thy lawfull King? Ed. I am his King, and he should bow his knee: I was adopted Heire by his consent

Cla. Since when, his Oath is broke: for as I heare, You that are King, though he do weare the Crowne, Haue caus'd him by new Act of Parliament, To blot out me, and put his owne Sonne in

Clif. And reason too, Who should succeede the Father, but the Sonne

Rich. Are you there Butcher? O, I cannot speake

Clif. I Crooke-back, here I stand to answer thee, Or any he, the proudest of thy sort

Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd yong Rutland, was it not? Clif. I, and old Yorke, and yet not satisfied

Rich. For Gods sake Lords giue signall to the fight

War. What say'st thou Henry, Wilt thou yeeld the Crowne? Qu. Why how now long-tongu'd Warwicke, dare you speak? When you and I, met at S[aint]. Albons last, Your legges did better seruice then your hands

War. Then 'twas my turne to fly, and now 'tis thine: Clif. You said so much before, and yet you fled

War. 'Twas not your valor Clifford droue me thence

Nor. No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay

Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reuerently, Breake off the parley, for scarse I can refraine The execution of my big-swolne heart Vpon that Clifford, that cruell Child-killer

Clif. I slew thy Father, cal'st thou him a Child? Rich. I like a Dastard, and a treacherous Coward, As thou didd'st kill our tender Brother Rutland, But ere Sunset, Ile make thee curse the deed

King. Haue done with words (my Lords) and heare me speake

Qu. Defie them then, or els hold close thy lips

King. I prythee giue no limits to my Tongue, I am a King, and priuiledg'd to speake

Clif. My Liege, the wound that bred this meeting here, Cannot be cur'd by Words, therefore be still

Rich. Then Executioner vnsheath thy sword: By him that made vs all, I am resolu'd, That Cliffords Manhood, lyes vpon his tongue

Ed. Say Henry, shall I haue my right, or no: A thousand men haue broke their Fasts to day, That ne're shall dine, vnlesse thou yeeld the Crowne

War. If thou deny, their Blood vpon thy head, For Yorke in iustice put's his Armour on

Pr.Ed. If that be right, which Warwick saies is right, There is no wrong, but euery thing is right

War. Who euer got thee, there thy Mother stands, For well I wot, thou hast thy Mothers tongue

Qu. But thou art neyther like thy Sire nor Damme, But like a foule mishapen Stygmaticke, Mark'd by the Destinies to be auoided, As venome Toades, or Lizards dreadfull stings

Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Whose Father beares the Title of a King, (As if a Channell should be call'd the Sea) Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, To let thy tongue detect thy base-borne heart

Ed. A wispe of straw were worth a thousand Crowns, To make this shamelesse Callet know her selfe: Helen of Greece was fayrer farre then thou, Although thy Husband may be Menelaus; And ne're was Agamemnons Brother wrong'd By that false Woman, as this King by thee. His Father reuel'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 haue 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, Euen then that Sun-shine brew'd a showre for him, That washt his Fathers fortunes forth of France, And heap'd sedition on his Crowne at home: For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy Pride? Had'st thou bene meeke, our Title still had slept, And we in pitty of the Gentle King, Had slipt our Claime, vntill another Age

Cla. But when we saw, our Sunshine made thy Spring, And that thy Summer bred vs no increase, We set the Axe to thy vsurping Roote: And though the edge hath something hit our selues, Yet know thou, since we haue begun to strike, Wee'l neuer leaue, till we haue hewne thee downe, Or bath'd thy growing, with our heated bloods

Edw. And in this resolution, I defie thee, Not willing any longer Conference, Since thou denied'st the gentle King to speake. Sound Trumpets, let our bloody Colours waue, And either Victorie, or else a Graue

Qu. Stay Edward

Ed. No wrangling Woman, wee'l no longer stay, These words will cost ten thousand liues this day.

Exeunt. omnes.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwicke.

War. Fore-spent with Toile, as Runners with a Race, I lay me downe a little while to breath: For strokes receiu'd, and many blowes repaid, Haue robb'd my strong knit sinewes of their strength, And spight of spight, needs must I rest a-while. Enter Edward running.

Ed. Smile gentle heauen, or strike vngentle death, For this world frownes, and Edwards Sunne is clowded

War. How now my Lord, what happe? what hope of good? Enter Clarence

Cla. Our hap is losse, our hope but sad dispaire, Our rankes are broke, and ruine followes vs. What counsaile giue you? whether shall we flye? Ed. Bootlesse is flight, they follow vs 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 thirsty earth hath drunk, Broach'd with the Steely point of Cliffords Launce: And in the very pangs of death, he cryde, Like to a dismall Clangor heard from farre, Warwicke, reuenge; Brother, reuenge my death. So vnderneath the belly of their Steeds, That stain'd their Fetlockes in his smoaking blood, The Noble Gentleman gaue vp 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 losses, whiles the Foe doth Rage, And looke vpon, as if the Tragedie Were plaid in iest, by counterfetting Actors. Heere on my knee, I vow to God aboue, Ile neuer pawse againe, neuer stand still, Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine, Or Fortune giuen me measure of Reuenge

Ed. Oh Warwicke, I do bend my knee with thine, And in this vow do chaine my soule to thine: And ere my knee rise from the Earths cold face, I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter vp, and plucker downe of Kings: Beseeching thee (if with thy will it stands) That to my Foes this body must be prey, Yet that thy brazen gates of heauen may ope, And giue sweet passage to my sinfull soule. Now Lords, take leaue vntill we meete againe, Where ere it be, in heauen, or in earth

Rich. Brother, Giue me thy hand, and gentle Warwicke, Let me imbrace thee in my weary armes: I that did neuer weepe, now melt with wo, That Winter should cut off our Spring-time so

War. Away, away: Once more sweet Lords farwell

Cla. Yet let vs altogether to our Troopes, And giue them leaue to flye, that will not stay: And call them Pillars that will stand to vs: And if we thriue, promise them such rewards As Victors weare at the Olympian Games. This may plant courage in their quailing breasts, For yet is hope of Life and Victory: Foreslow no longer, make we hence amaine.

Exeunt.

Excursions. Enter Richard and Clifford.

Rich. Now Clifford, I haue singled thee alone, Suppose this arme is for the Duke of Yorke, And this for Rutland, both bound to reuenge, Wer't thou inuiron'd with a Brazen wall

Clif. Now Richard, I am with thee heere alone, This is the hand that stabb'd thy Father Yorke, And this the hand, that slew thy Brother Rutland, And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death, And cheeres these hands, that slew thy Sire and Brother, To execute the like vpon thy selfe, And so haue at thee. They Fight, Warwicke comes, Clifford flies.

Rich. Nay Warwicke, single out some other Chace, For I my selfe will hunt this Wolfe to death.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter King Henry alone.

Hen. This battell fares like to the mornings Warre, When dying clouds contend, with growing light, What time the Shepheard blowing of his nailes, Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. Now swayes it this way, like a Mighty Sea, Forc'd by the Tide, to combat with the Winde: Now swayes it that way, like the selfe-same Sea, Forc'd to retyre by furie of the Winde. Sometime, the Flood preuailes; and than the Winde: Now, one the better: then, another best; Both tugging to be Victors, brest to brest: Yet neither Conqueror, nor Conquered. So is the equall poise of this fell Warre. Heere on this Mole-hill will I sit me downe, To whom God will, there be the Victorie: For Margaret my Queene, and Clifford too Haue chid me from the Battell: Swearing both, They prosper best of all when I am thence. Would I were dead, if Gods good will were so; For what is in this world, but Greefe and Woe. Oh God! me thinkes it were a happy life, To be no better then a homely Swaine, To sit vpon a hill, as I do now, To carue out Dialls queintly, point by point, Thereby to see the Minutes how they runne: How many makes the Houre full compleate, How many Houres brings about the Day, How many Dayes will finish vp the Yeare, How many Yeares, a Mortall man may liue. When this is knowne, then to diuide the Times: So many Houres, must I tend my Flocke; So many Houres, must I take my Rest: So many Houres, must I Contemplate: So many Houres, must I Sport my selfe: So many Dayes, my Ewes haue bene with yong: So many weekes, ere the poore Fooles will Eane: So many yeares, ere I shall sheere the Fleece: So Minutes, Houres, Dayes, Monthes, and Yeares, Past ouer to the end they were created, Would bring white haires, vnto a Quiet graue. Ah! what a life were this? How sweet? how louely? Giues not the Hawthorne bush a sweeter shade To Shepheards, looking on their silly Sheepe, Then doth a rich Imbroider'd Canopie To Kings, that feare their Subiects treacherie? Oh yes, it doth; a thousand fold it doth. And to conclude, the Shepherds homely Curds, His cold thinne drinke out of his Leather Bottle, His wonted sleepe, vnder a fresh trees shade, All which secure, and sweetly he enioyes, Is farre beyond a Princes Delicates: His Viands sparkling in a Golden Cup, His bodie couched in a curious bed, When Care, Mistrust, and Treason waits on him.

Alarum. Enter a Sonne that hath kill'd his Father, at one doore: and a Father that hath kill'd his Sonne at another doore.

Son. Ill blowes the winde that profits no body, This man whom hand to hand I slew in fight, May be possessed with some store of Crownes, And I that (haply) take them from him now, May yet (ere night) yeeld both my Life and them To some man else, as this dead man doth me. Who's this? Oh God! It is my Fathers face, Whom in this Conflict, I (vnwares) haue kill'd: Oh heauy times! begetting such Euents. From London, by the King was I prest forth, My Father being the Earle of Warwickes man, Came on the part of Yorke, prest by his Master: And I, who at his hands receiu'd my life, Haue by my hands, of Life bereaued him. Pardon me God, I knew not what I did: And pardon Father, for I knew not thee. My Teares shall wipe away these bloody markes: And no more words, till they haue flow'd their fill

King. O pitteous spectacle! O bloody Times! Whiles Lyons Warre, and battaile for their Dennes, Poore harmlesse Lambes abide their enmity. Weepe wretched man: Ile ayde thee Teare for Teare, And let our hearts and eyes, like Ciuill Warre, Be blinde with teares, and break ore-charg'd with griefe Enter Father, bearing of his Sonne.

Fa. Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me, Giue me thy Gold, if thou hast any Gold: For I haue bought it with an hundred blowes. But let me see: Is this our Foe-mans face? Ah, no, no, no, it is mine onely Sonne. Ah Boy, if any life be left in thee, Throw vp thine eye: see, see, what showres arise, Blowne with the windie Tempest of my heart, Vpon thy wounds, that killes mine Eye, and Heart. O pitty God, this miserable Age! What Stratagems? how fell? how Butcherly? Erreoneous, mutinous, and vnnaturall, This deadly quarrell daily doth beget? O Boy! thy Father gaue thee life too soone, And hath bereft thee of thy life too late

King. Wo aboue wo: greefe, more the[n] common greefe O that my death would stay these ruthfull deeds: O pitty, pitty, gentle heauen pitty: The Red Rose and the White are on his face, The fatall Colours of our striuing Houses: The one, his purple Blood right well resembles, The other his pale Cheekes (me thinkes) presenteth: Wither one Rose, and let the other flourish: If you contend, a thousand liues must wither

Son. How will my Mother, for a Fathers death Take on with me, and ne're be satisfi'd? Fa. How will my Wife, for slaughter of my Sonne, Shed seas of Teares, and ne're be satisfi'd? King. How will the Country, for these woful chances, Mis-thinke the King, and not be satisfied? Son. Was euer sonne, so rew'd a Fathers death? Fath. Was euer Father so bemoan'd his Sonne? Hen. Was euer King so greeu'd for Subiects woe? Much is your sorrow; 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 sheet: My heart (sweet Boy) shall be thy Sepulcher, For from my heart, thine Image ne're shall go. My sighing brest, shall be thy Funerall bell; And so obsequious will thy Father be, Men for the losse of thee, hauing no more, As Priam was for all his Valiant Sonnes, Ile beare thee hence, and let them fight that will, For I haue murthered where I should not kill.

Exit

Hen. Sad-hearted-men, much ouergone with Care; Heere sits 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 vs in pursuite

Qu. Mount you my Lord, towards Barwicke post amaine: Edward and Richard like a brace of Grey-hounds, Hauing the fearfull flying Hare in sight, With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath, And bloody steele graspt in their yrefull hands Are at our backes, and therefore hence amaine

Exet. Away: for vengeance comes along with them. Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed, Or else come after, Ile away before

Hen. Nay take me with thee, good sweet Exeter: Not that I feare to stay, but loue to go Whether the Queene intends. Forward, away.

Exeunt.

A lowd alarum. Enter Clifford Wounded.

Clif. Heere burnes my Candle out; I, heere it dies, Which whiles it lasted, gaue King Henry light. O Lancaster! I feare thy ouerthrow, More then my Bodies parting with my Soule: My Loue and Feare, glew'd many Friends to thee, And now I fall. Thy tough Commixtures melts, Impairing Henry, strength'ning misproud Yorke; And whether flye the Gnats, but to the Sunne? And who shines now, but Henries Enemies? O Phoebus! had'st thou neuer giuen consent, That Phæton should checke thy fiery Steeds, Thy burning Carre neuer had scorch'd the earth. And Henry, had'st thou sway'd as Kings should do, Or as thy Father, and his Father did, Giuing no ground vnto the house of Yorke, They neuer then had sprung like Sommer Flyes: I, and ten thousand in this lucklesse Realme, Had left no mourning Widdowes for our death, And thou this day, had'st kept thy Chaire in peace. For what doth cherrish Weeds, but gentle ayre? And what makes Robbers bold, but too much lenity? Bootlesse are Plaints, and Curelesse are my Wounds: No way to flye, no strength to hold out flight: The Foe is mercilesse, and will not pitty: For at their hands I haue deseru'd no pitty. The ayre hath got into my deadly Wounds, And much effuse of blood, doth make me faint: Come Yorke, and Richard, Warwicke, and the rest, I stab'd your Fathers bosomes; Split my brest.

Alarum & Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, and Soldiers, Montague, & Clarence.

Ed. Now breath we Lords, good fortune bids vs pause, And smooth the frownes of War, with peacefull lookes: 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 Argosie to stemme the Waues. But thinke you (Lords) that Clifford fled with them? War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape: (For though before his face I speake the words) Your Brother Richard markt him for the Graue. And wheresoere he is, hee's surely dead.

Clifford grones

Rich. Whose soule is that which takes hir heauy leaue? A deadly grone, like life and deaths departing. See who it is

Ed. And now the Battailes ended, If Friend or Foe, let him be gently vsed

Rich. Reuoke that doome of mercy, for 'tis Clifford, Who not contented that he lopp'd the Branch In hewing Rutland, when his leaues put forth, But set his murth'ring knife vnto the Roote, From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, I meane our Princely Father, Duke of Yorke

War. From off the gates of Yorke, fetch down y head, Your Fathers head, which Clifford placed there: In stead whereof, let this supply the roome, Measure for measure, must be answered

Ed. Bring forth that fatall Schreechowle to our house, That nothing sung but death, to vs and ours: Now death shall stop his dismall threatning sound, And his ill-boading tongue, no more shall speake

War. I thinke his vnderstanding is bereft: Speake Clifford, dost thou know who speakes to thee? Darke cloudy death ore-shades his beames of life, And he nor sees, nor heares vs, what we say

Rich. O would he did, and so (perhaps) he doth, 'Tis but his policy to counterfet, Because he would auoid such bitter taunts Which in the time of death he gaue our Father

Cla. If so thou think'st, Vex him with eager Words

Rich. Clifford, aske mercy, and obtaine no grace

Ed. Clifford, repent in bootlesse penitence

War. Clifford, deuise excuses for thy faults

Cla. While we deuise fell Tortures for thy faults

Rich. Thou didd'st loue Yorke, and I am son to Yorke

Edw. Thou pittied'st Rutland, I will pitty thee

Cla. Where's Captaine Margaret, to fence you now? War. 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 two houres life, That I (in all despight) might rayle at him, This hand should chop it off: & with the issuing Blood Stifle the Villaine, whose vnstanched thirst Yorke, and yong Rutland could not satisfie War. I, but he's dead. Of with the Traitors head, And reare it in the place your Fathers stands. And now to London with Triumphant march, There to be crowned Englands Royall King: From whence, shall Warwicke cut the Sea to France, And aske the Ladie Bona for thy Queene: So shalt thou sinow both these Lands together, And hauing France thy Friend, thou shalt not dread The scattred Foe, that hopes to rise againe: For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, Yet looke to haue them buz to offend thine eares: First, will I see the Coronation, And then to Britanny Ile crosse the Sea, To effect this marriage, so it please my Lord

Ed. Euen as thou wilt sweet Warwicke, let it bee: For in thy shoulder do I builde my Seate; And neuer will I vndertake the thing Wherein thy counsaile and consent is wanting: Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester, And George of Clarence; Warwicke as our Selfe, Shall do, and vndo as him pleaseth best

Rich. Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloster, For Glosters Dukedome is too ominous

War. Tut, that's a foolish obseruation: Richard, be Duke of Gloster: Now to London, To see these Honors in possession.

Exeunt.

Enter Sinklo, and Humfrey, with Crosse-bowes in their hands.

Sink. Vnder this thicke growne brake, wee'l shrowd our selues: For through this Laund anon the Deere will come, And in this couert will we make our Stand, Culling the principall of all the Deere

Hum. Ile stay aboue the hill, so both may shoot

Sink. That cannot be, the noise of thy Crosse-bow Will scarre the Heard, and so my shoot is lost: Heere stand we both, and ayme we at the best: And for the time shall not seeme tedious, Ile tell thee what befell me on a day, In this selfe-place, where now we meane to stand

Sink. Heere comes a man, let's stay till he be past: Enter the King with a Prayer booke.

Hen. From Scotland am I stolne euen of pure loue, To greet mine owne Land with my wishfull sight: No Harry, Harry, 'tis no Land of thine, Thy place is fill'd, thy Scepter wrung from thee, Thy Balme washt off, wherewith thou was Annointed: No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now, No humble suters prease to speake for right: No, not a man comes for redresse of thee: For how can I helpe them, and not my selfe? Sink. I, heere's a Deere, whose skin's a Keepers Fee: This is the quondam King; Let's seize vpon him

Hen. Let me embrace the sower Aduersaries, For Wise men say, it is the wisest course

Hum. Why linger we? Let vs lay hands vpon him

Sink. Forbeare a-while, wee'l heare a little more

Hen. My Queene and Son are gone to France for aid: And (as I heare) the great Commanding Warwicke I: thither gone, to craue the French Kings Sister To wife for Edward. If this newes be true, Poore Queene, and Sonne, your labour is but lost: For Warwicke is a subtle Orator: And Lewis a Prince soone wonne with mouing words: By this account then, Margaret may winne him, For she's a woman to be pittied much: Her sighes will make a batt'ry in his brest, Her teares will pierce into a Marble heart: The Tyger will be milde, whiles she doth mourne; And Nero will be tainted with remorse, To heare and see her plaints, her Brinish Teares. I, but shee's come to begge, Warwicke to giue: Shee on his left side, crauing ayde for Henrie; He on his right, asking a wife for Edward. Shee Weepes, and sayes, her Henry is depos'd: He Smiles, and sayes, his Edward is instaul'd; That she (poore Wretch) for greefe can speake no more: Whiles Warwicke tels his Title, smooths the Wrong, Inferreth arguments of mighty strength, And in conclusion winnes the King from her, With promise of his Sister, and what else, To strengthen and support King Edwards place. O Margaret, thus 'twill be, and thou (poore soule) Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorne

Hum. Say, what art thou talk'st of Kings & Queens? King. More then I seeme, and lesse then I was born to: A man at least, for lesse I should not be: And men may talke of Kings, and why not I? Hum. I, but thou talk'st, as if thou wer't a King

King. Why so I am (in Minde) and that's enough

Hum. But if thou be a King, where is thy Crowne? King. My Crowne is in my heart, not on my head: Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian stones: Nor to be seene: my Crowne, is call'd Content, A Crowne it is, that sildome Kings enioy

Hum. Well, if you be a King crown'd with Content, Your Crowne Content, and you, must be contented To go along with vs. For (as we thinke) You are the king King Edward hath depos'd: And we his subiects, sworne in all Allegeance, Will apprehend you, as his Enemie

King. But did you neuer sweare, and breake an Oath

Hum. No, neuer such an Oath, nor will not now

King. Where did you dwell when I was K[ing]. of England? Hum. Heere in this Country, where we now remaine

King. I was annointed King at nine monthes old, My Father, and my Grandfather were Kings: And you were sworne true Subiects vnto me: And tell me then, haue you not broke your Oathes? Sin. No, for we were Subiects, but while you wer king King. Why? Am I dead? Do I not breath a Man? Ah simple men, you know not what you sweare: Looke, as I blow this Feather from my Face, And as the Ayre blowes it to me againe, Obeying with my winde when I do blow, And yeelding to another, when it blowes, Commanded alwayes by the greater gust: Such is the lightnesse of you, common men. But do not breake your Oathes, for of that sinne, My milde intreatie shall not make you guiltie. Go where you will, the king shall be commanded, And be you kings, command, and Ile obey

Sinklo. We are true Subiects to the king, King Edward

King. So would you be againe to Henrie, If he were seated as king Edward is

Sinklo. We charge you in Gods name & the Kings, To go with vs vnto the Officers

King. In Gods name lead, your Kings name be obeyd, And what God will, that let your King performe. And what he will, I humbly yeeld vnto.

Exeunt.

Enter K[ing]. Edward, Gloster, Clarence, Lady Gray.

King. Brother of Gloster, at S[aint]. Albons field This Ladyes Husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slaine, His Land then seiz'd on by the Conqueror, Her suit is now, to repossesse those Lands, Which wee in Iustice cannot well deny, Because in Quarrell of the House of Yorke, The worthy Gentleman did lose his Life

Rich. Your Highnesse shall doe well to graunt her suit: It were dishonor to deny it her

King. It were no lesse, but yet Ile make a pawse

Rich. Yea, is it so: I see the Lady hath a thing to graunt, Before the King will graunt her humble suit

Clarence. Hee knowes the Game, how true hee keepes the winde? Rich. Silence

King. Widow, we will consider of your suit, And come some other time to know our minde

Wid. Right gracious Lord, I cannot brooke delay: May it please your Highnesse to resolue me now, And what your pleasure is, shall satisfie me

Rich. I Widow? then Ile warrant you all your Lands, And if what pleases him, shall pleasure you: Fight closer, or good faith you'le catch a Blow

Clarence. I feare her not, vnlesse she chance to fall

Rich. God forbid that, for hee'le take vantages

King. How many Children hast thou, Widow? tell me

Clarence. I thinke he meanes to begge a Child of her

Rich. Nay then whip me: hee'le rather giue her two

Wid. Three, my most gracious Lord

Rich. You shall haue foure, if you'le be rul'd by him

King. 'Twere pittie they should lose their Fathers Lands

Wid. Be pittifull, dread Lord, and graunt it then

King. Lords giue vs leaue, Ile trye this Widowes wit

Rich. I, good leaue haue you, for you will haue leaue, Till Youth take leaue, and leaue you to the Crutch

King. Now tell me, Madame, doe you loue your Children? Wid. I, full as dearely as I loue my selfe

King. And would you not doe much to doe them good? Wid. To doe them good, I would sustayne some harme

King. Then get your Husbands Lands, to doe them good

Wid. Therefore I came vnto your Maiestie

King. Ile tell you how these Lands are to be got

Wid. So shall you bind me to your Highnesse seruice

King. What seruice wilt thou doe me, if I giue 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 commands

Rich. Hee plyes her hard, and much Raine weares the Marble

Clar. As red as fire? nay then, her Wax must melt

Wid. Why stoppes my Lord? shall I not heare my Taske? King. An easie Taske, 'tis but to loue a King

Wid. That's soone perform'd, because I am a Subiect

King. Why then, thy Husbands Lands I freely giue thee

Wid. I take my leaue with many thousand thankes

Rich. The Match is made, shee seales it with a Cursie

King. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of loue I meane

Wid. The fruits of Loue, I meane, my louing Liege

King. I, but I feare me in another sence. What Loue, think'st thou, I sue so much to get? Wid. My loue till death, my humble thanks, my prayers, That loue which Vertue begges, and Vertue graunts

King. No, by my troth, I did not meane such loue

Wid. Why then you meane not, as I thought you did

King. But now you partly may perceiue my minde

Wid. My minde will neuer graunt what I perceiue Your Highnesse 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 Prison

King. Why then thou shalt not haue thy Husbands Lands

Wid. Why then mine Honestie 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 mightie Lord, this merry inclination Accords not with the sadnesse of my suit: Please you dismisse me, eyther with I, or no

King. I, if thou wilt say I to my request: No, if thou do'st say No to my demand

Wid. Then No, my Lord: my suit is at an end

Rich. The Widow likes him not, shee knits her Browes

Clarence. Hee is the bluntest Wooer in Christendome

King. Her Looks doth argue her replete with Modesty, Her Words doth shew her Wit incomparable, All her perfections challenge Soueraigntie, One way, or other, shee is for a King, And shee shall be my Loue, or else my Queene. Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queene? Wid. 'Tis better said then done, my gracious Lord: I am a subiect fit to ieast withall, But farre vnfit to be a Soueraigne

King. Sweet Widow, by my State I sweare to thee, I speake no more then what my Soule intends, And that is, to enioy thee for my Loue

Wid. And that is more then I will yeeld vnto: I know, I am too meane to be your Queene, And yet too good to be your Concubine

King. You cauill, Widow, I did meane my Queene

Wid. 'Twill grieue your Grace, my Sonnes 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, Haue other-some. Why, 'tis a happy thing, To be the Father vnto many Sonnes: Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queene

Rich. The Ghostly Father now hath done his Shrift

Clarence. When hee was made a Shriuer, 'twas for shift

King. Brothers, you muse what Chat wee two haue had

Rich. The Widow likes it not, for shee lookes very sad

King. You'ld thinke it strange, if I should marrie her

Clarence. To who, my Lord? King. Why Clarence, to my selfe

Rich. That would be tenne dayes wonder at the least

Clarence. That's a day longer then a Wonder lasts

Rich. By so much is the Wonder in extremes

King. Well, ieast on Brothers: I can tell you both, Her suit is graunted for her Husbands Lands. Enter a Noble man

Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken, And brought your Prisoner to your Pallace Gate

King. See that he be conuey'd vnto the Tower: And goe wee Brothers to the man that tooke him, To question of his apprehension. Widow goe you along: Lords vse her honourable.

Exeunt.

Manet Richard.

Rich. I, Edward will vse Women honourably: Would he were wasted, Marrow, Bones, and all, That from his Loynes no hopefull Branch may spring, To crosse me from the Golden time I looke for: And yet, betweene my Soules desire, and me, The lustfull Edwards Title buryed, Is Clarence, Henry, and his Sonne young Edward, And all the vnlook'd-for Issue of their Bodies, To take their Roomes, ere I can place my selfe: A cold premeditation for my purpose. Why then I doe but dreame on Soueraigntie, Like one that stands vpon a Promontorie, And spyes a farre-off shore, where hee would tread, Wishing his foot were equall with his eye, And chides the Sea, that sunders him from thence, Saying, hee'le lade it dry, to haue his way: So doe I wish the Crowne, being so farre off, And so I chide the meanes that keepes me from it, And so (I say) Ile cut the Causes off, Flattering me with impossibilities: My Eyes too quicke, my Heart o're-weenes too much, Vnlesse my Hand and Strength could equall them. Well, say there is no Kingdome then for Richard: What other Pleasure can the World affoord? Ile make my Heauen in a Ladies Lappe, And decke my Body in gay Ornaments, And 'witch sweet Ladies with my Words and Lookes. Oh miserable Thought! and more vnlikely, Then to accomplish twentie Golden Crownes. Why Loue forswore me in my Mothers Wombe: And for I should not deale in her soft Lawes, Shee did corrupt frayle Nature with some Bribe, To shrinke mine Arme vp like a wither'd Shrub, To make an enuious Mountaine on my Back, Where sits Deformitie to mocke my Body; To shape my Legges of an vnequall size, To dis-proportion me in euery part: Like to a Chaos, or an vn-lick'd Beare-whelpe, That carryes no impression like the Damme. And am I then a man to be belou'd? Oh monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought. Then since this Earth affoords no Ioy to me, But to command, to check, to o're-beare such, As are of better Person then my selfe: Ile make my Heauen, to dreame vpon the Crowne, And whiles I liue, t' account this World but Hell, Vntill my mis-shap'd Trunke, that beares this Head, Be round impaled with a glorious Crowne. And yet I know not how to get the Crowne, For many Liues stand betweene me and home: And I, like one lost in a Thornie Wood, That rents the Thornes, and is rent with the Thornes, Seeking a way, and straying from the way, Not knowing how to finde the open Ayre, But toyling desperately to finde it out, Torment my selfe, to catch the English Crowne: And from that torment I will free my selfe, Or hew my way out with a bloody Axe. Why I can smile, and murther whiles I smile, And cry, Content, to that which grieues my Heart, And wet my Cheekes with artificiall Teares, And frame my Face to all occasions. Ile drowne more Saylers then the Mermaid shall, Ile slay more gazers then the Basiliske, Ile play the Orator as well as Nestor, Deceiue more slyly then Vlisses could, And like a Synon, take another Troy. I can adde Colours to the Camelion, Change shapes with Proteus, for aduantages, And set the murtherous Macheuill to Schoole. Can I doe this, and cannot get a Crowne? Tut, were it farther off, Ile plucke it downe. Enter.

Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, his Sister Bona, his Admirall, call'd Bourbon: Prince Edward, Queene Margaret, and the Earle of Oxford. Lewis sits, and riseth vp againe.

Lewis. Faire Queene of England, worthy Margaret, Sit downe with vs: it ill befits thy State, And Birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis doth sit

Marg. No, mightie King of France: now Margaret Must strike her sayle, and learne a while to serue, Where Kings command. I was (I must confesse) Great Albions Queene, in former Golden dayes: But now mischance hath trod my Title downe, And with dis-honor layd me on the ground, Where I must take like Seat vnto my fortune, And to my humble Seat conforme my selfe

Lewis. Why say, faire Queene, whence springs this deepe despaire? Marg. From such a cause, as fills mine eyes with teares, And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares

Lewis. What ere it be, be thou still like thy selfe, And sit thee by our side.

Seats her by him.

Yeeld not thy necke to Fortunes yoake, But let thy dauntlesse minde still ride in triumph, Ouer all mischance. Be plaine, Queene Margaret, and tell thy griefe, It shall be eas'd, if France can yeeld reliefe

Marg. Those gracious words Reuiue my drooping thoughts, And giue my tongue-ty'd sorrowes leaue to speake. Now therefore be it knowne to Noble Lewis, That Henry, sole possessor of my Loue, Is, of a King, become a banisht man, And forc'd to liue in Scotland a Forlorne; While prowd ambitious Edward, Duke of Yorke, Vsurpes the Regall Title, and the Seat Of Englands true anoynted lawfull King. This is the cause that I, poore Margaret, With this my Sonne, Prince Edward, Henries Heire, Am come to craue thy iust and lawfull ayde: And if thou faile vs, all our hope is done. Scotland hath will to helpe, but cannot helpe: Our People, and our Peeres, are both mis-led, Our Treasure seiz'd, our Souldiors put to flight, And (as thou seest) our selues in heauie plight

Lewis. Renowned Queene, With patience calme the Storme, While we bethinke a meanes to breake it off

Marg. The more wee stay, the stronger growes our Foe

Lewis. The more I stay, the more Ile succour thee

Marg. O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow. And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow. Enter Warwicke.

Lewis. What's hee approacheth boldly to our presence? Marg. Our Earle of Warwicke, Edwards greatest Friend

Lewis. Welcome braue Warwicke, what brings thee to France?

Hee descends. Shee ariseth.

Marg. I now begins a second Storme to rise, For this is hee that moues both Winde and Tyde

Warw. From worthy Edward, King of Albion, My Lord and Soueraigne, and thy vowed Friend, I come (in Kindnesse, and vnfayned Loue) First, to doe greetings to thy Royall Person, And then to craue a League of Amitie: And lastly, to confirme that Amitie With Nuptiall Knot, if thou vouchsafe to graunt That vertuous Lady Bona, thy faire Sister, To Englands King, in lawfull Marriage

Marg. If that goe forward, Henries hope is done

Warw. And gracious Madame,

Speaking to Bona.

In our Kings behalfe, I am commanded, with your leaue and fauor, Humbly to kisse your Hand, and with my Tongue To tell the passion of my Soueraignes Heart; Where Fame, late entring at his heedfull 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 Loue, But from Deceit, bred by Necessitie: For how can Tyrants safely gouerne home, Vnlesse abroad they purchase great allyance? To proue him Tyrant, this reason may suffice, That Henry liueth still: but were hee dead, Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henries Sonne. Looke therefore Lewis, that by this League and Mariage Thou draw not on thy Danger, and Dis-honor: For though Vsurpers sway the rule a while, Yet Heau'ns are iust, and Time suppresseth Wrongs

Warw. Iniurious Margaret

Edw. And why not Queene? Warw. Because thy Father Henry did vsurpe, And thou no more art Prince, then shee is Queene

Oxf. Then Warwicke disanulls great Iohn of Gaunt, Which did subdue the greatest part of Spaine; And after Iohn of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, Whose Wisdome was a Mirror to the wisest: And after that wise Prince, Henry the Fift, Who by his Prowesse conquered all France: From these, our Henry lineally descends

Warw. Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse, You told not, how Henry the Sixt hath lost All that, which Henry the Fift had gotten: Me thinkes these Peeres of France should smile at that. But for the rest: you tell a Pedigree Of threescore and two yeeres, a silly time To make prescription for a Kingdomes worth

Oxf. Why Warwicke, canst thou speak against thy Liege, Whom thou obeyd'st thirtie and six yeeres, And not bewray thy Treason with a Blush? Warw. Can Oxford, that did euer fence the right, Now buckler Falsehood with a Pedigree? For shame leaue Henry, and call Edward King

Oxf. Call him my King, by whose iniurious doome My elder Brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere Was done to death? and more then so, my Father, Euen in the downe-fall of his mellow'd yeeres, When Nature brought him to the doore of Death? No Warwicke, no: while Life vpholds this Arme, This Arme vpholds the House of Lancaster

Warw. And I the House of Yorke

Lewis. Queene Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe at our request, to stand aside, While I vse further conference with Warwicke.

They stand aloofe.

Marg. Heauens graunt, that Warwickes wordes bewitch him not

Lew. Now Warwicke, tell me euen vpon thy conscience 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 Honor

Lewis. But is hee gracious in the Peoples eye? Warw. The more, that Henry was vnfortunate

Lewis. Then further: all dissembling set aside, Tell me for truth, the measure of his Loue Vnto our Sister Bona

War. Such it seemes, As may beseeme a Monarch like himselfe. My selfe haue often heard him say, and sweare, That this his Loue was an externall Plant, Whereof the Root was fixt in Vertues ground, The Leaues and Fruit maintain'd with Beauties Sunne, Exempt from Enuy, but not from Disdaine, Vnlesse the Lady Bona quit his paine

Lewis. Now Sister, let vs heare your firme resolue

Bona. Your graunt, or your denyall, shall be mine. Yet I confesse, that often ere this day,

Speaks to War[wicke].

When I haue heard your Kings desert recounted, Mine eare hath tempted iudgement to desire

Lewis. Then Warwicke, thus: Our Sister shall be Edwards. And now forthwith shall Articles be drawne, Touching the Ioynture that your King must make, Which with her Dowrie shall be counter-poys'd: Draw neere, Queene Margaret, and be a witnesse, That Bona shall be Wife to the English King

Pr.Edw. To Edward, but not to the English King

Marg. Deceitfull Warwicke, it was thy deuice, By this alliance to make void my suit: Before thy comming, Lewis was Henries friend

Lewis. And still is friend to him, and Margaret. But if your Title to the Crowne by weake, As may appeare by Edwards good successe: Then 'tis but reason, that I be releas'd From giuing ayde, which late I promised. Yet shall you haue all kindnesse at my hand, That your Estate requires, and mine can yeeld

Warw. Henry now liues in Scotland, at his ease; Where hauing nothing, nothing can he lose. And as for you your selfe (our quondam Queene) You haue a Father able to maintaine you, And better 'twere, you troubled him, then France

Mar. Peace impudent, and shamelesse Warwicke, Proud setter vp, 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 slye conueyance, and thy Lords false loue,

Post blowing a horne Within.

For both of you are Birds of selfe-same Feather

Lewes. Warwicke, this is some poste to vs, or thee. Enter the Poste.

Post. My Lord Ambassador, These Letters are for you.

Speakes to Warwick,

Sent from your Brother Marquesse Montague. These from our King, vnto your Maiesty.

To Lewis.

And Madam, these for you:

To Margaret

From whom, I know not.

They all reade their Letters.

Oxf. I like it well, that our faire Queene and Mistris Smiles at her newes, while Warwicke frownes at his

Prince Ed. Nay marke how Lewis stampes as he were netled. I hope, all's for the best

Lew. Warwicke, what are thy Newes? And yours, faire Queene

Mar. Mine such, as fill my heart with vnhop'd ioyes

War. Mine full of sorrow, and hearts discontent

Lew. What? has your King married the Lady Grey? And now to sooth your Forgery, and his, Sends me a Paper to perswade me Patience? Is this th' Alliance that he seekes with France? Dare he presume to scorne vs in this manner? Mar. I told your Maiesty as much before: This proueth Edwards Loue, and Warwickes honesty

War. King Lewis, I heere protest in sight of heauen, And by the hope I haue of heauenly blisse, That I am cleere from this misdeed of Edwards; No more my King, for he dishonors me, But most himselfe, if he could see his shame. Did I forget, that by the House of Yorke My Father came vntimely to his death? Did I let passe th' abuse done to my Neece? Did I impale him with the Regall Crowne? Did I put Henry from his Natiue Right? And am I guerdon'd at the last, with Shame? Shame on himselfe, for my Desert is Honor. And to repaire my Honor lost for him, I heere renounce him, and returne to Henry. My Noble Queene, let former grudges passe, And henceforth, I am thy true Seruitour: I will reuenge his wrong to Lady Bona, And replant Henry in his former state

Mar. Warwicke, These words haue turn'd my Hate, to Loue, And I forgiue, and quite forget old faults, And ioy that thou becom'st King Henries Friend

War. So much his Friend, I, his Vnfained Friend, That if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish vs With some few Bands of chosen Soldiours, Ile vndertake 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, Hee's very likely now to fall from him, For matching more for wanton Lust, then Honor, Or then for strength and safety of our Country

Bona. Deere Brother, how shall Bona be reueng'd, But by thy helpe to this distressed Queene? Mar. Renowned Prince, how shall Poore Henry liue, Vnlesse thou rescue him from foule dispaire? Bona. My quarrel, and this English Queens, are one

War. And mine faire Lady Bona, ioynes with yours

Lew. And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margarets. Therefore, at last, I firmely am resolu'd You shall haue ayde

Mar. Let me giue humble thankes for all, at once

Lew. Then Englands Messenger, returne in Poste, And tell false Edward, thy supposed King, That Lewis of France, is sending ouer Maskers To reuell it with him, and his new Bride. Thou seest what's past, go feare thy King withall

Bona. Tell him, in hope hee'l proue a widower shortly, I weare the Willow Garland for his sake

Mar. Tell him, my mourning weeds are layde aside, And I am ready to put Armor on

War. Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong, And therefore Ile vn-Crowne him, er't be long. There's thy reward, be gone.

Exit Post.

Lew. But Warwicke, Thou and Oxford, with fiue thousand men Shall crosse the Seas, and bid false Edward battaile: And as occasion serues, this Noble Queen And Prince, shall follow with a fresh Supply. Yet ere thou go, but answer me one doubt: What Pledge haue we of thy firme Loyalty? War. This shall assure my constant Loyalty, That if our Queene, and this young Prince agree, Ile ioyne mine eldest daughter, and my Ioy, To him forthwith, in holy Wedlocke bands

Mar. Yes, I agree, and thanke you for your Motion. Sonne Edward, she is Faire and Vertuous, Therefore delay not, giue thy hand to Warwicke, And with thy hand, thy faith irreuocable, That onely Warwickes daughter shall be thine

Prin.Ed. Yes, I accept her, for she well deserues it, And heere to pledge my Vow, I giue my hand.

He giues his hand to Warw[icke].

Lew. Why stay we now? These soldiers shalbe leuied, And thou Lord Bourbon, our High Admirall Shall waft them ouer with our Royall Fleete. I long till Edward fall by Warres mischance, For mocking Marriage with a Dame of France.

Exeunt. Manet Warwicke.

War. I came from Edward as Ambassador, But I returne his sworne and mortall Foe: Matter of Marriage was the charge he gaue me, But dreadfull Warre shall answer his demand. Had he none else to make a stale but me? Then none but I, shall turne his Iest to Sorrow. I was the Cheefe that rais'd him to the Crowne, And Ile be Cheefe to bring him downe againe: Not that I pitty Henries misery, But seeke Reuenge on Edwards mockery. Enter.

Enter Richard, Clarence, Somerset, and Mountague.

Rich. Now tell me Brother Clarence, what thinke you Of this new Marriage with the Lady Gray? Hath not our Brother made a worthy choice? Cla. Alas, you know, tis farre from hence to France, How could he stay till Warwicke made returne? Som. My Lords, forbeare this talke: heere comes the King.

Flourish. Enter King Edward, Lady Grey, Penbrooke, Stafford, Hastings: foure stand on one side, and foure on the other.

Rich. And his well-chosen Bride

Clarence. I minde to tell him plainly what I thinke

King. Now Brother of Clarence, How like you our Choyce, That you stand pensiue, as halfe malecontent? Clarence. As well as Lewis of France, Or the Earle of Warwicke, Which are so weake of courage, and in iudgement, That they'le take no offence at our abuse

King. Suppose they take offence without a cause: They are but Lewis and Warwicke, I am Edward, Your King and Warwickes, and must haue my will

Rich. And shall haue your will, because our King: Yet hastie Marriage seldome proueth well

King. Yea, Brother Richard, are you offended too? Rich. Not I: no: God forbid, that I should wish them seuer'd, Whom God hath ioyn'd together: I, and 'twere pittie, to sunder them, That yoake so well together

King. Setting your skornes, and your mislike aside, Tell me some reason, why the Lady Grey Should not become my Wife, and Englands Queene? And you too, Somerset, and Mountague, Speake freely what you thinke

Clarence. Then this is mine opinion: That King Lewis becomes your Enemie, For mocking him about the Marriage Of the Lady Bona

Rich. And Warwicke, doing what you gaue in charge, Is now dis-honored by this new Marriage

King. What, if both Lewis and Warwick be appeas'd, By such inuention as I can deuise? Mount. Yet, to haue ioyn'd with France in such alliance, Would more haue strength'ned this our Commonwealth 'Gainst forraine stormes, then any home-bred Marriage

Hast. Why, knowes not Mountague, that of it selfe, England is safe, if true within it selfe? Mount. But the safer, when 'tis back'd with France

Hast. 'Tis better vsing France, then trusting France: Let vs be back'd with God, and with the Seas, Which he hath giu'n for fence impregnable, And with their helpes, onely defend our selues: In them, and in our selues, our safetie lyes

Clar. For this one speech, Lord Hastings well deserues To haue the Heire of the Lord Hungerford

King. I, what of that? it was my will, and graunt, And for this once, my Will shall stand for Law

Rich. And yet me thinks, your Grace hath not done well, To giue the Heire and Daughter of Lord Scales Vnto the Brother of your louing Bride; Shee better would haue fitted me, or Clarence: But in your Bride you burie Brotherhood

Clar. Or else you would not haue bestow'd the Heire Of the Lord Bonuill on your new Wiues Sonne, And leaue your Brothers to goe speede elsewhere

King. Alas, poore Clarence: is it for a Wife That thou art malecontent? I will prouide thee

Clarence. In chusing for your selfe, You shew'd your iudgement: Which being shallow, you shall giue me leaue To play the Broker in mine owne behalfe; And to that end, I shortly minde to leaue you

King. Leaue me, or tarry, Edward will be King, And not be ty'd vnto his Brothers will

Lady Grey. My Lords, before it pleas'd his Maiestie To rayse my State to Title of a Queene, Doe me but right, and you must all confesse, That I was not ignoble of Descent, And meaner then my selfe haue had like fortune. But as this Title honors me and mine, So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing, Doth cloud my ioyes with danger, and with sorrow

King. My Loue, forbeare to fawne vpon their frownes: What danger, or what sorrow can befall thee, So long as Edward is thy constant friend, And their true Soueraigne, whom they must obey? Nay, whom they shall obey, and loue thee too, Vnlesse they seeke for hatred at my hands: Which if they doe, yet will I keepe thee safe, And they shall feele the vengeance of my wrath

Rich. I heare, yet say not much, but thinke the more. Enter a Poste

King. Now Messenger, what Letters, or what Newes from France? Post. My Soueraigne Liege, no Letters, & few words, But such, as I (without your speciall pardon) Dare not relate

King. Goe too, wee pardon thee: Therefore, in briefe, tell me their words, As neere as thou canst guesse them. What answer makes King Lewis vnto our Letters? Post. At my depart, these were his very words: Goe tell false Edward, the supposed King, That Lewis of France is sending ouer Maskers, To reuell it with him, and his new Bride

King. Is Lewis so braue? belike he thinkes me Henry. But what said Lady Bona to my Marriage? Post. These were her words, vtt'red with mild disdaine: Tell him, in hope hee'le proue a Widower shortly, Ile weare the Willow Garland for his sake

King. I blame not her; she could say little lesse: She had the wrong. But what said Henries Queene? For I haue heard, that she was there in place

Post. Tell him (quoth she) My mourning Weedes are done, And I am readie to put Armour on

King. Belike she minds to play the Amazon. But what said Warwicke to these iniuries? Post. He, more incens'd against your Maiestie, Then all the rest, discharg'd me with these words: Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong, And therefore Ile vncrowne him, er't be long

King. Ha? durst the Traytor breath out so prowd words? Well, I will arme me, being thus fore-warn'd: They shall haue Warres, and pay for their presumption. But say, is Warwicke friends with Margaret? Post. I, gracious Soueraigne, They are so link'd in friendship, That yong Prince Edward marryes Warwicks Daughter

Clarence. Belike, the elder; Clarence will haue the younger. Now Brother King farewell, and sit you fast, For I will hence to Warwickes other Daughter, That though I want a Kingdome, yet in Marriage I may not proue inferior to your selfe. You that loue me, and Warwicke, follow me.

Exit Clarence, and Somerset followes.

Rich. Not I: My thoughts ayme at a further matter: I stay not for the loue of Edward, but the Crowne

King. Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwicke? Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen: And haste is needfull in this desp'rate case. Pembrooke and Stafford, you in our behalfe Goe leuie men, and make prepare for Warre; They are alreadie, or quickly will be landed: My selfe in person will straight follow you.

Exeunt. Pembrooke and Stafford.

But ere I goe, Hastings and Mountague Resolue my doubt: you twaine, of all the rest, Are neere to Warwicke, by bloud, and by allyance: Tell me, if you loue Warwicke more then me; If it be so, then both depart to him: I rather wish you foes, then hollow friends. But if you minde to hold your true obedience, Giue me assurance with some friendly Vow, That I may neuer haue you in suspect

Mount. So God helpe Mountague, as hee proues true

Hast. And Hastings, as hee fauours Edwards cause

King. Now, Brother Richard, will you stand by vs? Rich. I, in despight of all that shall withstand you

King. Why so: then am I sure of Victorie. Now therefore let vs hence, and lose no howre, Till wee meet Warwicke, with his forreine powre.

Exeunt.

Enter Warwicke and Oxford in England, with French Souldiors.

Warw. Trust me, my Lord, all hitherto goes well, The common people by numbers swarme to vs. Enter Clarence and Somerset.

But see where Somerset and Clarence comes: Speake suddenly, my Lords, are wee all friends? Clar. Feare not that, my Lord

Warw. Then gentle Clarence, welcome vnto Warwicke, And welcome Somerset: I hold it cowardize, To rest mistrustfull, where a Noble Heart Hath pawn'd an open Hand, in signe of Loue; Else might I thinke, that Clarence, Edwards Brother, Were but a fained friend to our proceedings: But welcome sweet Clarence, my Daughter shall be thine. And now, what rests? but in Nights Couerture, Thy Brother being carelessely encamp'd, His Souldiors lurking in the Towne about, And but attended by a simple Guard, Wee may surprize and take him at our pleasure, Our Scouts haue found the aduenture very easie: That as Vlysses, and stout Diomede, With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus Tents, And brought from thence the Thracian fatall Steeds; So wee, well couer'd with the Nights black Mantle, At vnawares may beat downe Edwards Guard, And seize himselfe: I say not, slaughter him, For I intend but onely to surprize him. You that will follow me to this attempt, Applaud the Name of Henry, with your Leader.

They all cry, Henry.

Why then, let's on our way in silent sort, For Warwicke and his friends, God and Saint George.

Exeunt.

Enter three Watchmen to guard the Kings Tent.

1.Watch. Come on my Masters, each man take his stand, The King by this, is set him downe to sleepe

2.Watch. What, will he not to Bed? 1.Watch. Why, no: for he hath made a solemne Vow, Neuer to lye and take his naturall Rest, Till Warwicke, or himselfe, be quite supprest

2.Watch. To morrow then belike shall be the day, If Warwicke be so neere as men report

3.Watch. But say, I pray, what Noble man is that, That with the King here resteth in his Tent? 1.Watch. 'Tis the Lord Hastings, the Kings chiefest friend

3.Watch. O, is it so? but why commands the King, That his chiefe followers lodge in Townes about him, While he himselfe keepes in the cold field? 2.Watch. 'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous

3.Watch. I, but giue me worship, and quietnesse, I like it better then a dangerous honor. If Warwicke knew in what estate he stands, 'Tis to be doubted if he would waken him

1.Watch. Vnlesse our Halberds did shut vp his passage

2.Watch. I: wherefore else guard we his Royall Tent, But to defend his Person from Night-foes? Enter Warwicke, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset, and French Souldiors, silent all.

Warw. This is his Tent, and see where stand his Guard: Courage my Masters: Honor now, or neuer: But follow me, and Edward shall be ours

1.Watch. Who goes there? 2.Watch. Stay, or thou dyest.

Warwicke and the rest cry all, Warwicke, Warwicke, and set vpon the Guard, who flye, crying, Arme, Arme, Warwicke and the rest following them.

The Drumme playing, and Trumpet sounding. Enter Warwicke, Somerset, and the rest, bringing the King out in his Gowne, sitting in a Chaire: Richard and Hastings flyes ouer the Stage

Som. What are they that flye there? Warw. Richard and Hastings: let them goe, heere is the Duke

K.Edw. The Duke? Why Warwicke, when wee parted, Thou call'dst me King

Warw. I, but the case is alter'd. When you disgrac'd me in my Embassade, Then I degraded you from being King, And come now to create you Duke of Yorke. Alas, how should you gouerne any Kingdome, That know not how to vse Embassadors, Nor how to be contented with one Wife, Nor how to vse your Brothers Brotherly, Nor how to studie for the Peoples Welfare, Nor how to shrowd your selfe from Enemies? K.Edw. Yea, Brother of Clarence, Art thou here too? Nay then I see, that Edward needs must downe. Yet Warwicke, in despight of all mischance, Of thee thy selfe, and all thy Complices, Edward will alwayes beare himselfe as King: Though Fortunes mallice ouerthrow my State, My minde exceedes the compasse of her Wheele

Warw. Then for his minde, be Edward Englands King,

Takes off his Crowne.

But Henry now shall weare the English Crowne, And be true King indeede: thou but the shadow. My Lord of Somerset, at my request, See that forthwith Duke Edward be conuey'd Vnto my Brother Arch-Bishop of Yorke: When I haue fought with Pembrooke, and his fellowes, Ile follow you, and tell what answer Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him. Now for a-while farewell good Duke of Yorke.

They leade him out forcibly.

K.Ed. What Fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both winde and tide.

Exeunt.

Oxf. What now remaines my Lords for vs to do, But march to London with our Soldiers? War. I, that's the first thing that we haue to do, To free King Henry from imprisonment, And see him seated in the Regall Throne. Enter.

Enter Riuers, and Lady Gray.

Riu. Madam, what makes you in this sodain change? Gray. Why Brother Riuers, are you yet to learne What late misfortune is befalne King Edward? Riu. What losse of some pitcht battell Against Warwicke? Gray. No, but the losse of his owne Royall person

Riu. Then is my Soueraigne slaine? Gray. I almost slaine, for he is taken prisoner, Either betrayd by falshood of his Guard, Or by his Foe surpriz'd at vnawares: And as I further haue to vnderstand, Is new committed to the Bishop of Yorke, Fell Warwickes Brother, and by that our Foe

Riu. These Newes I must confesse are full of greefe, Yet gracious Madam, beare it as you may, Warwicke may loose, that now hath wonne the day

Gray. Till then, faire hope must hinder liues decay: And I the rather waine me from dispaire For loue of Edwards Off-spring in my wombe: This is it that makes me bridle passion, And beare with Mildnesse my misfortunes crosse: I, I, for this I draw in many a teare, And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighes, Least with my sighes or teares, I blast or drowne King Edwards Fruite, true heyre to th' English Crowne

Riu. But Madam, Where is Warwicke then become? Gray. I am inform'd that he comes towards London, To set the Crowne once more on Henries head, Guesse thou the rest, King Edwards Friends must downe. But to preuent the Tyrants violence, (For trust not him that hath once broken Faith) Ile hence forthwith vnto the Sanctuary, To saue (at least) the heire of Edwards right: There shall I rest secure from force and fraud: Come therefore let vs flye, while we may flye, If Warwicke take vs, we are sure to dye.

Exeunt.

Enter Richard, Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley.

Rich. Now my Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley Leaue off to wonder why I drew you hither, Into this cheefest Thicket of the Parke. Thus stand the case: you know our King, my Brother, Is prisoner to the Bishop here, at whose hands He hath good vsage, and great liberty, And often but attended with weake guard, Come hunting this way to disport himselfe. I haue aduertis'd him by secret meanes, That if about this houre he make this way, Vnder the colour of his vsuall game, He shall heere finde his Friends with Horse and Men, To set him free from his Captiuitie. Enter King Edward, and a Huntsman with him.

Huntsman. This way my Lord, For this way lies the Game

King Edw. Nay this way man, See where the Huntsmen stand. Now Brother of Gloster, Lord Hastings, and the rest, Stand you thus close to steale the Bishops Deere? Rich. Brother, the time and case, requireth hast, Your horse stands ready at the Parke-corner

King Ed. But whether shall we then? Hast. To Lyn my Lord, And shipt from thence to Flanders

Rich. Wel guest beleeue me, for that was my meaning K.Ed. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardnesse

Rich. But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talke

K.Ed. Huntsman, what say'st thou? Wilt thou go along? Hunts. Better do so, then tarry and be hang'd

Rich. Come then away, lets ha no more adoo

K.Ed. Bishop farwell, Sheeld thee from Warwickes frowne, And pray that I may re-possesse the Crowne.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King Henry the sixt, Clarence, Warwicke, Somerset, young Henry, Oxford, Mountague, and Lieutenant.

K.Hen. M[aster]. Lieutenant, now that God and Friends Haue shaken Edward from the Regall seate, And turn'd my captiue state to libertie, My feare to hope, my sorrowes vnto ioyes, At our enlargement what are thy due Fees? Lieu. Subiects may challenge nothing of their Sou'rains But, if an humble prayer may preuaile, I then craue pardon of your Maiestie

K.Hen. For what, Lieutenant? For well vsing me? Nay, be thou sure, Ile well requite thy kindnesse. For that it made my imprisonment, a pleasure: I, such a pleasure, as incaged Birds Conceiue; when after many moody Thoughts, At last, by Notes of Houshold harmonie, They quite forget their losse of Libertie. But Warwicke, after God, thou set'st me free, And chiefely therefore, I thanke God, and thee, He was the Author, thou the Instrument. Therefore that I may conquer Fortunes spight, By liuing low, where Fortune cannot hurt me, And that the people of this blessed Land May not be punisht with my thwarting starres, Warwicke, although my Head still weare the Crowne, I here resigne my Gouernment to thee, For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds

Warw. Your Grace hath still beene fam'd for vertuous, And now may seeme as wise as vertuous, By spying and auoiding Fortunes malice, For few men rightly temper with the Starres: Yet in this one thing let me blame your Grace, For chusing me, when Clarence is in place

Clar. No Warwicke, thou art worthy of the sway, To whom the Heau'ns in thy Natiuitie, Adiudg'd an Oliue Branch, and Lawrell Crowne, As likely to be blest in Peace and Warre: And therefore I yeeld thee my free consent

Warw. And I chuse Clarence onely for Protector

King. Warwick and Clarence, giue me both your Hands: Now ioyne your Hands, & with your Hands your Hearts, That no dissention hinder Gouernment: I make you both Protectors of this Land, While I my selfe will lead a priuate Life, And in deuotion spend my latter dayes, To sinnes rebuke, and my Creators prayse

Warw. What answeres Clarence to his Soueraignes will? Clar. That he consents, if Warwicke yeeld consent, For on thy fortune I repose my selfe

Warw. Why then, though loth, yet must I be content: Wee'le yoake together, like a double shadow To Henries Body, and supply his place; I meane, in bearing weight of Gouernment, While he enioyes the Honor, and his ease. And Clarence, now then it is more then needfull, Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a Traytor, And all his Lands and Goods confiscate

Clar. What else? and that Succession be determined

Warw. I, therein Clarence shall not want his part

King. But with the first, of all your chiefe affaires, Let me entreat (for I command no more) That Margaret your Queene, and my Sonne Edward, Be sent for, to returne from France with speed: For till I see them here, by doubtfull feare, My ioy of libertie is halfe eclips'd

Clar. It shall bee done, my Soueraigne, with all speede

King. My Lord of Somerset, what Youth is that, Of whom you seeme to haue so tender care? Somers. My Liege, it is young Henry, Earle of Richmond

King. Come hither, Englands Hope:

Layes his Hand on his Head.

If secret Powers suggest but truth To my diuining thoughts, This prettie Lad will proue our Countries blisse. His Lookes are full of peacefull Maiestie, His Head by nature fram'd to weare a Crowne, His Hand to wield a Scepter, and himselfe Likely in time to blesse a Regall Throne: Make much of him, my Lords; for this is hee Must helpe you more, then you are hurt by mee. Enter a Poste.

Warw. What newes, my friend? Poste. That Edward is escaped from your Brother, And fled (as hee heares since) to Burgundie

Warw. Vnsauorie newes: but how made he escape? Poste. He was conuey'd by Richard, Duke of Gloster, And the Lord Hastings, who attended him In secret ambush, on the Forrest side, And from the Bishops Huntsmen rescu'd him: For Hunting was his dayly Exercise

Warw. My Brother was too carelesse of his charge. But let vs hence, my Soueraigne, to prouide A salue for any sore, that may betide.

Exeunt.

Manet Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford.

Som. My Lord, I like not of this flight of Edwards: For doubtlesse, Burgundie will yeeld him helpe, And we shall haue more Warres befor't be long. As Henries late presaging Prophecie Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Richmond: So doth my heart mis-giue me, in these Conflicts, What may befall him, to his harme and ours. Therefore, Lord Oxford, to preuent the worst, Forthwith wee'le send him hence to Brittanie, Till stormes be past of Ciuill Enmitie

Oxf. I: for if Edward re-possesse the Crowne, 'Tis like that Richmond, with the rest, shall downe

Som. It shall be so: he shall to Brittanie. Come therefore, let's about it speedily.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Hastings, and Souldiers.

Edw. Now Brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest, Yet thus farre Fortune maketh vs amends, And sayes, that once more I shall enterchange My wained state, for Henries Regall Crowne. Well haue we pass'd, and now re-pass'd the Seas, And brought desired helpe from Burgundie. What then remaines, we being thus arriu'd From Rauenspurre Hauen, before the Gates of Yorke, But that we enter, as into our Dukedome? Rich. The Gates made fast? Brother, I like not this. For many men that stumble at the Threshold, Are well fore-told, that danger lurkes within

Edw. Tush man, aboadments must not now affright vs: By faire or foule meanes we must enter in, For hither will our friends repaire to vs

Hast. My Liege, Ile knocke once more, to summon them. Enter on the Walls, the Maior of Yorke, and his Brethren.

Maior. My Lords, We were fore-warned of your comming, And shut the Gates, for safetie of our selues; For now we owe allegeance vnto Henry

Edw. But, Master Maior, if Henry be your King, Yet Edward, at the least, is Duke of Yorke

Maior. True, my good Lord, I know you for no lesse

Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but my Dukedome, As being well content with that alone

Rich. But when the Fox hath once got in his Nose, Hee'le soone finde meanes to make the Body follow

Hast. Why, Master Maior, why stand you in a doubt? Open the Gates, we are King Henries friends

Maior. I, say you so? the Gates shall then be opened.

He descends.

Rich. A wise stout Captaine, and soone perswaded

Hast. The good old man would faine that all were wel, So 'twere not long of him: but being entred, I doubt not I, but we shall soone perswade Both him, and all his Brothers, vnto reason. Enter the Maior, and two Aldermen.

Edw. So, Master Maior: these Gates must not be shut, But in the Night, or in the time of Warre. What, feare not man, but yeeld me vp the Keyes,

Takes his Keyes.

For Edward will defend the Towne, and thee, And all those friends, that deine to follow mee.

March. Enter Mountgomerie, with Drumme and Souldiers.

Rich. Brother, this is Sir Iohn Mountgomerie, Our trustie friend, vnlesse I be deceiu'd

Edw. Welcome Sir Iohn: but why come you in Armes? Mount. To helpe King Edward in his time of storme, As euery loyall Subiect ought to doe

Edw. Thankes good Mountgomerie: But we now forget our Title to the Crowne, And onely clayme our Dukedome, Till God please to send the rest

Mount. Then fare you well, for I will hence againe, I came to serue a King, and not a Duke: Drummer strike vp, and let vs march away.

The Drumme begins to march.

Edw. Nay stay, Sir Iohn, a while, and wee'le debate By what safe meanes the Crowne may be recouer'd

Mount. What talke you of debating? in few words, If you'le not here proclaime your selfe our King, Ile leaue you to your fortune, and be gone, To keepe them back, that come to succour you. Why shall we fight, if you pretend no Title? Rich. Why Brother, wherefore stand you on nice points? Edw. When wee grow stronger, Then wee'le make our Clayme: Till then, 'tis wisdome to conceale our meaning

Hast. Away with scrupulous Wit, now Armes must rule

Rich. And fearelesse minds clyme soonest vnto Crowns. Brother, we will proclaime you out of hand, The bruit thereof will bring you many friends

Edw. Then be it as you will: for 'tis my right, And Henry but vsurpes the Diademe

Mount. I, now my Soueraigne speaketh like himselfe, And now will I be Edwards Champion

Hast. Sound Trumpet, Edward shal be here proclaim'd: Come, fellow Souldior, make thou proclamation.

Flourish. Sound.

Soul. Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of God, King of England and France, and Lord of Ireland, &c

Mount. And whosoe're gainsayes King Edwards right, By this I challenge him to single fight.

Throwes downe his Gauntlet.

All. Long liue Edward the Fourth

Edw. Thankes braue Mountgomery, And thankes vnto you all: If fortune serue me, Ile requite this kindnesse. Now for this Night, let's harbor here in Yorke: And when the Morning Sunne shall rayse his Carre Aboue the Border of this Horizon, Wee'le forward towards Warwicke, and his Mates; For well I wot, that Henry is no Souldier. Ah froward Clarence, how euill it beseemes thee, To flatter Henry, and forsake thy Brother? Yet as wee may, wee'le meet both thee and Warwicke. Come on braue Souldiors: doubt not of the Day, And that once gotten, doubt not of large Pay.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter the King, Warwicke, Mountague, Clarence, Oxford, and Somerset.

War. What counsaile, Lords? Edward from Belgia, With hastie Germanes, and blunt Hollanders, Hath pass'd in safetie through the Narrow Seas, And with his troupes doth march amaine to London, And many giddie people flock to him

King. Let's leuie men, and beat him backe againe

Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which being suffer'd, Riuers cannot quench

War. In Warwickshire I haue true-hearted friends, Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in Warre, Those will I muster vp: and thou Sonne Clarence Shalt stirre vp in Suffolke, Norfolke, and in Kent, The Knights and Gentlemen, to come with thee. Thou Brother Mountague, in Buckingham, Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find Men well enclin'd to heare what thou command'st. And thou, braue Oxford, wondrous well belou'd, In Oxfordshire shalt muster vp thy friends. My Soueraigne, with the louing Citizens, Like to his Iland, gyrt in with the Ocean, Or modest Dyan, circled with her Nymphs, Shall rest in London, till we come to him: Faire Lords take leaue, and stand not to reply. Farewell my Soueraigne

King. Farewell my Hector, and my Troyes true hope

Clar. In signe of truth, I kisse your Highnesse Hand

King. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate

Mount. Comfort, my Lord, and so I take my leaue

Oxf. And thus I seale my truth, and bid adieu

King. Sweet Oxford, and my louing Mountague, And all at once, once more a happy farewell

War. Farewell, sweet Lords, let's meet at Couentry.

Exeunt.

King. Here at the Pallace will I rest a while. Cousin of Exeter, what thinkes your Lordship? Me thinkes, the Power that Edward hath in field, Should not be able to encounter mine

Exet. The doubt is, that he will seduce the rest

King. That's not my feare, my meed hath got me fame: I haue not stopt mine eares to their demands, Nor posted off their suites with slow delayes, My pittie hath beene balme to heale their wounds, My mildnesse hath allay'd their swelling griefes, My mercie dry'd their water-flowing teares. I haue not been desirous of their wealth, Nor much opprest them with great Subsidies, Nor forward of reuenge, though they much err'd. Then why should they loue Edward more then me? No Exeter, these Graces challenge Grace: And when the Lyon fawnes vpon the Lambe, The Lambe will neuer cease to follow him.

Shout within, A Lancaster, A Lancaster.

Exet. Hearke, hearke, my Lord, what Shouts are these? Enter Edward and his Souldiers.

Edw. Seize on the shamefac'd Henry, beare him hence, And once againe proclaime vs King of England. You are the Fount, that makes small Brookes to flow, Now stops thy Spring, my Sea shall suck them dry, And swell so much the higher, by their ebbe. Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speake.

Exit with King Henry.

And Lords, towards Couentry bend we our course, Where peremptorie Warwicke now remaines: The Sunne shines hot, and if we vse delay, Cold biting Winter marres our hop'd-for Hay

Rich. Away betimes, before his forces ioyne, And take the great-growne Traytor vnawares: Braue Warriors, march amaine towards Couentry.

Exeunt.

Enter Warwicke, the Maior of Couentry, two Messengers, and others vpon the Walls.

War. Where is the Post that came from valiant Oxford? How farre hence is thy Lord, mine honest fellow? Mess .1. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward

War. How farre off is our Brother Mountague? Where is the Post that came from Mountague? Mess. 2. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troope. Enter Someruile.

War. Say Someruile, what sayes my louing Sonne? And by thy guesse, how nigh is Clarence now? Someru. At Southam I did leaue him with his forces, And doe expect him here some two howres hence

War. Then Clarence is at hand, I heare his Drumme

Someru. It is not his, my Lord, here Southam lyes: The Drum your Honor heares, marcheth from Warwicke

War. Who should that be? belike vnlook'd for friends

Someru. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.

March. Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, and Souldiers.

Edw. Goe, Trumpet, to the Walls, and sound a Parle

Rich. See how the surly Warwicke mans the Wall

War. Oh vnbid spight, is sportfull Edward come? Where slept our Scouts, or how are they seduc'd, That we could heare no newes of his repayre

Edw. Now Warwicke, wilt thou ope the Citie Gates, Speake gentle words, and humbly bend thy Knee, Call Edward King, and at his hands begge Mercy, And he shall pardon thee these Outrages? War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence, Confesse who set thee vp, and pluckt thee downe, Call Warwicke Patron, and be penitent, And thou shalt still remaine the Duke of Yorke

Rich. I thought at least he would haue said the King, Or did he make the Ieast against his will? War. Is not a Dukedome, Sir, a goodly gift? Rich. I, by my faith, for a poore Earle to giue, Ile doe thee seruice for so good a gift

War. 'Twas I that gaue the Kingdome to thy Brother

Edw. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwickes gift

War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight: And Weakeling, Warwicke takes his gift againe, And Henry is my King, Warwicke his Subiect

Edw. But Warwickes King is Edwards Prisoner: And gallant Warwicke, doe but answer this, What is the Body, when the Head is off? Rich. Alas, that Warwicke had no more fore-cast, But whiles he thought to steale the single Ten, The King was slyly finger'd from the Deck: You left poore Henry at the Bishops Pallace, And tenne to one you'le meet him in the Tower

Edw. 'Tis euen so, yet you are Warwicke still

Rich. Come Warwicke, Take the time, kneele downe, kneele downe: Nay when? strike now, or else the Iron cooles

War. I had rather chop this Hand off at a blow, And with the other, fling it at thy face, Then beare so low a sayle, to strike to thee

Edw. Sayle how thou canst, Haue Winde and Tyde thy friend, This Hand, fast wound about thy coale-black hayre, Shall, whiles thy Head is warme, and new cut off, Write in the dust this Sentence with thy blood, Wind-changing Warwicke now can change no more. Enter Oxford, with Drumme and Colours.

War. Oh chearefull Colours, see where Oxford comes

Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster

Rich. The Gates are open, let vs enter too

Edw. So other foes may set vpon our backs. Stand we in good array: for they no doubt Will issue out againe, and bid vs battaile; If not, the Citie being but of small defence, Wee'le quickly rowze the Traitors in the same

War. Oh welcome Oxford, for we want thy helpe. Enter Mountague, with Drumme and Colours.

Mount. Mountague, Mountague, for Lancaster

Rich. Thou and thy Brother both shall buy this Treason Euen with the dearest blood your bodies beare

Edw. The harder matcht, the greater Victorie, My minde presageth happy gaine, and Conquest. Enter Somerset, with Drumme and Colours.

Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster

Rich. Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerset, Haue sold their Liues vnto the House of Yorke, And thou shalt be the third, if this Sword hold. Enter Clarence, with Drumme and Colours.

War. And loe, where George of Clarence sweepes along, Of force enough to bid his Brother Battaile: With whom, in vpright zeale to right, preuailes More then the nature of a Brothers Loue. Come Clarence, come: thou wilt, if Warwicke call

Clar. Father of Warwicke, know you what this meanes? Looke here, I throw my infamie at thee: I will not ruinate my Fathers House, Who gaue his blood to lyme the stones together, And set vp Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwicke, That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, vnnaturall, To bend the fatall Instruments of Warre Against his Brother, and his lawfull King. Perhaps thou wilt obiect my holy Oath: To keepe that Oath, were more impietie, Then Iephah, when he sacrific'd his Daughter. I am so sorry for my Trespas made, That to deserue well at my Brothers hands, I here proclayme my selfe thy mortall foe: With resolution, wheresoe're I meet thee, (As I will meet thee, if thou stirre abroad) To plague thee, for thy foule mis-leading me. And so, prowd-hearted Warwicke, I defie thee, And to my Brother turne my blushing Cheekes. Pardon me Edward, I will make amends: And Richard, doe not frowne vpon my faults, For I will henceforth be no more vnconstant

Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more belou'd, Then if thou neuer hadst deseru'd our hate

Rich. Welcome good Clarence, this is Brother-like

Warw. Oh passing Traytor, periur'd and vniust

Edw. What Warwicke, Wilt thou leaue the Towne, and fight? Or shall we beat the Stones about thine Eares? Warw. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence: I will away towards Barnet presently, And bid thee Battaile, Edward, if thou dar'st

Edw. Yes Warwicke, Edward dares, and leads the way: Lords to the field: Saint George, and Victorie.

Exeunt.

March. Warwicke and his companie followes.

Alarum, and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing forth Warwicke wounded.

Edw. So, lye thou there: dye thou, and dye our feare, For Warwicke was a Bugge that fear'd vs all. Now Mountague sit fast, I seeke for thee, That Warwickes Bones may keepe thine companie. Enter.

Warw. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe, And tell me who is Victor, Yorke, or Warwicke? Why aske I that? my mangled body shewes, My blood, my want of strength, my sicke heart shewes, That I must yeeld my body to the Earth, And by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yeelds the Cedar to the Axes edge, Whose Armes gaue shelter to the Princely Eagle, Vnder whose shade the ramping Lyon slept, Whose top-branch ouer-peer'd Ioues spreading Tree, And kept low Shrubs from Winters pow'rfull Winde. These Eyes, that now are dim'd with Deaths black Veyle, Haue beene as piercing as the Mid-day Sunne, To search the secret Treasons of the World: The Wrinckles in my Browes, now fill'd with blood, Were lik'ned oft to Kingly Sepulchers: For who liu'd King, but I could digge his Graue? And who durst smile, when Warwicke bent his Brow? Loe, now my Glory smear'd in dust and blood. My Parkes, my Walkes, my Mannors that I had, Euen now forsake me; and of all my Lands, Is nothing left me, but my bodies length. Why, what is Pompe, Rule, Reigne, but Earth and Dust? And liue we how we can, yet dye we must. Enter Oxford and Somerset.

Som. Ah Warwicke, Warwicke, wert thou as we are, We might recouer all our Losse againe: The Queene from France hath brought a puissant power. Euen now we heard the newes: ah, could'st thou flye

Warw. Why then I would not flye. Ah Mountague, If thou be there, sweet Brother, take my Hand, And with thy Lippes keepe in my Soule a while. Thou lou'st me not: for, Brother, if thou did'st, Thy teares would wash this cold congealed blood, That glewes my Lippes, and will not let me speake. Come quickly Mountague, or I am dead

Som. Ah Warwicke, Mountague hath breath'd his last, And to the latest gaspe, cry'd out for Warwicke: And said, Commend me to my valiant Brother. And more he would haue said, and more he spoke, Which sounded like a Cannon in a Vault, That mought not be distinguisht: but at last, I well might heare, deliuered with a groane, Oh farewell Warwicke

Warw. Sweet rest his Soule: Flye Lords, and saue your selues, For Warwicke bids you all farewell, to meet in Heauen

Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queenes great power.

Here they beare away his Body. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Richard, Clarence, and the rest.

King. Thus farre our fortune keepes an vpward course, And we are grac'd with wreaths of Victorie: But in the midst of this bright-shining Day, I spy a black suspicious threatning Cloud, That will encounter with our glorious Sunne, Ere he attaine his easefull Westerne Bed: I meane, my Lords, those powers that the Queene Hath rays'd in Gallia, haue arriued our Coast, And, as we heare, march on to fight with vs

Clar. A little gale will soone disperse that Cloud, And blow it to the Source from whence it came, Thy very Beames will dry those Vapours vp, For euery Cloud engenders not a Storme

Rich. The Queene is valued thirtie thousand strong, And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her: If she haue time to breathe, be well assur'd Her faction will be full as strong as ours

King. We are aduertis'd by our louing friends, That they doe hold their course toward Tewksbury. We hauing now the best at Barnet field, Will thither straight, for willingnesse rids way, And as we march, our strength will be augmented: In euery Countie as we goe along, Strike vp the Drumme, cry courage, and away.

Exeunt.

Flourish. March. Enter the Queene, young Edward, Somerset, Oxford, and Souldiers.

Qu. Great Lords, wise men ne'r sit and waile their losse, But chearely seeke how to redresse their harmes. What though the Mast be now blowne ouer-boord, The Cable broke, the holding-Anchor lost, And halfe our Saylors swallow'd in the flood? Yet liues our Pilot still. Is't meet, that hee Should leaue the Helme, and like a fearefull Lad, With tearefull Eyes adde Water to the Sea, And giue more strength to that which hath too much, Whiles in his moane, the Ship splits on the Rock, Which Industrie and Courage might haue sau'd? Ah what a shame, ah what a fault were this. Say Warwicke was our Anchor: what of that? And Mountague our Top-Mast: what of him? Our slaught'red friends, the Tackles: what of these? Why is not Oxford here, another Anchor? And Somerset, another goodly Mast? The friends of France our Shrowds and Tacklings? And though vnskilfull, why not Ned and I, For once allow'd the skilfull Pilots Charge? We will not from the Helme, to sit and weepe, But keepe our Course (though the rough Winde say no) From Shelues and Rocks, that threaten vs with Wrack. As good to chide the Waues, as speake them faire. And what is Edward, but a ruthlesse Sea? What Clarence, but a Quick-sand of Deceit? And Richard, but a raged fatall Rocke? All these, the Enemies to our poore Barke. Say you can swim, alas 'tis but a while: Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly sinke, Bestride the Rock, the Tyde will wash you off, Or else you famish, that's a three-fold Death. This speake I (Lords) to let you vnderstand, If case some one of you would flye from vs, That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers, More then with ruthlesse Waues, with Sands and Rocks. Why courage then, what cannot be auoided, 'Twere childish weakenesse to lament, or feare

Prince. Me thinkes a Woman of this valiant Spirit, Should, if a Coward heard her speake these words, Infuse his Breast with Magnanimitie, And make him, naked, foyle a man at Armes. I speake not this, as doubting any here: For did I but suspect a fearefull man, He should haue leaue to goe away betimes, Least in our need he might infect another, And make him of like spirit to himselfe. If any such be here, as God forbid, Let him depart, before we neede his helpe

Oxf. Women and Children of so high a courage, And Warriors faint, why 'twere perpetuall shame. Oh braue young Prince: thy famous Grandfather Doth liue againe in thee; long may'st thou liue, To beare his Image, and renew his Glories

Som. And he that will not fight for such a hope, Goe home to Bed, and like the Owle by day, If he arise, be mock'd and wondred at

Qu. Thankes gentle Somerset, sweet Oxford thankes

Prince. And take his thankes, that yet hath nothing else. Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Prepare you Lords, for Edward is at hand, Readie to fight: therefore be resolute

Oxf. I thought no lesse: it is his Policie, To haste thus fast, to finde vs vnprouided

Som. But hee's deceiu'd, we are in readinesse

Qu. This cheares my heart, to see your forwardnesse

Oxf. Here pitch our Battaile, hence we will not budge.

Flourish, and march. Enter Edward, Richard, Clarence, and Souldiers.

Edw. Braue followers, yonder stands the thornie Wood, Which by the Heauens assistance, and your strength, Must by the Roots be hew'ne vp yet ere Night. I need not adde more fuell to your fire, For well I wot, ye blaze, to burne them out: Giue signall to the fight, and to it Lords

Qu. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I should say, My teares gaine-say: for euery word I speake, Ye see I drinke the water of my eye. Therefore no more but this: Henry your Soueraigne Is Prisoner to the Foe, his State vsurp'd, His Realme a slaughter-house, his Subiects slaine, His Statutes cancell'd, and his Treasure spent: And yonder is the Wolfe, that makes this spoyle. You fight in Iustice: then in Gods Name, Lords, Be valiant, and giue signall to the fight.

Alarum, Retreat, Excursions. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Queene, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset.

Edw. Now here a period of tumultuous Broyles. Away with Oxford, to Hames Castle straight: For Somerset, off with his guiltie Head. Goe beare them hence, I will not heare them speake

Oxf. For my part, Ile not trouble thee with words

Som. Nor I, but stoupe with patience to my fortune.

Exeunt.

Qu. So part we sadly in this troublous World, To meet with Ioy in sweet Ierusalem

Edw. Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward, Shall haue a high Reward, and he his Life? Rich. It is, and loe where youthfull Edward comes. Enter the Prince.

Edw. Bring forth the Gallant, let vs heare him speake. What? can so young a Thorne begin to prick? Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make, For bearing Armes, for stirring vp my Subiects, And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to? Prince. Speake like a Subiect, prowd ambitious Yorke. Suppose that I am now my Fathers Mouth, Resigne thy Chayre, and where I stand, kneele thou, Whil'st I propose the selfe-same words to thee, Which (Traytor) thou would'st haue me answer to

Qu. Ah, that thy Father had beene so resolu'd

Rich. That you might still haue worne the Petticoat, And ne're haue stolne the Breech from Lancaster

Prince. Let Aesop fable in a Winters Night, His Currish Riddles sorts not with this place

Rich. By Heauen, Brat, Ile plague ye for that word

Qu. I, thou wast borne to be a plague to men

Rich. For Gods sake, take away this Captiue Scold

Prince. Nay, take away this scolding Crooke-backe, rather

Edw. Peace wilfull Boy, or I will charme your tongue

Clar. Vntutor'd Lad, thou art too malapert

Prince. I know my dutie, you are all vndutifull: Lasciuious Edward, and thou periur'd George, And thou mis-shapen Dicke, I tell ye all, I am your better, Traytors as ye are, And thou vsurp'st my Fathers right and mine

Edw. Take that, the likenesse of this Rayler here.

Stabs him.

Rich. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agonie.

Rich[ard]. stabs him.

Clar. And ther's for twitting me with periurie.

Clar[ence]. stabs him.

Qu. Oh, kill me too

Rich. Marry, and shall.

Offers to kill her.

Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we haue done too much

Rich. Why should shee liue, to fill the World with words

Edw. What? doth shee swowne? vse meanes for her recouerie

Rich. Clarence excuse me to the King my Brother: Ile hence to London on a serious matter, Ere ye come there, be sure to heare some newes

Cla. What? what? Rich. Tower, the Tower. Enter.

Qu. Oh Ned, sweet Ned, speake to thy Mother Boy. Can'st thou not speake? O Traitors, Murtherers! They that stabb'd Cæsar, shed no blood at all: Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame, If this foule deed were by, to equall it. He was a Man; this (in respect) a Childe, And Men, ne're spend their fury on a Childe. What's worse then Murtherer, that I may name it? No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speake, And I will speake, that so my heart may burst. Butchers and Villaines, bloudy Caniballes, How sweet a Plant haue you vntimely cropt: You haue no children (Butchers) if you had, The thought of them would haue stirr'd vp remorse, But if you euer chance to haue a Childe, Looke in his youth to haue him so cut off. As deathsmen you haue rid this sweet yong Prince

King. Away with her, go beare her hence perforce

Qu. Nay, neuer beare me hence, dispatch me heere: Here sheath thy Sword, Ile pardon thee my death: What? wilt thou not? Then Clarence do it thou

Cla. By heauen, I will not do thee so much ease

Qu. Good Clarence do: sweet Clarence do thou do it

Cla. Did'st thou not heare me sweare I would not do it? Qu. I, but thou vsest to forsweare thy selfe. 'Twas Sin before, but now 'tis Charity What wilt y not? Where is that diuels butcher Richard? Hard fauor'd Richard? Richard, where art thou? Thou art not heere; Murther is thy Almes-deed: Petitioners for Blood, thou ne're put'st backe

Ed. Away I say, I charge ye beare her hence, Qu. So come to you, and yours, as to this Prince.

Exit Queene.

Ed. Where's Richard gone

Cla. To London all in post, and as I guesse, To make a bloody Supper in the Tower

Ed. He's sodaine if a thing comes in his head. Now march we hence, discharge the common sort With Pay and Thankes, and let's away to London, And see our gentle Queene how well she fares, By this (I hope) she hath a Sonne for me. Enter.

Enter Henry the sixt, and Richard, with the Lieutenant on the Walles.

Rich. Good day, my Lord, what at your Booke so hard? Hen. I my good Lord: my Lord I should say rather, Tis sinne to flatter, Good was little better: 'Good Gloster, and good Deuill, were alike, And both preposterous: therefore, not Good Lord

Rich. Sirra, leaue vs to our selues, we must conferre

Hen. So flies the wreaklesse shepherd from y Wolfe: So first the harmlesse Sheepe doth yeeld his Fleece, And next his Throate, vnto the Butchers Knife. What Scene of death hath Rossius now to Acte? Rich. Suspition alwayes haunts the guilty minde, The Theefe doth feare each bush an Officer, Hen. The Bird that hath bin limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth euery bush; And I the haplesse Male to one sweet Bird, Haue now the fatall Obiect in my eye, Where my poore yong was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd

Rich. Why what a peeuish Foole was that of Creet, That taught his Sonne the office of a Fowle, And yet for all his wings, the Foole was drown'd

Hen. I Dedalus, my poore Boy Icarus, Thy Father Minos, that deni'de our course, The Sunne that sear'd the wings of my sweet Boy. Thy Brother Edward, and thy Selfe, the Sea Whose enuious Gulfe did swallow vp his life: Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with words, My brest can better brooke thy Daggers point, Then can my eares that Tragicke History. But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my Life? Rich. Think'st thou I am an Executioner? Hen. A Persecutor I am sure thou art, If murthering Innocents be Executing, Why then thou art an Executioner

Rich. Thy Son I kill'd for his presumption

Hen. Hadst thou bin kill'd, when first y didst presume, Thou had'st not liu'd to kill a Sonne of mine: And thus I prophesie, that many a thousand, Which now mistrust no parcell of my feare, And many an old mans sighe, and many a Widdowes, And many an Orphans water-standing-eye, Men for their Sonnes, Wiues for their Husbands, Orphans, for their Parents timeles death, Shall rue the houre that euer thou was't borne. The Owle shriek'd at thy birth, an euill signe, The Night-Crow cry'de, aboding lucklesse time, Dogs howl'd, and hiddeous Tempest shook down Trees: The Rauen rook'd her on the Chimnies top, And chatt'ring Pies in dismall Discords sung: Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine, And yet brought forth lesse then a Mothers hope, To wit, an indigested and deformed lumpe, Not like the fruit of such a goodly Tree. Teeth had'st thou in thy head, when thou was't borne, To signifie, thou cam'st to bite the world: And if the rest be true, which I haue heard, Thou cam'st- Rich. Ile heare no more: Dye Prophet in thy speech,

Stabbes him.

For this (among'st the rest) was I ordain'd

Hen. I, and for much more slaughter after this, O God forgiue my sinnes, and pardon thee.

Dyes.

Rich. What? will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sinke in the ground? I thought it would haue mounted. See how my sword weepes for the poore Kings death. O may such purple teares be alway shed From those that wish the downfall of our house. If any sparke of Life be yet remaining, Downe, downe to hell, and say I sent thee thither.

Stabs him againe.

I that haue neyther pitty, loue, nor feare, Indeed 'tis true that Henrie told me of: For I haue often heard my Mother say, I came into the world with my Legges forward. Had I not reason (thinke ye) to make hast, And seeke their Ruine, that vsurp'd our Right? The Midwife wonder'd, and the Women cri'de O Iesus blesse vs, he is borne with teeth, And so I was, which plainly signified, That I should snarle, and bite, and play the dogge: Then since the Heauens haue shap'd my Body so, Let Hell make crook'd my Minde to answer it. I haue no Brother, I am like no Brother: And this word (Loue) which Gray-beards call Diuine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me: I am my selfe alone. Clarence beware, thou keept'st me from the Light, But I will sort a pitchy day for thee: For I will buzze abroad such Prophesies, That Edward shall be fearefull of his life, And then to purge his feare, Ile be thy death. King Henry, and the Prince his Son are gone, Clarence thy turne is next, and then the rest, Counting my selfe but bad, till I be best. Ile throw thy body in another roome, And Triumph Henry, in thy day of Doome. Enter.

Flourish. Enter King, Queene, Clarence, Richard, Hastings, Nurse, and Attendants.

King. Once more we sit in Englands Royall Throne, Re-purchac'd with the Blood of Enemies: What valiant Foe-men, like to Autumnes Corne, Haue we mow'd downe in tops of all their pride? Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold Renowne, For hardy and vndoubted Champions: Two Cliffords, as the Father and the Sonne, And two Northumberlands: two brauer men, Ne're spurr'd their Coursers at the Trumpets sound. With them, the two braue Beares, Warwick & Montague, That in their Chaines fetter'd the Kingly Lyon, And made the Forrest tremble when they roar'd. Thus haue we swept Suspition from our Seate, And made our Footstoole of Security. Come hither Besse, and let me kisse my Boy: Yong Ned, for thee, thine Vnckles, and my selfe, Haue in our Armors watcht the Winters night, Went all afoote in Summers scalding heate, That thou might'st repossesse the Crowne in peace, And of our Labours thou shalt reape the gaine

Rich. Ile blast his Haruest, if your head were laid, For yet I am not look'd on in the world. This shoulder was ordain'd so thicke, to heaue, And heaue it shall some waight, or breake my backe, Worke thou the way, and that shalt execute

King. Clarence and Gloster, loue my louely Queene, And kis your Princely Nephew Brothers both

Cla. The duty that I owe vnto your Maiesty, I Seale vpon the lips of this sweet Babe

Cla. Thanke Noble Clarence, worthy brother thanks

Rich. And that I loue the tree fro[m] whence y sprang'st: Witnesse the louing kisse I giue the Fruite, To say the truth, so Iudas kist his master, And cried all haile, when as he meant all harme

King. Now am I seated as my soule delights, Hauing my Countries peace, and Brothers loues

Cla. What will your Grace haue done with Margaret, Reynard her Father, to the King of France Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Ierusalem, And hither haue they sent it for her ransome

King. Away with her, and waft her hence to France: And now what rests, but that we spend the time With stately Triumphes, mirthfull Comicke shewes, Such as befits the pleasure of the Court. Sound Drums and Trumpets, farwell sowre annoy, For heere I hope begins our lasting ioy.

Exeunt. omnes

FINIS. The third Part of Henry the Sixt, with the death of the Duke of YORKE.

The Tragedie of Richard the Third

with the Landing of Earle Richmond, and the Battell at Bosworth Field

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Richard Duke of Gloster, solus.

Now is the Winter of our Discontent, Made glorious Summer by this Son of Yorke: And all the clouds that lowr'd vpon our house In the deepe bosome of the Ocean buried. Now are our browes bound with Victorious Wreathes, Our bruised armes hung vp for Monuments; Our sterne Alarums chang'd to merry Meetings; Our dreadfull Marches, to delightfull Measures. Grim-visag'd Warre, hath smooth'd his wrinkled Front: And now, in stead of mounting Barbed Steeds, To fright the Soules of fearfull Aduersaries, He capers nimbly in a Ladies Chamber, To the lasciuious pleasing of a Lute. But I, that am not shap'd for sportiue trickes, Nor made to court an amorous Looking-glasse: I, that am Rudely stampt, and want loues Maiesty, To strut before a wonton ambling Nymph: I, that am curtail'd of this faire Proportion, Cheated of Feature by dissembling Nature, Deform'd, vn-finish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing World, scarse halfe made vp, And that so lamely and vnfashionable, That dogges barke at me, as I halt by them. Why I (in this weake piping time of Peace) Haue no delight to passe away the time, Vnlesse to see my Shadow in the Sunne, And descant on mine owne Deformity. And therefore, since I cannot proue a Louer, To entertaine these faire well spoken dayes, I am determined to proue a Villaine, And hate the idle pleasures of these dayes. Plots haue I laide, Inductions dangerous, By drunken Prophesies, Libels, and Dreames, To set my Brother Clarence and the King In deadly hate, the one against the other: And if King Edward be as true and iust, As I am Subtle, False, and Treacherous, This day should Clarence closely be mew'd vp: About a Prophesie, which sayes that G, Of Edwards heyres the murtherer shall be. Diue thoughts downe to my soule, here Clarence comes. Enter Clarence, and Brakenbury, guarded.

Brother, good day: What meanes this armed guard That waites vpon your Grace? Cla. His Maiesty tendring my persons safety, Hath appointed this Conduct, to conuey me to th' Tower Rich. Vpon what cause? Cla. Because my name is George

Rich. Alacke my Lord, that fault is none of yours: He should for that commit your Godfathers. O belike, his Maiesty hath some intent, That you should be new Christned in the Tower, But what's the matter Clarence, may I know? Cla. Yea Richard, when I know: but I protest As yet I do not: But as I can learne, He hearkens after Prophesies and Dreames, And from the Crosse-row pluckes the letter G: And sayes, a Wizard told him, that by G, His issue disinherited should be. And for my name of George begins with G, It followes in his thought, that I am he. These (as I learne) and such like toyes as these, Hath moou'd his Highnesse to commit me now

Rich. Why this it is, when men are rul'd by Women: 'Tis not the King that sends you to the Tower, My Lady Grey his Wife, Clarence 'tis shee, That tempts him to this harsh Extremity. Was it not shee, and that good man of Worship, Anthony Woodeuile her Brother there, That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower? From whence this present day he is deliuered? We are not safe Clarence, we are not safe

Cla. By heauen, I thinke there is no man secure But the Queenes Kindred, and night-walking Heralds, That trudge betwixt the King, and Mistris Shore. Heard you not what an humble Suppliant Lord Hastings was, for her deliuery? Rich. Humbly complaining to her Deitie, Got my Lord Chamberlaine his libertie. Ile tell you what, I thinke it is our way, If we will keepe in fauour with the King, To be her men, and weare her Liuery. The iealous ore-worne Widdow, and her selfe, Since that our Brother dub'd them Gentlewomen, Are mighty Gossips in our Monarchy

Bra. I beseech your Graces both to pardon me, His Maiesty hath straightly giuen in charge, That no man shall haue priuate Conference (Of what degree soeuer) with your Brother

Rich. Euen so, and please your Worship Brakenbury, You may partake of any thing we say: We speake no Treason man; We say the King Is wise and vertuous, and his Noble Queene Well strooke in yeares, faire, and not iealious. We say, that Shores Wife hath a pretty Foot, A cherry Lip, a bonny Eye, a passing pleasing tongue: And that the Queenes Kindred are made gentle Folkes. How say you sir? can you deny all this? Bra. With this (my Lord) my selfe haue nought to doo

Rich. Naught to do with Mistris Shore? I tell thee Fellow, he that doth naught with her (Excepting one) were best to do it secretly alone

Bra. What one, my Lord? Rich. Her Husband Knaue, would'st thou betray me? Bra. I do beseech your Grace To pardon me, and withall forbeare Your Conference with the Noble Duke

Cla. We know thy charge Brakenbury, and wil obey

Rich. We are the Queenes abiects, and must obey. Brother farewell, I will vnto the King, And whatsoe're you will imploy me in, Were it to call King Edwards Widdow, Sister, I will performe it to infranchise you. Meane time, this deepe disgrace in Brotherhood, Touches me deeper then you can imagine

Cla. I know it pleaseth neither of vs well

Rich. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long, I will deliuer you, or else lye for you: Meane time, haue patience

Cla. I must perforce: Farewell.

Exit Clar[ence].

Rich. Go treade the path that thou shalt ne're return: Simple plaine Clarence, I do loue thee so, That I will shortly send thy Soule to Heauen, If Heauen will take the present at our hands. But who comes heere? the new deliuered Hastings? Enter Lord Hastings.

Hast. Good time of day vnto my gracious Lord

Rich. As much vnto my good Lord Chamberlaine: Well are you welcome to this open Ayre, How hath your Lordship brook'd imprisonment? Hast. With patience (Noble Lord) as prisoners must: But I shall liue (my Lord) to giue them thankes That were the cause of my imprisonment

Rich. No doubt, no doubt, and so shall Clarence too, For they that were your Enemies, are his, And haue preuail'd as much on him, as you, Hast. More pitty, that the Eagles should be mew'd, Whiles Kites and Buzards play at liberty

Rich. What newes abroad? Hast. No newes so bad abroad, as this at home: The King is sickly, weake, and melancholly, And his Physitians feare him mightily

Rich. Now by S[aint]. Iohn, that Newes is bad indeed. O he hath kept an euill Diet long, And ouer-much consum'd his Royall Person: 'Tis very greeuous to be thought vpon. Where is he, in his bed? Hast. He is

Rich. Go you before, and I will follow you.

Exit Hastings.

He cannot liue I hope, and must not dye, Till George be pack'd with post-horse vp to Heauen. Ile in to vrge his hatred more to Clarence, With Lyes well steel'd with weighty Arguments, And if I faile not in my deepe intent, Clarence hath not another day to liue: Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, And leaue the world for me to bussle in. For then, Ile marry Warwickes yongest daughter. What though I kill'd her Husband, and her Father, The readiest way to make the Wench amends, Is to become her Husband, and her Father: The which will I, not all so much for loue, As for another secret close intent, By marrying her, which I must reach vnto. But yet I run before my horse to Market: Clarence still breathes, Edward still liues and raignes, When they are gone, then must I count my gaines.

Exit

Scena Secunda.

Enter the Coarse of Henrie the sixt with Halberds to guard it, Lady Anne being the Mourner.

Anne. Set downe, set downe your honourable load, If Honor may be shrowded in a Herse; Whil'st I a-while obsequiously lament Th' vntimely fall of Vertuous Lancaster. Poore key-cold Figure of a holy King, Pale Ashes of the House of Lancaster; Thou bloodlesse Remnant of that Royall Blood, Be it lawfull that I inuocate thy Ghost, To heare the Lamentations of poore Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtred Sonne, Stab'd by the selfesame hand that made these wounds. Loe, in these windowes that let forth thy life, I powre the helplesse Balme of my poore eyes. O cursed be the hand that made these holes: Cursed the Heart, that had the heart to do it: Cursed the Blood, that let this blood from hence: More direfull hap betide that hated Wretch That makes vs wretched by the death of thee, Then I can wish to Wolues, to Spiders, Toades, Or any creeping venom'd thing that liues. If euer he haue Childe, Abortiue be it, Prodigeous, and vntimely brought to light, Whose vgly and vnnaturall Aspect May fright the hopefull Mother at the view, And that be Heyre to his vnhappinesse. If euer he haue Wife, let her be made More miserable by the death of him, Then I am made by my young Lord, and thee. Come now towards Chertsey with your holy Lode, Taken from Paules, to be interred there. And still as you are weary of this waight, Rest you, whiles I lament King Henries Coarse. Enter Richard Duke of Gloster.

Rich. Stay you that beare the Coarse, & set it down

An. What blacke Magitian coniures vp this Fiend, To stop deuoted charitable deeds? Rich. Villaines set downe the Coarse, or by S[aint]. Paul, Ile make a Coarse of him that disobeyes

Gen. My Lord stand backe, and let the Coffin passe

Rich. Vnmanner'd Dogge, Stand'st thou when I commaund: Aduance thy Halbert higher then my brest, Or by S[aint]. Paul Ile strike thee to my Foote, And spurne vpon thee Begger for thy boldnesse

Anne. What do you tremble? are you all affraid? Alas, I blame you not, for you are Mortall, And Mortall eyes cannot endure the Diuell. Auant thou dreadfull minister of Hell; Thou had'st but power ouer his Mortall body, His Soule thou canst not haue: Therefore be gone

Rich. Sweet Saint, for Charity, be not so curst

An. Foule Diuell, For Gods sake hence, and trouble vs not, For thou hast made the happy earth thy Hell: Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deepe exclaimes: If thou delight to view thy heynous deeds, Behold this patterne of thy Butcheries. Oh Gentlemen, see, see dead Henries wounds, Open their congeal'd mouthes, and bleed afresh. Blush, blush, thou lumpe of fowle Deformitie: For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty Veines where no blood dwels. Thy Deeds inhumane and vnnaturall, Prouokes this Deluge most vnnaturall. O God! which this Blood mad'st, reuenge his death: O Earth! which this Blood drink'st, reuenge his death. Either Heau'n with Lightning strike the murth'rer dead: Or Earth gape open wide, and eate him quicke, As thou dost swallow vp this good Kings blood, Which his Hell-gouern'd arme hath butchered

Rich. Lady, you know no Rules of Charity, Which renders good for bad, Blessings for Curses

An. Villaine, thou know'st nor law of God nor Man, No Beast so fierce, but knowes some touch of pitty

Rich. But I know none, and therefore am no Beast

An. O wonderfull, when diuels tell the truth! Rich. More wonderfull, when Angels are so angry: Vouchsafe (diuine perfection of a Woman) Of these supposed Crimes, to giue me leaue By circumstance, but to acquit my selfe

An. Vouchsafe (defus'd infection of man) Of these knowne euils, but to giue me leaue By circumstance, to curse thy cursed Selfe

Rich. Fairer then tongue can name thee, let me haue Some patient leysure to excuse my selfe

An. Fouler then heart can thinke thee, Thou can'st make no excuse currant, But to hang thy selfe

Rich. By such dispaire, I should accuse my selfe

An. And by dispairing shalt thou stand excused, For doing worthy Vengeance on thy selfe, That did'st vnworthy slaughter vpon others

Rich. Say that I slew them not

An. Then say they were not slaine: But dead they are, and diuellish slaue by thee

Rich. I did not kill your Husband

An. Why then he is aliue

Rich. Nay, he is dead, and slaine by Edwards hands

An. In thy foule throat thou Ly'st, Queene Margaret saw Thy murd'rous Faulchion smoaking in his blood: The which, thou once didd'st bend against her brest, But that thy Brothers beate aside the point

Rich. I was prouoked by her sland'rous tongue, That laid their guilt, vpon my guiltlesse Shoulders

An. Thou was't prouoked by thy bloody minde, That neuer dream'st on ought but Butcheries: Did'st thou not kill this King? Rich. I graunt ye

An. Do'st grant me Hedge-hogge, Then God graunt me too Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deede, O he was gentle, milde, and vertuous

Rich. The better for the King of heauen that hath him

An. He is in heauen, where thou shalt neuer come

Rich. Let him thanke me, that holpe to send him thither: For he was fitter for that place then earth

An. And thou vnfit for any place, but hell

Rich. Yes one place else, if you will heare me name it

An. Some dungeon

Rich. Your Bed-chamber

An. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou lyest

Rich. So will it Madam, till I lye with you

An. I hope so

Rich. I know so. But gentle Lady Anne, To leaue this keene encounter of our wittes, And fall something into a slower method. Is not the causer of the timelesse deaths Of these Plantagenets, Henrie and Edward, As blamefull as the Executioner

An. Thou was't the cause, and most accurst effect

Rich. Your beauty was the cause of that effect: Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleepe, To vndertake the death of all the world, So I might liue one houre in your sweet bosome

An. If I thought that, I tell thee Homicide, These Nailes should rent that beauty from my Cheekes

Rich. These eyes could not endure y beauties wrack, You should not blemish it, if I stood by; As all the world is cheared by the Sunne, So I by that: It is my day, my life

An. Blacke night ore-shade thy day, & death thy life

Rich. Curse not thy selfe faire Creature, Thou art both

An. I would I were, to be reueng'd on thee

Rich. It is a quarrell most vnnaturall, To be reueng'd on him that loueth thee

An. It is a quarrell iust and reasonable, To be reueng'd on him that kill'd my Husband

Rich. He that bereft the Lady of thy Husband, Did it to helpe thee to a better Husband

An. His better doth not breath vpon the earth

Rich. He liues, that loues thee better then he could

An. Name him

Rich. Plantagenet

An. Why that was he

Rich. The selfesame name, but one of better Nature

An. Where is he? Rich. Heere:

Spits at him.

Why dost thou spit at me

An. Would it were mortall poyson, for thy sake

Rich. Neuer came poyson from so sweet a place

An. Neuer hung poyson on a fowler Toade. Out of my sight, thou dost infect mine eyes

Rich. Thine eyes (sweet Lady) haue infected mine

An. Would they were Basiliskes, to strike thee dead

Rich. I would they were, that I might dye at once: For now they kill me with a liuing death. Those eyes of thine, from mine haue drawne salt Teares; Sham'd their Aspects with store of childish drops: These eyes, which neuer shed remorsefull teare, No, when my Father Yorke, and Edward wept, To heare the pittious moane that Rutland made When black-fac'd Clifford shooke his sword at him. Nor when thy warlike Father like a Childe, Told the sad storie of my Fathers death, And twenty times, made pause to sob and weepe: That all the standers by had wet their cheekes Like Trees bedash'd with raine. In that sad time, My manly eyes did scorne an humble teare: And what these sorrowes could not thence exhale, Thy Beauty hath, and made them blinde with weeping. I neuer sued to Friend, nor Enemy: My Tongue could neuer learne sweet smoothing word. But now thy Beauty is propos'd my Fee, My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speake.

She lookes scornfully at him.

Teach not thy lip such Scorne; for it was made For kissing Lady, not for such contempt. If thy reuengefull heart cannot forgiue, Loe heere I lend thee this sharpe-pointed Sword, Which if thou please to hide in this true brest, And let the Soule forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, And humbly begge the death vpon my knee,

He layes his brest open, she offers at with his sword.

Nay do not pause: For I did kill King Henrie, But 'twas thy Beauty that prouoked me. Nay now dispatch: 'Twas I that stabb'd yong Edward, But 'twas thy Heauenly face that set me on.

She fals the Sword.

Take vp the Sword againe, or take vp me

An. Arise Dissembler, though I wish thy death, I will not be thy Executioner

Rich. Then bid me kill my selfe, and I will do it

An. I haue already

Rich. That was in thy rage: Speake it againe, and euen with the word, This hand, which for thy loue, did kill thy Loue, Shall for thy loue, kill a farre truer Loue, To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary

An. I would I knew thy heart

Rich. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue

An. I feare me, both are false

Rich. Then neuer Man was true

An. Well, well, put vp your Sword

Rich. Say then my Peace is made

An. That shalt thou know heereafter

Rich. But shall I liue in hope

An. All men I hope liue so. Vouchsafe to weare this Ring

Rich. Looke how my Ring incompasseth thy Finger, Euen so thy Brest incloseth my poore heart: Weare both of them, for both of them are thine. And if thy poore deuoted Seruant may But beg one fauour at thy gracious hand, Thou dost confirme his happinesse for euer

An. What is it? Rich. That it may please you leaue these sad designes, To him that hath most cause to be a Mourner, And presently repayre to Crosbie House: Where (after I haue solemnly interr'd At Chertsey Monast'ry this Noble King, And wet his Graue with my Repentant Teares) I will with all expedient duty see you, For diuers vnknowne Reasons, I beseech you, Grant me this Boon

An. With all my heart, and much it ioyes me too, To see you are become so penitent. Tressel and Barkley, go along with me

Rich. Bid me farwell

An. 'Tis more then you deserue: But since you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I haue saide farewell already.

Exit two with Anne.

Gent. Towards Chertsey, Noble Lord? Rich. No: to White Friars, there attend my comming

Exit Coarse

Was euer woman in this humour woo'd? Was euer woman in this humour wonne? Ile haue her, but I will not keepe her long. What? I that kill'd her Husband, and his Father, To take her in her hearts extreamest hate, With curses in her mouth, Teares in her eyes, The bleeding witnesse of my hatred by, Hauing God, her Conscience, and these bars against me, And I, no Friends to backe my suite withall, But the plaine Diuell, and dissembling lookes? And yet to winne her? All the world to nothing. Hah! Hath she forgot alreadie that braue Prince, Edward, her Lord, whom I (some three monthes since) Stab'd in my angry mood, at Tewkesbury? A sweeter, and a louelier Gentleman, Fram'd in the prodigallity of Nature: Yong, Valiant, Wise, and (no doubt) right Royal, The spacious World cannot againe affoord: And will she yet abase her eyes on me, That cropt the Golden prime of this sweet Prince, And made her Widdow to a wofull Bed? On me, whose All not equals Edwards Moytie? On me, that halts, and am mishapen thus? My Dukedome, to a Beggerly denier! I do mistake my person all this while: Vpon my life she findes (although I cannot) My selfe to be a maru'llous proper man. Ile be at Charges for a Looking-glasse, And entertaine a score or two of Taylors, To study fashions to adorne my body: Since I am crept in fauour with my selfe, I will maintaine it with some little cost. But first Ile turne yon Fellow in his Graue, And then returne lamenting to my Loue. Shine out faire Sunne, till I haue bought a glasse, That I may see my Shadow as I passe. Enter.

Scena Tertia.

Enter the Queene Mother, Lord Riuers, and Lord Gray.

Riu. Haue patience Madam, ther's no doubt his Maiesty Will soone recouer his accustom'd health

Gray. In that you brooke it ill, it makes him worse, Therefore for Gods sake entertaine good comfort, And cheere his Grace with quicke and merry eyes Qu. If he were dead, what would betide on me? If he were dead, what would betide on me? Gray. No other harme, but losse of such a Lord

Qu. The losse of such a Lord, includes all harmes

Gray. The Heauens haue blest you with a goodly Son, To be your Comforter, when he is gone

Qu. Ah! he is yong; and his minority Is put vnto the trust of Richard Glouster, A man that loues not me, nor none of you

Riu. Is it concluded he shall be Protector? Qu. It is determin'd, not concluded yet: But so it must be, if the King miscarry. Enter Buckingham and Derby.

Gray. Here comes the Lord of Buckingham & Derby

Buc. Good time of day vnto your Royall Grace

Der. God make your Maiesty ioyful, as you haue bin Qu. The Countesse Richmond, good my L[ord]. of Derby. To your good prayer, will scarsely say, Amen. Yet Derby, not withstanding shee's your wife, And loues not me, be you good Lord assur'd, I hate not you for her proud arrogance

Der. I do beseech you, either not beleeue The enuious slanders of her false Accusers: Or if she be accus'd on true report, Beare with her weaknesse, which I thinke proceeds From wayward sicknesse, and no grounded malice

Qu. Saw you the King to day my Lord of Derby

Der. But now the Duke of Buckingham and I, Are come from visiting his Maiesty

Que. What likelyhood of his amendment Lords

Buc. Madam good hope, his Grace speaks chearfully

Qu. God grant him health, did you confer with him? Buc. I Madam, he desires to make attonement Betweene the Duke of Glouster, and your Brothers, And betweene them, and my Lord Chamberlaine, And sent to warne them to his Royall presence

Qu. Would all were well, but that will neuer be, I feare our happinesse is at the height. Enter Richard.

Rich. They do me wrong, and I will not indure it, Who is it that complaines vnto the King, That I (forsooth) am sterne, and loue them not? By holy Paul, they loue his Grace but lightly, That fill his eares with such dissentious Rumors. Because I cannot flatter, and looke faire, Smile in mens faces, smooth, deceiue, and cogge, Ducke with French nods, and Apish curtesie, I must be held a rancorous Enemy. Cannot a plaine man liue, and thinke no harme, But thus his simple truth must be abus'd, With silken, slye, insinuating Iackes? Grey. To who in all this presence speaks your Grace? Rich. To thee, that hast nor Honesty, nor Grace: When haue I iniur'd thee? When done thee wrong? Or thee? or thee? or any of your Faction? A plague vpon you all. His Royall Grace (Whom God preserue better then you would wish) Cannot be quiet scarse a breathing while, But you must trouble him with lewd complaints

Qu. Brother of Glouster, you mistake the matter: The King on his owne Royall disposition, (And not prouok'd by any Sutor else) Ayming (belike) at your interiour hatred, That in your outward action shewes it selfe Against my Children, Brothers, and my Selfe, Makes him to send, that he may learne the ground

Rich. I cannot tell, the world is growne so bad, That Wrens make prey, where Eagles dare not pearch. Since euerie Iacke became a Gentleman, There's many a gentle person made a Iacke

Qu. Come, come, we know your meaning Brother Gloster You enuy my aduancement, and my friends: God grant we neuer may haue neede of you

Rich. Meane time, God grants that I haue need of you. Our Brother is imprison'd by your meanes, My selfe disgrac'd, and the Nobilitie Held in contempt, while great Promotions Are daily giuen to ennoble those That scarse some two dayes since were worth a Noble

Qu. By him that rais'd me to this carefull height, From that contented hap which I inioy'd, I neuer did incense his Maiestie Against the Duke of Clarence, but haue bin An earnest aduocate to plead for him. My Lord you do me shamefull iniurie, Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects

Rich. You may deny that you were not the meane Of my Lord Hastings late imprisonment

Riu. She may my Lord, for- Rich. She may Lord Riuers, why who knowes not so? She may do more sir then denying that: She may helpe you to many faire preferments, And then deny her ayding hand therein, And lay those Honors on your high desert. What may she not, she may, I marry may she

Riu. What marry may she? Ric. What marrie may she? Marrie with a King, A Batcheller, and a handsome stripling too, Iwis your Grandam had a worser match

Qu. My Lord of Glouster, I haue too long borne Your blunt vpbraidings, and your bitter scoffes: By heauen, I will acquaint his Maiestie Of those grosse taunts that oft I haue endur'd. I had rather be a Countrie seruant maide Then a great Queene, with this condition, To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at, Small ioy haue I in being Englands Queene. Enter old Queene Margaret.

Mar. And lesned be that small, God I beseech him, Thy honor, state, and seate, is due to me

Rich. What? threat you me with telling of the King? I will auouch't in presence of the King: I dare aduenture to be sent to th' Towre. 'Tis time to speake, My paines are quite forgot

Margaret. Out Diuell, I do remember them too well: Thou killd'st my Husband Henrie in the Tower, And Edward my poore Son, at Tewkesburie

Rich. Ere you were Queene, I, or your Husband King: I was a packe-horse in his great affaires: A weeder out of his proud Aduersaries, A liberall rewarder of his Friends, To royalize his blood, I spent mine owne

Margaret. I and much better blood Then his, or thine

Rich. In all which time, you and your Husband Grey Were factious, for the House of Lancaster; And Riuers, so were you: Was not your Husband, In Margarets Battaile, at Saint Albons, slaine? Let me put in your mindes, if you forget What you haue beene ere this, and what you are: Withall, what I haue beene, and what I am

Q.M. A murth'rous Villaine, and so still thou art

Rich. Poore Clarence did forsake his Father Warwicke, I, and forswore himselfe (which Iesu pardon.) Q.M. Which God reuenge

Rich. To fight on Edwards partie, for the Crowne, And for his meede, poore Lord, he is mewed vp: I would to God my heart were Flint, like Edwards, Or Edwards soft and pittifull, like mine; I am too childish foolish for this World

Q.M. High thee to Hell for shame, & leaue this World Thou Cacodemon, there thy Kingdome is

Riu. My Lord of Gloster: in those busie dayes, Which here you vrge, to proue vs Enemies, We follow'd then our Lord, our Soueraigne King, So should we you, if you should be our King

Rich. If I should be? I had rather be a Pedler: Farre be it from my heart, the thought thereof

Qu. As little ioy (my Lord) as you suppose You should enioy, were you this Countries King, As little ioy you may suppose in me, That I enioy, being the Queene thereof

Q.M. A little ioy enioyes the Queene thereof, For I am shee, and altogether ioylesse: I can no longer hold me patient. Heare me, you wrangling Pyrates, that fall out, In sharing that which you haue pill'd from me: Which off you trembles not, that lookes on me? If not, that I am Queene, you bow like Subiects; Yet that by you depos'd, you quake like Rebells. Ah gentle Villaine, doe not turne away

Rich. Foule wrinckled Witch, what mak'st thou in my sight? Q.M. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd, That will I make, before I let thee goe

Rich. Wert thou not banished, on paine of death? Q.M. I was: but I doe find more paine in banishment, Then death can yeeld me here, by my abode. A Husband and a Sonne thou ow'st to me, And thou a Kingdome; all of you, allegeance: This Sorrow that I haue, by right is yours, And all the Pleasures you vsurpe, are mine

Rich. The Curse my Noble Father layd on thee, When thou didst Crown his Warlike Brows with Paper, And with thy scornes drew'st Riuers from his eyes, And then to dry them, gau'st the Duke a Clowt, Steep'd in the faultlesse blood of prettie Rutland: His Curses then, from bitternesse of Soule, Denounc'd against thee, are all falne vpon thee: And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed

Qu. So iust is God, to right the innocent

Hast. O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that Babe, And the most mercilesse, that ere was heard of

Riu. Tyrants themselues wept when it was reported

Dors. No man but prophecied reuenge for it

Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to see it

Q.M. What? were you snarling all before I came, Ready to catch each other by the throat, And turne you all your hatred now on me? Did Yorkes dread Curse preuaile so much with Heauen, That Henries death, my louely Edwards death, Their Kingdomes losse, my wofull Banishment, Should all but answer for that peeuish Brat? Can Curses pierce the Clouds, and enter Heauen? Why then giue way dull Clouds to my quick Curses. Though not by Warre, by Surfet dye your King, As ours by Murther, to make him a King. Edward thy Sonne, that now is Prince of Wales, For Edward our Sonne, that was Prince of Wales, Dye in his youth, by like vntimely violence. Thy selfe a Queene, for me that was a Queene, Out-liue thy glory, like my wretched selfe: Long may'st thou liue, to wayle thy Childrens death, And see another, as I see thee now, Deck'd in thy Rights, as thou art stall'd in mine. Long dye thy happie dayes, before thy death, And after many length'ned howres of griefe, Dye neyther Mother, Wife, nor Englands Queene. Riuers and Dorset, you were standers by, And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my Sonne Was stab'd with bloody Daggers: God, I pray him, That none of you may liue his naturall age, But by some vnlook'd accident cut off

Rich. Haue done thy Charme, y hateful wither'd Hagge

Q.M. And leaue out thee? stay Dog, for y shalt heare me. If Heauen haue any grieuous plague in store, Exceeding those that I can wish vpon thee, O let them keepe it, till thy sinnes be ripe, And then hurle downe their indignation On thee, the troubler of the poore Worlds peace. The Worme of Conscience still begnaw thy Soule, Thy Friends suspect for Traytors while thou liu'st, And take deepe Traytors for thy dearest Friends: No sleepe close vp that deadly Eye of thine, Vnlesse it be while some tormenting Dreame Affrights thee with a Hell of ougly Deuills. Thou eluish mark'd, abortiue rooting Hogge, Thou that wast seal'd in thy Natiuitie The slaue of Nature, and the Sonne of Hell: Thou slander of thy heauie Mothers Wombe, Thou loathed Issue of thy Fathers Loynes, Thou Ragge of Honor, thou detested- Rich. Margaret

Q.M. Richard

Rich. Ha

Q.M. I call thee not

Rich. I cry thee mercie then: for I did thinke, That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names

Q.M. Why so I did, but look'd for no reply. Oh let me make the Period to my Curse

Rich. 'Tis done by me and ends in Margaret

Qu. Thus haue you breath'd your Curse against your self

Q.M. Poore painted Queen, vain flourish of my fortune, Why strew'st thou Sugar on that Bottel'd Spider, Whose deadly Web ensnareth thee about? Foole, foole, thou whet'st a Knife to kill thy selfe: The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me, To helpe thee curse this poysonous Bunch-backt Toade

Hast. False boding Woman, end thy frantick Curse, Least to thy harme, thou moue our patience

Q.M. Foule shame vpon you, you haue all mou'd mine

Ri. Were you wel seru'd, you would be taught your duty

Q.M. To serue me well, you all should do me duty, Teach me to be your Queene, and you my Subiects: O serue me well, and teach your selues that duty

Dors. Dispute not with her, shee is lunaticke

Q.M. Peace Master Marquesse, you are malapert, Your fire-new stampe of Honor is scarce currant. O that your yong Nobility could iudge What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable. They that stand high, haue many blasts to shake them, And if they fall, they dash themselues to peeces

Rich. Good counsaile marry, learne it, learne it Marquesse

Dor. It touches you my Lord, as much as me

Rich. I, and much more: but I was borne so high: Our ayerie buildeth in the Cedars top, And dallies with the winde, and scornes the Sunne

Mar. And turnes the Sun to shade: alas, alas, Witnesse my Sonne, now in the shade of death, Whose bright out-shining beames, thy cloudy wrath Hath in eternall darknesse folded vp. Your ayery buildeth in our ayeries Nest: O God that seest it, do not suffer it, As it is wonne with blood, lost be it so

Buc. Peace, peace for shame: If not, for Charity

Mar. Vrge neither charity, nor shame to me: Vncharitably with me haue you dealt, And shamefully my hopes (by you) are butcher'd. My Charity is outrage, Life my shame, And in that shame, still liue my sorrowes rage

Buc. Haue done, haue done

Mar. O Princely Buckingham, Ile kisse thy hand, In signe of League and amity with thee: Now faire befall thee, and thy Noble house: Thy Garments are not spotted with our blood: Nor thou within the compasse of my curse

Buc. Nor no one heere: for Curses neuer passe The lips of those that breath them in the ayre

Mar. I will not thinke but they ascend the sky, And there awake Gods gentle sleeping peace. O Buckingham, take heede of yonder dogge: Looke when he fawnes, he bites; and when he bites, His venom tooth will rankle to the death. Haue not to do with him, beware of him, Sinne, death, and hell haue set their markes on him, And all their Ministers attend on him

Rich. What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham

Buc. Nothing that I respect my gracious Lord

Mar. What dost thou scorne me For my gentle counsell? And sooth the diuell that I warne thee from. O but remember this another day: When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow: And say (poore Margaret) was a Prophetesse: Liue each of you the subiects to his hate, And he to yours, and all of you to Gods. Enter.

Buc. My haire doth stand an end to heare her curses

Riu. And so doth mine, I muse why she's at libertie

Rich. I cannot blame her, by Gods holy mother, She hath had too much wrong, and I repent My part thereof, that I haue done to her

Mar. I neuer did her any to my knowledge

Rich. Yet you haue all the vantage of her wrong: I was too hot, to do somebody good, That is too cold in thinking of it now: Marry as for Clarence, he is well repayed: He is frank'd vp to fatting for his paines, God pardon them, that are the cause thereof

Riu. A vertuous, and a Christian-like conclusion To pray for them that haue done scath to vs

Rich. So do I euer, being well aduis'd.

Speakes to himselfe.

For had I curst now, I had curst my selfe. Enter Catesby.

Cates. Madam, his Maiesty doth call for you, And for your Grace, and yours my gracious Lord

Qu. Catesby I come, Lords will you go with mee

Riu. We wait vpon your Grace.

Exeunt. all but Gloster.

Rich. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawle. The secret Mischeefes that I set abroach, I lay vnto the greeuous charge of others. Clarence, who I indeede haue cast in darknesse, I do beweepe to many simple Gulles, Namely to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham, And tell them 'tis the Queene, and her Allies, That stirre the King against the Duke my Brother. Now they beleeue it, and withall whet me To be reueng'd on Riuers, Dorset, Grey. But then I sigh, and with a peece of Scripture, Tell them that God bids vs do good for euill: And thus I cloath my naked Villanie With odde old ends, stolne forth of holy Writ, And seeme a Saint, when most I play the deuill. Enter two murtherers.

But soft, heere come my Executioners, How now my hardy stout resolued Mates, Are you now going to dispatch this thing? Vil. We are my Lord, and come to haue the Warrant, That we may be admitted where he is

Ric. Well thought vpon, I haue it heare about me: When you haue done, repayre to Crosby place; But sirs be sodaine in the execution, Withall obdurate, do not heare him pleade; For Clarence is well spoken, and perhappes May moue your hearts to pitty, if you marke him

Vil. Tut, tut, my Lord, we will not stand to prate, Talkers are no good dooers, be assur'd: We go to vse our hands, and not our tongues

Rich. Your eyes drop Mill-stones, when Fooles eyes fall Teares: I like you Lads, about your businesse straight. Go, go, dispatch

Vil. We will my Noble Lord.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Clarence and Keeper.

Keep. Why lookes your Grace so heauily to day

Cla. O, I haue past a miserable night, So full of fearefull Dreames, of vgly sights, That as I am a Christian faithfull man, I would not spend another such a night Though 'twere to buy a world of happy daies: So full of dismall terror was the time

Keep. What was your dream my Lord, I pray you tel me Cla. Me thoughts that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd to crosse to Burgundy, And in my company my Brother Glouster, Who from my Cabin tempted me to walke, Vpon the Hatches: There we look'd toward England, And cited vp a thousand heauy times, During the warres of Yorke and Lancaster That had befalne vs. As we pac'd along Vpon the giddy footing of the Hatches, Me thought that Glouster stumbled, and in falling Strooke me (that thought to stay him) ouer-boord, Into the tumbling billowes of the maine. O Lord, me thought what paine it was to drowne, What dreadfull noise of water in mine eares, What sights of vgly death within mine eyes. Me thoughts, I saw a thousand fearfull wrackes: A thousand men that Fishes gnaw'd vpon: Wedges of Gold, great Anchors, heapes of Pearle, Inestimable Stones, vnvalewed Iewels, All scattred in the bottome of the Sea, Some lay in dead-mens Sculles, and in the holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorne of eyes) reflecting Gemmes, That woo'd the slimy bottome of the deepe, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scattred by

Keep. Had you such leysure in the time of death To gaze vpon these secrets of the deepe? Cla. Me thought I had, and often did I striue To yeeld the Ghost: but still the enuious Flood Stop'd in my soule, and would not let it forth To find the empty, vast, and wand'ring ayre: But smother'd it within my panting bulke, Who almost burst, to belch it in the Sea

Keep. Awak'd you not in this sore Agony? Clar. No, no, my Dreame was lengthen'd after life. O then, began the Tempest to my Soule. I past (me thought) the Melancholly Flood, With that sowre Ferry-man which Poets write of, Vnto the Kingdome of perpetuall Night. The first that there did greet my Stranger-soule, Was my great Father-in-Law, renowned Warwicke, Who spake alowd: What scourge for Periurie, Can this darke Monarchy affoord false Clarence? And so he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by, A Shadow like an Angell, with bright hayre Dabbel'd in blood, and he shriek'd out alowd Clarence is come, false, fleeting, periur'd Clarence, That stabb'd me in the field by Tewkesbury: Seize on him Furies, take him vnto Torment. With that (me thought) a Legion of foule Fiends Inuiron'd me, and howled in mine eares Such hiddeous cries, that with the very Noise, I (trembling) wak'd, and for a season after, Could not beleeue, but that I was in Hell, Such terrible Impression made my Dreame

Keep. No maruell Lord, though it affrighted you, I am affraid (me thinkes) to heare you tell it

Cla. Ah Keeper, Keeper, I haue done these things (That now giue euidence against my Soule) For Edwards sake, and see how he requits mee. O God! if my deepe prayres cannot appease thee, But thou wilt be aueng'd on my misdeeds, Yet execute thy wrath in me alone: O spare my guiltlesse Wife, and my poore children. Keeper, I prythee sit by me a-while, My Soule is heauy, and I faine would sleepe

Keep. I will my Lord, God giue your Grace good rest. Enter Brakenbury the Lieutenant.

Bra. Sorrow breakes Seasons, and reposing houres, Makes the Night Morning, and the Noon-tide night: Princes haue but their Titles for their Glories, An outward Honor, for an inward Toyle, And for vnfelt Imaginations They often feele a world of restlesse Cares: So that betweene their Titles, and low Name, There's nothing differs, but the outward fame. Enter two Murtherers.

1.Mur. Ho, who's heere? Bra. What would'st thou Fellow? And how camm'st thou hither

2.Mur. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my Legges

Bra. What so breefe? 1. 'Tis better (Sir) then to be tedious: Let him see our Commission, and talke no more.

Reads

Bra. I am in this, commanded to deliuer The Noble Duke of Clarence to your hands. I will not reason what is meant heereby, Because I will be guiltlesse from the meaning. There lies the Duke asleepe, and there the Keyes. Ile to the King, and signifie to him, That thus I haue resign'd to you my charge. Enter.

1 You may sir, 'tis a point of wisedome: Far you well

2 What, shall we stab him as he sleepes

1 No: hee'l say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes 2 Why he shall neuer wake, vntill the great Iudgement day

1 Why then hee'l say, we stab'd him sleeping

2 The vrging of that word Iudgement, hath bred a kinde of remorse in me

1 What? art thou affraid? 2 Not to kill him, hauing a Warrant, But to be damn'd for killing him, from the which No Warrant can defend me

1 I thought thou had'st bin resolute

2 So I am, to let him liue

1 Ile backe to the Duke of Glouster, and tell him so

2 Nay, I prythee stay a little: I hope this passionate humor of mine, will change, It was wont to hold me but while one tels twenty

1 How do'st thou feele thy selfe now? 2 Some certaine dregges of conscience are yet within mee

1 Remember our Reward, when the deed's done

2 Come, he dies: I had forgot the Reward

1 Where's thy conscience now

2 O, in the Duke of Glousters purse

1 When hee opens his purse to giue vs our Reward, thy Conscience flyes out

2 'Tis no matter, let it goe: There's few or none will entertaine it

1 What if it come to thee againe? 2 Ile not meddle with it, it makes a man a Coward: A man cannot steale, but it accuseth him: A man cannot Sweare, but it Checkes him: A man cannot lye with his Neighbours Wife, but it detects him. 'Tis a blushing shamefac'd spirit, that mutinies in a mans bosome: It filles a man full of Obstacles. It made me once restore a Pursse of Gold that (by chance) I found: It beggars any man that keepes it: It is turn'd out of Townes and Citties for a dangerous thing, and euery man that means to liue well, endeuours to trust to himselfe, and liue without it

1 'Tis euen now at my elbow, perswading me not to kill the Duke

2 Take the diuell in thy minde, and beleeue him not: He would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh

1 I am strong fram'd, he cannot preuaile with me

2 Spoke like a tall man, that respects thy reputation. Come, shall we fall to worke? 1 Take him on the Costard, with the hiltes of thy Sword, and then throw him into the Malmesey-Butte in the next roome

2 O excellent deuice; and make a sop of him

1 Soft, he wakes

2 Strike

1 No, wee'l reason with him

Cla. Where art thou Keeper? Giue me a cup of wine

2 You shall haue Wine enough my Lord anon

Cla. In Gods name, what art thou? 1 A man, as you are

Cla. But not as I am Royall

1 Nor you as we are, Loyall

Cla. Thy voice is Thunder, but thy looks are humble

1 My voice is now the Kings, my lookes mine owne

Cla. How darkly, and how deadly dost thou speake? Your eyes do menace me: why looke you pale? Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come? 2 To, to, to- Cla. To murther me? Both. I, I

Cla. You scarsely haue the hearts to tell me so, And therefore cannot haue the hearts to do it. Wherein my Friends haue I offended you? 1 Offended vs you haue not, but the King

Cla. I shall be reconcil'd to him againe

2 Neuer my Lord, therefore prepare to dye

Cla. Are you drawne forth among a world of men To slay the innocent? What is my offence? Where is the Euidence that doth accuse me? What lawfull Quest haue giuen their Verdict vp Vnto the frowning Iudge? Or who pronounc'd The bitter sentence of poore Clarence death, Before I be conuict by course of Law? To threaten me with death, is most vnlawfull. I charge you, as you hope for any goodnesse, That you depart, and lay no hands on me: The deed you vndertake is damnable

1 What we will do, we do vpon command

2 And he that hath commanded, is our King

Cla. Erroneous Vassals, the great King of Kings Hath in the Table of his Law commanded That thou shalt do no murther. Will you then Spurne at his Edict, and fulfill a Mans? Take heed: for he holds Vengeance in his hand, To hurle vpon their heads that breake his Law

2 And that same Vengeance doth he hurle on thee, For false Forswearing, and for murther too: Thou did'st receiue the Sacrament, to fight In quarrell of the House of Lancaster

1 And like a Traitor to the name of God, Did'st breake that Vow, and with thy treacherous blade, Vnrip'st the Bowels of thy Sou'raignes Sonne

2 Whom thou was't sworne to cherish and defend

1 How canst thou vrge Gods dreadfull Law to vs, When thou hast broke it in such deere degree? Cla. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deede? For Edward, for my Brother, for his sake. He sends you not to murther me for this: For in that sinne, he is as deepe as I. If God will be auenged for the deed, O know you yet, he doth it publiquely, Take not the quarrell from his powrefull arme: He needs no indirect, or lawlesse course, To cut off those that haue offended him

1 Who made thee then a bloudy minister, When gallant springing braue Plantagenet, That Princely Nouice was strucke dead by thee? Cla. My Brothers loue, the Diuell, and my Rage

1 Thy Brothers Loue, our Duty, and thy Faults, Prouoke vs hither now, to slaughter thee

Cla. If you do loue my Brother, hate not me: I am his Brother, and I loue him well. If you are hyr'd for meed, go backe againe, And I will send you to my Brother Glouster: Who shall reward you better for my life, Then Edward will for tydings of my death

2 You are deceiu'd, Your Brother Glouster hates you

Cla. Oh no, he loues me, and he holds me deere: Go you to him from me

1 I so we will

Cla. Tell him, when that our Princely Father Yorke, Blest his three Sonnes with his victorious Arme, He little thought of this diuided Friendship: Bid Glouster thinke on this, and he will weepe

1 I Milstones, as he lessoned vs to weepe

Cla. O do not slander him, for he is kinde

1 Right, as Snow in Haruest: Come, you deceiue your selfe, 'Tis he that sends vs to destroy you heere

Cla. It cannot be, for he bewept my Fortune, And hugg'd me in his armes, and swore with sobs, That he would labour my deliuery

1 Why so he doth, when he deliuers you From this earths thraldome, to the ioyes of heauen

2 Make peace with God, for you must die my Lord

Cla. Haue you that holy feeling in your soules, To counsaile me to make my peace with God, And are you yet to your owne soules so blinde, That you will warre with God, by murd'ring me. O sirs consider, they that set you on To do this deede will hate you for the deede

2 What shall we do? Clar. Relent, and saue your soules: Which of you, if you were a Princes Sonne, Being pent from Liberty, as I am now, If two such murtherers as your selues came to you, Would not intreat for life, as you would begge Were you in my distresse

1 Relent? no: 'Tis cowardly and womanish

Cla. Not to relent, is beastly, sauage, diuellish: My Friend, I spy some pitty in thy lookes: O, if thine eye be not a Flatterer, Come thou on my side, and intreate for mee, A begging Prince, what begger pitties not

2 Looke behinde you, my Lord

1 Take that, and that, if all this will not do,

Stabs him.

Ile drowne you in the MalmeseyBut within. Enter.

2 A bloody deed, and desperately dispatcht: How faine (like Pilate) would I wash my hands Of this most greeuous murther.

Enter 1.Murtherer]

1 How now? what mean'st thou that thou help'st me not? By Heauen the Duke shall know how slacke you haue beene

2.Mur. I would he knew that I had sau'd his brother, Take thou the Fee, and tell him what I say, For I repent me that the Duke is slaine. Enter.

1.Mur. So do not I: go Coward as thou art. Well, Ile go hide the body in some hole, Till that the Duke giue order for his buriall: And when I haue my meede, I will away, For this will out, and then I must not stay.

Exit

Actus Secundus. Scoena Prima.

Flourish.

Enter the King sicke, the Queene, Lord Marquesse Dorset, Riuers, Hastings, Catesby, Buckingham, Wooduill.

King. Why so: now haue I done a good daies work. You Peeres, continue this vnited League: I, euery day expect an Embassage From my Redeemer, to redeeme me hence. And more to peace my soule shall part to heauen, Since I haue made my Friends at peace on earth. Dorset and Riuers, take each others hand, Dissemble not your hatred, Sweare your loue

Riu. By heauen, my soule is purg'd from grudging hate And with my hand I seale my true hearts Loue

Hast. So thriue I, as I truly sweare the like

King. Take heed you dally not before your King, Lest he that is the supreme King of Kings Confound your hidden falshood, and award Either of you to be the others end

Hast. So prosper I, as I sweare perfect loue

Ri. And I, as I loue Hastings with my heart, King. Madam, your selfe is not exempt from this: Nor you Sonne Dorset, Buckingham nor you; You haue bene factious one against the other. Wife, loue Lord Hastings, let him kisse your hand, And what you do, do it vnfeignedly

Qu. There Hastings, I will neuer more remember Our former hatred, so thriue I, and mine

King. Dorset, imbrace him: Hastings, loue Lord Marquesse

Dor. This interchange of loue, I heere protest Vpon my part, shall be inuiolable

Hast. And so sweare I

King. Now Princely Buckingham, seale y this league With thy embracements to my wiues Allies, And make me happy in your vnity

Buc. When euer Buckingham doth turne his hate Vpon your Grace, but with all dutious loue, Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me With hate in those where I expect most loue, When I haue most need to imploy a Friend, And most assured that he is a Friend, Deepe, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, Be he vnto me: This do I begge of heauen, When I am cold in loue, to you, or yours.

Embrace

King. A pleasing Cordiall, Princely Buckingham Is this thy Vow, vnto my sickely heart: There wanteth now our Brother Gloster heere, To make the blessed period of this peace

Buc. And in good time, Heere comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe, and the Duke. Enter Ratcliffe, and Gloster.

Rich. Good morrow to my Soueraigne King & Queen And Princely Peeres, a happy time of day

King. Happy indeed, as we haue spent the day: Gloster, we haue done deeds of Charity, Made peace of enmity, faire loue of hate, Betweene these swelling wrong incensed Peeres

Rich. A blessed labour my most Soueraigne Lord: Among this Princely heape, if any heere By false intelligence, or wrong surmize Hold me a Foe: If I vnwillingly, or in my rage, Haue ought committed that is hardly borne, To any in this presence, I desire To reconcile me to his Friendly peace: 'Tis death to me to be at enmitie: I hate it, and desire all good mens loue, First Madam, I intreate true peace of you, Which I will purchase with my dutious seruice. Of you my Noble Cosin Buckingham, If euer any grudge were lodg'd betweene vs. Of you and you, Lord Riuers and of Dorset, That all without desert haue frown'd on me: Of you Lord Wooduill, and Lord Scales of you, Dukes, Earles, Lords, Gentlemen, indeed of all. I do not know that Englishman aliue, With whom my soule is any iot at oddes, More then the Infant that is borne to night: I thanke my God for my Humility

Qu. A holy day shall this be kept heereafter: I would to God all strifes were well compounded. My Soueraigne Lord, I do beseech your Highnesse To take our Brother Clarence to your Grace

Rich. Why Madam, haue I offred loue for this, To be so flowted in this Royall presence? Who knowes not that the gentle Duke is dead?

They all start.

You do him iniurie to scorne his Coarse

King. Who knowes not he is dead? Who knowes he is? Qu. All-seeing heauen, what a world is this? Buc. Looke I so pale Lord Dorset, as the rest? Dor. I my good Lord, and no man in the presence, But his red colour hath forsooke his cheekes

King. Is Clarence dead? The Order was reuerst

Rich. But he (poore man) by your first order dyed, And that a winged Mercurie did beare: Some tardie Cripple bare the Countermand, That came too lagge to see him buried. God grant, that some lesse Noble, and lesse Loyall, Neerer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, Deserue not worse then wretched Clarence did, And yet go currant from Suspition. Enter Earle of Derby.

Der. A boone my Soueraigne for my seruice done

King. I prethee peace, my soule is full of sorrow

Der. I will not rise, vnlesse your Highnes heare me

King. Then say at once, what is it thou requests

Der. The forfeit (Soueraigne) of my seruants life, Who slew to day a Riotous Gentleman, Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolke

King. Haue I a tongue to doome my Brothers death? And shall that tongue giue pardon to a slaue? My Brother kill'd no man, his fault was Thought, And yet his punishment was bitter death. Who sued to me for him? Who (in my wrath) Kneel'd and my feet, and bid me be aduis'd? Who spoke of Brother-hood? who spoke of loue? Who told me how the poore soule did forsake The mighty Warwicke, and did fight for me? Who told me in the field at Tewkesbury, When Oxford had me downe, he rescued me: And said deare Brother liue, and be a King? Who told me, when we both lay in the Field, Frozen (almost) to death, how he did lap me Euen in his Garments, and did giue himselfe (All thin and naked) to the numbe cold night? All this from my Remembrance, brutish wrath Sinfully pluckt, and not a man of you Had so much grace to put it in my minde. But when your Carters, or your wayting Vassalls Haue done a drunken Slaughter, and defac'd The precious Image of our deere Redeemer, You straight are on your knees for Pardon, pardon, And I (vniustly too) must grant it you. But for my Brother, not a man would speake, Nor I (vngracious) speake vnto my selfe For him poore Soule. The proudest of you all, Haue bin beholding to him in his life: Yet none of you, would once begge for his life. O God! I feare thy iustice will take hold On me, and you; and mine, and yours for this. Come Hastings helpe me to my Closset. Ah poore Clarence.

Exeunt. some with K[ing]. & Queen.

Rich. This is the fruits of rashnes: Markt you not, How that the guilty Kindred of the Queene Look'd pale, when they did heare of Clarence death. O! they did vrge it still vnto the King, God will reuenge it. Come Lords will you go, To comfort Edward with our company

Buc. We wait vpon your Grace.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter the old Dutchesse of Yorke, with the two children of Clarence.

Edw. Good Grandam tell vs, is our Father dead? Dutch. No Boy

Daugh. Why do weepe so oft? And beate your Brest? And cry, O Clarence, my vnhappy Sonne

Boy. Why do you looke on vs, and shake your head, And call vs Orphans, Wretches, Castawayes, If that our Noble Father were aliue? Dut. My pretty Cosins, you mistake me both, I do lament the sicknesse of the King, As loath to lose him, not your Fathers death: It were lost sorrow to waile one that's lost

Boy. Then you conclude, (my Grandam) he is dead: The King mine Vnckle is too blame for it. God will reuenge it, whom I will importune With earnest prayers, all to that effect

Daugh. And so will I

Dut. Peace children peace, the King doth loue you wel. Incapeable, and shallow Innocents, You cannot guesse who caus'd your Fathers death

Boy. Grandam we can: for my good Vnkle Gloster Told me, the King prouok'd to it by the Queene, Deuis'd impeachments to imprison him; And when my Vnckle told me so, he wept, And pittied me, and kindly kist my cheeke: Bad me rely on him, as on my Father, And he would loue me deerely as a childe

Dut. Ah! that Deceit should steale such gentle shape, And with a vertuous Vizor hide deepe vice. He is my sonne, I, and therein my shame, Yet from my dugges, he drew not this deceit

Boy. Thinke you my Vnkle did dissemble Grandam? Dut. I Boy

Boy. I cannot thinke it. Hearke, what noise is this? Enter the Queene with her haire about her ears, Riuers & Dorset after her.

Qu. Ah! who shall hinder me to waile and weepe? To chide my Fortune, and torment my Selfe. Ile ioyne with blacke dispaire against my Soule, And to my selfe, become an enemie

Dut. What meanes this Scene of rude impatience? Qu. To make an act of Tragicke violence. Edward my Lord, thy Sonne, our King is dead. Why grow the Branches, when the Roote is gone? Why wither not the leaues that want their sap? If you will liue, Lament: if dye, be breefe, That our swift-winged Soules may catch the Kings, Or like obedient Subiects follow him, To his new Kingdome of nere-changing night

Dut. Ah so much interest haue in thy sorrow, As I had Title in thy Noble Husband: I haue bewept a worthy Husbands death, And liu'd with looking on his Images: But now two Mirrors of his Princely semblance, Are crack'd in pieces, by malignant death, And I for comfort, haue but one false Glasse, That greeues me, when I see my shame in him. Thou art a Widdow: yet thou art a Mother, And hast the comfort of thy Children left, But death hath snatch'd my Husband from mine Armes, And pluckt two Crutches from my feeble hands, Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause haue I, (Thine being but a moity of my moane) To ouer-go thy woes, and drowne thy cries

Boy. Ah Aunt! you wept not for our Fathers death: How can we ayde you with our Kindred teares? Daugh. Our fatherlesse distresse was left vnmoan'd, Your widdow-dolour, likewise be vnwept

Qu. Giue me no helpe in Lamentation, I am not barren to bring forth complaints: All Springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I being gouern'd by the waterie Moone, May send forth plenteous teares to drowne the World. Ah, for my Husband, for my deere Lord Edward

Chil. Ah for our Father, for our deere Lord Clarence

Dut. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence

Qu. What stay had I but Edward, and hee's gone? Chil. What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone

Dut. What stayes had I, but they? and they are gone

Qu. Was neuer widdow had so deere a losse

Chil. Were neuer Orphans had so deere a losse

Dut. Was neuer Mother had so deere a losse. Alas! I am the Mother of these Greefes, Their woes are parcell'd, mine is generall. She for an Edward weepes, and so do I: I for a Clarence weepes, so doth not shee: These Babes for Clarence weepe, so do not they. Alas! you three, on me threefold distrest: Power all your teares, I am your sorrowes Nurse, And I will pamper it with Lamentation

Dor. Comfort deere Mother, God is much displeas'd, That you take with vnthankfulnesse his doing. In common worldly things, 'tis call'd vngratefull, With dull vnwillingnesse to repay a debt, Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent: Much more to be thus opposite with heauen, For it requires the Royall debt it lent you

Riuers. Madam, bethinke you like a carefull Mother Of the young Prince your sonne: send straight for him, Let him be Crown'd, in him your comfort liues. Drowne desperate sorrow in dead Edwards graue, And plant your ioyes in liuing Edwards Throne. Enter Richard, Buckingham, Derbie, Hastings, and Ratcliffe.

Rich. Sister haue comfort, all of vs haue cause To waile the dimming of our shining Starre: But none can helpe our harmes by wayling them. Madam, my Mother, I do cry you mercie, I did not see your Grace. Humbly on my knee, I craue your Blessing

Dut. God blesse thee, and put meeknes in thy breast, Loue Charity, Obedience, and true Dutie

Rich. Amen, and make me die a good old man, That is the butt-end of a Mothers blessing; I maruell that her Grace did leaue it out

Buc. You clowdy-Princes, & hart-sorowing-Peeres, That beare this heauie mutuall loade of Moane, Now cheere each other, in each others Loue: Though we haue spent our Haruest of this King, We are to reape the Haruest of his Sonne. The broken rancour of your high-swolne hates, But lately splinter'd, knit, and ioyn'd together, Must gently be preseru'd, cherisht, and kept: Me seemeth good, that with some little Traine, Forthwith from Ludlow, the young Prince be set Hither to London, to be crown'd our King

Riuers. Why with some little Traine, My Lord of Buckingham? Buc. Marrie my Lord, least by a multitude, The new-heal'd wound of Malice should breake out, Which would be so much the more dangerous, By how much the estate is greene, and yet vngouern'd. Where euery Horse beares his commanding Reine, And may direct his course as please himselfe, As well the feare of harme, as harme apparant, In my opinion, ought to be preuented

Rich. I hope the King made peace with all of vs, And the compact is firme, and true in me

Riu. And so in me, and so (I thinke) in all. Yet since it is but greene, it should be put To no apparant likely-hood of breach, Which haply by much company might be vrg'd: Therefore I say with Noble Buckingham, That it is meete so few should fetch the Prince

Hast. And so say I

Rich. Then be it so, and go we to determine Who they shall be that strait shall poste to London. Madam, and you my Sister, will you go To giue your censures in this businesse.

Exeunt.

Manet Buckingham, and Richard.

Buc. My Lord, who euer iournies to the Prince, For God sake let not vs two stay at home: For by the way, Ile sort occasion, As Index to the story we late talk'd of, To part the Queenes proud Kindred from the Prince

Rich. My other selfe, my Counsailes Consistory, My Oracle, My Prophet, my deere Cosin, I, as a childe, will go by thy direction, Toward London then, for wee'l not stay behinde.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter one Citizen at one doore, and another at the other.

1.Cit. Good morrow Neighbour, whether away so fast? 2.Cit. I promise you, I scarsely know my selfe: Heare you the newes abroad? 1. Yes, that the King is dead

2. Ill newes byrlady, seldome comes the better: I feare, I feare, 'twill proue a giddy world. Enter another Citizen.

3. Neighbours, God speed

1. Giue you good morrow sir

3. Doth the newes hold of good king Edwards death? 2. I sir, it is too true, God helpe the while

3. Then Masters looke to see a troublous world

1. No, no, by Gods good grace, his Son shall reigne

3. Woe to that Land that's gouern'd by a Childe

2. In him there is a hope of Gouernment, Which in his nonage, counsell vnder him, And in his full and ripened yeares, himselfe No doubt shall then, and till then gouerne well

1. So stood the State, when Henry the sixt Was crown'd in Paris, but at nine months old

3. Stood the State so? No, no, good friends, God wot For then this Land was famously enrich'd With politike graue Counsell; then the King Had vertuous Vnkles to protect his Grace

1. Why so hath this, both by his Father and Mother

3. Better it were they all came by his Father: Or by his Father there were none at all: For emulation, who shall now be neerest, Will touch vs all too neere, if God preuent not. O full of danger is the Duke of Glouster, And the Queenes Sons, and Brothers, haught and proud: And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule, This sickly Land, might solace as before

1. Come, come, we feare the worst: all will be well

3. When Clouds are seen, wisemen put on their clokes; When great leaues fall, then Winter is at hand; When the Sun sets, who doth not looke for night? Vntimely stormes, makes men expect a Dearth: All may be well; but if God sort it so, 'Tis more then we deserue, or I expect

2. Truly, the hearts of men are full of feare: You cannot reason (almost) with a man, That lookes not heauily, and full of dread

3. Before the dayes of Change, still is it so, By a diuine instinct, mens mindes mistrust Pursuing danger: as by proofe we see The Water swell before a boyst'rous storme: But leaue it all to God. Whither away? 2 Marry we were sent for to the Iustices

3 And so was I: Ile beare you company.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Arch-bishop, yong Yorke, the Queene, and the Dutchesse.

Arch. Last night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford, And at Northampton they do rest to night: To morrow, or next day, they will be heere

Dut. I long with all my heart to see the Prince: I hope he is much growne since last I saw him

Qu. But I heare no, they say my sonne of Yorke Ha's almost ouertane him in his growth

Yorke. I Mother, but I would not haue it so

Dut. Why my good Cosin, it is good to grow

Yor. Grandam, one night as we did sit at Supper, My Vnkle Riuers talk'd how I did grow More then my Brother. I, quoth my Vnkle Glouster, Small Herbes haue grace, great Weeds do grow apace. And since, me thinkes I would not grow so fast, Because sweet Flowres are slow, and Weeds make hast

Dut. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold In him that did obiect the same to thee. He was the wretched'st thing when he was yong, So long a growing, and so leysurely, That if his rule were true, he should be gracious

Yor. And so no doubt he is, my gracious Madam

Dut. I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt

Yor. Now by my troth, if I had beene remembred, I could haue giuen my Vnkles Grace, a flout, To touch his growth, neerer then he toucht mine

Dut. How my yong Yorke, I prythee let me heare it

Yor. Marry (they say) my Vnkle grew so fast, That he could gnaw a crust at two houres old, 'Twas full two yeares ere I could get a tooth. Grandam, this would haue beene a byting Iest

Dut. I prythee pretty Yorke, who told thee this? Yor. Grandam, his Nursse

Dut. His Nurse? why she was dead, ere y wast borne

Yor. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me

Qu. A parlous Boy: go too, you are too shrew'd

Dut. Good Madam, be not angry with the Childe

Qu. Pitchers haue eares. Enter a Messenger.

Arch. Heere comes a Messenger: What Newes? Mes. Such newes my Lord, as greeues me to report

Qu. How doth the Prince? Mes. Well Madam, and in health

Dut. What is thy Newes? Mess. Lord Riuers, and Lord Grey, Are sent to Pomfret, and with them, Sir Thomas Vaughan, Prisoners

Dut. Who hath committed them? Mes. The mighty Dukes, Glouster and Buckingham

Arch. For what offence? Mes. The summe of all I can, I haue disclos'd: Why, or for what, the Nobles were committed, Is all vnknowne to me, my gracious Lord

Qu. Aye me! I see the ruine of my House: The Tyger now hath seiz'd the gentle Hinde, Insulting Tiranny beginnes to Iutt Vpon the innocent and awelesse Throne: Welcome Destruction, Blood, and Massacre, I see (as in a Map) the end of all

Dut. Accursed, and vnquiet wrangling dayes, How many of you haue mine eyes beheld? My Husband lost his life, to get the Crowne, And often vp and downe my sonnes were tost For me to ioy, and weepe, their gaine and losse. And being seated, and Domesticke broyles Cleane ouer-blowne, themselues the Conquerors, Make warre vpon themselues, Brother to Brother; Blood to blood, selfe against selfe: O prepostorous And franticke outrage, end thy damned spleene, Or let me dye, to looke on earth no more

Qu. Come, come my Boy, we will to Sanctuary. Madam, farwell

Dut. Stay, I will go with you

Qu. You haue no cause

Arch. My gracious Lady go, And thether beare your Treasure and your Goodes, For my part, Ile resigne vnto your Grace The Seale I keepe, and so betide to me, As well I tender you, and all of yours. Go, Ile conduct you to the Sanctuary.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.

The Trumpets sound.

Enter yong Prince, the Dukes of Glocester, and Buckingham, Lord Cardinall, with others.

Buc. Welcome sweete Prince to London, To your Chamber

Rich. Welcome deere Cosin, my thoughts Soueraign The wearie way hath made you Melancholly

Prin. No Vnkle, but our crosses on the way, Haue made it tedious, wearisome, and heauie. I want more Vnkles heere to welcome me

Rich. Sweet Prince, the vntainted vertue of your yeers Hath not yet diu'd into the Worlds deceit: No more can you distinguish of a man, Then of his outward shew, which God he knowes, Seldome or neuer iumpeth with the heart. Those Vnkles which you want, were dangerous: Your Grace attended to their Sugred words, But look'd not on the poyson of their hearts: God keepe you from them, and from such false Friends

Prin. God keepe me from false Friends, But they were none

Rich. My Lord, the Maior of London comes to greet you. Enter Lord Maior.

Lo.Maior. God blesse your Grace, with health and happie dayes

Prin. I thanke you, good my Lord, and thank you all: I thought my Mother, and my Brother Yorke, Would long, ere this, haue met vs on the way. Fie, what a Slug is Hastings, that he comes not To tell vs, whether they will come, or no. Enter Lord Hastings.

Buck. And in good time, heere comes the sweating Lord

Prince. Welcome, my Lord: what, will our Mother come? Hast. On what occasion God he knowes, not I; The Queene your Mother, and your Brother Yorke, Haue taken Sanctuarie: The tender Prince Would faine haue come with me, to meet your Grace, But by his Mother was perforce with-held

Buck. Fie, what an indirect and peeuish course Is this of hers? Lord Cardinall, will your Grace Perswade the Queene, to send the Duke of Yorke Vnto his Princely Brother presently? If she denie, Lord Hastings goe with him, And from her iealous Armes pluck him perforce

Card. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weake Oratorie Can from his Mother winne the Duke of Yorke, Anon expect him here: but if she be obdurate To milde entreaties, God forbid We should infringe the holy Priuiledge Of blessed Sanctuarie: not for all this Land, Would I be guiltie of so great a sinne

Buck. You are too sencelesse obstinate, my Lord, Too ceremonious, and traditionall. Weigh it but with the grossenesse of this Age, You breake not Sanctuarie, in seizing him: The benefit thereof is alwayes granted To those, whose dealings haue deseru'd the place, And those who haue the wit to clayme the place: This Prince hath neyther claym'd it, nor deseru'd it, And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot haue it. Then taking him from thence, that is not there, You breake no Priuiledge, nor Charter there: Oft haue I heard of Sanctuarie men, But Sanctuarie children, ne're till now

Card. My Lord, you shall o're-rule my mind for once. Come on, Lord Hastings, will you goe with me? Hast. I goe, my Lord.

Exit Cardinall and Hastings.

Prince. Good Lords, make all the speedie hast you may. Say, Vnckle Glocester, if our Brother come, Where shall we soiourne, till our Coronation? Glo. Where it think'st best vnto your Royall selfe. If I may counsaile you, some day or two Your Highnesse shall repose you at the Tower: Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit For your best health, and recreation

Prince. I doe not like the Tower, of any place: Did Iulius Cæsar build that place, my Lord? Buck. He did, my gracious Lord, begin that place, Which since, succeeding Ages haue re-edify'd

Prince. Is it vpon record? or else reported Successiuely from age to age, he built it? Buck. Vpon record, my gracious Lord

Prince. But say, my Lord, it were not registred, Me thinkes the truth should liue from age to age, As 'twere retayl'd to all posteritie, Euen to the generall ending day

Glo. So wise, so young, they say doe neuer liue long

Prince. What say you, Vnckle? Glo. I say, without Characters, Fame liues long. Thus, like the formall Vice, Iniquitie, I morallize two meanings in one word

Prince. That Iulius Cæsar was a famous man, With what his Valour did enrich his Wit, His Wit set downe, to make his Valour liue: Death makes no Conquest of his Conqueror, For now he liues in Fame, though not in Life. Ile tell you what, my Cousin Buckingham

Buck. What, my gracious Lord? Prince. And if I liue vntill I be a man, Ile win our ancient Right in France againe, Or dye a Souldier, as I liu'd a King

Glo. Short Summers lightly haue a forward Spring. Enter young Yorke, Hastings, and Cardinall.

Buck. Now in good time, heere comes the Duke of Yorke

Prince. Richard of Yorke, how fares our Noble Brother? Yorke. Well, my deare Lord, so must I call you now

Prince. I, Brother, to our griefe, as it is yours: Too late he dy'd, that might haue kept that Title, Which by his death hath lost much Maiestie

Glo. How fares our Cousin, Noble Lord of Yorke? Yorke. I thanke you, gentle Vnckle. O my Lord, You said, that idle Weeds are fast in growth: The Prince, my Brother, hath out-growne me farre

Glo. He hath, my Lord

Yorke. And therefore is he idle? Glo. Oh my faire Cousin, I must not say so

Yorke. Then he is more beholding to you, then I

Glo. He may command me as my Soueraigne, But you haue power in me, as in a Kinsman

Yorke. I pray you, Vnckle, giue me this Dagger

Glo. My Dagger, little Cousin? with all my heart

Prince. A Begger, Brother? Yorke. Of my kind Vnckle, that I know will giue, And being but a Toy, which is no griefe to giue

Glo. A greater gift then that, Ile giue my Cousin

Yorke. A greater gift? O, that's the Sword to it

Glo. I, gentle Cousin, were it light enough

Yorke. O then I see, you will part but with light gifts, In weightier things you'le say a Begger nay

Glo. It is too weightie for your Grace to weare

Yorke. I weigh it lightly, were it heauier

Glo. What, would you haue my Weapon, little Lord? Yorke. I would that I might thanke you, as, as, you call me

Glo. How? Yorke. Little

Prince. My Lord of Yorke will still be crosse in talke: Vnckle, your Grace knowes how to beare with him

Yorke. You meane to beare me, not to beare with me: Vnckle, my Brother mockes both you and me, Because that I am little, like an Ape, He thinkes that you should beare me on your shoulders

Buck. With what a sharpe prouided wit he reasons: To mittigate the scorne he giues his Vnckle, He prettily and aptly taunts himselfe: So cunning, and so young, is wonderfull

Glo. My Lord, wilt please you passe along? My selfe, and my good Cousin Buckingham, Will to your Mother, to entreat of her To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you

Yorke. what, will you goe vnto the Tower, my Lord? Prince. My Lord Protector will haue it so

Yorke. I shall not sleepe in quiet at the Tower

Glo. Why, what should you feare? Yorke. Marry, my Vnckle Clarence angry Ghost: My Grandam told me he was murther'd there

Prince. I feare no Vnckles dead

Glo. Nor none that liue, I hope

Prince. And if they liue, I hope I need not feare. But come my Lord: and with a heauie heart, Thinking on them, goe I vnto the Tower.

A Senet. Exeunt Prince, Yorke, Hastings, and Dorset.

Manet Richard, Buckingham, and Catesby.

Buck. Thinke you, my Lord, this little prating Yorke Was not incensed by his subtile Mother, To taunt and scorne you thus opprobriously? Glo. No doubt, no doubt: Oh 'tis a perillous Boy, Bold, quicke, ingenious, forward, capable: Hee is all the Mothers, from the top to toe

Buck. Well, let them rest: Come hither Catesby, Thou art sworne as deepely to effect what we intend, As closely to conceale what we impart: Thou know'st our reasons vrg'd vpon the way. What think'st thou? is it not an easie matter, To make William Lord Hastings of our minde, For the installment of this Noble Duke In the Seat Royall of this famous Ile? Cates. He for his fathers sake so loues the Prince, That he will not be wonne to ought against him

Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley? Will not hee? Cates. Hee will doe all in all as Hastings doth

Buck. Well then, no more but this: Goe gentle Catesby, and as it were farre off, Sound thou Lord Hastings, How he doth stand affected to our purpose, And summon him to morrow to the Tower, To sit about the Coronation. If thou do'st finde him tractable to vs, Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons: If he be leaden, ycie, cold, vnwilling, Be thou so too, and so breake off the talke, And giue vs notice of his inclination: For we to morrow hold diuided Councels, Wherein thy selfe shalt highly be employ'd

Rich. Commend me to Lord William: tell him Catesby, His ancient Knot of dangerous Aduersaries To morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle, And bid my Lord, for ioy of this good newes, Giue Mistresse Shore one gentle Kisse the more

Buck. Good Catesby, goe effect this businesse soundly

Cates. My good Lords both, with all the heed I can

Rich. Shall we heare from you, Catesby, ere we sleepe? Cates. You shall, my Lord

Rich. At Crosby House, there shall you find vs both.

Exit Catesby.

Buck. Now, my Lord, What shall wee doe, if wee perceiue Lord Hastings will not yeeld to our Complots? Rich. Chop off his Head: Something wee will determine: And looke when I am King, clayme thou of me The Earledome of Hereford, and all the moueables Whereof the King, my Brother, was possest

Buck. Ile clayme that promise at your Graces hand

Rich. And looke to haue it yeelded with all kindnesse. Come, let vs suppe betimes, that afterwards Wee may digest our complots in some forme.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter a Messenger to the Doore of Hastings.

Mess. My Lord, my Lord

Hast. Who knockes? Mess. One from the Lord Stanley

Hast. What is't a Clocke? Mess. Vpon the stroke of foure. Enter Lord Hastings.

Hast. Cannot my Lord Stanley sleepe these tedious Nights? Mess. So it appeares, by that I haue to say: First, he commends him to your Noble selfe

Hast. What then? Mess. Then certifies your Lordship, that this Night He dreamt, the Bore had rased off his Helme: Besides, he sayes there are two Councels kept; And that may be determin'd at the one, Which may make you and him to rue at th' other. Therefore he sends to know your Lordships pleasure, If you will presently take Horse with him, And with all speed post with him toward the North, To shun the danger that his Soule diuines

Hast. Goe fellow, goe, returne vnto thy Lord, Bid him not feare the seperated Councell: His Honor and my selfe are at the one, And at the other, is my good friend Catesby; Where nothing can proceede, that toucheth vs, Whereof I shall not haue intelligence: Tell him his Feares are shallow, without instance. And for his Dreames, I wonder hee's so simple, To trust the mock'ry of vnquiet slumbers. To flye the Bore, before the Bore pursues, Were to incense the Bore to follow vs, And make pursuit, where he did meane no chase. Goe, bid thy Master rise, and come to me, And we will both together to the Tower, Where he shall see the Bore will vse vs kindly

Mess. Ile goe, my Lord, and tell him what you say. Enter.

Enter Catesby.

Cates. Many good morrowes to my Noble Lord

Hast. Good morrow Catesby, you are early stirring: What newes, what newes, in this our tott'ring State? Cates. It is a reeling World indeed, my Lord: And I beleeue will neuer stand vpright, Till Richard weare the Garland of the Realme

Hast. How weare the Garland? Doest thou meane the Crowne? Cates. I, my good Lord

Hast. Ile haue this Crown of mine cut fro[m] my shoulders, Before Ile see the Crowne so foule mis-plac'd: But canst thou guesse, that he doth ayme at it? Cates. I, on my life, and hopes to find you forward, Vpon his partie, for the gaine thereof: And thereupon he sends you this good newes, That this same very day your enemies, The Kindred of the Queene, must dye at Pomfret

Hast. Indeed I am no mourner for that newes, Because they haue beene still my aduersaries: But, that Ile giue my voice on Richards side, To barre my Masters Heires in true Descent, God knowes I will not doe it, to the death

Cates. God keepe your Lordship in that gracious minde

Hast. But I shall laugh at this a twelue-month hence, That they which brought me in my Masters hate, I liue to looke vpon their Tragedie. Well Catesby, ere a fort-night make me older, Ile send some packing, that yet thinke not on't

Cates. 'Tis a vile thing to dye, my gracious Lord, When men are vnprepar'd, and looke not for it

Hast. O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out With Riuers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill doe With some men else, that thinke themselues as safe As thou and I, who (as thou know'st) are deare To Princely Richard, and to Buckingham

Cates. The Princes both make high account of you, For they account his Head vpon the Bridge

Hast. I know they doe, and I haue well deseru'd it. Enter Lord Stanley.

Come on, come on, where is your Bore-speare man? Feare you the Bore, and goe so vnprouided? Stan. My Lord good morrow, good morrow Catesby: You may ieast on, but by the holy Rood, I doe not like these seuerall Councels, I

Hast. My Lord, I hold my Life as deare as yours, And neuer in my dayes, I doe protest, Was it so precious to me, as 'tis now: Thinke you, but that I know our state secure, I would be so triumphant as I am? Sta. The Lords at Pomfret, whe[n] they rode from London, Were iocund, and suppos'd their states were sure, And they indeed had no cause to mistrust: But yet you see, how soone the Day o're-cast. This sudden stab of Rancour I misdoubt: Pray God (I say) I proue a needlesse Coward. What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent

Hast. Come, come, haue with you: Wot you what, my Lord, To day the Lords you talke of, are beheaded

Sta. They, for their truth, might better wear their Heads, Then some that haue accus'd them, weare their Hats. But come, my Lord, let's away. Enter a Pursuiuant.

Hast. Goe on before, Ile talke with this good fellow.

Exit Lord Stanley, and Catesby.

How now, Sirrha? how goes the World with thee? Purs. The better, that your Lordship please to aske

Hast. I tell thee man, 'tis better with me now, Then when thou met'st me last, where now we meet: Then was I going Prisoner to the Tower, By the suggestion of the Queenes Allyes. But now I tell thee (keepe it to thy selfe) This day those Enemies are put to death, And I in better state then ere I was

Purs. God hold it, to your Honors good content

Hast. Gramercie fellow: there, drinke that for me.

Throwes him his Purse.

Purs. I thanke your Honor.

Exit Pursuiuant.

Enter a Priest.

Priest. Well met, my Lord, I am glad to see your Honor

Hast. I thanke thee, good Sir Iohn, with all my heart. I am in your debt, for your last Exercise: Come the next Sabboth, and I will content you

Priest. Ile wait vpon your Lordship. Enter Buckingham.

Buc. What, talking with a Priest, Lord Chamberlaine? Your friends at Pomfret, they doe need the Priest, Your Honor hath no shriuing worke in hand

Hast. Good faith, and when I met this holy man, The men you talke of, came into my minde. What, goe you toward the Tower? Buc. I doe, my Lord, but long I cannot stay there: I shall returne before your Lordship, thence

Hast. Nay like enough, for I stay Dinner there

Buc. And Supper too, although thou know'st it not. Come, will you goe? Hast. Ile wait vpon your Lordship.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Sir Richard Ratcliffe, with Halberds, carrying the Nobles to death at Pomfret.

Riuers. Sir Richard Ratcliffe, let me tell thee this, To day shalt thou behold a Subiect die, For Truth, for Dutie, and for Loyaltie

Grey. God blesse the Prince from all the Pack of you, A Knot you are, of damned Blood-suckers

Vaugh. You liue, that shall cry woe for this heereafter

Rat. Dispatch, the limit of your Liues is out

Riuers. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody Prison! Fatall and ominous to Noble Peeres: Within the guiltie Closure of thy Walls, Richard the Second here was hackt to death: And for more slander to thy dismall Seat, Wee giue to thee our guiltlesse blood to drinke

Grey. Now Margarets Curse is falne vpon our Heads, When shee exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I, For standing by, when Richard stab'd her Sonne

Riuers. Then curs'd shee Richard, Then curs'd shee Buckingham, Then curs'd shee Hastings. Oh remember God, To heare her prayer for them, as now for vs: And for my Sister, and her Princely Sonnes, Be satisfy'd, deare God, with our true blood, Which, as thou know'st, vniustly must be spilt

Rat. Make haste, the houre of death is expiate

Riuers. Come Grey, come Vaughan, let vs here embrace. Farewell, vntill we meet againe in Heauen.

Exeunt.

Scaena Quarta.

Enter Buckingham, Darby, Hastings, Bishop of Ely, Norfolke, Ratcliffe, Louell, with others, at a Table.

Hast. Now Noble Peeres, the cause why we are met, Is to determine of the Coronation: In Gods Name speake, when is the Royall day? Buck. Is all things ready for the Royall time? Darb. It is, and wants but nomination

Ely. To morrow then I iudge a happie day

Buck. Who knowes the Lord Protectors mind herein? Who is most inward with the Noble Duke? Ely. Your Grace, we thinke, should soonest know his minde

Buck. We know each others Faces: for our Hearts, He knowes no more of mine, then I of yours, Or I of his, my Lord, then you of mine: Lord Hastings, you and he are neere in loue

Hast. I thanke his Grace, I know he loues me well: But for his purpose in the Coronation, I haue not sounded him, nor he deliuer'd His gracious pleasure any way therein: But you, my Honorable Lords, may name the time, And in the Dukes behalfe Ile giue my Voice, Which I presume hee'le take in gentle part. Enter Gloucester.

Ely. In happie time, here comes the Duke himselfe

Rich. My Noble Lords, and Cousins all, good morrow: I haue beene long a sleeper: but I trust, My absence doth neglect no great designe, Which by my presence might haue beene concluded

Buck. Had you not come vpon your Q my Lord, William, Lord Hastings, had pronounc'd your part; I meane your Voice, for Crowning of the King

Rich. Then my Lord Hastings, no man might be bolder, His Lordship knowes me well, and loues me well. My Lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborne, I saw good Strawberries in your Garden there, I doe beseech you, send for some of them

Ely. Mary and will, my Lord, with all my heart.

Exit Bishop.

Rich. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our businesse, And findes the testie Gentleman so hot, That he will lose his Head, ere giue consent His Masters Child, as worshipfully he tearmes it, Shall lose the Royaltie of Englands Throne

Buck. Withdraw your selfe a while, Ile goe with you.

Exeunt.

Darb. We haue not yet set downe this day of Triumph: To morrow, in my iudgement, is too sudden, For I my selfe am not so well prouided, As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. Enter the Bishop of Ely.

Ely. Where is my Lord, the Duke of Gloster? I haue sent for these Strawberries

Ha. His Grace looks chearfully & smooth this morning, There's some conceit or other likes him well, When that he bids good morrow with such spirit. I thinke there's neuer a man in Christendome Can lesser hide his loue, or hate, then hee, For by his Face straight shall you know his Heart

Darb. What of his Heart perceiue you in his Face, By any liuelyhood he shew'd to day? Hast. Mary, that with no man here he is offended: For were he, he had shewne it in his Lookes. Enter Richard, and Buckingham.

Rich. I pray you all, tell me what they deserue, That doe conspire my death with diuellish Plots Of damned Witchcraft, and that haue preuail'd Vpon my Body with their Hellish Charmes

Hast. The tender loue I beare your Grace, my Lord, Makes me most forward, in this Princely presence, To doome th' Offendors, whosoe're they be: I say, my Lord, they haue deserued death

Rich. Then be your eyes the witnesse of their euill. Looke how I am bewitch'd: behold, mine Arme Is like a blasted Sapling, wither'd vp: And this is Edwards Wife, that monstrous Witch, Consorted with that Harlot, Strumpet Shore, That by their Witchcraft thus haue marked me

Hast. If they haue done this deed, my Noble Lord

Rich. If? thou Protector of this damned Strumpet, Talk'st thou to me of Ifs: thou art a Traytor, Off with his Head; now by Saint Paul I sweare, I will not dine, vntill I see the same. Louell and Ratcliffe, looke that it be done:

Exeunt.

The rest that loue me, rise, and follow me.

Manet Louell and Ratcliffe, with the Lord Hastings.

Hast. Woe, woe for England, not a whit for me, For I, too fond, might haue preuented this: Stanley did dreame, the Bore did rowse our Helmes, And I did scorne it, and disdaine to flye: Three times to day my Foot-Cloth-Horse did stumble, And started, when he look'd vpon the Tower, As loth to beare me to the slaughter-house. O now I need the Priest, that spake to me: I now repent I told the Pursuiuant, As too triumphing, how mine Enemies To day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, And I my selfe secure, in grace and fauour. Oh Margaret, Margaret, now thy heauie Curse Is lighted on poore Hastings wretched Head

Ra. Come, come, dispatch, the Duke would be at dinner: Make a short Shrift, he longs to see your Head

Hast. O momentarie grace of mortall men, Which we more hunt for, then the grace of God! Who builds his hope in ayre of your good Lookes, Liues like a drunken Sayler on a Mast, Readie with euery Nod to tumble downe, Into the fatall Bowels of the Deepe

Lou. Come, come, dispatch, 'tis bootlesse to exclaime

Hast. O bloody Richard: miserable England, I prophecie the fearefull'st time to thee, That euer wretched Age hath look'd vpon. Come, lead me to the Block, beare him my Head, They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead.

Exeunt.

Enter Richard, and Buckingham, in rotten Armour, maruellous ill-fauoured.

Richard. Come Cousin, Canst thou quake, and change thy colour, Murther thy breath in middle of a word, And then againe begin, and stop againe, As if thou were distraught, and mad with terror? Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deepe Tragedian, Speake, and looke backe, and prie on euery side, Tremble and start at wagging of a Straw: Intending deepe suspition, gastly Lookes Are at my seruice, like enforced Smiles; And both are readie in their Offices, At any time to grace my Stratagemes. But what, is Catesby gone? Rich. He is, and see he brings the Maior along. Enter the Maior, and Catesby.

Buck. Lord Maior

Rich. Looke to the Draw-Bridge there

Buck. Hearke, a Drumme

Rich. Catesby, o're-looke the Walls

Buck. Lord Maior, the reason we haue sent

Rich. Looke back, defend thee, here are Enemies

Buck. God and our Innocencie defend, and guard vs. Enter Louell and Ratcliffe, with Hastings Head.

Rich. Be patient, they are friends: Ratcliffe, and Louell

Louell. Here is the Head of that ignoble Traytor, The dangerous and vnsuspected Hastings

Rich. So deare I lou'd the man, that I must weepe: I tooke him for the plainest harmelesse Creature, That breath'd vpon the Earth, a Christian. Made him my Booke, wherein my Soule recorded The Historie of all her secret thoughts. So smooth he dawb'd his Vice with shew of Vertue, That his apparant open Guilt omitted, I meane, his Conuersation with Shores Wife, He liu'd from all attainder of suspects

Buck. Well, well, he was the couertst sheltred Traytor That euer liu'd. Would you imagine, or almost beleeue, Wert not, that by great preseruation We liue to tell it, that the subtill Traytor This day had plotted, in the Councell-House, To murther me, and my good Lord of Gloster

Maior. Had he done so? Rich. What? thinke you we are Turkes, or Infidels? Or that we would, against the forme of Law, Proceed thus rashly in the Villaines death, But that the extreme perill of the case, The Peace of England, and our Persons safetie, Enforc'd vs to this Execution

Maior. Now faire befall you, he deseru'd his death, And your good Graces both haue well proceeded, To warne false Traytors from the like Attempts

Buck. I neuer look'd for better at his hands, After he once fell in with Mistresse Shore: Yet had we not determin'd he should dye, Vntill your Lordship came to see his end, Which now the louing haste of these our friends, Something against our meanings, haue preuented; Because, my Lord, I would haue had you heard The Traytor speake, and timorously confesse The manner and the purpose of his Treasons: That you might well haue signify'd the same Vnto the Citizens, who haply may Misconster vs in him, and wayle his death

Ma. But, my good Lord, your Graces words shal serue, As well as I had seene, and heard him speake: And doe not doubt, right Noble Princes both, But Ile acquaint our dutious Citizens With all your iust proceedings in this case

Rich. And to that end we wish'd your Lordship here, T' auoid the Censures of the carping World

Buck. Which since you come too late of our intent, Yet witnesse what you heare we did intend: And so, my good Lord Maior, we bid farwell.

Exit Maior.

Rich. Goe after, after, Cousin Buckingham. The Maior towards Guild-Hall hyes him in all poste: There, at your meetest vantage of the time, Inferre the Bastardie of Edwards Children: Tell them, how Edward put to death a Citizen, Onely for saying, he would make his Sonne Heire to the Crowne, meaning indeed his House, Which, by the Signe thereof, was tearmed so. Moreouer, vrge his hatefull Luxurie, And beastiall appetite in change of Lust, Which stretcht vnto their Seruants, Daughters, Wiues, Euen where his raging eye, or sauage heart, Without controll, lusted to make a prey. Nay, for a need, thus farre come neere my Person: Tell them, when that my Mother went with Child Of that insatiate Edward; Noble Yorke, My Princely Father, then had Warres in France, And by true computation of the time, Found, that the Issue was not his begot: Which well appeared in his Lineaments, Being nothing like the Noble Duke, my Father: Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere farre off, Because, my Lord, you know my Mother liues

Buck. Doubt not, my Lord, Ile play the Orator, As if the Golden Fee, for which I plead, Were for my selfe: and so, my Lord, adue

Rich. If you thriue wel, bring them to Baynards Castle, Where you shall finde me well accompanied With reuerend Fathers, and well-learned Bishops

Buck. I goe, and towards three or foure a Clocke Looke for the Newes that the Guild-Hall affoords.

Exit Buckingham.

Rich. Goe Louell with all speed to Doctor Shaw, Goe thou to Fryer Penker, bid them both Meet me within this houre at Baynards Castle. Enter.

Now will I goe to take some priuie order, To draw the Brats of Clarence out of sight, And to giue order, that no manner person Haue any time recourse vnto the Princes.

Exeunt.

Enter a Scriuener

Scr. Here is the Indictment of the good Lord Hastings, Which in a set Hand fairely is engross'd, That it may be to day read o're in Paules. And marke how well the sequell hangs together: Eleuen houres I haue spent to write it ouer, For yester-night by Catesby was it sent me, The Precedent was full as long a doing, And yet within these fiue houres Hastings liu'd, Vntainted, vnexamin'd, free, at libertie. Here's a good World the while. Who is so grosse, that cannot see this palpable deuice? Yet who so bold, but sayes he sees it not? Bad is the World, and all will come to nought, When such ill dealing must be seene in thought. Enter.

Enter Richard and Buckingham at seuerall Doores.

Rich. How now, how now, what say the Citizens? Buck. Now by the holy Mother of our Lord, The Citizens are mum, say not a word

Rich. Toucht you the Bastardie of Edwards Children? Buck. I did, with his Contract with Lady Lucy, And his Contract by Deputie in France, Th' vnsatiate greedinesse of his desire, And his enforcement of the Citie Wiues, His Tyrannie for Trifles, his owne Bastardie, As being got, your Father then in France, And his resemblance, being not like the Duke. Withall, I did inferre your Lineaments, Being the right Idea of your Father, Both in your forme, and Noblenesse of Minde: Layd open all your Victories in Scotland, Your Discipline in Warre, Wisdome in Peace, Your Bountie, Vertue, faire Humilitie: Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose, Vntoucht, or sleightly handled in discourse. And when my Oratorie drew toward end, I bid them that did loue their Countries good, Cry, God saue Richard, Englands Royall King

Rich. And did they so? Buck. No, so God helpe me, they spake not a word, But like dumbe Statues, or breathing Stones, Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale: Which when I saw, I reprehended them, And ask'd the Maior, what meant this wilfull silence? His answer was, the people were not vsed To be spoke to, but by the Recorder. Then he was vrg'd to tell my Tale againe: Thus sayth the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferr'd, But nothing spoke, in warrant from himselfe. When he had done, some followers of mine owne, At lower end of the Hall, hurld vp their Caps, And some tenne voyces cry'd, God saue King Richard: And thus I tooke the vantage of those few. Thankes gentle Citizens, and friends, quoth I, This generall applause, and chearefull showt, Argues your wisdome, and your loue to Richard: And euen here brake off, and came away

Rich. What tongue-lesse Blockes were they, Would they not speake? Will not the Maior then, and his Brethren, come? Buck. The Maior is here at hand: intend some feare, Be not you spoke with, but by mightie suit: And looke you get a Prayer-Booke in your hand, And stand betweene two Church-men, good my Lord, For on that ground Ile make a holy Descant: And be not easily wonne to our requests, Play the Maids part, still answer nay, and take it

Rich. I goe: and if you plead as well for them, As I can say nay to thee for my selfe, No doubt we bring it to a happie issue

Buck. Go, go vp to the Leads, the Lord Maior knocks. Enter the Maior, and Citizens.

Welcome, my Lord, I dance attendance here, I thinke the Duke will not be spoke withall. Enter Catesby.

Buck. Now Catesby, what sayes your Lord to my request? Catesby. He doth entreat your Grace, my Noble Lord, To visit him to morrow, or next day: He is within, with two right reuerend Fathers, Diuinely bent to Meditation, And in no Worldly suites would he be mou'd, To draw him from his holy Exercise

Buck. Returne, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke, Tell him, my selfe, the Maior and Aldermen, In deepe designes, in matter of great moment, No lesse importing then our generall good, Are come to haue some conference with his Grace

Catesby. Ile signifie so much vnto him straight. Enter.

Buck. Ah ha, my Lord, this Prince is not an Edward, He is not lulling on a lewd Loue-Bed, But on his Knees, at Meditation: Not dallying with a Brace of Curtizans, But meditating with two deepe Diuines: Not sleeping, to engrosse his idle Body, But praying, to enrich his watchfull Soule. Happie were England, would this vertuous Prince Take on his Grace the Soueraigntie thereof. But sure I feare we shall not winne him to it

Maior. Marry God defend his Grace should say vs nay

Buck. I feare he will: here Catesby comes againe. Enter Catesby.

Now Catesby, what sayes his Grace? Catesby. He wonders to what end you haue assembled Such troopes of Citizens, to come to him, His Grace not being warn'd thereof before: He feares, my Lord, you meane no good to him

Buck. Sorry I am, my Noble Cousin should Suspect me, that I meane no good to him: By Heauen, we come to him in perfit loue, And so once more returne, and tell his Grace. Enter.

When holy and deuout Religious men Are at their Beades, 'tis much to draw them thence, So sweet is zealous Contemplation. Enter Richard aloft, betweene two Bishops

Maior. See where his Grace stands, tweene two Clergie men

Buck. Two Props of Vertue, for a Christian Prince, To stay him from the fall of Vanitie: And see a Booke of Prayer in his hand, True Ornaments to know a holy man. Famous Plantagenet, most gracious Prince, Lend fauourable eare to our requests, And pardon vs the interruption Of thy Deuotion, and right Christian Zeale

Rich. My Lord, there needes no such Apologie: I doe beseech your Grace to pardon me, Who earnest in the seruice of my God, Deferr'd the visitation of my friends. But leauing this, what is your Graces pleasure? Buck. Euen that (I hope) which pleaseth God aboue, And all good men, of this vngouern'd Ile

Rich. I doe suspect I haue done some offence, That seemes disgracious in the Cities eye, And that you come to reprehend my ignorance

Buck. You haue, my Lord: Would it might please your Grace, On our entreaties, to amend your fault

Rich. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian Land

Buck. Know then, it is your fault, that you resigne The Supreme Seat, the Throne Maiesticall, The Sceptred Office of your Ancestors, Your State of Fortune, and your Deaw of Birth, The Lineall Glory of your Royall House, To the corruption of a blemisht Stock; Whiles in the mildnesse of your sleepie thoughts, Which here we waken to our Countries good, The Noble Ile doth want his proper Limmes: His Face defac'd with skarres of Infamie, His Royall Stock grafft with ignoble Plants, And almost shouldred in the swallowing Gulfe Of darke Forgetfulnesse, and deepe Obliuion. Which to recure, we heartily solicite Your gracious selfe to take on you the charge And Kingly Gouernment of this your Land: Not as Protector, Steward, Substitute, Or lowly Factor, for anothers gaine; But as successiuely, from Blood to Blood, Your Right of Birth, your Empyrie, your owne. For this, consorted with the Citizens, Your very Worshipfull and louing friends, And by their vehement instigation, In this iust Cause come I to moue your Grace

Rich. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence, Or bitterly to speake in your reproofe, Best fitteth my Degree, or your Condition. If not to answer, you might haply thinke, Tongue-ty'd Ambition, not replying, yeelded To beare the Golden Yoake of Soueraigntie, Which fondly you would here impose on me. If to reproue you for this suit of yours, So season'd with your faithfull loue to me, Then on the other side I check'd my friends. Therefore to speake, and to auoid the first, And then in speaking, not to incurre the last, Definitiuely thus I answer you. Your loue deserues my thankes, but my desert Vnmeritable, shunnes your high request. First, if all Obstacles were cut away, And that my Path were euen to the Crowne, As the ripe Reuenue, and due of Birth: Yet so much is my pouertie of spirit, So mightie, and so manie my defects, That I would rather hide me from my Greatnesse, Being a Barke to brooke no mightie Sea; Then in my Greatnesse couet to be hid, And in the vapour of my Glory smother'd. But God be thank'd, there is no need of me, And much I need to helpe you, were there need: The Royall Tree hath left vs Royall Fruit, Which mellow'd by the stealing howres of time, Will well become the Seat of Maiestie, And make (no doubt) vs happy by his Reigne. On him I lay that, you would lay on me, The Right and Fortune of his happie Starres, Which God defend that I should wring from him

Buck. My Lord, this argues Conscience in your Grace, But the respects thereof are nice, and triuiall, All circumstances well considered. You say, that Edward is your Brothers Sonne, So say we too, but not by Edwards Wife: For first was he contract to Lady Lucie, Your Mother liues a Witnesse to his Vow; And afterward by substitute betroth'd To Bona, Sister to the King of France. These both put off, a poore Petitioner, A Care-cras'd Mother to a many Sonnes, A Beautie-waining, and distressed Widow, Euen in the after-noone of her best dayes, Made prize and purchase of his wanton Eye, Seduc'd the pitch, and height of his degree, To base declension, and loath'd Bigamie. By her, in his vnlawfull Bed, he got This Edward, whom our Manners call the Prince. More bitterly could I expostulate, Saue that for reuerence to some aliue, I giue a sparing limit to my Tongue. Then good, my Lord, take to your Royall selfe This proffer'd benefit of Dignitie: If not to blesse vs and the Land withall, Yet to draw forth your Noble Ancestrie From the corruption of abusing times, Vnto a Lineall true deriued course

Maior. Do good my Lord, your Citizens entreat you

Buck. Refuse not, mightie Lord, this proffer'd loue

Catesb. O make them ioyfull, grant their lawfull suit

Rich. Alas, why would you heape this Care on me? I am vnfit for State, and Maiestie: I doe beseech you take it not amisse, I cannot, nor I will not yeeld to you

Buck. If you refuse it, as in loue and zeale, Loth to depose the Child, your Brothers Sonne, As well we know your tendernesse of heart, And gentle, kinde, effeminate remorse, Which we haue noted in you to your Kindred, And egally indeede to all Estates: Yet know, where you accept our suit, or no, Your Brothers Sonne shall neuer reigne our King, But we will plant some other in the Throne, To the disgrace and downe-fall of your House: And in this resolution here we leaue you. Come Citizens, we will entreat no more.

Exeunt.

Catesb. Call him againe, sweet Prince, accept their suit: If you denie them, all the Land will rue it

Rich. Will you enforce me to a world of Cares. Call them againe, I am not made of Stones, But penetrable to your kinde entreaties, Albeit against my Conscience and my Soule. Enter Buckingham, and the rest.

Cousin of Buckingham, and sage graue men, Since you will buckle fortune on my back, To beare her burthen, where I will or no. I must haue patience to endure the Load: But if black Scandall, or foule-fac'd Reproach, Attend the sequell of your Imposition, Your meere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots and staynes thereof; For God doth know, and you may partly see, How farre I am from the desire of this

Maior. God blesse your Grace, wee see it, and will say it

Rich. In saying so, you shall but say the truth

Buck. Then I salute you with this Royall Title, Long liue King Richard, Englands worthie King

All. Amen

Buck. To morrow may it please you to be Crown'd

Rich. Euen when you please, for you will haue it so

Buck. To morrow then we will attend your Grace, And so most ioyfully we take our leaue

Rich. Come, let vs to our holy Worke againe. Farewell my Cousins, farewell gentle friends.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter the Queene, Anne Duchesse of Gloucester, the Duchesse of Yorke, and Marquesse Dorset.

Duch.Yorke. Who meetes vs heere? My Neece Plantagenet, Led in the hand of her kind Aunt of Gloster? Now, for my Life, shee's wandring to the Tower, On pure hearts loue, to greet the tender Prince. Daughter, well met

Anne. God giue your Graces both, a happie And a ioyfull time of day

Qu. As much to you, good Sister: whither away? Anne. No farther then the Tower, and as I guesse, Vpon the like deuotion as your selues, To gratulate the gentle Princes there

Qu. Kind Sister thankes, wee'le enter all together: Enter the Lieutenant.

And in good time, here the Lieutenant comes. Master Lieutenant, pray you, by your leaue, How doth the Prince, and my young Sonne of Yorke? Lieu. Right well, deare Madame: by your patience, I may not suffer you to visit them, The King hath strictly charg'd the contrary

Qu. The King? who's that? Lieu. I meane, the Lord Protector

Qu. The Lord protect him from that Kingly Title. Hath he set bounds betweene their loue, and me? I am their Mother, who shall barre me from them? Duch.Yorke. I am their Fathers Mother, I will see them

Anne. Their Aunt I am in law, in loue their Mother: Then bring me to their sights, Ile beare thy blame, And take thy Office from thee, on my perill

Lieu. No, Madame, no; I may not leaue it so: I am bound by Oath, and therefore pardon me.

Exit Lieutenant.

Enter Stanley.

Stanley. Let me but meet you Ladies one howre hence, And Ile salute your Grace of Yorke as Mother, And reuerend looker on of two faire Queenes. Come Madame, you must straight to Westminster, There to be crowned Richards Royall Queene

Qu. Ah, cut my Lace asunder, That my pent heart may haue some scope to beat, Or else I swoone with this dead-killing newes

Anne. Despightfull tidings, O vnpleasing newes

Dors. Be of good cheare: Mother, how fares your Grace? Qu. O Dorset, speake not to me, get thee gone, Death and Destruction dogges thee at thy heeles, Thy Mothers Name is ominous to Children. If thou wilt out-strip Death, goe crosse the Seas, And liue with Richmond, from the reach of Hell. Goe hye thee, hye thee from this slaughter-house, Lest thou encrease the number of the dead, And make me dye the thrall of Margarets Curse, Nor Mother, Wife, nor Englands counted Queene

Stanley. Full of wise care, is this your counsaile, Madame: Take all the swift aduantage of the howres: You shall haue Letters from me to my Sonne, In your behalfe, to meet you on the way: Be not ta'ne tardie by vnwise delay

Duch.Yorke. O ill dispersing Winde of Miserie. O my accursed Wombe, the Bed of Death: A Cockatrice hast thou hatcht to the World, Whose vnauoided Eye is murtherous

Stanley. Come, Madame, come, I in all haste was sent

Anne. And I with all vnwillingnesse will goe. O would to God, that the inclusiue Verge Of Golden Mettall, that must round my Brow, Were red hot Steele, to seare me to the Braines, Anoynted let me be with deadly Venome, And dye ere men can say, God saue the Queene

Qu. Goe, goe, poore soule, I enuie not thy glory, To feed my humor, wish thy selfe no harme

Anne. No: why? When he that is my Husband now, Came to me, as I follow'd Henries Corse, When scarce the blood was well washt from his hands, Which issued from my other Angell Husband, And that deare Saint, which then I weeping follow'd: O, when I say I look'd on Richards Face, This was my Wish: Be thou (quoth I) accurst, For making me, so young, so old a Widow: And when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy Bed; And be thy Wife, if any be so mad, More miserable, by the Life of thee, Then thou hast made me, by my deare Lords death. Loe, ere I can repeat this Curse againe, Within so small a time, my Womans heart Grossely grew captiue to his honey words, And prou'd the subiect of mine owne Soules Curse, Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest: For neuer yet one howre in his Bed Did I enioy the golden deaw of sleepe, But with his timorous Dreames was still awak'd. Besides, he hates me for my Father Warwicke, And will (no doubt) shortly be rid of me

Qu. Poore heart adieu, I pittie thy complaining

Anne. No more, then with my soule I mourne for yours

Dors. Farewell, thou wofull welcommer of glory

Anne. Adieu, poore soule, that tak'st thy leaue of it

Du.Y. Go thou to Richmond, & good fortune guide thee, Go thou to Richard, and good Angels tend thee, Go thou to Sanctuarie, and good thoughts possesse thee, I to my Graue, where peace and rest lye with mee. Eightie odde yeeres of sorrow haue I seene, And each howres ioy wrackt with a weeke of teene

Qu. Stay, yet looke backe with me vnto the Tower. Pitty, you ancient Stones, those tender Babes, Whom Enuie hath immur'd within your Walls, Rough Cradle for such little prettie ones, Rude ragged Nurse, old sullen Play-fellow, For tender Princes: vse my Babies well; So foolish Sorrowes bids your Stones farewell.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Sound a Sennet. Enter Richard in pompe, Buckingham, Catesby, Ratcliffe, Louel.

Rich. Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham

Buck. My gracious Soueraigne

Rich. Giue me thy hand.

Sound.

Thus high, by thy aduice, and thy assistance, Is King Richard seated: But shall we weare these Glories for a day? Or shall they last, and we reioyce in them? Buck. Still liue they, and for euer let them last

Rich. Ah Buckingham, now doe I play the Touch, To trie if thou be currant Gold indeed: Young Edward liues, thinke now what I would speake

Buck. Say on my louing Lord

Rich. Why Buckingham, I say I would be King

Buck. Why so you are, my thrice-renowned Lord

Rich. Ha? am I King? 'tis so: but Edward liues

Buck True, Noble Prince

Rich. O bitter consequence! That Edward still should liue true Noble Prince. Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull. Shall I be plaine? I wish the Bastards dead, And I would haue it suddenly perform'd. What say'st thou now? speake suddenly, be briefe

Buck. Your Grace may doe your pleasure

Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all Ice, thy kindnesse freezes: Say, haue I thy consent, that they shall dye? Buc. Giue me some litle breath, some pawse, deare Lord, Before I positiuely speake in this: I will resolue you herein presently.

Exit Buck[ingham].

Catesby. The King is angry, see he gnawes his Lippe

Rich. I will conuerse with Iron-witted Fooles, And vnrespectiue Boyes: none are for me, That looke into me with considerate eyes, High-reaching Buckingham growes circumspect. Boy

Page. My Lord

Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting Gold Will tempt vnto a close exploit of Death? Page. I know a discontented Gentleman, Whose humble meanes match not his haughtie spirit: Gold were as good as twentie Orators, And will (no doubt) tempt him to any thing

Rich. What is his Name? Page. His Name, my Lord, is Tirrell

Rich. I partly know the man: goe call him hither, Boy. Enter.

The deepe reuoluing wittie Buckingham, No more shall be the neighbor to my counsailes. Hath he so long held out with me, vntyr'd, And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so. Enter Stanley.

How now, Lord Stanley, what's the newes? Stanley. Know my louing Lord, the Marquesse Dorset As I heare, is fled to Richmond, In the parts where he abides

Rich. Come hither Catesby, rumor it abroad, That Anne my Wife is very grieuous sicke, I will take order for her keeping close. Inquire me out some meane poore Gentleman, Whom I will marry straight to Clarence Daughter: The Boy is foolish, and I feare not him. Looke how thou dream'st: I say againe, giue out, That Anne, my Queene, is sicke, and like to dye. About it, for it stands me much vpon To stop all hopes, whose growth may dammage me. I must be marryed to my Brothers Daughter, Or else my Kingdome stands on brittle Glasse: Murther her Brothers, and then marry her, Vncertaine way of gaine. But I am in So farre in blood, that sinne will pluck on sinne, Teare-falling Pittie dwells not in this Eye. Enter Tyrrel.

Is thy Name Tyrrel? Tyr. Iames Tyrrel, and your most obedient subiect

Rich. Art thou indeed? Tyr. Proue me, my gracious Lord

Rich. Dar'st thou resolue to kill a friend of mine? Tyr. Please you: But I had rather kill two enemies

Rich. Why then thou hast it: two deepe enemies, Foes to my Rest, and my sweet sleepes disturbers, Are they that I would haue thee deale vpon: Tyrrel, I meane those Bastards in the Tower

Tyr. Let me haue open meanes to come to them, And soone Ile rid you from the feare of them

Rich. Thou sing'st sweet Musique: Hearke, come hither Tyrrel, Goe by this token: rise, and lend thine Eare,

Whispers.

There is no more but so: say it is done, And I will loue thee, and preferre thee for it

Tyr. I will dispatch it straight. Enter.

Enter Buckingham.

Buck. My Lord, I haue consider'd in my minde, The late request that you did sound me in

Rich. Well, let that rest: Dorset is fled to Richmond

Buck. I heare the newes, my Lord

Rich. Stanley, hee is your Wiues Sonne: well, looke vnto it

Buck. My Lord, I clayme the gift, my due by promise, For which your Honor and your Faith is pawn'd, Th' Earledome of Hertford, and the moueables, Which you haue promised I shall possesse

Rich. Stanley looke to your Wife: if she conuey Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it

Buck. What sayes your Highnesse to my iust request? Rich. I doe remember me, Henry the Sixt Did prophecie, that Richmond should be King, When Richmond was a little peeuish Boy. A King perhaps

Buck. May it please you to resolue me in my suit

Rich. Thou troublest me, I am not in the vaine. Enter

Buck. And is it thus? repayes he my deepe seruice With such contempt? made I him King for this? O let me thinke on Hastings, and be gone To Brecnock, while my fearefull Head is on. Enter.

Enter Tyrrel.

Tyr. The tyrannous and bloodie Act is done, The most arch deed of pittious massacre That euer yet this Land was guilty of: Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborne To do this peece of ruthfull Butchery, Albeit they were flesht Villaines, bloody Dogges, Melted with tendernesse, and milde compassion, Wept like to Children, in their deaths sad Story. O thus (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle Babes: Thus, thus (quoth Forrest) girdling one another Within their Alablaster innocent Armes: Their lips were foure red Roses on a stalke, And in their Summer Beauty kist each other. A Booke of Prayers on their pillow lay, Which one (quoth Forrest) almost chang'd my minde: But oh the Diuell, there the Villaine stopt: When Dighton thus told on, we smothered The most replenished sweet worke of Nature, That from the prime Creation ere she framed. Hence both are gone with Conscience and Remorse, They could not speake, and so I left them both, To beare this tydings to the bloody King. Enter Richard.

And heere he comes. All health my Soueraigne Lord

Ric. Kinde Tirrell, am I happy in thy Newes

Tir. If to haue done the thing you gaue in charge, Beget your happinesse, be happy then, For it is done

Rich. But did'st thou see them dead

Tir. I did my Lord

Rich. And buried gentle Tirrell

Tir. The Chaplaine of the Tower hath buried them, But where (to say the truth) I do not know

Rich. Come to me Tirrel soone, and after Supper, When thou shalt tell the processe of their death. Meane time, but thinke how I may do the good, And be inheritor of thy desire. Farewell till then

Tir. I humbly take my leaue

Rich. The Sonne of Clarence haue I pent vp close, His daughter meanly haue I matcht in marriage, The Sonnes of Edward sleepe in Abrahams bosome, And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night. Now for I know the Britaine Richmond aymes At yong Elizabeth my brothers daughter, And by that knot lookes proudly on the Crowne, To her go I, a iolly thriuing wooer. Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat. My Lord

Rich. Good or bad newes, that thou com'st in so bluntly? Rat. Bad news my Lord, Mourton is fled to Richmond, And Buckingham backt with the hardy Welshmen Is in the field, and still his power encreaseth

Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more neere, Then Buckingham and his rash leuied Strength. Come, I haue learn'd, that fearfull commenting Is leaden seruitor to dull delay. Delay leds impotent and Snaile-pac'd Beggery: Then fierie expedition be my wing, Ioues Mercury, and Herald for a King: Go muster men: My counsaile is my Sheeld, We must be breefe, when Traitors braue the Field.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter old Queene Margaret

Mar. So now prosperity begins to mellow, And drop into the rotten mouth of death: Heere in these Confines slily haue I lurkt, To watch the waining of mine enemies. A dire induction, am I witnesse to, And will to France, hoping the consequence Will proue as bitter, blacke, and Tragicall. Withdraw thee wretched Margaret, who comes heere? Enter Dutchesse and Queene.

Qu. Ah my poore Princes! ah my tender Babes: My vnblowed Flowres, new appearing sweets: If yet your gentle soules flye in the Ayre, And be not fixt in doome perpetuall, Houer about me with your ayery wings, And heare your mothers Lamentation

Mar. Houer about her, say that right for right Hath dim'd your Infant morne, to Aged night

Dut. So many miseries haue craz'd my voyce, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute. Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, Edward for Edward, payes a dying debt

Qu. Wilt thou, O God, flye from such gentle Lambs, And throw them in the intrailes of the Wolfe? When didst thou sleepe, when such a deed was done? Mar. When holy Harry dyed, and my sweet Sonne

Dut. Dead life, blind sight, poore mortall liuing ghost, Woes Scene, Worlds shame, Graues due, by life vsurpt, Breefe abstract and record of tedious dayes, Rest thy vnrest on Englands lawfull earth, Vnlawfully made drunke with innocent blood

Qu. Ah that thou would'st assoone affoord a Graue, As thou canst yeeld a melancholly seate: Then would I hide my bones, not rest them heere, Ah who hath any cause to mourne but wee? Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reuerent, Giue mine the benefit of signeurie, And let my greefes frowne on the vpper hand If sorrow can admit Society. I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him: I had a Husband, till a Richard kill'd him: Thou had'st an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him: Thou had'st a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him

Dut. I had a Richard too, and thou did'st kill him; I had a Rutland too, thou hop'st to kill him

Mar. Thou had'st a Clarence too, And Richard kill'd him. From forth the kennell of thy wombe hath crept A Hell-hound that doth hunt vs all to death: That Dogge, that had his teeth before his eyes, To worry Lambes, and lap their gentle blood: That foule defacer of Gods handy worke: That reignes in gauled eyes of weeping soules: That excellent grand Tyrant of the earth, Thy wombe let loose to chase vs to our graues. O vpright, iust, and true-disposing God, How do I thanke thee, that this carnall Curre Prayes on the issue of his Mothers body, And makes her Pue-fellow with others mone

Dut. Oh Harries wife, triumph not in my woes: God witnesse with me, I haue wept for thine

Mar. Beare with me: I am hungry for reuenge, And now I cloy me with beholding it. Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward, The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward: Yong Yorke, he is but boote, because both they Matcht not the high perfection of my losse. Thy Clarence he is dead, that stab'd my Edward, And the beholders of this franticke play, Th' adulterate Hastings, Riuers, Vaughan, Gray, Vntimely smother'd in their dusky Graues. Richard yet liues, Hels blacke Intelligencer, Onely reseru'd their Factor, to buy soules, And send them thither: But at hand, at hand Insues his pittious and vnpittied end. Earth gapes, Hell burnes, Fiends roare, Saints pray, To haue him sodainly conuey'd from hence: Cancell his bond of life, deere God I pray, That I may liue and say, The Dogge is dead

Qu. O thou did'st prophesie, the time would come, That I should wish for thee to helpe me curse That bottel'd Spider, that foule bunch-back'd Toad

Mar. I call'd thee then, vaine flourish of my fortune: I call'd thee then, poore Shadow, painted Queen, The presentation of but what I was; The flattering Index of a direfull Pageant; One heau'd a high, to be hurl'd downe below: A Mother onely mockt with two faire Babes; A dreame of what thou wast, a garish Flagge To be the ayme of euery dangerous Shot; A signe of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble; A Queene in ieast, onely to fill the Scene. Where is thy Husband now? Where be thy Brothers? Where be thy two Sonnes? Wherein dost thou Ioy? Who sues, and kneeles, and sayes, God saue the Queene? Where be the bending Peeres that flattered thee? Where be the thronging Troopes that followed thee? Decline all this, and see what now thou art. For happy Wife, a most distressed Widdow: For ioyfull Mother, one that wailes the name: For one being sued too, one that humbly sues: For Queene, a very Caytiffe, crown'd with care: For she that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me: For she being feared of all, now fearing one: For she commanding all, obey'd of none. Thus hath the course of Iustice whirl'd about, And left thee but a very prey to time, Hauing no more but Thought of what thou wast. To torture thee the more, being what thou art, Thou didst vsurpe my place, and dost thou not Vsurpe the iust proportion of my Sorrow? Now thy proud Necke, beares halfe my burthen'd yoke, From which, euen heere I slip my wearied head, And leaue the burthen of it all, on thee. Farwell Yorkes wife, and Queene of sad mischance, These English woes, shall make me smile in France

Qu. O thou well skill'd in Curses, stay a-while, And teach me how to curse mine enemies

Mar. Forbeare to sleepe the night, and fast the day: Compare dead happinesse, with liuing woe: Thinke that thy Babes were sweeter then they were, And he that slew them fowler then he is: Bett'ring thy losse, makes the bad causer worse, Reuoluing this, will teach thee how to Curse

Qu. My words are dull, O quicken them with thine

Mar. Thy woes will make them sharpe, And pierce like mine.

Exit Margaret.

Dut. Why should calamity be full of words? Qu. Windy Atturnies to their Clients Woes, Ayery succeeders of intestine ioyes, Poore breathing Orators of miseries, Let them haue scope, though what they will impart, Helpe nothing els, yet do they ease the hart

Dut. If so then, be not Tongue-ty'd: go with me, And in the breath of bitter words, let's smother My damned Son, that thy two sweet Sonnes smother'd. The Trumpet sounds, be copious in exclaimes. Enter King Richard, and his Traine.

Rich. Who intercepts me in my Expedition? Dut. O she, that might haue intercepted thee By strangling thee in her accursed wombe, From all the slaughters (Wretch) that thou hast done

Qu. Hid'st thou that Forhead with a Golden Crowne Where't should be branded, if that right were right? The slaughter of the Prince that ow'd that Crowne, And the dyre death of my poore Sonnes, and Brothers. Tell me thou Villaine-slaue, where are my Children? Dut. Thou Toad, thou Toade, Where is thy Brother Clarence? And little Ned Plantagenet his Sonne? Qu. Where is the gentle Riuers, Vaughan, Gray? Dut. Where is kinde Hastings? Rich. A flourish Trumpets, strike Alarum Drummes: Let not the Heauens heare these Tell-tale women Raile on the Lords Annointed. Strike I say.

Flourish. Alarums.

Either be patient, and intreat me fayre, Or with the clamorous report of Warre, Thus will I drowne your exclamations

Dut. Art thou my Sonne? Rich. I, I thanke God, my Father, and your selfe

Dut. Then patiently heare my impatience

Rich. Madam, I haue a touch of your condition, That cannot brooke the accent of reproofe

Dut. O let me speake

Rich. Do then, but Ile not heare

Dut. I will be milde, and gentle in my words

Rich. And breefe (good Mother) for I am in hast

Dut. Art thou so hasty? I haue staid for thee (God knowes) in torment and in agony

Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you? Dut. No by the holy Rood, thou know'st it well, Thou cam'st on earth, to make the earth my Hell. A greeuous burthen was thy Birth to me, Tetchy and wayward was thy Infancie. Thy School-daies frightfull, desp'rate, wilde, and furious, Thy prime of Manhood, daring, bold, and venturous: Thy Age confirm'd, proud, subtle, slye, and bloody, More milde, but yet more harmfull; Kinde in hatred: What comfortable houre canst thou name, That euer grac'd me with thy company? Rich. Faith none, but Humfrey Hower, That call'd your Grace To Breakefast once, forth of my company. If I be so disgracious in your eye, Let me march on, and not offend you Madam. Strike vp the Drumme

Dut. I prythee heare me speake

Rich. You speake too bitterly

Dut. Heare me a word: For I shall neuer speake to thee againe

Rich. So

Dut. Either thou wilt dye, by Gods iust ordinance Ere from this warre thou turne a Conqueror: Or I with greefe and extreame Age shall perish, And neuer more behold thy face againe. Therefore take with thee my most greeuous Curse, Which in the day of Battell tyre thee more Then all the compleat Armour that thou wear'st. My Prayers on the aduerse party fight, And there the little soules of Edwards Children, Whisper the Spirits of thine Enemies, And promise them Successe and Victory: Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end: Shame serues thy life, and doth thy death attend. Enter.

Qu. Though far more cause, yet much lesse spirit to curse Abides in me, I say Amen to her

Rich. Stay Madam, I must talke a word with you

Qu. I haue no more sonnes of the Royall Blood For thee to slaughter. For my Daughters (Richard) They shall be praying Nunnes, not weeping Queenes: And therefore leuell not to hit their liues

Rich. You haue a daughter call'd Elizabeth, Vertuous and Faire, Royall and Gracious? Qu. And must she dye for this? O let her liue, And Ile corrupt her Manners, staine her Beauty, Slander my Selfe, as false to Edwards bed: Throw ouer her the vaile of Infamy, So she may liue vnscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, I will confesse she was not Edwards daughter

Rich. Wrong not her Byrth, she is a Royall Princesse

Qu. To saue her life, Ile say she is not so

Rich. Her life is safest onely in her byrth

Qu. And onely in that safety, dyed her Brothers

Rich. Loe at their Birth, good starres were opposite

Qu. No, to their liues, ill friends were contrary

Rich. All vnauoyded is the doome of Destiny

Qu. True: when auoyded grace makes Destiny. My Babes were destin'd to a fairer death, If grace had blest thee with a fairer life

Rich. You speake as if that I had slaine my Cosins? Qu. Cosins indeed, and by their Vnckle couzend, Of Comfort, Kingdome, Kindred, Freedome, Life, Whose hand soeuer lanch'd their tender hearts, Thy head (all indirectly) gaue direction. No doubt the murd'rous Knife was dull and blunt, Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, To reuell in the Intrailes of my Lambes. But that still vse of greefe, makes wilde greefe tame, My tongue should to thy eares not name my Boyes, Till that my Nayles were anchor'd in thine eyes: And I in such a desp'rate Bay of death, Like a poore Barke, of sailes and tackling reft, Rush all to peeces on thy Rocky bosome

Rich. Madam, so thriue I in my enterprize And dangerous successe of bloody warres, As I intend more good to you and yours, Then euer you and yours by me were harm'd

Qu. What good is couer'd with the face of heauen, To be discouered, that can do me good

Rich. Th' aduancement of your children, gentle Lady Qu. Vp to some Scaffold, there to lose their heads

Rich. Vnto the dignity and height of Fortune, The high Imperiall Type of this earths glory

Qu. Flatter my sorrow with report of it: Tell me, what State, what Dignity, what Honor, Canst thou demise to any childe of mine

Rich. Euen all I haue; I, and my selfe and all, Will I withall indow a childe of thine: So in the Lethe of thy angry soule, Thou drowne the sad remembrance of those wrongs, Which thou supposest I haue done to thee

Qu. Be breefe, least that the processe of thy kindnesse Last longer telling then thy kindnesse date

Rich. Then know, That from my Soule, I loue thy Daughter

Qu. My daughters Mother thinkes it with her soule

Rich. What do you thinke? Qu. That thou dost loue my daughter from thy soule So from thy Soules loue didst thou loue her Brothers, And from my hearts loue, I do thanke thee for it

Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning: I meane that with my Soule I loue thy daughter, And do intend to make her Queene of England

Qu. Well then, who dost y meane shallbe her King

Rich. Euen he that makes her Queene: Who else should bee? Qu. What, thou? Rich. Euen so: How thinke you of it? Qu. How canst thou woo her? Rich. That I would learne of you, As one being best acquainted with her humour

Qu. And wilt thou learne of me? Rich. Madam, with all my heart

Qu. Send to her by the man that slew her Brothers. A paire of bleeding hearts: thereon ingraue Edward and Yorke, then haply will she weepe: Therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret Did to thy Father, steept in Rutlands blood, A hand-kercheefe, which say to her did dreyne The purple sappe from her sweet Brothers body, And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withall. If this inducement moue her not to loue, Send her a Letter of thy Noble deeds: Tell her, thou mad'st away her Vnckle Clarence, Her Vnckle Riuers, I (and for her sake) Mad'st quicke conueyance with her good Aunt Anne

Rich. You mocke me Madam, this not the way To win your daughter

Qu. There is no other way, Vnlesse thou could'st put on some other shape, And not be Richard, that hath done all this

Ric. Say that I did all this for loue of her

Qu. Nay then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee Hauing bought loue, with such a bloody spoyle

Rich. Looke what is done, cannot be now amended: Men shall deale vnaduisedly sometimes, Which after-houres giues leysure to repent. If I did take the Kingdome from your Sonnes, To make amends, Ile giue it to your daughter: If I haue kill'd the issue of your wombe, To quicken your encrease, I will beget Mine yssue of your blood, vpon your Daughter: A Grandams name is little lesse in loue, Then is the doting Title of a Mother; They are as Children but one steppe below, Euen of your mettall, of your very blood: Of all one paine, saue for a night of groanes Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. Your Children were vexation to your youth, But mine shall be a comfort to your Age, The losse you haue, is but a Sonne being King, And by that losse, your Daughter is made Queene. I cannot make you what amends I would, Therefore accept such kindnesse as I can. Dorset your Sonne, that with a fearfull soule Leads discontented steppes in Forraine soyle, This faire Alliance, quickly shall call home To high Promotions, and great Dignity. The King that calles your beauteous Daughter Wife, Familiarly shall call thy Dorset, Brother: Againe shall you be Mother to a King: And all the Ruines of distressefull Times, Repayr'd with double Riches of Content. What? we haue many goodly dayes to see: The liquid drops of Teares that you haue shed, Shall come againe, transform'd to Orient Pearle, Aduantaging their Loue, with interest Often-times double gaine of happinesse. Go then (my Mother) to thy Daughter go, Make bold her bashfull yeares, with your experience, Prepare her eares to heare a Woers Tale. Put in her tender heart, th' aspiring Flame Of Golden Soueraignty: Acquaint the Princesse With the sweet silent houres of Marriage ioyes: And when this Arme of mine hath chastised The petty Rebell, dull-brain'd Buckingham, Bound with Triumphant Garlands will I come, And leade thy daughter to a Conquerors bed: To whom I will retaile my Conquest wonne, And she shalbe sole Victoresse, Cæsars Cæsar

Qu. What were I best to say, her Fathers Brother Would be her Lord? Or shall I say her Vnkle? Or he that slew her Brothers, and her Vnkles? Vnder what Title shall I woo for thee, That God, the Law, my Honor, and her Loue, Can make seeme pleasing to her tender yeares? Rich. Inferre faire Englands peace by this Alliance

Qu. Which she shall purchase with stil lasting warre

Rich. Tell her, the King that may command, intreats

Qu. That at her hands, which the kings King forbids

Rich. Say she shall be a High and Mighty Queene

Qu. To vaile the Title, as her Mother doth

Rich. Say I will loue her euerlastingly

Qu. But how long shall that title euer last? Rich. Sweetly in force, vnto her faire liues end

Qu. But how long fairely shall her sweet life last? Rich. As long as Heauen and Nature lengthens it

Qu. As long as Hell and Richard likes of it

Rich. Say, I her Soueraigne, am her Subiect low

Qu. But she your Subiect, lothes such Soueraignty

Rich. Be eloquent in my behalfe to her

Qu. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told

Rich. Then plainly to her, tell my louing tale

Qu. Plaine and not honest, is too harsh a style

Rich. Your Reasons are too shallow, and to quicke

Qu. O no, my Reasons are too deepe and dead, Too deepe and dead (poore Infants) in their graues, Harpe on it still shall I, till heart-strings breake

Rich. Harpe not on that string Madam, that is past. Now by my George, my Garter, and my Crowne

Qu. Prophan'd, dishonor'd, and the third vsurpt

Rich. I sweare

Qu. By nothing, for this is no Oath: Thy George prophan'd, hath lost his Lordly Honor; Thy Garter blemish'd, pawn'd his Knightly Vertue; Thy Crowne vsurp'd, disgrac'd his Kingly Glory: If something thou would'st sweare to be beleeu'd, Sweare then by something, that thou hast not wrong'd

Rich. Then by my Selfe

Qu. Thy Selfe, is selfe-misvs'd

Rich. Now by the World

Qu. 'Tis full of thy foule wrongs

Rich. My Fathers death

Qu. Thy life hath it dishonor'd

Rich. Why then, by Heauen

Qu. Heauens wrong is most of all: If thou didd'st feare to breake an Oath with him, The vnity the King my husband made, Thou had'st not broken, nor my Brothers died. If thou had'st fear'd to breake an oath by him, Th' Imperiall mettall, circling now thy head, Had grac'd the tender temples of my Child, And both the Princes had bene breathing heere, Which now two tender Bed-fellowes for dust, Thy broken Faith hath made the prey for Wormes. What can'st thou sweare by now

Rich. The time to come

Qu. That thou hast wronged in the time ore-past: For I my selfe haue many teares to wash Heereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee. The Children liue, whose Fathers thou hast slaughter'd, Vngouern'd youth, to waile it with their age: The Parents liue, whose Children thou hast butcher'd, Old barren Plants, to waile it with their Age. Sweare not by time to come, for that thou hast Misvs'd ere vs'd, by times ill-vs'd repast

Rich. As I entend to prosper, and repent: So thriue I in my dangerous Affayres Of hostile Armes: My selfe, my selfe confound: Heauen, and Fortune barre me happy houres: Day, yeeld me not thy light; nor Night, thy rest. Be opposite all Planets of good lucke To my proceeding, if with deere hearts loue, Immaculate deuotion, holy thoughts, I tender not thy beautious Princely daughter. In her, consists my Happinesse, and thine: Without her, followes to my selfe, and thee; Her selfe, the Land, and many a Christian soule, Death, Desolation, Ruine, and Decay: It cannot be auoyded, but by this: It will not be auoyded, but by this. Therefore deare Mother (I must call you so) Be the Atturney of my loue to her: Pleade what I will be, not what I haue beene; Not my deserts, but what I will deserue: Vrge the Necessity and state of times, And be not peeuish found, in great Designes

Qu. Shall I be tempted of the Diuel thus? Rich. I, if the Diuell tempt you to do good

Qu. Shall I forget my selfe, to be my selfe

Rich. I, if your selfes remembrance wrong your selfe

Qu. Yet thou didst kil my Children

Rich. But in your daughters wombe I bury them. Where in that Nest of Spicery they will breed Selues of themselues, to your recomforture

Qu. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? Rich. And be a happy Mother by the deed

Qu. I go, write to me very shortly, And you shal vnderstand from me her mind.

Exit Q[ueene].

Rich. Beare her my true loues kisse, and so farewell. Relenting Foole, and shallow-changing Woman. How now, what newes? Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat. Most mightie Soueraigne, on the Westerne Coast Rideth a puissant Nauie: to our Shores Throng many doubtfull hollow-hearted friends, Vnarm'd, and vnresolu'd to beat them backe. 'Tis thought, that Richmond is their Admirall: And there they hull, expecting but the aide Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore

Rich. Some light-foot friend post to y Duke of Norfolk: Ratcliffe thy selfe, or Catesby, where is hee? Cat. Here, my good Lord

Rich. Catesby, flye to the Duke

Cat. I will, my Lord, with all conuenient haste

Rich. Catesby come hither, poste to Salisbury: When thou com'st thither: Dull vnmindfull Villaine, Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the Duke? Cat. First, mighty Liege, tell me your Highnesse pleasure, What from your Grace I shall deliuer to him

Rich. O true, good Catesby, bid him leuie straight The greatest strength and power that he can make, And meet me suddenly at Salisbury

Cat. I goe. Enter.

Rat. What, may it please you, shall I doe at Salisbury? Rich. Why, what would'st thou doe there, before I goe? Rat. Your Highnesse told me I should poste before

Rich. My minde is chang'd: Enter Lord Stanley.

Stanley, what newes with you? Sta. None, good my Liege, to please you with y hearing, Nor none so bad, but well may be reported

Rich. Hoyday, a Riddle, neither good nor bad: What need'st thou runne so many miles about, When thou mayest tell thy Tale the neerest way? Once more, what newes? Stan. Richmond is on the Seas

Rich. There let him sinke, and be the Seas on him, White-liuer'd Runnagate, what doth he there? Stan. I know not, mightie Soueraigne, but by guesse

Rich. Well, as you guesse

Stan. Stirr'd vp by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for England, here to clayme the Crowne

Rich. Is the Chayre emptie? is the Sword vnsway'd? Is the King dead? the Empire vnpossest? What Heire of Yorke is there aliue, but wee? And who is Englands King, but great Yorkes Heire? Then tell me, what makes he vpon the Seas? Stan. Vnlesse for that, my Liege, I cannot guesse

Rich. Vnlesse for that he comes to be your Liege, You cannot guesse wherefore the Welchman comes. Thou wilt reuolt, and flye to him, I feare

Stan. No, my good Lord, therefore mistrust me not

Rich. Where is thy Power then, to beat him back? Where be thy Tenants, and thy followers? Are they not now vpon the Westerne Shore, Safe-conducting the Rebels from their Shippes? Stan. No, my good Lord, my friends are in the North

Rich. Cold friends to me: what do they in the North, When they should serue their Soueraigne in the West? Stan. They haue not been commanded, mighty King: Pleaseth your Maiestie to giue me leaue, Ile muster vp my friends, and meet your Grace, Where, and what time your Maiestie shall please

Rich. I, thou would'st be gone, to ioyne with Richmond: But Ile not trust thee

Stan. Most mightie Soueraigne, You haue no cause to hold my friendship doubtfull, I neuer was, nor neuer will be false

Rich. Goe then, and muster men: but leaue behind Your Sonne George Stanley: looke your heart be firme, Or else his Heads assurance is but fraile

Stan. So deale with him, as I proue true to you.

Exit Stanley.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My gracious Soueraigne, now in Deuonshire, As I by friends am well aduertised, Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughtie Prelate, Bishop of Exeter, his elder Brother, With many moe Confederates, are in Armes. Enter another Messenger

Mess. In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in Armes, And euery houre more Competitors Flocke to the Rebels, and their power growes strong. Enter another Messenger.

Mess. My Lord, the Armie of great Buckingham

Rich. Out on ye, Owles, nothing but Songs of Death,

He striketh him.

There, take thou that, till thou bring better newes

Mess. The newes I haue to tell your Maiestie, Is, that by sudden Floods, and fall of Waters, Buckinghams Armie is dispers'd and scatter'd, And he himselfe wandred away alone, No man knowes whither

Rich. I cry thee mercie: There is my Purse, to cure that Blow of thine. Hath any well-aduised friend proclaym'd Reward to him that brings the Traytor in? Mess. Such Proclamation hath been made, my Lord. Enter another Messenger.

Mess. Sir Thomas Louell, and Lord Marquesse Dorset, 'Tis said, my Liege, in Yorkeshire are in Armes: But this good comfort bring I to your Highnesse, The Brittaine Nauie is dispers'd by Tempest. Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a Boat Vnto the shore, to aske those on the Banks, If they were his Assistants, yea, or no? Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham, Vpon his partie: he mistrusting them, Hoys'd sayle, and made his course againe for Brittaine

Rich. March on, march on, since we are vp in Armes, If not to fight with forraine Enemies, Yet to beat downe these Rebels here at home. Enter Catesby.

Cat. My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken, That is the best newes: that the Earle of Richmond Is with a mighty power Landed at Milford, Is colder Newes, but yet they must be told

Rich. Away towards Salsbury, while we reason here, A Royall battell might be wonne and lost: Some one take order Buckingham be brought To Salsbury, the rest march on with me.

Florish. Exeunt

Scena Quarta.

Enter Derby, and Sir Christopher.

Der. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me, That in the stye of the most deadly Bore, My Sonne George Stanley is frankt vp in hold: If I reuolt, off goes yong Georges head, The feare of that, holds off my present ayde. So get thee gone: commend me to thy Lord. Withall say, that the Queene hath heartily consented He should espouse Elizabeth hir daughter. But tell me, where is Princely Richmond now? Chri. At Penbroke, or at Hertford West in Wales

Der. What men of Name resort to him

Chri. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned Souldier, Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley, Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir Iames Blunt, And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant Crew, And many other of great name and worth: And towards London do they bend their power, If by the way they be not fought withall

Der. Well hye thee to thy Lord: I kisse his hand, My Letter will resolue him of my minde. Farewell.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Buckingham with Halberds, led to Execution.

Buc. Will not King Richard let me speake with him? Sher. No my good Lord, therefore be patient

Buc. Hastings, and Edwards children, Gray & Riuers, Holy King Henry, and thy faire Sonne Edward, Vaughan, and all that haue miscarried By vnder-hand corrupted foule iniustice, If that your moody discontented soules, Do through the clowds behold this present houre, Euen for reuenge mocke my destruction. This is All-soules day (Fellow) is it not? Sher. It is

Buc. Why then Al-soules day, is my bodies doomsday This is the day, which in King Edwards time I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found False to his Children, and his Wiues Allies. This is the day, wherein I wisht to fall By the false Faith of him whom most I trusted. This, this All-soules day to my fearfull Soule, Is the determin'd respit of my wrongs: That high All-seer, which I dallied with, Hath turn'd my fained Prayer on my head, And giuen in earnest, what I begg'd in iest. Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men To turne their owne points in their Masters bosomes. Thus Margarets curse falles heauy on my necke: When he (quoth she) shall split thy heart with sorrow, Remember Margaret was a Prophetesse: Come leade me Officers to the blocke of shame, Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.

Exeunt. Buckingham with Officers.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others, with drum and colours.

Richm. Fellowes in Armes, and my most louing Frends Bruis'd vnderneath the yoake of Tyranny, Thus farre into the bowels of the Land, Haue we marcht on without impediment; And heere receiue we from our Father Stanley Lines of faire comfort and encouragement: The wretched, bloody, and vsurping Boare, (That spoyl'd your Summer Fields, and fruitfull Vines) Swilles your warm blood like wash, & makes his trough In your embowel'd bosomes: This foule Swine Is now euen in the Centry of this Isle, Ne're to the Towne of Leicester, as we learne: From Tamworth thither, is but one dayes march. In Gods name cheerely on, couragious Friends, To reape the Haruest of perpetuall peace, By this one bloody tryall of sharpe Warre

Oxf. Euery mans Conscience is a thousand men, To fight against this guilty Homicide

Her. I doubt not but his Friends will turne to vs

Blunt. He hath no friends, but what are friends for fear, Which in his deerest neede will flye from him

Richm. All for our vantage, then in Gods name march, True Hope is swift, and flyes with Swallowes wings, Kings it makes Gods, and meaner creatures Kings.

Exeunt. Omnes.

Enter King Richard in Armes with Norfolke, Ratcliffe, and the Earle of Surrey.

Rich. Here pitch our Tent, euen here in Bosworth field, My Lord of Surrey, why looke you so sad? Sur. My heart is ten times lighter then my lookes

Rich. My Lord of Norfolke

Nor. Heere most gracious Liege

Rich. Norfolke, we must haue knockes: Ha, must we not? Nor. We must both giue and take my louing Lord

Rich. Vp with my Tent, heere wil I lye to night, But where to morrow? Well, all's one for that. Who hath descried the number of the Traitors? Nor. Six or seuen thousand is their vtmost power

Rich. Why our Battalia trebbles that account: Besides, the Kings name is a Tower of strength, Which they vpon the aduerse Faction want. Vp with the Tent: Come Noble Gentlemen, Let vs suruey the vantage of the ground. Call for some men of sound direction: Let's lacke no Discipline, make no delay, For Lords, to morrow is a busie day.

Exeunt.

Enter Richmond, Sir William Branden, Oxford, and Dorset.

Richm. The weary Sunne, hath made a Golden set, And by the bright Tract of his fiery Carre, Giues token of a goodly day to morrow. Sir William Brandon, you shall beare my Standard: Giue me some Inke and Paper in my Tent: Ile draw the Forme and Modell of our Battaile, Limit each Leader to his seuerall Charge, And part in iust proportion our small Power. My Lord of Oxford, you Sir William Brandon, And your Sir Walter Herbert stay with me: The Earle of Pembroke keepes his Regiment; Good Captaine Blunt, beare my goodnight to him, And by the second houre in the Morning, Desire the Earle to see me in my Tent: Yet one thing more (good Captaine) do for me: Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know? Blunt. Vnlesse I haue mistane his Colours much, (Which well I am assur'd I haue not done) His Regiment lies halfe a Mile at least South, from the mighty Power of the King

Richm. If without perill it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good meanes to speak with him And giue him from me, this most needfull Note

Blunt. Vpon my life, my Lord, Ile vndertake it, And so God giue you quiet rest to night

Richm. Good night good Captaine Blunt: Come Gentlemen, Let vs consult vpon to morrowes Businesse; Into my Tent, the Dew is rawe and cold.

They withdraw into the Tent.

Enter Richard, Ratcliffe, Norfolke, & Catesby.

Rich. What is't a Clocke? Cat. It's Supper time my Lord, it's nine a clocke

King. I will not sup to night, Giue me some Inke and Paper: What, is my Beauer easier then it was? And all my Armour laid into my Tent? Cat. It is my Liege: and all things are in readinesse

Rich. Good Norfolke, hye thee to thy charge, Vse carefull Watch, choose trusty Centinels, Nor. I go my Lord

Rich. Stir with the Larke to morrow, gentle Norfolk

Nor. I warrant you my Lord.

Exit

Rich. Ratcliffe

Rat. My Lord

Rich. Send out a Pursuiuant at Armes To Stanleys Regiment: bid him bring his power Before Sun-rising, least his Sonne George fall Into the blinde Caue of eternall night. Fill me a Bowle of Wine: Giue me a Watch, Saddle white Surrey for the Field to morrow: Look that my Staues be sound, & not too heauy. Ratcliff

Rat. My Lord

Rich. Saw'st the melancholly Lord Northumberland? Rat. Thomas the Earle of Surrey, and himselfe, Much about Cockshut time, from Troope to Troope Went through the Army, chearing vp the Souldiers

King. So, I am satisfied: Giue me a Bowle of Wine, I haue not that Alacrity of Spirit, Nor cheere of Minde that I was wont to haue. Set it downe. Is Inke and Paper ready? Rat. It is my Lord

Rich. Bid my Guard watch. Leaue me. Ratcliffe, about the mid of night come to my Tent And helpe to arme me. Leaue me I say.

Exit Ratclif.

Enter Derby to Richmond in his Tent.

Der. Fortune, and Victory sit on thy Helme

Rich. All comfort that the darke night can affoord, Be to thy Person, Noble Father in Law. Tell me, how fares our Noble Mother? Der. I by Attourney, blesse thee from thy Mother, Who prayes continually for Richmonds good: So much for that. The silent houres steale on, And flakie darkenesse breakes within the East. In breefe, for so the season bids vs be, Prepare thy Battell early in the Morning, And put thy Fortune to th' Arbitrement Of bloody stroakes, and mortall staring Warre: I, as I may, that which I would, I cannot, With best aduantage will deceiue the time, And ayde thee in this doubtfull shocke of Armes. But on thy side I may not be too forward, Least being seene, thy Brother, tender George Be executed in his Fathers sight. Farewell: the leysure, and the fearfull time Cuts off the ceremonious Vowes of Loue, And ample enterchange of sweet Discourse, Which so long sundred Friends should dwell vpon: God giue vs leysure for these rites of Loue. Once more Adieu, be valiant, and speed well

Richm. Good Lords conduct him to his Regiment: Ile striue with troubled noise, to take a Nap, Lest leaden slumber peize me downe to morrow, When I should mount with wings of Victory: Once more, good night kinde Lords and Gentlemen.

Exeunt. Manet Richmond.

O thou, whose Captaine I account my selfe, Looke on my Forces with a gracious eye: Put in their hands thy bruising Irons of wrath, That they may crush downe with a heauy fall, Th' vsurping Helmets of our Aduersaries: Make vs thy ministers of Chasticement, That we may praise thee in thy victory: To thee I do commend my watchfull soule, Ere I let fall the windowes of mine eyes: Sleeping, and waking, oh defend me still.

Sleeps.

Enter the Ghost of Prince Edward, Sonne to Henry the sixt.

Gh. to Ri[chard]. Let me sit heauy on thy soule to morrow: Thinke how thou stab'st me in my prime of youth At Teukesbury: Dispaire therefore, and dye.

Ghost to Richm[ond].

Be chearefull Richmond, For the wronged Soules Of butcher'd Princes, fight in thy behalfe: King Henries issue Richmond comforts thee. Enter the Ghost of Henry the sixt.

Ghost. When I was mortall, my Annointed body By thee was punched full of holes; Thinke on the Tower, and me: Dispaire, and dye, Harry the sixt, bids thee dispaire, and dye.

To Richm[ond].

Vertuous and holy be thou Conqueror: Harry that prophesied thou should'st be King, Doth comfort thee in sleepe: Liue, and flourish. Enter the Ghost of Clarence.

Ghost. Let me sit heauy in thy soule to morrow. I that was wash'd to death with Fulsome Wine: Poore Clarence by thy guile betray'd to death: To morrow in the battell thinke on me, And fall thy edgelesse Sword, dispaire and dye.

To Richm[ond].

Thou off-spring of the house of Lancaster The wronged heyres of Yorke do pray for thee, Good Angels guard thy battell, Liue and Flourish. Enter the Ghosts of Riuers, Gray, and Vaughan.

Riu. Let me sit heauy in thy soule to morrow, Riuers, that dy'de at Pomfret: dispaire, and dye

Grey. Thinke vpon Grey, and let thy soule dispaire

Vaugh. Thinke vpon Vaughan, and with guilty feare Let fall thy Lance, dispaire and dye.

All to Richm[ond].

Awake, And thinke our wrongs in Richards Bosome, Will conquer him. Awake, and win the day. Enter the Ghost of Lord Hastings.

Gho. Bloody and guilty: guiltily awake, And in a bloody Battell end thy dayes. Thinke on Lord Hastings: dispaire, and dye.

Hast. to Rich[ard].

Quiet vntroubled soule, Awake, awake: Arme, fight, and conquer, for faire Englands sake. Enter the Ghosts of the two yong Princes.

Ghosts. Dreame on thy Cousins Smothered in the Tower: Let vs be laid within thy bosome Richard, And weigh thee downe to ruine, shame, and death, Thy Nephewes soule bids thee dispaire and dye.

Ghosts to Richm[ond].

Sleepe Richmond, Sleepe in Peace, and wake in Ioy, Good Angels guard thee from the Boares annoy, Liue, and beget a happy race of Kings, Edwards vnhappy Sonnes, do bid thee flourish.

Enter the Ghost of Anne, his Wife.

Ghost to Rich[ard].

Richard, thy Wife, That wretched Anne thy Wife, That neuer slept a quiet houre with thee, Now filles thy sleepe with perturbations, To morrow in the Battaile, thinke on me, And fall thy edgelesse Sword, dispaire and dye:

Ghost to Richm[ond].

Thou quiet soule, Sleepe thou a quiet sleepe: Dreame of Successe, and Happy Victory, Thy Aduersaries Wife doth pray for thee. Enter the Ghost of Buckingham.

Ghost to Rich[ard].

The first was I That help'd thee to the Crowne: That last was I that felt thy Tyranny. O, in the Battaile think on Buckingham, And dye in terror of thy guiltinesse. Dreame on, dreame on, of bloody deeds and death, Fainting dispaire; dispairing yeeld thy breath.

Ghost to Richm[ond].

I dyed for hope Ere I could lend thee Ayde; But cheere thy heart, and be thou not dismayde: God, and good Angels fight on Richmonds side, And Richard fall in height of all his pride.

Richard starts out of his dreame.

Rich. Giue me another Horse, bind vp my Wounds: Haue mercy Iesu. Soft, I did but dreame. O coward Conscience? how dost thou afflict me? The Lights burne blew. It is not dead midnight. Cold fearefull drops stand on my trembling flesh. What? do I feare my Selfe? There's none else by, Richard loues Richard, that is, I am I. Is there a Murtherer heere? No; Yes, I am: Then flye; What from my Selfe? Great reason: why? Lest I Reuenge. What? my Selfe vpon my Selfe? Alacke, I loue my Selfe. Wherefore? For any good That I my Selfe, haue done vnto my Selfe? O no. Alas, I rather hate my Selfe, For hatefull Deeds committed by my Selfe. I am a Villaine: yet I Lye, I am not. Foole, of thy Selfe speake well: Foole, do not flatter. My Conscience hath a thousand seuerall Tongues, And euery Tongue brings in a seuerall Tale, And euerie Tale condemnes me for a Villaine; Periurie, in the high'st Degree, Murther, sterne murther, in the dyr'st degree, All seuerall sinnes, all vs'd in each degree, Throng all to'th' Barre, crying all, Guilty, Guilty. I shall dispaire, there is no Creature loues me; And if I die, no soule shall pittie me. Nay, wherefore should they? Since that I my Selfe, Finde in my Selfe, no pittie to my Selfe. Me thought, the Soules of all that I had murther'd Came to my Tent, and euery one did threat To morrowes vengeance on the head of Richard. Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat. My Lord

King. Who's there? Rat. Ratcliffe, my Lord, 'tis I: the early Village Cock Hath twice done salutation to the Morne, Your Friends are vp, and buckle on their Armour

King. O Ratcliffe, I feare, I feare

Rat. Nay good my Lord, be not affraid of Shadows

King. By the Apostle Paul, shadowes to night Haue stroke more terror to the soule of Richard, Then can the substance of ten thousand Souldiers Armed in proofe, and led by shallow Richmond. 'Tis not yet neere day. Come go with me, Vnder our Tents Ile play the Ease-dropper, To heare if any meane to shrinke from me.

Exeunt. Richard & Ratliffe,

Enter the Lords to Richmond sitting in his Tent.

Richm. Good morrow Richmond

Rich. Cry mercy Lords, and watchfull Gentlemen, That you haue tane a tardie sluggard heere? Lords. How haue you slept my Lord? Rich. The sweetest sleepe, And fairest boading Dreames, That euer entred in a drowsie head, Haue I since your departure had my Lords. Me thought their Soules, whose bodies Rich[ard]. murther'd, Came to my Tent, and cried on Victory: I promise you my Heart is very iocond, In the remembrance of so faire a dreame, How farre into the Morning is it Lords? Lor. Vpon the stroke of foure

Rich. Why then 'tis time to Arme, and giue direction.

His Oration to his Souldiers.

More then I haue said, louing Countrymen, The leysure and inforcement of the time Forbids to dwell vpon: yet remember this, God, and our good cause, fight vpon our side, The Prayers of holy Saints and wronged soules, Like high rear'd Bulwarkes, stand before our Faces, (Richard except) those whom we fight against, Had rather haue vs win, then him they follow. For, what is he they follow? Truly Gentlemen, A bloudy Tyrant, and a Homicide: One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish'd; One that made meanes to come by what he hath, And slaughter'd those that were the meanes to help him: A base foule Stone, made precious by the soyle Of Englands Chaire, where he is falsely set: One that hath euer beene Gods Enemy. Then if you fight against Gods Enemy, God will in iustice ward you as his Soldiers. If you do sweare to put a Tyrant downe, You sleepe in peace, the Tyrant being slaine: If you do fight against your Countries Foes, Your Countries Fat shall pay your paines the hyre. If you do fight in safegard of your wiues, Your wiues shall welcome home the Conquerors. If you do free your Children from the Sword, Your Childrens Children quits it in your Age. Then in the name of God and all these rights, Aduance your Standards, draw your willing Swords. For me, the ransome of my bold attempt, Shall be this cold Corpes on the earth's cold face. But if I thriue, the gaine of my attempt, The least of you shall share his part thereof. Sound Drummes and Trumpets boldly, and cheerefully, God, and Saint George, Richmond, and Victory. Enter King Richard, Ratcliffe, and Catesby.

K. What said Northumberland as touching Richmond? Rat. That he was neuer trained vp in Armes

King. He said the truth: and what said Surrey then? Rat. He smil'd and said, the better for our purpose

King. He was in the right, and so indeed it is. Tell the clocke there.

Clocke strikes.

Giue me a Kalender: Who saw the Sunne to day? Rat. Not I my Lord

King. Then he disdaines to shine: for by the Booke He should haue brau'd the East an houre ago, A blacke day will it be to somebody. Ratcliffe

Rat. My Lord

King. The Sun will not be seene to day, The sky doth frowne, and lowre vpon our Army. I would these dewy teares were from the ground. Not shine to day? Why, what is that to me More then to Richmond? For the selfe-same Heauen That frownes on me, lookes sadly vpon him. Enter Norfolke.

Nor. Arme, arme, my Lord: the foe vaunts in the field

King. Come, bustle, bustle. Caparison my horse. Call vp Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power, I will leade forth my Soldiers to the plaine, And thus my Battell shal be ordred. My Foreward shall be drawne in length, Consisting equally of Horse and Foot: Our Archers shall be placed in the mid'st; Iohn Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Earle of Surrey, Shall haue the leading of the Foot and Horse. They thus directed, we will follow In the maine Battell, whose puissance on either side Shall be well-winged with our cheefest Horse: This, and Saint George to boote. What think'st thou Norfolke

Nor. A good direction warlike Soueraigne, This found I on my Tent this Morning. Iockey of Norfolke, be not so bold, For Dickon thy maister is bought and sold

King. A thing deuised by the Enemy. Go Gentlemen, euery man to his Charge, Let not our babling Dreames affright our soules: For Conscience is a word that Cowards vse, Deuis'd at first to keepe the strong in awe, Our strong armes be our Conscience, Swords our Law. March on, ioyne brauely, let vs too't pell mell, If not to heauen, then hand in hand to Hell. What shall I say more then I haue inferr'd? Remember whom you are to cope withall, A sort of Vagabonds, Rascals, and Run-awayes, A scum of Brittaines, and base Lackey Pezants, Whom their o're-cloyed Country vomits forth To desperate Aduentures, and assur'd Destruction. You sleeping safe, they bring you to vnrest: You hauing Lands, and blest with beauteous wiues, They would restraine the one, distaine the other, And who doth leade them, but a paltry Fellow? Long kept in Britaine at our Mothers cost, A Milke-sop, one that neuer in his life Felt so much cold, as ouer shooes in Snow: Let's whip these straglers o're the Seas againe, Lash hence these ouer-weening Ragges of France, These famish'd Beggers, weary of their liues, Who (but for dreaming on this fond exploit) For want of meanes (poore Rats) had hang'd themselues. If we be conquered, let men conquer vs, And not these bastard Britaines, whom our Fathers Haue in their owne Land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd, And on Record, left them the heires of shame. Shall these enioy our Lands? lye with our Wiues? Rauish our daughters?

Drum afarre off

Hearke, I heare their Drumme, Right Gentlemen of England, fight boldly yeomen, Draw Archers draw your Arrowes to the head, Spurre your proud Horses hard, and ride in blood, Amaze the welkin with your broken staues. Enter a Messenger.

What sayes Lord Stanley, will he bring his power? Mes. My Lord, he doth deny to come

King. Off with his sonne Georges head

Nor. My Lord, the Enemy is past the Marsh: After the battaile, let George Stanley dye

King. A thousand hearts are great within my bosom. Aduance our Standards, set vpon our Foes, Our Ancient word of Courage, faire S[aint]. George Inspire vs with the spleene of fiery Dragons: Vpon them, Victorie sits on our helpes.

Alarum, excursions. Enter Catesby.

Cat. Rescue my Lord of Norfolke, Rescue, Rescue: The King enacts more wonders then a man, Daring an opposite to euery danger: His horse is slaine, and all on foot he fights, Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death: Rescue faire Lord, or else the day is lost.

Alarums.

Enter Richard.

Rich. A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdome for a Horse

Cates. Withdraw my Lord, Ile helpe you to a Horse Rich. Slaue, I haue set my life vpon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the Dye: I thinke there be sixe Richmonds in the field, Fiue haue I slaine to day, in stead of him. A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdome for a Horse.

Alarum, Enter Richard and Richmond, they fight, Richard is slaine.

Retreat, and Flourish. Enter Richmond, Derby bearing the Crowne, with diuers other Lords.

Richm. God, and your Armes Be prais'd Victorious Friends; The day is ours, the bloudy Dogge is dead

Der. Couragious Richmond, Well hast thou acquit thee: Loe, Heere these long vsurped Royalties, From the dead Temples of this bloudy Wretch, Haue I pluck'd off, to grace thy Browes withall. Weare it, and make much of it

Richm. Great God of Heauen, say Amen to all. But tell me, is yong George Stanley liuing? Der. He is my Lord, and safe in Leicester Towne, Whither (if you please) we may withdraw vs

Richm. What men of name are slaine on either side? Der. Iohn Duke of Norfolke, Walter Lord Ferris, Sir Robert Brokenbury, and Sir William Brandon

Richm. Interre their Bodies, as become their Births, Proclaime a pardon to the Soldiers fled, That in submission will returne to vs, And then as we haue tane the Sacrament, We will vnite the White Rose, and the Red. Smile Heauen vpon this faire Coniunction, That long haue frown'd vpon their Enmity: What Traitor heares me, and sayes not Amen? England hath long beene mad, and scarr'd her selfe; The Brother blindely shed the Brothers blood; The Father, rashly slaughtered his owne Sonne; The Sonne compell'd, beene Butcher to the Sire; All this diuided Yorke and Lancaster, Diuided, in their dire Diuision. O now, let Richmond and Elizabeth, The true Succeeders of each Royall House, By Gods faire ordinance, conioyne together: And let thy Heires (God if thy will be so) Enrich the time to come, with Smooth-fac'd Peace, With smiling Plenty, and faire Prosperous dayes. Abate the edge of Traitors, Gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloudy dayes againe, And make poore England weepe in Streames of Blood; Let them not liue to taste this Lands increase, That would with Treason, wound this faire Lands peace. Now Ciuill wounds are stopp'd, Peace liues agen; That she may long liue heere, God say, Amen.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The Tragedy of Richard the Third: with the Landing of Earle Richmond, and the Battell at Bosworth Field.

The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eight

THE PROLOGVE.

I Come no more to make you laugh, Things now, That beare a Weighty, and a Serious Brow, Sad, high, and working, full of State and Woe: Such Noble Scoenes, as draw the Eye to flow We now present. Those that can Pitty, heere May (if they thinke it well) let fall a Teare, The Subiect will deserue it. Such as giue Their Money out of hope they may beleeue, May heere finde Truth too. Those that come to see Onely a show or two, and so agree, The Play may passe: If they be still, and willing, Ile vndertake may see away their shilling Richly in two short houres. Onely they That come to heare a Merry, Bawdy Play, A noyse of Targets: Or to see a Fellow In a long Motley Coate, garded with Yellow, Will be deceyu'd. For gentle Hearers, know To ranke our chosen Truth with such a show As Foole, and Fight is, beside forfeyting Our owne Braines, and the Opinion that we bring To make that onely true, we now intend, Will leaue vs neuer an vnderstanding Friend. Therefore, for Goodnesse sake, and as you are knowne The First and Happiest Hearers of the Towne, Be sad, as we would make ye. Thinke ye see The very Persons of our Noble Story, As they were Liuing: Thinke you see them Great, And follow'd with the generall throng, and sweat Of thousand Friends: Then, in a moment, see How soone this Mightinesse, meets Misery: And if you can be merry then, Ile say, A Man may weepe vpon his Wedding day.

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter the Duke of Norfolke at one doore. At the other, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Aburgauenny.

Buckingham. Good morrow, and well met. How haue ye done Since last we saw in France? Norf. I thanke your Grace: Healthfull, and euer since a fresh Admirer Of what I saw there

Buck. An vntimely Ague Staid me a Prisoner in my Chamber, when Those Sunnes of Glory, those two Lights of Men Met in the vale of Andren

Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde, I was then present, saw them salute on Horsebacke, Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung In their Embracement, as they grew together, Which had they, What foure Thron'd ones could haue weigh'd Such a compounded one? Buck. All the whole time I was my Chambers Prisoner

Nor. Then you lost The view of earthly glory: Men might say Till this time Pompe was single, but now married To one aboue it selfe. Each following day Became the next dayes master, till the last Made former Wonders, it's. To day the French, All Clinquant all in Gold, like Heathen Gods Shone downe the English; and to morrow, they Made Britaine, India: Euery man that stood, Shew'd like a Mine. Their Dwarfish Pages were As Cherubins, all gilt: the Madams too, Not vs'd to toyle, did almost sweat to beare The Pride vpon them, that their very labour Was to them, as a Painting. Now this Maske Was cry'de incompareable; and th' ensuing night Made it a Foole, and Begger. The two Kings Equall in lustre, were now best, now worst As presence did present them: Him in eye, Still him in praise, and being present both, 'Twas said they saw but one, and no Discerner Durst wagge his Tongue in censure, when these Sunnes (For so they phrase 'em) by their Heralds challeng'd The Noble Spirits to Armes, they did performe Beyond thoughts Compasse, that former fabulous Storie Being now seene, possible enough, got credit That Beuis was beleeu'd

Buc. Oh you go farre

Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect In Honor, Honesty, the tract of eu'ry thing, Would by a good Discourser loose some life, Which Actions selfe, was tongue too

Buc. All was Royall, To the disposing of it nought rebell'd, Order gaue each thing view. The Office did Distinctly his full Function: who did guide, I meane who set the Body, and the Limbes Of this great Sport together? Nor. As you guesse: One certes, that promises no Element In such a businesse

Buc. I pray you who, my Lord? Nor. All this was ordred by the good Discretion Of the right Reuerend Cardinall of Yorke

Buc. The diuell speed him: No mans Pye is freed From his Ambitious finger. What had he To do in these fierce Vanities? I wonder, That such a Keech can with his very bulke Take vp the Rayes o'th' beneficiall Sun, And keepe it from the Earth

Nor. Surely Sir, There's in him stuffe, that put's him to these ends: For being not propt by Auncestry, whose grace Chalkes Successors their way; nor call'd vpon For high feats done to'th' Crowne; neither Allied To eminent Assistants; but Spider-like Out of his Selfe-drawing Web. O giues vs note, The force of his owne merit makes his way A guift that heauen giues for him, which buyes A place next to the King

Abur. I cannot tell What Heauen hath giuen him: let some Grauer eye Pierce into that, but I can see his Pride Peepe through each part of him: whence ha's he that, If not from Hell? The Diuell is a Niggard, Or ha's giuen all before, and he begins A new Hell in himselfe

Buc. Why the Diuell, Vpon this French going out, tooke he vpon him (Without the priuity o'th' King) t' appoint Who should attend on him? He makes vp the File Of all the Gentry; for the most part such To whom as great a Charge, as little Honor He meant to lay vpon: and his owne Letter The Honourable Boord of Councell, out Must fetch him in, he Papers

Abur. I do know Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that haue By this, so sicken'd their Estates, that neuer They shall abound as formerly

Buc. O many Haue broke their backes with laying Mannors on 'em For this great Iourney. What did this vanity But minister communication of A most poore issue

Nor. Greeuingly I thinke, The Peace betweene the French and vs, not valewes The Cost that did conclude it

Buc. Euery man, After the hideous storme that follow'd, was A thing Inspir'd, and not consulting, broke Into a generall Prophesie; That this Tempest Dashing the Garment of this Peace, aboaded The sodaine breach on't

Nor. Which is budded out, For France hath flaw'd the League, and hath attach'd Our Merchants goods at Burdeux

Abur. Is it therefore Th' Ambassador is silenc'd? Nor. Marry is't

Abur. A proper Title of a Peace, and purchas'd At a superfluous rate

Buc. Why all this Businesse Our Reuerend Cardinall carried

Nor. Like it your Grace, The State takes notice of the priuate difference Betwixt you, and the Cardinall. I aduise you (And take it from a heart, that wishes towards you Honor, and plenteous safety) that you reade The Cardinals Malice, and his Potency Together; To consider further, that What his high Hatred would effect, wants not A Minister in his Power. You know his Nature, That he's Reuengefull; and I know, his Sword Hath a sharpe edge: It's long, and't may be saide It reaches farre, and where 'twill not extend, Thither he darts it. Bosome vp my counsell, You'l finde it wholesome. Loe, where comes that Rock That I aduice your shunning. Enter Cardinall Wolsey, the Purse borne before him, certaine of the Guard, and two Secretaries with Papers: The Cardinall in his passage, fixeth his eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdaine.

Car. The Duke of Buckinghams Surueyor? Ha? Where's his Examination? Secr. Heere so please you

Car. Is he in person, ready? Secr. I, please your Grace

Car. Well, we shall then know more, & Buckingham Shall lessen this bigge looke.

Exeunt. Cardinall, and his Traine.

Buc. This Butchers Curre is venom'd-mouth'd, and I Haue not the power to muzzle him, therefore best Not wake him in his slumber. A Beggers booke, Out-worths a Nobles blood

Nor. What are you chaff'd? Aske God for Temp'rance, that's th' appliance onely Which your disease requires

Buc. I read in's looks Matter against me, and his eye reuil'd Me as his abiect obiect, at this instant He bores me with some tricke; He's gone to'th' King: Ile follow, and out-stare him

Nor. Stay my Lord, And let your Reason with your Choller question What 'tis you go about: to climbe steepe hilles Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like A full hot Horse, who being allow'd his way Selfe-mettle tyres him: Not a man in England Can aduise me like you: Be to your selfe, As you would to your Friend

Buc. Ile to the King, And from a mouth of Honor, quite cry downe This Ipswich fellowes insolence; or proclaime, There's difference in no persons

Norf. Be aduis'd; Heat not a Furnace for your foe so hot That it do sindge your selfe. We may out-runne By violent swiftnesse that which we run at; And lose by ouer-running: know you not, The fire that mounts the liquor til't run ore, In seeming to augment it, wasts it: be aduis'd; I say againe there is no English Soule More stronger to direct you then your selfe; If with the sap of reason you would quench, Or but allay the fire of passion

Buck. Sir, I am thankfull to you, and Ile goe along By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow, Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but From sincere motions, by Intelligence, And proofes as cleere as Founts in Iuly, when Wee see each graine of grauell; I doe know To be corrupt and treasonous

Norf. Say not treasonous

Buck. To th' King Ile say't, & make my vouch as strong As shore of Rocke: attend. This holy Foxe, Or Wolfe, or both (for he is equall rau'nous As he is subtile, and as prone to mischiefe, As able to perform't) his minde, and place Infecting one another, yea reciprocally, Only to shew his pompe, as well in France, As here at home, suggests the King our Master To this last costly Treaty: Th' enteruiew, That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glasse Did breake ith' wrenching

Norf. Faith, and so it did

Buck. Pray giue me fauour Sir: This cunning Cardinall The Articles o'th' Combination drew As himselfe pleas'd; and they were ratified As he cride thus let be, to as much end, As giue a Crutch to th' dead. But our Count-Cardinall Has done this, and tis well: for worthy Wolsey (Who cannot erre) he did it. Now this followes, (Which as I take it, is a kinde of Puppie To th' old dam Treason) Charles the Emperour, Vnder pretence to see the Queene his Aunt, (For twas indeed his colour, but he came To whisper Wolsey) here makes visitation, His feares were that the Interview betwixt England and France, might through their amity Breed him some preiudice; for from this League, Peep'd harmes that menac'd him. Priuily Deales with our Cardinal, and as I troa Which I doe well; for I am sure the Emperour Paid ere he promis'd, whereby his Suit was granted Ere it was ask'd. But when the way was made And pau'd with gold: the Emperor thus desir'd, That he would please to alter the Kings course, And breake the foresaid peace. Let the King know (As soone he shall by me) that thus the Cardinall Does buy and sell his Honour as he pleases, And for his owne aduantage

Norf. I am sorry To heare this of him; and could wish he were Somthing mistaken in't

Buck. No, not a sillable: I doe pronounce him in that very shape He shall appeare in proofe. Enter Brandon, a Sergeant at Armes before him, and two or three of the Guard.

Brandon. Your Office Sergeant: execute it

Sergeant. Sir, My Lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earle Of Hertford, Stafford and Northampton, I Arrest thee of High Treason, in the name Of our most Soueraigne King

Buck. Lo you my Lord, The net has falne vpon me, I shall perish Vnder deuice, and practise

Bran. I am sorry, To see you tane from liberty, to looke on The busines present. Tis his Highnes pleasure You shall to th' Tower

Buck. It will helpe me nothing To plead mine Innocence; for that dye is on me Which makes my whit'st part, black. The will of Heau'n Be done in this and all things: I obey. O my Lord Aburgany: Fare you well

Bran. Nay, he must beare you company. The King Is pleas'd you shall to th' Tower, till you know How he determines further

Abur. As the Duke said, The will of Heauen be done, and the Kings pleasure By me obey'd

Bran. Here is a warrant from The King, t' attach Lord Mountacute, and the Bodies Of the Dukes Confessor, Iohn de la Car, One Gilbert Pecke, his Councellour

Buck. So, so; These are the limbs o'th' Plot: no more I hope

Bra. A Monke o'th' Chartreux

Buck. O Michaell Hopkins? Bra. He

Buck. My Surueyor is falce: The oregreat Cardinall Hath shew'd him gold; my life is spand already: I am the shadow of poore Buckingham, Whose Figure euen this instant Clowd puts on, By Darkning my cleere Sunne. My Lords farewell.

Exe.

Scena Secunda.

Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinals shoulder, the Nobles, and Sir Thomas Louell: the Cardinall places himselfe vnder the Kings feete on his right side.

King. My life it selfe, and the best heart of it, Thankes you for this great care: I stood i'th' leuell Of a full-charg'd confederacie, and giue thankes To you that choak'd it. Let be cald before vs That Gentleman of Buckinghams, in person, Ile heare him his confessions iustifie, And point by point the Treasons of his Maister, He shall againe relate.

A noyse within crying roome for the Queene, vsher'd by the Duke of Norfolke. Enter the Queene, Norfolke and Suffolke: she kneels. King riseth from his State, takes her vp, kisses and placeth her by him.

Queen. Nay, we must longer kneele; I am a Suitor

King. Arise, and take place by vs; halfe your Suit Neuer name to vs; you haue halfe our power: The other moity ere you aske is giuen, Repeat your will, and take it

Queen. Thanke your Maiesty That you would loue your selfe, and in that loue Not vnconsidered leaue your Honour, nor The dignity of your Office; is the poynt Of my Petition

Kin. Lady mine proceed

Queen. I am solicited not by a few, And those of true condition; That your Subiects Are in great grieuance: There haue beene Commissions Sent downe among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart Of all their Loyalties; wherein, although My good Lord Cardinall, they vent reproches Most bitterly on you, as putter on Of these exactions: yet the King, our Maister Whose Honor Heauen shield from soile; euen he escapes not Language vnmannerly; yea, such which breakes The sides of loyalty, and almost appeares In lowd Rebellion

Norf. Not almost appeares, It doth appeare; for, vpon these Taxations, The Clothiers all not able to maintaine The many to them longing, haue put off The Spinsters, Carders, Fullers, Weauers, who Vnfit for other life, compeld by hunger And lack of other meanes, in desperate manner Daring th' euent too th' teeth, are all in vprore, And danger serues among them

Kin. Taxation? Wherein? and what Taxation? My Lord Cardinall, You that are blam'd for it alike with vs, Know you of this Taxation? Card. Please you Sir, I know but of a single part in ought Pertaines to th' State; and front but in that File Where others tell steps with me

Queen. No, my Lord? You know no more then others? But you frame Things that are knowne alike, which are not wholsome To those which would not know them, and yet must Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions (Whereof my Soueraigne would haue note) they are Most pestilent to th' hearing, and to beare 'em, The Backe is Sacrifice to th' load; They say They are deuis'd by you, or else you suffer Too hard an exclamation

Kin. Still Exaction: The nature of it, in what kinde let's know, Is this Exaction? Queen. I am much too venturous In tempting of your patience, but am boldned Vnder your promis'd pardon. The Subiects griefe Comes through Commissions, which compels from each The sixt part of his Substance, to be leuied Without delay; and the pretence for this Is nam'd, your warres in France: this makes bold mouths, Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze Allegeance in them; their curses now Liue where their prayers did: and it's come to passe, This tractable obedience is a Slaue To each incensed Will: I would your Highnesse Would giue it quicke consideration; for There is no primer basenesse

Kin. By my life, This is against our pleasure

Card. And for me, I haue no further gone in this, then by A single voice, and that not past me, but By learned approbation of the Iudges: If I am Traduc'd by ignorant Tongues, which neither know My faculties nor person, yet will be The Chronicles of my doing: Let me say, 'Tis but the fate of Place, and the rough Brake That Vertue must goe through: we must not stint Our necessary actions, in the feare To cope malicious Censurers, which euer, As rau'nous Fishes doe a Vessell follow That is new trim'd; but benefit no further Then vainly longing. What we oft doe best, By sicke Interpreters (once weake ones) is Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft Hitting a grosser quality, is cride vp For our best Act: if we shall stand still, In feare our motion will be mock'd, or carp'd at, We should take roote here, where we sit; Or sit State-Statues onely

Kin. Things done well, And with a care, exempt themselues from feare: Things done without example, in their issue Are to be fear'd. Haue you a President Of this Commission? I beleeue, not any. We must not rend our Subiects from our Lawes, And sticke them in our Will. Sixt part of each? A trembling Contribution; why we take From euery Tree, lop, barke, and part o'th' Timber: And though we leaue it with a roote thus hackt, The Ayre will drinke the Sap. To euery County Where this is question'd, send our Letters, with Free pardon to each man that has deny'de The force of this Commission: pray looke too't; I put it to your care

Card. A word with you. Let there be Letters writ to euery Shire, Of the Kings grace and pardon: the greeued Commons Hardly conceiue of me. Let it be nois'd, That through our Intercession, this Reuokement And pardon comes: I shall anon aduise you Further in the proceeding.

Exit Secret[ary].

Enter Surueyor.

Queen. I am sorry, that the Duke of Buckingham Is run in your displeasure

Kin. It grieues many: The Gentleman is Learn'd, and a most rare Speaker, To Nature none more bound; his trayning such, That he may furnish and instruct great Teachers, And neuer seeke for ayd out of himselfe: yet see, When these so Noble benefits shall proue Not well dispos'd, the minde growing once corrupt, They turne to vicious formes, ten times more vgly Then euer they were faire. This man so compleat, Who was enrold 'mongst wonders; and when we Almost with rauish'd listning, could not finde His houre of speech, a minute: He, (my Lady) Hath into monstrous habits put the Graces That once were his, and is become as blacke, As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by Vs, you shall heare (This was his Gentleman in trust) of him Things to strike Honour sad. Bid him recount The fore-recited practises, whereof We cannot feele too little, heare too much

Card. Stand forth, & with bold spirit relate what you Most like a carefull Subiect haue collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham

Kin. Speake freely

Sur. First, it was vsuall with him; euery day It would infect his Speech: That if the King Should without issue dye; hee'l carry it so To make the Scepter his. These very words I'ue heard him vtter to his Sonne in Law, Lord Aburgany, to whom by oth he menac'd Reuenge vpon the Cardinall

Card. Please your Highnesse note This dangerous conception in this point, Not frended by his wish to your High person; His will is most malignant, and it stretches Beyond you to your friends

Queen. My learn'd Lord Cardinall, Deliuer all with Charity

Kin. Speake on; How grounded hee his Title to the Crowne Vpon our faile; to this poynt hast thou heard him, At any time speake ought? Sur. He was brought to this, By a vaine Prophesie of Nicholas Henton

Kin. What was that Henton? Sur. Sir, a Chartreux Fryer, His Confessor, who fed him euery minute With words of Soueraignty

Kin. How know'st thou this? Sur. Not long before your Highnesse sped to France, The Duke being at the Rose, within the Parish Saint Laurence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech among the Londoners, Concerning the French Iourney. I replide, Men feare the French would proue perfidious To the Kings danger: presently, the Duke Said, 'twas the feare indeed, and that he doubted 'Twould proue the verity of certaine words Spoke by a holy Monke, that oft, sayes he, Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit Iohn de la Car, my Chaplaine, a choyce howre To heare from him a matter of some moment: Whom after vnder the Commissions Seale, He sollemnly had sworne, that what he spoke My Chaplaine to no Creature liuing, but To me, should vtter, with demure Confidence, This pausingly ensu'de; neither the King, nor's Heyres (Tell you the Duke) shall prosper, bid him striue To the loue o'th' Commonalty, the Duke Shall gouerne England

Queen. If I know you well, You were the Dukes Surueyor, and lost your Office On the complaint o'th' Tenants; take good heed You charge not in your spleene a Noble person, And spoyle your nobler Soule; I say, take heed; Yes, heartily beseech you

Kin. Let him on: Goe forward

Sur. On my Soule, Ile speake but truth. I told my Lord the Duke, by th' Diuels illusions The Monke might be deceiu'd, and that 'twas dangerous For this to ruminate on this so farre, vntill It forg'd him some designe, which being beleeu'd It was much like to doe: He answer'd, Tush, It can do me no damage; adding further, That had the King in his last Sicknesse faild, The Cardinals and Sir Thomas Louels heads Should haue gone off

Kin. Ha? What, so rancke? Ah, ha, There's mischiefe in this man; canst thou say further? Sur. I can my Liedge

Kin. Proceed

Sur. Being at Greenwich, After your Highnesse had reprou'd the Duke About Sir William Blumer

Kin. I remember of such a time, being my sworn seruant, The Duke retein'd him his. But on: what hence? Sur. If (quoth he) I for this had beene committed, As to the Tower, I thought; I would haue plaid The Part my Father meant to act vpon Th' Vsurper Richard, who being at Salsbury, Made suit to come in's presence; which if granted, (As he made semblance of his duty) would Haue put his knife into him

Kin. A Gyant Traytor

Card. Now Madam, may his Highnes liue in freedome, And this man out of Prison

Queen. God mend all

Kin. Ther's somthing more would out of thee; what say'st? Sur. After the Duke his Father, with the knife He stretch'd him, and with one hand on his dagger, Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes, He did discharge a horrible Oath, whose tenor Was, were he euill vs'd, he would outgoe His Father, by as much as a performance Do's an irresolute purpose

Kin. There's his period, To sheath his knife in vs: he is attach'd, Call him to present tryall: if he may Finde mercy in the Law, 'tis his; if none, Let him not seek't of vs: By day and night Hee's Traytor to th' height.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

L.Ch. Is't possible the spels of France should iuggle Men into such strange mysteries? L.San. New customes, Though they be neuer so ridiculous, (Nay let 'em be vnmanly) yet are follow'd

L.Ch. As farre as I see, all the good our English Haue got by the late Voyage, is but meerely A fit or two o'th' face, (but they are shrewd ones) For when they hold 'em, you would sweare directly Their very noses had been Councellours To Pepin or Clotharius, they keepe State so

L.San. They haue all new legs, And lame ones; one would take it, That neuer see 'em pace before, the Spauen A Spring-halt rain'd among 'em

L.Ch. Death my Lord, Their cloathes are after such a Pagan cut too't, That sure th'haue worne out Christendome: how now? What newes, Sir Thomas Louell? Enter Sir Thomas Louell.

Louell. Faith my Lord, I heare of none but the new Proclamation, That's clapt vpon the Court Gate

L.Cham. What is't for? Lou. The reformation of our trauel'd Gallants, That fill the Court with quarrels, talke, and Taylors

L.Cham. I'm glad 'tis there; Now I would pray our Monsieurs To thinke an English Courtier may be wise, And neuer see the Louure

Lou. They must either (For so run the Conditions) leaue those remnants Of Foole and Feather, that they got in France, With all their honourable points of ignorance Pertaining thereunto; as Fights and Fire-workes, Abusing better men then they can be Out of a forreigne wisedome, renouncing cleane The faith they haue in Tennis and tall Stockings, Short blistred Breeches, and those types of Trauell; And vnderstand againe like honest men, Or pack to their old Playfellowes; there, I take it, They may Cum Priuilegio, wee away The lag end of their lewdnesse, and be laugh'd at

L.San. Tis time to giue 'em Physicke, their diseases Are growne so catching

L.Cham. What a losse our Ladies Will haue of these trim vanities? Louell. I marry, There will be woe indeed Lords, the slye whorsons Haue got a speeding tricke to lay downe Ladies. A French Song, and a Fiddle, ha's no Fellow

L.San. The Diuell fiddle 'em, I am glad they are going, For sure there's no conuerting of 'em: now An honest Country Lord as I am, beaten A long time out of play, may bring his plaine song, And haue an houre of hearing, and by'r Lady Held currant Musicke too

L.Cham. Well said Lord Sands, Your Colts tooth is not cast yet? L.San. No my Lord, Nor shall not while I haue a stumpe

L.Cham. Sir Thomas, Whither were you a going? Lou. To the Cardinals; Your Lordship is a guest too

L.Cham. O, 'tis true; This night he makes a Supper, and a great one, To many Lords and Ladies; there will be The Beauty of this Kingdome Ile assure you

Lou. That Churchman Beares a bounteous minde indeed, A hand as fruitfull as the Land that feeds vs, His dewes fall euery where

L.Cham. No doubt hee's Noble; He had a blacke mouth that said other of him

L.San. He may my Lord, Ha's wherewithall in him; Sparing would shew a worse sinne, then ill Doctrine, Men of his way, should be most liberall, They are set heere for examples

L.Cham. True, they are so; But few now giue so great ones: My Barge stayes; Your Lordship shall along: Come, good Sir Thomas, We shall be late else, which I would not be, For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford This night to be Comptrollers

L.San. I am your Lordships.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Hoboies. A small Table vnder a State for the Cardinall, a longer Table for the Guests. Then Enter Anne Bullen, and diuers other Ladies, & Gentlemen, as Guests at one Doore; at an other Doore enter Sir Henry Guilford.

S.Hen.Guilf. Ladyes, A generall welcome from his Grace Salutes ye all; This Night he dedicates To faire content, and you: None heere he hopes In all this Noble Beuy, has brought with her One care abroad: hee would haue all as merry: As first, good Company, good wine, good welcome, Can make good people. Enter L[ord]. Chamberlaine L[ord]. Sands, and Louell.

O my Lord, y'are tardy; The very thought of this faire Company, Clapt wings to me

Cham. You are young Sir Harry Guilford

San. Sir Thomas Louell, had the Cardinall But halfe my Lay-thoughts in him, some of these Should finde a running Banket, ere they rested, I thinke would better please 'em: by my life, They are a sweet society of faire ones

Lou. O that your Lordship were but now Confessor, To one or two of these

San. I would I were, They should finde easie pennance

Lou. Faith how easie? San. As easie as a downe bed would affoord it

Cham. Sweet Ladies will it please you sit; Sir Harry Place you that side, Ile take the charge of this: His Grace is entring. Nay, you must not freeze, Two women plac'd together, makes cold weather: My Lord Sands, you are one will keepe 'em waking: Pray sit betweene these Ladies

San. By my faith, And thanke your Lordship: by your leaue sweet Ladies, If I chance to talke a little wilde, forgiue me: I had it from my Father

An.Bul. Was he mad Sir? San. O very mad, exceeding mad, in loue too; But he would bite none, iust as I doe now, He would Kisse you Twenty with a breath

Cham. Well said my Lord: So now y'are fairely seated: Gentlemen, The pennance lyes on you; if these faire Ladies Passe away frowning

San. For my little Cure, Let me alone.

Hoboyes. Enter Cardinall Wolsey, and takes his State.

Card. Y'are welcome my faire Guests; that noble Lady Or Gentleman that is not freely merry Is not my Friend. This to confirme my welcome, And to you all good health

San. Your Grace is Noble, Let me haue such a Bowle may hold my thankes, And saue me so much talking

Card. My Lord Sands, I am beholding to you: cheere your neighbours: Ladies you are not merry; Gentlemen, Whose fault is this? San. The red wine first must rise In their faire cheekes my Lord, then wee shall haue 'em, Talke vs to silence

An.B. You are a merry Gamster My Lord Sands

San. Yes, if I make my play: Heer's to your Ladiship, and pledge it Madam: For tis to such a thing

An.B. You cannot shew me.

Drum and Trumpet, Chambers dischargd.

San. I told your Grace, they would talke anon

Card. What's that? Cham. Looke out there, some of ye

Card. What warlike voyce, And to what end is this? Nay, Ladies, feare not; By all the lawes of Warre y'are priuiledg'd. Enter a Seruant.

Cham. How now, what is't? Seru. A noble troupe of Strangers, For so they seeme; th' haue left their Barge and landed, And hither make, as great Embassadors From forraigne Princes

Card. Good Lord Chamberlaine, Go, giue 'em welcome; you can speake the French tongue And pray receiue 'em Nobly, and conduct 'em Into our presence, where this heauen of beauty Shall shine at full vpon them. Some attend him.

All rise, and Tables remou'd.

You haue now a broken Banket, but wee'l mend it. A good digestion to you all; and once more I showre a welcome on yee: welcome all.

Hoboyes. Enter King and others as Maskers, habited like Shepheards, vsher'd by the Lord Chamberlaine. They passe directly before the Cardinall and gracefully salute him.

A noble Company: what are their pleasures? Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they praid To tell your Grace: That hauing heard by fame Of this so Noble and so faire assembly, This night to meet heere they could doe no lesse, (Out of the great respect they beare to beauty) But leaue their Flockes, and vnder your faire Conduct Craue leaue to view these Ladies, and entreat An houre of Reuels with 'em

Card. Say, Lord Chamberlaine, They haue done my poore house grace: For which I pay 'em a thousand thankes, And pray 'em take their pleasures.

Choose Ladies, King and An Bullen.

King. The fairest hand I euer touch'd: O Beauty, Till now I neuer knew thee.

Musicke, Dance.

Card. My Lord

Cham. Your Grace

Card. Pray tell 'em thus much from me: There should be one amongst 'em by his person More worthy this place then my selfe, to whom (If I but knew him) with my loue and duty I would surrender it.

Whisper.

Cham. I will my Lord

Card. What say they? Cham. Such a one, they all confesse There is indeed, which they would haue your Grace Find out, and he will take it

Card. Let me see then, By all your good leaues Gentlemen; heere Ile make My royall choyce

Kin. Ye haue found him Cardinall, You hold a faire Assembly; you doe well Lord: You are a Churchman, or Ile tell you Cardinall, I should iudge now vnhappily

Card. I am glad Your Grace is growne so pleasant

Kin. My Lord Chamberlaine, Prethee come hither, what faire Ladie's that? Cham. An't please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullens Daughter, the Viscount Rochford, One of her Highnesse women

Kin. By Heauen she is a dainty one. Sweet heart, I were vnmannerly to take you out, And not to kisse you. A health Gentlemen, Let it goe round

Card. Sir Thomas Louell, is the Banket ready I'th' Priuy Chamber? Lou. Yes, my Lord

Card. Your Grace I feare, with dancing is a little heated

Kin. I feare too much

Card. There's fresher ayre my Lord, In the next Chamber

Kin. Lead in your Ladies eu'ry one: Sweet Partner, I must not yet forsake you: Let's be merry, Good my Lord Cardinall: I haue halfe a dozen healths, To drinke to these faire Ladies, and a measure To lead 'em once againe, and then let's dreame Who's best in fauour. Let the Musicke knock it.

Exeunt. with Trumpets.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen at seuerall Doores.

1. Whether away so fast? 2. O, God saue ye: Eu'n to the Hall, to heare what shall become Of the great Duke of Buckingham

1. Ile saue you That labour Sir. All's now done but the Ceremony Of bringing backe the Prisoner

2. Were you there ? 1. Yes indeed was I

2. Pray speake what ha's happen'd

1. You may guesse quickly what

2. Is he found guilty? 1. Yes truely is he, And condemn'd vpon't

2. I am sorry fort

1. So are a number more

2. But pray how past it? 1. Ile tell you in a little. The great Duke Came to the Bar; where, to his accusations He pleaded still not guilty, and alleadged Many sharpe reasons to defeat the Law. The Kings Atturney on the contrary, Vrg'd on the Examinations, proofes, confessions Of diuers witnesses, which the Duke desir'd To him brought viua voce to his face; At which appear'd against him, his Surueyor Sir Gilbert Pecke his Chancellour, and Iohn Car, Confessor to him, with that Diuell Monke, Hopkins, that made this mischiefe

2. That was hee That fed him with his Prophecies

1. The same, All these accus'd him strongly, which he faine Would haue flung from him; but indeed he could not; And so his Peeres vpon this euidence, Haue found him guilty of high Treason. Much He spoke, and learnedly for life: But all Was either pittied in him, or forgotten

2. After all this, how did he beare himselfe? 1. When he was brought agen to th' Bar, to heare His Knell rung out, his Iudgement, he was stir'd With such an Agony, he sweat extreamly, And somthing spoke in choller, ill, and hasty: But he fell to himselfe againe, and sweetly, In all the rest shew'd a most Noble patience

2. I doe not thinke he feares death

1. Sure he does not, He neuer was so womanish, the cause He may a little grieue at

2. Certainly, The Cardinall is the end of this

1. Tis likely, By all coniectures: First Kildares Attendure; Then Deputy of Ireland, who remou'd Earle Surrey, was sent thither, and in hast too, Least he should helpe his Father

2. That tricke of State Was a deepe enuious one, 1. At his returne, No doubt he will requite it; this is noted (And generally) who euer the King fauours, The Cardnall instantly will finde imployment, And farre enough from Court too

2. All the Commons Hate him perniciously, and o' my Conscience Wish him ten faddom deepe: This Duke as much They loue and doate on: call him bounteous Buckingham, The Mirror of all courtesie. Enter Buckingham from his Arraignment, Tipstaues before him, the Axe with the edge towards him, Halberds on each side, accompanied with Sir Thomas Louell, Sir Nicholas Vaux, Sir Walter Sands, and common people, &c.

1. Stay there Sir, And see the noble ruin'd man you speake of

2. Let's stand close and behold him

Buck. All good people, You that thus farre haue come to pitty me; Heare what I say, and then goe home and lose me. I haue this day receiu'd a Traitors iudgement, And by that name must dye; yet Heauen beare witnes, And if I haue a Conscience, let it sincke me, Euen as the Axe falls, if I be not faithfull. The Law I beare no mallice for my death, T'has done vpon the premises, but Iustice: But those that sought it, I could wish more Christians: (Be what they will) I heartily forgiue 'em; Yet let 'em looke they glory not in mischiefe; Nor build their euils on the graues of great men; For then, my guiltlesse blood must cry against 'em. For further life in this world I ne're hope, Nor will I sue, although the King haue mercies More then I dare make faults. You few that lou'd me, And dare be bold to weepe for Buckingham, His Noble Friends and Fellowes; whom to leaue Is only bitter to him, only dying: Goe with me like good Angels to my end, And as the long diuorce of Steele fals on me, Make of your Prayers one sweet Sacrifice, And lift my Soule to Heauen. Lead on a Gods name

Louell. I doe beseech your Grace, for charity If euer any malice in your heart Were hid against me, now to forgiue me frankly

Buck. Sir Thomas Louell, I as free forgiue you As I would be forgiuen: I forgiue all. There cannot be those numberlesse offences Gainst me, that I cannot take peace with: No blacke Enuy shall make my Graue. Commend mee to his Grace: And if he speake of Buckingham; pray tell him, You met him halfe in Heauen: my vowes and prayers Yet are the Kings; and till my Soule forsake, Shall cry for blessings on him. May he liue Longer then I haue time to tell his yeares; Euer belou'd and louing, may his Rule be; And when old Time shall lead him to his end, Goodnesse and he, fill vp one Monument

Lou. To th' water side I must conduct your Grace; Then giue my Charge vp to Sir Nicholas Vaux, Who vndertakes you to your end

Vaux. Prepare there, The Duke is comming: See the Barge be ready; And fit it with such furniture as suites The Greatnesse of his Person

Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas, Let it alone; my State now will but mocke me. When I came hither, I was Lord High Constable, And Duke of Buckingham: now, poore Edward Bohun; Yet I am richer then my base Accusers, That neuer knew what Truth meant: I now seale it; And with that bloud will make 'em one day groane for't. My noble Father Henry of Buckingham, Who first rais'd head against Vsurping Richard, Flying for succour to his Seruant Banister, Being distrest; was by that wretch betraid, And without Tryall, fell; Gods peace be with him. Henry the Seauenth succeeding, truly pittying My Fathers losse; like a most Royall Prince Restor'd me to my Honours: and out of ruines Made my Name once more Noble. Now his Sonne, Henry the Eight, Life, Honour, Name and all That made me happy; at one stroake ha's taken For euer from the World. I had my Tryall, And must needs say a Noble one; which makes me A little happier then my wretched Father: Yet thus farre we are one in Fortunes; both Fell by our Seruants, by those Men we lou'd most: A most vnnaturall and faithlesse Seruice. Heauen ha's an end in all: yet, you that heare me, This from a dying man receiue as certaine: Where you are liberall of your loues and Councels, Be sure you be not loose; for those you make friends, And giue your hearts to; when they once perceiue The least rub in your fortunes, fall away Like water from ye, neuer found againe But where they meane to sinke ye: all good people Pray for me, I must now forsake ye; the last houre Of my long weary life is come vpon me: Farewell; and when you would say somthing that is sad, Speake how I fell. I haue done; and God forgiue me.

Exeunt. Duke and Traine.

1. O, this is full of pitty; Sir, it cals I feare, too many curses on their heads That were the Authors

2. If the Duke be guiltlesse, 'Tis full of woe: yet I can giue you inckling Of an ensuing euill, if it fall, Greater then this

1. Good Angels keepe it from vs: What may it be? you doe not doubt my faith Sir? 2. This Secret is so weighty, 'twill require A strong faith to conceale it

1. Let me haue it: I doe not talke much

2. I am confident; You shall Sir: Did you not of late dayes heare A buzzing of a Separation Betweene the King and Katherine? 1. Yes, but it held not; For when the King once heard it, out of anger He sent command to the Lord Mayor straight To stop the rumor; and allay those tongues That durst disperse it

2. But that slander Sir, Is found a truth now: for it growes agen Fresher then e're it was; and held for certaine The King will venture at it. Either the Cardinall, Or some about him neere, haue out of malice To the good Queene, possest him with a scruple That will vndoe her: To confirme this too, Cardinall Campeius is arriu'd, and lately, As all thinke for this busines

1. Tis the Cardinall; And meerely to reuenge him on the Emperour, For not bestowing on him at his asking, The Archbishopricke of Toledo, this is purpos'd

2. I thinke You haue hit the marke; but is't not cruell, That she should feele the smart of this: the Cardinall Will haue his will, and she must fall

1. 'Tis wofull. Wee are too open heere to argue this: Let's thinke in priuate more.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Lord Chamberlaine, reading this Letter.

My Lord, the Horses your Lordship sent for, with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnish'd. They were young and handsome, and of the best breed in the North. When they were ready to set out for London, a man of my Lord Cardinalls, by Commission, and maine power tooke 'em from me, with this reason: his maister would bee seru'd before a Subiect, if not before the King, which stop'd our mouthes Sir. I feare he will indeede; well, let him haue them; hee will haue all I thinke. Enter to the Lord Chamberlaine, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke.

Norf. Well met my Lord Chamberlaine

Cham. Good day to both your Graces

Suff. How is the King imployd? Cham. I left him priuate, Full of sad thoughts and troubles

Norf. What's the cause? Cham. It seemes the Marriage with his Brothers Wife Ha's crept too neere his Conscience

Suff. No, his Conscience Ha's crept too neere another Ladie

Norf. Tis so; This is the Cardinals doing: The King-Cardinall, That blinde Priest, like the eldest Sonne of Fortune, Turnes what he list. The King will know him one day

Suff. Pray God he doe, Hee'l neuer know himselfe else

Norf. How holily he workes in all his businesse, And with what zeale? For now he has crackt the League Between vs & the Emperor (the Queens great Nephew) He diues into the Kings Soule, and there scatters Dangers, doubts, wringing of the Conscience, Feares, and despaires, and all these for his Marriage. And out of all these, to restore the King, He counsels a Diuorce, a losse of her That like a Iewell, ha's hung twenty yeares About his necke, yet neuer lost her lustre; Of her that loues him with that excellence, That Angels loue good men with: Euen of her, That when the greatest stroake of Fortune falls Will blesse the King: and is not this course pious? Cham. Heauen keep me from such councel: tis most true These newes are euery where, euery tongue speaks 'em, And euery true heart weepes for't. All that dare Looke into these affaires, see this maine end, The French Kings Sister. Heauen will one day open The Kings eyes, that so long haue slept vpon This bold bad man

Suff. And free vs from his slauery

Norf. We had need pray, And heartily, for our deliuerance; Or this imperious man will worke vs all From Princes into Pages: all mens honours Lie like one lumpe before him, to be fashion'd Into what pitch he please

Suff. For me, my Lords, I loue him not, nor feare him, there's my Creede: As I am made without him, so Ile stand, If the King please: his Curses and his blessings Touch me alike: th'are breath I not beleeue in. I knew him, and I know him: so I leaue him To him that made him proud; the Pope

Norf. Let's in; And with some other busines, put the King From these sad thoughts, that work too much vpon him: My Lord, youle beare vs company? Cham. Excuse me, The King ha's sent me otherwhere: Besides You'l finde a most vnfit time to disturbe him: Health to your Lordships

Norfolke. Thankes my good Lord Chamberlaine. Exit Lord Chamberlaine, and the King drawes the Curtaine and sits reading pensiuely.

Suff. How sad he lookes; sure he is much afflicted

Kin. Who's there? Ha? Norff. Pray God he be not angry

Kin. Who's there I say? How dare you thrust your selues Into my priuate Meditations? Who am I? Ha? Norff. A gracious King, that pardons all offences Malice ne're meant: Our breach of Duty this way, Is businesse of Estate; in which, we come To know your Royall pleasure

Kin. Ye are too bold: Go too; Ile make ye know your times of businesse: Is this an howre for temporall affaires? Ha? Enter Wolsey and Campeius with a Commission.

Who's there? my good Lord Cardinall? O my Wolsey, The quiet of my wounded Conscience; Thou art a cure fit for a King; you'r welcome Most learned Reuerend Sir, into our Kingdome, Vse vs, and it: My good Lord, haue great care, I be not found a Talker

Wol. Sir, you cannot; I would your Grace would giue vs but an houre Of priuate conference

Kin. We are busie; goe

Norff. This Priest ha's no pride in him? Suff. Not to speake of: I would not be so sicke though for his place: But this cannot continue

Norff. If it doe, Ile venture one; haue at him

Suff. I another.

Exeunt. Norfolke and Suffolke.

Wol. Your Grace ha's giuen a President of wisedome Aboue all Princes, in committing freely Your scruple to the voyce of Christendome: Who can be angry now? What Enuy reach you? The Spaniard tide by blood and fauour to her, Must now confesse, if they haue any goodnesse, The Tryall, iust and Noble. All the Clerkes, (I meane the learned ones in Christian Kingdomes) Haue their free voyces. Rome (the Nurse of Iudgement) Inuited by your Noble selfe, hath sent One generall Tongue vnto vs. This good man, This iust and learned Priest, Cardnall Campeius, Whom once more, I present vnto your Highnesse

Kin. And once more in mine armes I bid him welcome, And thanke the holy Conclaue for their loues, They haue sent me such a Man, I would haue wish'd for

Cam. Your Grace must needs deserue all strangers loues, You are so Noble: To your Highnesse hand I tender my Commission; by whose vertue, The Court of Rome commanding. You my Lord Cardinall of Yorke, are ioyn'd with me their Seruant, In the vnpartiall iudging of this Businesse

Kin. Two equall men: The Queene shall be acquainted Forthwith for what you come. Where's Gardiner? Wol. I know your Maiesty, ha's alwayes lou'd her So deare in heart, not to deny her that A Woman of lesse Place might aske by Law; Schollers allow'd freely to argue for her

Kin. I, and the best she shall haue; and my fauour To him that does best, God forbid els: Cardinall, Prethee call Gardiner to me, my new Secretary. I find him a fit fellow. Enter Gardiner.

Wol. Giue me your hand: much ioy & fauour to you; You are the Kings now

Gard. But to be commanded For euer by your Grace, whose hand ha's rais'd me

Kin. Come hither Gardiner.

Walkes and whispers.

Camp. My Lord of Yorke, was not one Doctor Pace In this mans place before him? Wol. Yes, he was

Camp. Was he not held a learned man? Wol. Yes surely

Camp. Beleeue me, there's an ill opinion spread then, Euen of your selfe Lord Cardinall

Wol. How? of me? Camp. They will not sticke to say, you enuide him; And fearing he would rise (he was so vertuous) Kept him a forraigne man still, which so greeu'd him, That he ran mad, and dide

Wol. Heau'ns peace be with him: That's Christian care enough: for liuing Murmurers, There's places of rebuke. He was a Foole; For he would needs be vertuous. That good Fellow, If I command him followes my appointment, I will haue none so neere els. Learne this Brother, We liue not to be grip'd by meaner persons

Kin. Deliuer this with modesty to th' Queene.

Exit Gardiner.

The most conuenient place, that I can thinke of For such receipt of Learning, is Black-Fryers: There ye shall meete about this waighty busines. My Wolsey, see it furnish'd, O my Lord, Would it not grieue an able man to leaue So sweet a Bedfellow? But Conscience, Conscience; O 'tis a tender place, and I must leaue her.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Anne Bullen, and an old Lady.

An. Not for that neither; here's the pang that pinches. His Highnesse, hauing liu'd so long with her, and she So good a Lady, that no Tongue could euer Pronounce dishonour of her; by my life, She neuer knew harme-doing: Oh, now after So many courses of the Sun enthroaned, Still growing in a Maiesty and pompe, the which To leaue, a thousand fold more bitter, then 'Tis sweet at first t' acquire. After this Processe. To giue her the auaunt, it is a pitty Would moue a Monster

Old La. Hearts of most hard temper Melt and lament for her

An. Oh Gods will, much better She ne're had knowne pompe; though't be temporall, Yet if that quarrell. Fortune, do diuorce It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging As soule and bodies seuering

Old L. Alas poore Lady, Shee's a stranger now againe

An. So much the more Must pitty drop vpon her; verily I sweare, tis better to be lowly borne, And range with humble liuers in Content, Then to be perk'd vp in a glistring griefe, And weare a golden sorrow

Old L. Our content Is our best hauing

Anne. By my troth, and Maidenhead, I would not be a Queene

Old.L. Beshrew me, I would, And venture Maidenhead for't, and so would you For all this spice of your Hipocrisie: You that haue so faire parts of Woman on you, Haue (too) a Womans heart, which euer yet Affected Eminence, Wealth, Soueraignty; Which, to say sooth, are Blessings; and which guifts (Sauing your mincing) the capacity Of your soft Chiuerell Conscience, would receiue, If you might please to stretch it

Anne. Nay, good troth

Old L. Yes troth, & troth; you would not be a Queen? Anne. No, not for all the riches vnder Heauen

Old.L. Tis strange; a threepence bow'd would hire me Old as I am, to Queene it: but I pray you, What thinke you of a Dutchesse? Haue you limbs To beare that load of Title? An. No in truth

Old.L. Then you are weakly made; plucke off a little, I would not be a young Count in your way, For more then blushing comes to: If your backe Cannot vouchsafe this burthen, tis too weake Euer to get a Boy

An. How you doe talke; I sweare againe, I would not be a Queene, For all the world

Old.L. In faith, for little England You'ld venture an emballing: I my selfe Would for Carnaruanshire, although there long'd No more to th' Crowne but that: Lo, who comes here? Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

L.Cham. Good morrow Ladies; what wer't worth to know The secret of your conference? An. My good Lord, Not your demand; it values not your asking: Our Mistris Sorrowes we were pittying

Cham. It was a gentle businesse, and becomming The action of good women, there is hope All will be well

An. Now I pray God, Amen

Cham. You beare a gentle minde, & heau'nly blessings Follow such Creatures. That you may, faire Lady Perceiue I speake sincerely, and high notes Tane of your many vertues; the Kings Maiesty Commends his good opinion of you, to you; and Doe's purpose honour to you no lesse flowing, Then Marchionesse of Pembrooke; to which Title, A Thousand pound a yeare, Annuall support, Out of his Grace, he addes

An. I doe not know What kinde of my obedience, I should tender; More then my All, is Nothing: Nor my Prayers Are not words duely hallowed; nor my Wishes More worth, then empty vanities: yet Prayers & Wishes Are all I can returne. 'Beseech your Lordship, Vouchsafe to speake my thankes, and my obedience, As from a blushing Handmaid, to his Highnesse; Whose health and Royalty I pray for

Cham. Lady; I shall not faile t' approue the faire conceit The King hath of you. I haue perus'd her well, Beauty and Honour in her are so mingled, That they haue caught the King: and who knowes yet But from this Lady, may proceed a Iemme, To lighten all this Ile. I'le to the King, And say I spoke with you.

Exit Lord Chamberlaine.

An. My honour'd Lord

Old.L. Why this it is: See, see, I haue beene begging sixteene yeares in Court (Am yet a Courtier beggerly) nor could Come pat betwixt too early, and too late For any suit of pounds: and you, (oh fate) A very fresh Fish heere; fye, fye, fye vpon This compel'd fortune: haue your mouth fild vp, Before you open it

An. This is strange to me

Old L. How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no: There was a Lady once (tis an old Story) That would not be a Queene, that would she not For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it? An. Come you are pleasant

Old.L. With your Theame, I could O're-mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke? A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect? No other obligation? by my Life, That promises mo thousands: Honours traine Is longer then his fore-skirt; by this time I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say, Are you not stronger then you were? An. Good Lady, Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy, And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me To thinke what followes. The Queene is comfortlesse, and wee forgetfull In our long absence: pray doe not deliuer, What heere y'haue heard to her

Old L. What doe you thinke me -

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers, with short siluer wands; next them two Scribes in the habite of Doctors; after them, the Bishop of Canterbury alone; after him, the Bishops of Lincolne, Ely, Rochester, and S[aint]. Asaph: Next them, with some small distance, followes a Gentleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seale, and a Cardinals Hat: Then two Priests, bearing each a Siluer Crosse: Then a Gentleman Vsher bareheaded, accompanyed with a Sergeant at Armes, bearing a Siluer Mace: Then two Gentlemen bearing two great Siluer Pillers: After them, side by side, the two Cardinals, two Noblemen, with the Sword and Mace. The King takes place vnder the Cloth of State. The two Cardinalls sit vnder him as Iudges. The Queene takes place some distance from the King. The Bishops place themselues on each side the Court in manner of a Consistory: Below them the Scribes. The Lords sit next the Bishops. The rest of the Attendants stand in conuenient order about the Stage.

Car. Whil'st our Commission from Rome is read, Let silence be commanded

King. What's the need? It hath already publiquely bene read, And on all sides th' Authority allow'd, You may then spare that time

Car. Bee't so, proceed

Scri. Say, Henry K[ing]. of England, come into the Court

Crier. Henry King of England, &c

King. Heere

Scribe. Say, Katherine Queene of England, Come into the Court

Crier. Katherine Queene of England, &c.

The Queene makes no answer, rises out of her Chaire, goes about the Court, comes to the King, and kneeles at his Feete. Then speakes.

Sir, I desire you do me Right and Iustice, And to bestow your pitty on me; for I am a most poore Woman, and a Stranger, Borne out of your Dominions: hauing heere No Iudge indifferent, nor no more assurance Of equall Friendship and Proceeding. Alas Sir: In what haue I offended you? What cause Hath my behauiour giuen to your displeasure, That thus you should proceede to put me off, And take your good Grace from me? Heauen witnesse, I haue bene to you, a true and humble Wife, At all times to your will conformable: Euer in feare to kindle your Dislike, Yea, subiect to your Countenance: Glad, or sorry, As I saw it inclin'd? When was the houre I euer contradicted your Desire? Or made it not mine too? Or which of your Friends Haue I not stroue to loue, although I knew He were mine Enemy? What Friend of mine, That had to him deriu'd your Anger, did I Continue in my Liking? Nay, gaue notice He was from thence discharg'd? Sir, call to minde, That I haue beene your Wife, in this Obedience, Vpward of twenty years, and haue bene blest With many Children by you. If in the course And processe of this time, you can report, And proue it too, against mine Honor, aught; My bond to Wedlocke, or my Loue and Dutie Against your Sacred Person; in Gods name Turne me away: and let the fowl'st Contempt Shut doore vpon me, and so giue me vp To the sharp'st kinde of Iustice. Please you, Sir, The King your Father, was reputed for A Prince most Prudent; of an excellent And vnmatch'd Wit, and Iudgement. Ferdinand My Father, King of Spaine, was reckon'd one The wisest Prince, that there had reign'd, by many A yeare before. It is not to be question'd, That they had gather'd a wise Councell to them Of euery Realme, that did debate this Businesse, Who deem'd our Marriage lawful. Wherefore I humbly Beseech you Sir, to spare me, till I may Be by my Friends in Spaine, aduis'd; whose Counsaile I will implore. If not, i'th' name of God Your pleasure be fulfill'd

Wol. You haue heere Lady, (And of your choice) these Reuerend Fathers, men Of singular Integrity, and Learning; Yea, the elect o'th' Land, who are assembled To pleade your Cause. It shall be therefore bootlesse, That longer you desire the Court, as well For your owne quiet, as to rectifie What is vnsetled in the King

Camp. His Grace Hath spoken well, and iustly: Therefore Madam, It's fit this Royall Session do proceed, And that (without delay) their Arguments Be now produc'd, and heard

Qu. Lord Cardinall, to you I speake

Wol. Your pleasure, Madam

Qu. Sir, I am about to weepe; but thinking that We are a Queene (or long haue dream'd so) certaine The daughter of a King, my drops of teares, Ile turne to sparkes of fire

Wol. Be patient yet

Qu. I will, when you are humble; Nay before, Or God will punish me. I do beleeue (Induc'd by potent Circumstances) that You are mine Enemy, and make my Challenge, You shall not be my Iudge. For it is you Haue blowne this Coale, betwixt my Lord, and me; (Which Gods dew quench) therefore, I say againe, I vtterly abhorre; yea, from my Soule Refuse you for my Iudge, whom yet once more I hold my most malicious Foe, and thinke not At all a Friend to truth

Wol. I do professe You speake not like your selfe: who euer yet Haue stood to Charity, and displayd th' effects Of disposition gentle, and of wisedome, Ore-topping womans powre. Madam, you do me wrong I haue no Spleene against you, nor iniustice For you, or any: how farre I haue proceeded, Or how farre further (Shall) is warranted By a Commission from the Consistorie, Yea, the whole Consistorie of Rome. You charge me, That I haue blowne this Coale: I do deny it, The King is present: If it be knowne to him, That I gainsay my Deed, how may he wound, And worthily my Falsehood, yea, as much As you haue done my Truth. If he know That I am free of your Report, he knowes I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him It lies to cure me, and the Cure is to Remoue these Thoughts from you. The which before His Highnesse shall speake in, I do beseech You (gracious Madam) to vnthinke your speaking, And to say so no more

Queen. My Lord, My Lord, I am a simple woman, much too weake T' oppose your cunning. Y'are meek, & humble-mouth'd You signe your Place, and Calling, in full seeming, With Meekenesse and Humilitie: but your Heart Is cramm'd with Arrogancie, Spleene, and Pride. You haue by Fortune, and his Highnesse fauors, Gone slightly o're lowe steppes, and now are mounted Where Powres are your Retainers, and your words (Domestickes to you) serue your will, as't please Your selfe pronounce their Office. I must tell you, You tender more your persons Honor, then Your high profession Spirituall. That agen I do refuse you for my Iudge, and heere Before you all, Appeale vnto the Pope, To bring my whole Cause 'fore his Holinesse, And to be iudg'd by him.

She Curtsies to the King, and offers to depart.

Camp. The Queene is obstinate, Stubborne to Iustice, apt to accuse it, and Disdainfull to be tride by't; tis not well. Shee's going away

Kin. Call her againe

Crier. Katherine. Q[ueene]. of England, come into the Court

Gent.Vsh. Madam, you are cald backe

Que. What need you note it? pray you keep your way, When you are cald returne. Now the Lord helpe, They vexe me past my patience, pray you passe on; I will not tarry: no, nor euer more Vpon this businesse my appearance make, In any of their Courts.

Exit Queene, and her Attendants.

Kin. Goe thy wayes Kate, That man i'th' world, who shall report he ha's A better Wife, let him in naught be trusted, For speaking false in that; thou art alone (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentlenesse, Thy meeknesse Saint-like, Wife-like Gouernment, Obeying in commanding, and thy parts Soueraigne and Pious els, could speake thee out) The Queene of earthly Queenes: Shee's Noble borne; And like her true Nobility, she ha's Carried her selfe towards me

Wol. Most gracious Sir, In humblest manner I require your Highnes, That it shall please you to declare in hearing Of all these eares (for where I am rob'd and bound, There must I be vnloos'd, although not there At once, and fully satisfide) whether euer I Did broach this busines to your Highnes, or Laid any scruple in your way, which might Induce you to the question on't: or euer Haue to you, but with thankes to God for such A Royall Lady, spake one, the least word that might Be to the preiudice of her present State, Or touch of her good Person? Kin. My Lord Cardinall, I doe excuse you; yea, vpon mine Honour, I free you from't: You are not to be taught That you haue many enemies, that know not Why they are so; but like to Village Curres, Barke when their fellowes doe. By some of these The Queene is put in anger; y'are excus'd: But will you be more iustifi'de? You euer Haue wish'd the sleeping of this busines, neuer desir'd It to be stir'd; but oft haue hindred, oft The passages made toward it; on my Honour, I speake my good Lord Cardnall, to this point; And thus farre cleare him. Now, what mou'd me too't, I will be bold with time and your attention: Then marke th' inducement. Thus it came; giue heede too't: My Conscience first receiu'd a tendernes, Scruple, and pricke, on certaine Speeches vtter'd By th' Bishop of Bayon, then French Embassador, Who had beene hither sent on the debating And Marriage 'twixt the Duke of Orleance, and Our Daughter Mary: I'th' Progresse of this busines, Ere a determinate resolution, hee (I meane the Bishop) did require a respite, Wherein he might the King his Lord aduertise, Whether our Daughter were legitimate, Respecting this our Marriage with the Dowager, Sometimes our Brothers Wife. This respite shooke The bosome of my Conscience, enter'd me; Yea, with a spitting power, and made to tremble The region of my Breast, which forc'd such way, That many maz'd considerings, did throng And prest in with this Caution. First, me thought I stood not in the smile of Heauen, who had Commanded Nature, that my Ladies wombe If it conceiu'd a male-child by me, should Doe no more Offices of life too't; then The Graue does to th' dead: For her Male Issue, Or di'de where they were made, or shortly after This world had ayr'd them. Hence I tooke a thought, This was a Iudgement on me, that my Kingdome (Well worthy the best Heyre o'th' World) should not Be gladded in't by me. Then followes, that I weigh'd the danger which my Realmes stood in By this my Issues faile, and that gaue to me Many a groaning throw: thus hulling in The wild Sea of my Conscience, I did steere Toward this remedy, whereupon we are Now present heere together: that's to say, I meant to rectifie my Conscience, which I then did feele full sicke, and yet not well, By all the Reuerend Fathers of the Land, And Doctors learn'd. First I began in priuate, With you my Lord of Lincolne; you remember How vnder my oppression I did reeke When I first mou'd you

B.Lin. Very well my Liedge

Kin. I haue spoke long, be pleas'd your selfe to say How farre you satisfide me

Lin. So please your Highnes, The question did at first so stagger me, Bearing a State of mighty moment in't, And consequence of dread, that I committed The daringst Counsaile which I had to doubt, And did entreate your Highnes to this course, Which you are running heere

Kin. I then mou'd you, My Lord of Canterbury, and got your leaue To make this present Summons vnsolicited. I left no Reuerend Person in this Court; But by particular consent proceeded Vnder your hands and Seales; therefore goe on, For no dislike i'th' world against the person Of the good Queene; but the sharpe thorny points Of my alleadged reasons, driues this forward: Proue but our Marriage lawfull, by my Life And Kingly Dignity, we are contented To weare our mortall State to come, with her, (Katherine our Queene) before the primest Creature That's Parragon'd o'th' World

Camp. So please your Highnes, The Queene being absent, 'tis a needfull fitnesse, That we adiourne this Court till further day; Meane while, must be an earnest motion Made to the Queene to call backe her Appeale She intends vnto his Holinesse

Kin. I may perceiue These Cardinals trifle with me: I abhorre This dilatory sloth, and trickes of Rome. My learn'd and welbeloued Seruant Cranmer, Prethee returne, with thy approch: I know, My comfort comes along: breake vp the Court; I say, set on.

Exeunt., in manner as they enter'd.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Queene and her Women as at worke.

Queen. Take thy Lute wench, My Soule growes sad with troubles, Sing, and disperse 'em if thou canst: leaue working.

SONG.

Orpheus with his Lute made Trees, And the Mountaine tops that freeze, Bow themselues when he did sing. To his Musicke, Plants and Flowers Euer sprung; as Sunne and Showers, There had made a lasting Spring. Euery thing that heard him play, Euen the Billowes of the Sea, Hung their heads, & then lay by. In sweet Musicke is such Art, Killing care, & griefe of heart, Fall asleepe, or hearing dye. Enter a Gentleman.

Queen. How now? Gent. And't please your Grace, the two great Cardinals Wait in the presence

Queen. Would they speake with me? Gent. They wil'd me say so Madam

Queen. Pray their Graces To come neere: what can be their busines With me, a poore weake woman, falne from fauour? I doe not like their comming; now I thinke on't, They should bee good men, their affaires as righteous: But all Hoods, make not Monkes. Enter the two Cardinalls, Wolsey & Campian.

Wols. Peace to your Highnesse

Queen. Your Graces find me heere part of a Houswife, (I would be all) against the worst may happen: What are your pleasures with me, reuerent Lords? Wol. May it please you Noble Madam, to withdraw Into your priuate Chamber; we shall giue you The full cause of our comming

Queen. Speake it heere. There's nothing I haue done yet o' my Conscience Deserues a Corner: would all other Women Could speake this with as free a Soule as I doe. My Lords, I care not (so much I am happy Aboue a number) if my actions Were tri'de by eu'ry tongue, eu'ry eye saw 'em, Enuy and base opinion set against 'em, I know my life so euen. If your busines Seeke me out, and that way I am Wife in; Out with it boldly: Truth loues open dealing

Card. Tanta est erga te mentis integritas Regina serenissima

Queen. O good my Lord, no Latin; I am not such a Truant since my comming, As not to know the Language I haue liu'd in: A strange Tongue makes my cause more strange, suspitious: Pray speake in English; heere are some will thanke you, If you speake truth, for their poore Mistris sake; Beleeue me she ha's had much wrong. Lord Cardinall, The willing'st sinne I euer yet committed, May be absolu'd in English

Card. Noble Lady, I am sorry my integrity should breed, (And seruice to his Maiesty and you) So deepe suspition, where all faith was meant; We come not by the way of Accusation, To taint that honour euery good Tongue blesses; Nor to betray you any way to sorrow; You haue too much good Lady: But to know How you stand minded in the waighty difference Betweene the King and you, and to deliuer (Like free and honest men) our iust opinions, And comforts to our cause

Camp. Most honour'd Madam, My Lord of Yorke, out of his Noble nature, Zeale and obedience he still bore your Grace, Forgetting (like a good man) your late Censure Both of his truth and him (which was too farre) Offers, as I doe, in a signe of peace, His Seruice, and his Counsell

Queen. To betray me. My Lords, I thanke you both for your good wills, Ye speake like honest men, (pray God ye proue so) But how to make ye sodainly an Answere In such a poynt of weight, so neere mine Honour, (More neere my Life I feare) with my weake wit; And to such men of grauity and learning; In truth I know not. I was set at worke, Among my Maids, full little (God knowes) looking Either for such men, or such businesse; For her sake that I haue beene, for I feele The last fit of my Greatnesse; good your Graces Let me haue time and Councell for my Cause: Alas, I am a Woman frendlesse, hopelesse

Wol. Madam, You wrong the Kings loue with these feares, Your hopes and friends are infinite

Queen. In England, But little for my profit can you thinke Lords, That any English man dare giue me Councell? Or be a knowne friend 'gainst his Highnes pleasure, (Though he be growne so desperate to be honest) And liue a Subiect? Nay forsooth, my Friends, They that must weigh out my afflictions, They that my trust must grow to, liue not heere, They are (as all my other comforts) far hence In mine owne Countrey Lords

Camp. I would your Grace Would leaue your greefes, and take my Counsell

Queen. How Sir? Camp. Put your maine cause into the Kings protection, Hee's louing and most gracious. 'Twill be much, Both for your Honour better, and your Cause: For if the tryall of the Law o'retake ye, You'l part away disgrac'd

Wol. He tels you rightly

Queen. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruine: Is this your Christian Councell? Out vpon ye. Heauen is aboue all yet; there sits a Iudge, That no King can corrupt

Camp. Your rage mistakes vs

Queen. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye, Vpon my Soule two reuerend Cardinall Vertues: But Cardinall Sins, and hollow hearts I feare ye: Mend 'em for shame my Lords: Is this your comfort? The Cordiall that ye bring a wretched Lady? A woman lost among ye, laugh't at, scornd? I will not wish ye halfe my miseries, I haue more Charity. But say I warn'd ye; Take heed, for heauens sake take heed, least at once The burthen of my sorrowes, fall vpon ye

Car. Madam, this is a meere distraction, You turne the good we offer, into enuy

Quee. Ye turne me into nothing. Woe vpon ye, And all such false Professors. Would you haue me (If you haue any Iustice, any Pitty, If ye be any thing but Churchmens habits) Put my sicke cause into his hands, that hates me? Alas, ha's banish'd me his Bed already, His Loue, too long ago. I am old my Lords, And all the Fellowship I hold now with him Is onely my Obedience. What can happen To me, aboue this wretchednesse? All your Studies Make me a Curse, like this

Camp. Your feares are worse

Qu. Haue I liu'd thus long (let me speake my selfe, Since Vertue findes no friends) a Wife, a true one? A Woman (I dare say without Vainglory) Neuer yet branded with Suspition? Haue I, with all my full Affections Still met the King? Lou'd him next Heau'n? Obey'd him? Bin (out of fondnesse) superstitious to him? Almost forgot my Prayres to content him? And am I thus rewarded? 'Tis not well Lords. Bring me a constant woman to her Husband, One that ne're dream'd a Ioy, beyond his pleasure; And to that Woman (when she has done most) Yet will I adde an Honor; a great Patience

Car. Madam, you wander from the good We ayme at

Qu. My Lord, I dare not make my selfe so guiltie, To giue vp willingly that Noble Title Your Master wed me to: nothing but death Shall e're diuorce my Dignities

Car. Pray heare me

Qu. Would I had neuer trod this English Earth, Or felt the Flatteries that grow vpon it: Ye haue Angels Faces; but Heauen knowes your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched Lady? I am the most vnhappy Woman liuing. Alas (poore Wenches) where are now your Fortunes? Shipwrack'd vpon a Kingdome, where no Pitty, No Friends, no Hope, no Kindred weepe for me? Almost no Graue allow'd me? Like the Lilly That once was Mistris of the Field, and flourish'd, Ile hang my head, and perish

Car. If your Grace Could but be brought to know, our Ends are honest, Youl'd feele more comfort. Why shold we (good Lady) Vpon what cause wrong you? Alas, our Places, The way of our Profession is against it; We are to Cure such sorrowes, not to sowe 'em. For Goodnesse sake, consider what you do, How you may hurt your selfe: I, vtterly Grow from the Kings Acquaintance, by this Carriage. The hearts of Princes kisse Obedience, So much they loue it. But to stubborne Spirits, They swell and grow, as terrible as stormes. I know you haue a Gentle, Noble temper, A Soule as euen as a Calme; Pray thinke vs, Those we professe, Peace-makers, Friends, and Seruants

Camp. Madam, you'l finde it so: You wrong your Vertues With these weake Womens feares. A Noble Spirit As yours was, put into you, euer casts Such doubts as false Coine from it. The King loues you, Beware you loose it not: For vs (if you please To trust vs in your businesse) we are ready To vse our vtmost Studies, in your seruice

Qu. Do what ye will, my Lords: And pray forgiue me; If I haue vs'd my selfe vnmannerly, You know I am a Woman, lacking wit To make a seemely answer to such persons. Pray do my seruice to his Maiestie, He ha's my heart yet, and shall haue my Prayers While I shall haue my life. Come reuerend Fathers, Bestow your Councels on me. She now begges That little thought when she set footing heere, She should haue bought her Dignities so deere.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter the Duke of Norfolke, Duke of Suffolke, Lord Surrey, and Lord Chamberlaine.

Norf. If you will now vnite in your Complaints, And force them with a Constancy, the Cardinall Cannot stand vnder them. If you omit The offer of this time, I cannot promise, But that you shall sustaine moe new disgraces, With these you beare alreadie

Sur. I am ioyfull To meete the least occasion, that may giue me Remembrance of my Father-in-Law, the Duke, To be reueng'd on him

Suf. Which of the Peeres Haue vncontemn'd gone by him, or at least Strangely neglected? When did he regard The stampe of Noblenesse in any person Out of himselfe? Cham. My Lords, you speake your pleasures: What he deserues of you and me, I know: What we can do to him (though now the time Giues way to vs) I much feare. If you cannot Barre his accesse to'th' King, neuer attempt Any thing on him: for he hath a Witchcraft Ouer the King in's Tongue

Nor. O feare him not, His spell in that is out: the King hath found Matter against him, that for euer marres The Hony of his Language. No, he's setled (Not to come off) in his displeasure

Sur. Sir, I should be glad to heare such Newes as this Once euery houre

Nor. Beleeue it, this is true. In the Diuorce, his contrarie proceedings Are all vnfolded: wherein he appeares, As I would wish mine Enemy

Sur. How came His practises to light? Suf. Most strangely

Sur. O how? how? Suf. The Cardinals Letters to the Pope miscarried, And came to th' eye o'th' King, wherein was read How that the Cardinall did intreat his Holinesse To stay the Iudgement o'th' Diuorce; for if It did take place, I do (quoth he) perceiue My King is tangled in affection, to A Creature of the Queenes, Lady Anne Bullen

Sur. Ha's the King this? Suf. Beleeue it

Sur. Will this worke? Cham. The King in this perceiues him, how he coasts And hedges his owne way. But in this point All his trickes founder, and he brings his Physicke After his Patients death; the King already Hath married the faire Lady

Sur. Would he had

Suf. May you be happy in your wish my Lord, For I professe you haue it

Sur. Now all my ioy Trace the Coniunction

Suf. My Amen too't

Nor. All mens

Suf. There's order giuen for her Coronation: Marry this is yet but yong, and may be left To some eares vnrecounted. But my Lords She is a gallant Creature, and compleate In minde and feature. I perswade me, from her Will fall some blessing to this Land, which shall In it be memoriz'd

Sur. But will the King Digest this Letter of the Cardinals? The Lord forbid

Nor. Marry Amen

Suf. No, no: There be moe Waspes that buz about his Nose, Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinall Campeius, Is stolne away to Rome, hath 'tane no leaue, Ha's left the cause o'th' King vnhandled, and Is posted as the Agent of our Cardinall, To second all his plot. I do assure you, The King cry'de Ha, at this

Cham. Now God incense him, And let him cry Ha, lowder

Norf. But my Lord When returnes Cranmer? Suf. He is return'd in his Opinions, which Haue satisfied the King for his Diuorce, Together with all famous Colledges Almost in Christendome: shortly (I beleeue) His second Marriage shall be publishd, and Her Coronation. Katherine no more Shall be call'd Queene, but Princesse Dowager, And Widdow to Prince Arthur

Nor. This same Cranmer's A worthy Fellow, and hath tane much paine In the Kings businesse

Suff. He ha's, and we shall see him For it, an Arch-byshop

Nor. So I heare

Suf. 'Tis so. Enter Wolsey and Cromwell.

The Cardinall

Nor. Obserue, obserue, hee's moody

Car. The Packet Cromwell, Gau't you the King? Crom. To his owne hand, in's Bed-chamber

Card. Look'd he o'th' inside of the Paper? Crom. Presently He did vnseale them, and the first he view'd, He did it with a Serious minde: a heede Was in his countenance. You he bad Attend him heere this Morning

Card. Is he ready to come abroad? Crom. I thinke by this he is

Card. Leaue me a while.

Exit Cromwell.

It shall be to the Dutches of Alanson, The French Kings Sister; He shall marry her. Anne Bullen? No: Ile no Anne Bullens for him, There's more in't then faire Visage. Bullen? No, wee'l no Bullens: Speedily I wish To heare from Rome. The Marchionesse of Penbroke? Nor. He's discontented

Suf. Maybe he heares the King Does whet his Anger to him

Sur. Sharpe enough, Lord for thy Iustice

Car. The late Queenes Gentlewoman? A Knights Daughter To be her Mistris Mistris? The Queenes, Queene? This Candle burnes not cleere, 'tis I must snuffe it, Then out it goes. What though I know her vertuous And well deseruing? yet I know her for A spleeny Lutheran, and not wholsome to Our cause, that she should lye i'th' bosome of Our hard rul'd King. Againe, there is sprung vp An Heretique, an Arch-one; Cranmer, one Hath crawl'd into the fauour of the King, And is his Oracle

Nor. He is vex'd at something. Enter King, reading of a Scedule.

Sur. I would 'twer somthing y would fret the string, The Master-cord on's heart

Suf. The King, the King

King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated To his owne portion? And what expence by'th' houre Seemes to flow from him? How, i'th' name of Thrift Does he rake this together? Now my Lords, Saw you the Cardinall? Nor. My Lord, we haue Stood heere obseruing him. Some strange Commotion Is in his braine: He bites his lip, and starts, Stops on a sodaine, lookes vpon the ground, Then layes his finger on his Temple: straight Springs out into fast gate, then stops againe, Strikes his brest hard, and anon, he casts His eye against the Moone: in most strange Postures We haue seene him set himselfe

King. It may well be, There is a mutiny in's minde. This morning, Papers of State he sent me, to peruse As I requir'd: and wot you what I found There (on my Conscience put vnwittingly) Forsooth an Inuentory, thus importing The seuerall parcels of his Plate, his Treasure, Rich Stuffes and Ornaments of Houshold, which I finde at such proud Rate, that it out-speakes Possession of a Subiect

Nor. It's Heauens will, Some Spirit put this paper in the Packet, To blesse your eye withall

King. If we did thinke His Contemplation were aboue the earth, And fixt on Spirituall obiect, he should still Dwell in his Musings, but I am affraid His Thinkings are below the Moone, not worth His serious considering.

King takes his Seat, whispers Louell, who goes to the Cardinall.

Car. Heauen forgiue me, Euer God blesse your Highnesse

King. Good my Lord, You are full of Heauenly stuffe, and beare the Inuentory Of your best Graces, in your minde; the which You were now running o're: you haue scarse time To steale from Spirituall leysure, a briefe span To keepe your earthly Audit, sure in that I deeme you an ill Husband, and am glad To haue you therein my Companion

Car. Sir, For Holy Offices I haue a time; a time To thinke vpon the part of businesse, which I beare i'th' State: and Nature does require Her times of preseruation, which perforce I her fraile sonne, among'st my Brethren mortall, Must giue my tendance to

King. You haue said well

Car. And euer may your Highnesse yoake together, (As I will lend you cause) my doing well, With my well saying

King. 'Tis well said agen, And 'tis a kinde of good deede to say well, And yet words are no deeds. My Father lou'd you, He said he did, and with his deed did Crowne His word vpon you. Since I had my Office, I haue kept you next my Heart, haue not alone Imploy'd you where high Profits might come home, But par'd my present Hauings, to bestow My Bounties vpon you

Car. What should this meane? Sur. The Lord increase this businesse

King. Haue I not made you The prime man of the State? I pray you tell me, If what I now pronounce, you haue found true: And if you may confesse it, say withall If you are bound to vs, or no. What say you? Car. My Soueraigne, I confesse your Royall graces Showr'd on me daily, haue bene more then could My studied purposes requite, which went Beyond all mans endeauors. My endeauors, Haue euer come too short of my Desires, Yet fill'd with my Abilities: Mine owne ends Haue beene mine so, that euermore they pointed To'th' good of your most Sacred Person, and The profit of the State. For your great Graces Heap'd vpon me (poore Vndeseruer) I Can nothing render but Allegiant thankes, My Prayres to heauen for you; my Loyaltie Which euer ha's, and euer shall be growing, Till death (that Winter) kill it

King. Fairely answer'd: A Loyall, and obedient Subiect is Therein illustrated, the Honor of it Does pay the Act of it, as i'th' contrary The fowlenesse is the punishment. I presume, That as my hand ha's open'd Bounty to you, My heart drop'd Loue, my powre rain'd Honor, more On you, then any: So your Hand, and Heart, Your Braine, and euery Function of your power, Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, As 'twer in Loues particular, be more To me your Friend, then any

Car. I do professe, That for your Highnesse good, I euer labour'd More then mine owne: that am, haue, and will be (Though all the world should cracke their duty to you, And throw it from their Soule, though perils did Abound, as thicke as thought could make 'em, and Appeare in formes more horrid) yet my Duty, As doth a Rocke against the chiding Flood, Should the approach of this wilde Riuer breake, And stand vnshaken yours

King. 'Tis Nobly spoken: Take notice Lords, he ha's a Loyall brest, For you haue seene him open't. Read o're this, And after this, and then to Breakfast with What appetite you haue.

Exit King, frowning vpon the Cardinall, the Nobles throng after him smiling, and whispering.

Car. What should this meane? What sodaine Anger's this? How haue I reap'd it? He parted Frowning from me, as if Ruine Leap'd from his Eyes. So lookes the chafed Lyon Vpon the daring Huntsman that has gall'd him: Then makes him nothing. I must reade this paper: I feare the Story of his Anger. 'Tis so: This paper ha's vndone me: 'Tis th' Accompt Of all that world of Wealth I haue drawne together For mine owne ends, (Indeed to gaine the Popedome, And fee my Friends in Rome.) O Negligence! Fit for a Foole to fall by: What crosse Diuell Made me put this maine Secret in the Packet I sent the King? Is there no way to cure this? No new deuice to beate this from his Braines? I know 'twill stirre him strongly; yet I know A way, if it take right, in spight of Fortune Will bring me off againe. What's this? To th' Pope? The Letter (as I liue) with all the Businesse I writ too's Holinesse. Nay then, farewell: I haue touch'd the highest point of all my Greatnesse, And from that full Meridian of my Glory, I haste now to my Setting. I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the Euening, And no man see me more. Enter to Woolsey, the Dukes of Norfolke and Suffolke, the Earle of Surrey, and the Lord Chamberlaine.

Nor. Heare the Kings pleasure Cardinall, Who commands you To render vp the Great Seale presently Into our hands, and to Confine your selfe To Asher-house, my Lord of Winchesters, Till you heare further from his Highnesse

Car. Stay: Where's your Commission? Lords, words cannot carrie Authority so weighty

Suf. Who dare crosse 'em, Bearing the Kings will from his mouth expressely? Car. Till I finde more then will, or words to do it, (I meane your malice) know, Officious Lords, I dare, and must deny it. Now I feele Of what course Mettle ye are molded, Enuy, How eagerly ye follow my Disgraces As if it fed ye, and how sleeke and wanton Ye appeare in euery thing may bring my ruine? Follow your enuious courses, men of Malice; You haue Christian warrant for 'em, and no doubt In time will finde their fit Rewards. That Seale You aske with such a Violence, the King (Mine, and your Master) with his owne hand, gaue me: Bad me enioy it, with the Place, and Honors During my life; and to confirme his Goodnesse, Ti'de it by Letters Patents. Now, who'll take it? Sur. The King that gaue it

Car. It must be himselfe then

Sur. Thou art a proud Traitor, Priest

Car. Proud Lord, thou lyest: Within these fortie houres, Surrey durst better Haue burnt that Tongue, then saide so

Sur. Thy Ambition (Thou Scarlet sinne) robb'd this bewailing Land Of Noble Buckingham, my Father-in-Law, The heads of all thy Brother-Cardinals, (With thee, and all thy best parts bound together) Weigh'd not a haire of his. Plague of your policie, You sent me Deputie for Ireland, Farre from his succour; from the King, from all That might haue mercie on the fault, thou gau'st him: Whil'st your great Goodnesse, out of holy pitty, Absolu'd him with an Axe

Wol. This, and all else This talking Lord can lay vpon my credit, I answer, is most false. The Duke by Law Found his deserts. How innocent I was From any priuate malice in his end, His Noble Iurie, and foule Cause can witnesse. If I lou'd many words, Lord, I should tell you, You haue as little Honestie, as Honor, That in the way of Loyaltie, and Truth, Toward the King, my euer Roiall Master, Dare mate a sounder man then Surrie can be, And all that loue his follies

Sur. By my Soule, Your long Coat (Priest) protects you, Thou should'st feele My Sword i'th' life blood of thee else. My Lords, Can ye endure to heare this Arrogance? And from this Fellow? If we liue thus tamely, To be thus Iaded by a peece of Scarlet, Farewell Nobilitie: let his Grace go forward, And dare vs with his Cap, like Larkes

Card. All Goodnesse Is poyson to thy Stomacke

Sur. Yes, that goodnesse Of gleaning all the Lands wealth into one, Into your owne hands (Card'nall) by Extortion: The goodnesse of your intercepted Packets You writ to'th Pope, against the King: your goodnesse Since you prouoke me, shall be most notorious. My Lord of Norfolke, as you are truly Noble, As you respect the common good, the State Of our despis'd Nobilitie, our Issues, (Whom if he liue, will scarse be Gentlemen) Produce the grand summe of his sinnes, the Articles Collected from his life. Ile startle you Worse then the Sacring Bell, when the browne Wench Lay kissing in your Armes, Lord Cardinall

Car. How much me thinkes, I could despise this man, But that I am bound in Charitie against it

Nor. Those Articles, my Lord, are in the Kings hand: But thus much, they are foule ones

Wol. So much fairer And spotlesse, shall mine Innocence arise, When the King knowes my Truth

Sur. This cannot saue you: I thanke my Memorie, I yet remember Some of these Articles, and out they shall. Now, if you can blush, and crie guiltie Cardinall, You'l shew a little Honestie

Wol. Speake on Sir, I dare your worst Obiections: If I blush, It is to see a Nobleman want manners

Sur. I had rather want those, then my head; Haue at you. First, that without the Kings assent or knowledge, You wrought to be a Legate, by which power You maim'd the Iurisdiction of all Bishops

Nor. Then, That in all you writ to Rome, or else To Forraigne Princes, Ego & Rex meus Was still inscrib'd: in which you brought the King To be your Seruant

Suf. Then, that without the knowledge Either of King or Councell, when you went Ambassador to the Emperor, you made bold To carry into Flanders, the Great Seale

Sur. Item, You sent a large Commission To Gregory de Cassado, to conclude Without the Kings will, or the States allowance, A League betweene his Highnesse, and Ferrara

Suf. That out of meere Ambition, you haue caus'd Your holy-Hat to be stampt on the Kings Coine

Sur. Then, That you haue sent inumerable substance, (By what meanes got, I leaue to your owne conscience) To furnish Rome, and to prepare the wayes You haue for Dignities, to the meere vndooing Of all the Kingdome. Many more there are, Which since they are of you, and odious, I will not taint my mouth with

Cham. O my Lord, Presse not a falling man too farre: 'tis Vertue: His faults lye open to the Lawes, let them (Not you) correct him. My heart weepes to see him So little, of his great Selfe

Sur. I forgiue him

Suf. Lord Cardinall, the Kings further pleasure is, Because all those things you haue done of late By your power Legatine within this Kingdome, Fall into 'th' compasse of a Premunire; That therefore such a Writ be sued against you, To forfeit all your Goods, Lands, Tenements, Castles, and whatsoeuer, and to be Out of the Kings protection. This is my Charge

Nor. And so wee'l leaue you to your Meditations How to liue better. For your stubborne answer About the giuing backe the Great Seale to vs, The King shall know it, and (no doubt) shal thanke you. So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinall.

Exeunt. all but Wolsey.

Wol. So farewell, to the little good you beare me. Farewell? A long farewell to all my Greatnesse. This is the state of Man; to day he puts forth The tender Leaues of hopes, to morrow Blossomes, And beares his blushing Honors thicke vpon him: The third day, comes a Frost; a killing Frost, And when he thinkes, good easie man, full surely His Greatnesse is a ripening, nippes his roote, And then he fals as I do. I haue ventur'd Like little wanton Boyes that swim on bladders: This many Summers in a Sea of Glory, But farre beyond my depth: my high-blowne Pride At length broke vnder me, and now ha's left me Weary, and old with Seruice, to the mercy Of a rude streame, that must for euer hide me. Vaine pompe, and glory of this World, I hate ye, I feele my heart new open'd. Oh how wretched Is that poore man, that hangs on Princes fauours? There is betwixt that smile we would aspire too, That sweet Aspect of Princes, and their ruine, More pangs, and feares then warres, or women haue; And when he falles, he falles like Lucifer, Neuer to hope againe. Enter Cromwell, standing amazed.

Why how now Cromwell? Crom. I haue no power to speake Sir

Car. What, amaz'd At my misfortunes? Can thy Spirit wonder A great man should decline. Nay, and you weep I am falne indeed

Crom. How does your Grace

Card. Why well: Neuer so truly happy, my good Cromwell, I know my selfe now, and I feele within me, A peace aboue all earthly Dignities, A still, and quiet Conscience. The King ha's cur'd me, I humbly thanke his Grace: and from these shoulders These ruin'd Pillers, out of pitty, taken A loade, would sinke a Nauy, (too much Honor.) O 'tis a burden Cromwel, 'tis a burden Too heauy for a man, that hopes for Heauen

Crom. I am glad your Grace, Ha's made that right vse of it

Card. I hope I haue: I am able now (me thinkes) (Out of a Fortitude of Soule, I feele) To endure more Miseries, and greater farre Then my Weake-hearted Enemies, dare offer. What Newes abroad? Crom. The heauiest, and the worst, Is your displeasure with the King

Card. God blesse him

Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas Moore is chosen Lord Chancellor, in your place

Card. That's somewhat sodain. But he's a Learned man. May he continue Long in his Highnesse fauour, and do Iustice For Truths-sake, and his Conscience; that his bones, When he ha's run his course, and sleepes in Blessings, May haue a Tombe of Orphants teares wept on him. What more? Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome; Install'd Lord Arch-byshop of Canterbury

Card. That's Newes indeed

Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the King hath in secrecie long married, This day was view'd in open, as his Queene, Going to Chappell: and the voyce is now Onely about her Corronation

Card. There was the waight that pull'd me downe. O Cromwell, The King ha's gone beyond me: All my Glories In that one woman, I haue lost for euer. No Sun, shall euer vsher forth mine Honors, Or gilde againe the Noble Troopes that waighted Vpon my smiles. Go get thee from me Cromwel, I am a poore falne man, vnworthy now To be thy Lord, and Master. Seeke the King (That Sun, I pray may neuer set) I haue told him, What, and how true thou art; he will aduance thee: Some little memory of me, will stirre him (I know his Noble Nature) not to let Thy hopefull seruice perish too. Good Cromwell Neglect him not; make vse now, and prouide For thine owne future safety

Crom. O my Lord, Must I then leaue you? Must I needes forgo So good, so Noble, and so true a Master? Beare witnesse, all that haue not hearts of Iron, With what a sorrow Cromwel leaues his Lord. The King shall haue my seruice; but my prayres For euer, and for euer shall be yours

Card. Cromwel, I did not thinke to shed a teare In all my Miseries: But thou hast forc'd me (Out of thy honest truth) to play the Woman. Let's dry our eyes: And thus farre heare me Cromwel, And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleepe in dull cold Marble, where no mention Of me, more must be heard of: Say I taught thee; Say Wolsey, that once trod the wayes of Glory, And sounded all the Depths, and Shoales of Honor, Found thee a way (out of his wracke) to rise in: A sure, and safe one, though thy Master mist it. Marke but my Fall, and that that Ruin'd me: Cromwel, I charge thee, fling away Ambition, By that sinne fell the Angels: how can man then (The Image of his Maker) hope to win by it? Loue thy selfe last, cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more then Honesty. Still in thy right hand, carry gentle Peace To silence enuious Tongues. Be iust, and feare not; Let all the ends thou aym'st at, be thy Countries, Thy Gods, and Truths. Then if thou fall'st (O Cromwell) Thou fall'st a blessed Martyr. Serue the King: And prythee leade me in: There take an Inuentory of all I haue, To the last peny, 'tis the Kings. My Robe, And my Integrity to Heauen, is all, I dare now call mine owne. O Cromwel, Cromwel, Had I but seru'd my God, with halfe the Zeale I seru'd my King: he would not in mine Age Haue left me naked to mine Enemies

Crom. Good Sir, haue patience

Card. So I haue. Farewell The Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heauen do dwell.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting one another.

1 Y'are well met once againe

2 So are you

1 You come to take your stand heere, and behold The Lady Anne, passe from her Corronation

2 'Tis all my businesse. At our last encounter, The Duke of Buckingham came from his Triall

1 'Tis very true. But that time offer'd sorrow, This generall ioy

2 'Tis well: The Citizens I am sure haue shewne at full their Royall minds, As let 'em haue their rights, they are euer forward In Celebration of this day with Shewes, Pageants, and Sights of Honor

1 Neuer greater, Nor Ile assure you better taken Sir

2 May I be bold to aske what that containes, That Paper in your hand

1 Yes, 'tis the List Of those that claime their Offices this day, By custome of the Coronation. The Duke of Suffolke is the first, and claimes To be high Steward; Next the Duke of Norfolke, He to be Earle Marshall: you may reade the rest

1 I thanke you Sir: Had I not known those customs, I should haue beene beholding to your Paper: But I beseech you, what's become of Katherine The Princesse Dowager? How goes her businesse? 1 That I can tell you too. The Archbishop Of Canterbury, accompanied with other Learned, and Reuerend Fathers of his Order, Held a late Court at Dunstable; sixe miles off From Ampthill, where the Princesse lay, to which She was often cyted by them, but appear'd not: And to be short, for not Appearance, and The Kings late Scruple, by the maine assent Of all these Learned men, she was diuorc'd, And the late Marriage made of none effect: Since which, she was remou'd to Kymmalton, Where she remaines now sicke

2 Alas good Lady. The Trumpets sound: Stand close, The Queene is comming.

Ho-boyes. The Order of the Coronation. 1 A liuely Flourish of Trumpets. 2 Then, two Iudges. 3 Lord Chancellor, with Purse and Mace before him. 4 Quirristers singing. Musicke. 5 Maior of London, bearing the Mace. Then Garter, in his Coate of Armes, and on his head he wore a Gilt Copper Crowne. 6 Marquesse Dorset, bearing a Scepter of Gold, on his head, a Demy Coronall of Gold. With him, the Earle of Surrey, bearing the Rod of Siluer with the Doue, Crowned with an Earles Coronet. Collars of Esses. 7 Duke of Suffolke, in his Robe of Estate, his Coronet on his head, bearing a long white Wand, as High Steward. With him, the Duke of Norfolke, with the Rod of Marshalship, a Coronet on his head. Collars of Esses. 8 A Canopy, borne by foure of the Cinque-Ports, vnder it the Queene in her Robe, in her haire, richly adorned with Pearle, Crowned. On each side her, the Bishops of London, and Winchester. 9 The Olde Dutchesse of Norfolke, in a Coronall of Gold, wrought with Flowers bearing the Queenes Traine. 10 Certaine Ladies or Countesses, with plaine Circlets of Gold, without Flowers. Exeunt, first passing ouer the Stage in Order and State, and then, A great Flourish of Trumpets.

2 A Royall Traine beleeue me: These I know: Who's that that beares the Scepter? 1 Marquesse Dorset, And that the Earle of Surrey, with the Rod

2 A bold braue Gentleman. That should bee The Duke of Suffolke

1 'Tis the same: high Steward

2 And that my Lord of Norfolke? 1 Yes

2 Heauen blesse thee, Thou hast the sweetest face I euer look'd on. Sir, as I haue a Soule, she is an Angell; Our King ha's all the Indies in his Armes, And more, and richer, when he straines that Lady, I cannot blame his Conscience

1 They that beare The Cloath of Honour ouer her, are foure Barons Of the Cinque-Ports

2 Those men are happy, And so are all, are neere her. I take it, she that carries vp the Traine, Is that old Noble Lady, Dutchesse of Norfolke

1 It is, and all the rest are Countesses

2 Their Coronets say so. These are Starres indeed, And sometimes falling ones

2 No more of that. Enter a third Gentleman.

1 God saue you Sir. Where haue you bin broiling? 3 Among the crowd i'th' Abbey, where a finger Could not be wedg'd in more: I am stifled With the meere ranknesse of their ioy

2 You saw the Ceremony? 3 That I did

1 How was it? 3 Well worth the seeing

2 Good Sir, speake it to vs? 3 As well as I am able. The rich streame Of Lords, and Ladies, hauing brought the Queene To a prepar'd place in the Quire, fell off A distance from her; while her Grace sate downe To rest a while, some halfe an houre, or so, In a rich Chaire of State, opposing freely The Beauty of her Person to the People. Beleeue me Sir, she is the goodliest Woman That euer lay by man: which when the people Had the full view of, such a noyse arose, As the shrowdes make at Sea, in a stiffe Tempest, As lowd, and to as many Tunes. Hats, Cloakes, (Doublets, I thinke) flew vp, and had their Faces Bin loose, this day they had beene lost. Such ioy I neuer saw before. Great belly'd women, That had not halfe a weeke to go, like Rammes In the old time of Warre, would shake the prease And make 'em reele before 'em. No man liuing Could say this is my wife there, all were wouen So strangely in one peece

2 But what follow'd? 3 At length, her Grace rose, and with modest paces Came to the Altar, where she kneel'd, and Saint-like Cast her faire eyes to Heauen, and pray'd deuoutly. Then rose againe, and bow'd her to the people: When by the Arch-byshop of Canterbury, She had all the Royall makings of a Queene; As holy Oyle, Edward Confessors Crowne, The Rod, and Bird of Peace, and all such Emblemes Laid Nobly on her: which perform'd, the Quire With all the choysest Musicke of the Kingdome, Together sung Te Deum. So she parted, And with the same full State pac'd backe againe To Yorke-Place, where the Feast is held

1 Sir, You must no more call it Yorke-place, that's past: For since the Cardinall fell, that Titles lost, 'Tis now the Kings, and call'd White-Hall

3 I know it: But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name Is fresh about me

2 What two Reuerend Byshops Were those that went on each side of the Queene? 3 Stokeley and Gardiner, the one of Winchester, Newly preferr'd from the Kings Secretary: The other London

2 He of Winchester Is held no great good louer of the Archbishops, The vertuous Cranmer

3 All the Land knowes that: How euer, yet there is no great breach, when it comes Cranmer will finde a Friend will not shrinke from him

2 Who may that be, I pray you

3 Thomas Cromwell, A man in much esteeme with th' King, and truly A worthy Friend. The King ha's made him Master o'th' Iewell House, And one already of the Priuy Councell

2 He will deserue more

3 Yes without all doubt. Come Gentlemen, ye shall go my way, Which is to'th Court, and there ye shall be my Guests: Something I can command. As I walke thither, Ile tell ye more

Both. You may command vs Sir.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Katherine Dowager, sicke, lead betweene Griffith, her Gentleman Vsher, and Patience her Woman.

Grif. How do's your Grace? Kath. O Griffith, sicke to death: My Legges like loaden Branches bow to'th' Earth, Willing to leaue their burthen: Reach a Chaire, So now (me thinkes) I feele a little ease. Did'st thou not tell me Griffith, as thou lead'st mee, That the great Childe of Honor, Cardinall Wolsey Was dead? Grif. Yes Madam: but I thinke your Grace Out of the paine you suffer'd, gaue no eare too't

Kath. Pre'thee good Griffith, tell me how he dy'de. If well, he stept before me happily For my example

Grif. Well, the voyce goes Madam, For after the stout Earle Northumberland Arrested him at Yorke, and brought him forward As a man sorely tainted, to his Answer, He fell sicke sodainly, and grew so ill He could not sit his Mule

Kath. Alas poore man

Grif. At last, with easie Rodes, he came to Leicester, Lodg'd in the Abbey; where the reuerend Abbot With all his Couent, honourably receiu'd him; To whom he gaue these words. O Father Abbot, An old man, broken with the stormes of State, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye: Giue him a little earth for Charity. So went to bed; where eagerly his sicknesse Pursu'd him still, and three nights after this, About the houre of eight, which he himselfe Foretold should be his last, full of Repentance, Continuall Meditations, Teares, and Sorrowes, He gaue his Honors to the world agen, His blessed part to Heauen, and slept in peace

Kath. So may he rest, His Faults lye gently on him: Yet thus farre Griffith, giue me leaue to speake him, And yet with Charity. He was a man Of an vnbounded stomacke, euer ranking Himselfe with Princes. One that by suggestion Ty'de all the Kingdome. Symonie, was faire play, His owne Opinion was his Law. I'th' presence He would say vntruths, and be euer double Both in his words, and meaning. He was neuer (But where he meant to Ruine) pittifull. His Promises, were as he then was, Mighty: But his performance, as he is now, Nothing: Of his owne body he was ill, and gaue The Clergy ill example

Grif. Noble Madam: Mens euill manners, liue in Brasse, their Vertues We write in Water. May it please your Highnesse To heare me speake his good now? Kath. Yes good Griffith, I were malicious else

Grif. This Cardinall, Though from an humble Stocke, vndoubtedly Was fashion'd to much Honor. From his Cradle He was a Scholler, and a ripe, and good one: Exceeding wise, faire spoken, and perswading: Lofty, and sowre to them that lou'd him not: But, to those men that sought him, sweet as Summer. And though he were vnsatisfied in getting, (Which was a sinne) yet in bestowing, Madam, He was most Princely: Euer witnesse for him Those twinnes of Learning, that he rais'd in you, Ipswich and Oxford: one of which, fell with him, Vnwilling to out-liue the good that did it. The other (though vnfinish'd) yet so Famous, So excellent in Art, and still so rising, That Christendome shall euer speake his Vertue. His Ouerthrow, heap'd Happinesse vpon him: For then, and not till then, he felt himselfe, And found the Blessednesse of being little. And to adde greater Honors to his Age Then man could giue him; he dy'de, fearing God

Kath. After my death, I wish no other Herald, No other speaker of my liuing Actions, To keepe mine Honor, from Corruption, But such an honest Chronicler as Griffith. Whom I most hated Liuing, thou hast made mee With thy Religious Truth, and Modestie, (Now in his Ashes) Honor: Peace be with him. Patience, be neere me still, and set me lower, I haue not long to trouble thee. Good Griffith, Cause the Musitians play me that sad note I nam'd my Knell; whil'st I sit meditating On that Coelestiall Harmony I go too.

Sad and solemne Musicke.

Grif. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet, For feare we wake her. Softly, gentle Patience.

The Vision. Enter solemnely tripping one after another, sixe Personages, clad in white Robes, wearing on their heades Garlands of Bayes, and golden Vizards on their faces, Branches of Bayes or Palme in their hands. They first Conge vnto her, then Dance: and at certaine Changes, the first two hold a spare Garland ouer her Head, at which the other foure make reuerend Curtsies. Then the two that held the Garland, deliuer the same to the other next two, who obserue the same order in their Changes, and holding the Garland ouer her head. Which done, they deliuer the same Garland to the last two: who likewise obserue the same Order. At which (as it were by inspiration) she makes (in her sleepe) signes of reioycing, and holdeth vp her hands to heauen. And so, in their Dancing vanish, carrying the Garland with them. The Musicke continues.

Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Are ye all gone? And leaue me heere in wretchednesse, behinde ye? Grif. Madam, we are heere

Kath. It is not you I call for, Saw ye none enter since I slept? Grif. None Madam

Kath. No? Saw you not euen now a blessed Troope Inuite me to a Banquet, whose bright faces Cast thousand beames vpon me, like the Sun? They promis'd me eternall Happinesse, And brought me Garlands (Griffith) which I feele I am not worthy yet to weare: I shall assuredly

Grif. I am most ioyfull Madam, such good dreames Possesse your Fancy

Kath. Bid the Musicke leaue, They are harsh and heauy to me.

Musicke ceases.

Pati. Do you note How much her Grace is alter'd on the sodaine? How long her face is drawne? How pale she lookes, And of an earthy cold? Marke her eyes? Grif. She is going Wench. Pray, pray

Pati. Heauen comfort her. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. And't like your Grace - Kath. You are a sawcy Fellow, Deserue we no more Reuerence? Grif. You are too blame, Knowing she will not loose her wonted Greatnesse To vse so rude behauiour. Go too, kneele

Mes. I humbly do entreat your Highnesse pardon, My hast made me vnmannerly. There is staying A Gentleman sent from the King, to see you

Kath. Admit him entrance Griffith. But this Fellow Let me ne're see againe.

Exit Messeng.

Enter Lord Capuchius.

If my sight faile not, You should be Lord Ambassador from the Emperor, My Royall Nephew, and your name Capuchius

Cap. Madam the same. Your Seruant

Kath. O my Lord, The Times and Titles now are alter'd strangely With me, since first you knew me. But I pray you, What is your pleasure with me? Cap. Noble Lady, First mine owne seruice to your Grace, the next The Kings request, that I would visit you, Who greeues much for your weaknesse, and by me Sends you his Princely Commendations, And heartily entreats you take good comfort

Kath. O my good Lord, that comfort comes too late, 'Tis like a Pardon after Execution; That gentle Physicke giuen in time, had cur'd me: But now I am past all Comforts heere, but Prayers. How does his Highnesse? Cap. Madam, in good health

Kath. So may he euer do, and euer flourish, When I shall dwell with Wormes, and my poore name Banish'd the Kingdome. Patience, is that Letter I caus'd you write, yet sent away? Pat. No Madam

Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliuer This to my Lord the King

Cap. Most willing Madam

Kath. In which I haue commended to his goodnesse The Modell of our chaste loues: his yong daughter, The dewes of Heauen fall thicke in Blessings on her, Beseeching him to giue her vertuous breeding. She is yong, and of a Noble modest Nature, I hope she will deserue well; and a little To loue her for her Mothers sake, that lou'd him, Heauen knowes how deerely. My next poore Petition, Is, that his Noble Grace would haue some pittie Vpon my wretched women, that so long Haue follow'd both my Fortunes, faithfully, Of which there is not one, I dare auow (And now I should not lye) but will deserue For Vertue, and true Beautie of the Soule, For honestie, and decent Carriage A right good Husband (let him be a Noble) And sure those men are happy that shall haue 'em. The last is for my men, they are the poorest, (But pouerty could neuer draw 'em from me) That they may haue their wages, duly paid 'em, And something ouer to remember me by. If Heauen had pleas'd to haue giuen me longer life And able meanes, we had not parted thus. These are the whole Contents, and good my Lord, By that you loue the deerest in this world, As you wish Christian peace to soules departed, Stand these poore peoples Friend, and vrge the King To do me this last right

Cap. By Heauen I will, Or let me loose the fashion of a man

Kath. I thanke you honest Lord. Remember me In all humilitie vnto his Highnesse: Say his long trouble now is passing Out of this world. Tell him in death I blest him (For so I will) mine eyes grow dimme. Farewell My Lord. Griffith farewell. Nay Patience, You must not leaue me yet. I must to bed, Call in more women. When I am dead, good Wench, Let me be vs'd with Honor; strew me ouer With Maiden Flowers, that all the world may know I was a chaste Wife, to my Graue: Embalme me, Then lay me forth (although vnqueen'd) yet like A Queene, and Daughter to a King enterre me. I can no more.

Exeunt. leading Katherine.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Gardiner Bishop of Winchester, a Page with a Torch before him, met by Sir Thomas Louell.

Gard. It's one a clocke Boy, is't not

Boy. It hath strooke

Gard. These should be houres for necessities, Not for delights: Times to repayre our Nature With comforting repose, and not for vs To waste these times. Good houre of night Sir Thomas: Whether so late? Lou. Came you from the King, my Lord? Gar. I did Sir Thomas, and left him at Primero With the Duke of Suffolke

Lou. I must to him too Before he go to bed. Ile take my leaue

Gard. Not yet Sir Thomas Louell: what's the matter? It seemes you are in hast: and if there be No great offence belongs too't, giue your Friend Some touch of your late businesse: Affaires that walke (As they say Spirits do) at midnight, haue In them a wilder Nature, then the businesse That seekes dispatch by day

Lou. My Lord, I loue you; And durst commend a secret to your eare Much waightier then this worke. The Queens in Labor They say in great Extremity, and fear'd Shee'l with the Labour, end

Gard. The fruite she goes with I pray for heartily, that it may finde Good time, and liue: but for the Stocke Sir Thomas, I wish it grubb'd vp now

Lou. Me thinkes I could Cry the Amen, and yet my Conscience sayes Shee's a good Creature, and sweet-Ladie do's Deserue our better wishes

Gard. But Sir, Sir, Heare me Sir Thomas, y'are a Gentleman Of mine owne way. I know you Wise, Religious, And let me tell you, it will ne're be well, 'Twill not Sir Thomas Louell, tak't of me, Till Cranmer, Cromwel, her two hands, and shee Sleepe in their Graues

Louell. Now Sir, you speake of two The most remark'd i'th' Kingdome: as for Cromwell, Beside that of the Iewell-House, is made Master O'th' Rolles, and the Kings Secretary. Further Sir, Stands in the gap and Trade of moe Preferments, With which the Lime will loade him. Th' Archbyshop Is the Kings hand, and tongue, and who dare speak One syllable against him? Gard. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas, There are that Dare, and I my selfe haue ventur'd To speake my minde of him: and indeed this day, Sir (I may tell it you) I thinke I haue Incenst the Lords o'th' Councell, that he is (For so I know he is, they know he is) A most Arch-Heretique, a Pestilence That does infect the Land: with which, they moued Haue broken with the King, who hath so farre Giuen eare to our Complaint, of his great Grace, And Princely Care, fore-seeing those fell Mischiefes, Our Reasons layd before him, hath commanded To morrow Morning to the Councell Boord He be conuented. He's a ranke weed Sir Thomas, And we must root him out. From your Affaires I hinder you too long: Good night, Sir Thomas.

Exit Gardiner and Page.

Lou. Many good nights, my Lord, I rest your seruant. Enter King and Suffolke.

King. Charles, I will play no more to night, My mindes not on't, you are too hard for me

Suff. Sir, I did neuer win of you before

King. But little Charles, Nor shall not when my Fancies on my play. Now Louel, from the Queene what is the Newes

Lou. I could not personally deliuer to her What you commanded me, but by her woman, I sent your Message, who return'd her thankes In the great'st humblenesse, and desir'd your Highnesse Most heartily to pray for her

King. What say'st thou? Ha? To pray for her? What is she crying out? Lou. So said her woman, and that her suffrance made Almost each pang, a death

King. Alas good Lady

Suf. God safely quit her of her Burthen, and With gentle Trauaile, to the gladding of Your Highnesse with an Heire

King. 'Tis midnight Charles, Prythee to bed, and in thy Prayres remember Th' estate of my poore Queene. Leaue me alone, For I must thinke of that, which company Would not be friendly too

Suf. I wish your Highnesse A quiet night, and my good Mistris will Remember in my Prayers

King. Charles good night.

Exit Suffolke.

Well Sir, what followes? Enter Sir Anthony Denny.

Den. Sir, I haue brought my Lord the Arch-byshop, As you commanded me

King. Ha? Canterbury? Den. I my good Lord

King. 'Tis true: where is he Denny? Den. He attends your Highnesse pleasure

King. Bring him to Vs

Lou. This is about that, which the Byshop spake, I am happily come hither. Enter Cranmer and Denny.

King. Auoyd the Gallery.

Louel seemes to stay.

Ha? I haue said. Be gone. What?

Exeunt. Louell and Denny.

Cran. I am fearefull: Wherefore frownes he thus? 'Tis his Aspect of Terror. All's not well

King. How now my Lord? You do desire to know wherefore I sent for you

Cran. It is my dutie T' attend your Highnesse pleasure

King. Pray you arise My good and gracious Lord of Canterburie: Come, you and I must walke a turne together: I haue Newes to tell you. Come, come, giue me your hand. Ah my good Lord, I greeue at what I speake, And am right sorrie to repeat what followes. I haue, and most vnwillingly of late Heard many greeuous, I do say my Lord Greeuous complaints of you; which being consider'd, Haue mou'd Vs, and our Councell, that you shall This Morning come before vs, where I know You cannot with such freedome purge your selfe, But that till further Triall, in those Charges Which will require your Answer, you must take Your patience to you, and be well contented To make your house our Towre: you, a Brother of vs It fits we thus proceed, or else no witnesse Would come against you

Cran. I humbly thanke your Highnesse, And am right glad to catch this good occasion Most throughly to be winnowed, where my Chaffe And Corne shall flye asunder. For I know There's none stands vnder more calumnious tongues, Then I my selfe, poore man

King. Stand vp, good Canterbury, Thy Truth, and thy Integrity is rooted In vs thy Friend. Giue me thy hand, stand vp, Prythee let's walke. Now by my Holydame, What manner of man are you? My Lord, I look'd You would haue giuen me your Petition, that I should haue tane some paines, to bring together Your selfe, and your Accusers, and to haue heard you Without indurance further

Cran. Most dread Liege, The good I stand on, is my Truth and Honestie: If they shall faile, I with mine Enemies Will triumph o're my person, which I waigh not, Being of those Vertues vacant. I feare nothing What can be said against me

King. Know you not How your state stands i'th' world, with the whole world? Your Enemies are many, and not small; their practises Must beare the same proportion, and not euer The Iustice and the Truth o'th' question carries The dew o'th' Verdict with it; at what ease Might corrupt mindes procure, Knaues as corrupt To sweare against you: Such things haue bene done. You are Potently oppos'd, and with a Malice Of as great Size. Weene you of better lucke, I meane in periur'd Witnesse, then your Master, Whose Minister you are, whiles heere he liu'd Vpon this naughty Earth? Go too, go too, You take a Precepit for no leape of danger, And woe your owne destruction

Cran. God, and your Maiesty Protect mine innocence, or I fall into The trap is laid for me

King. Be of good cheere, They shall no more preuaile, then we giue way too: Keepe comfort to you, and this Morning see You do appeare before them. If they shall chance In charging you with matters, to commit you: The best perswasions to the contrary Faile not to vse, and with what vehemencie Th' occasion shall instruct you. If intreaties Will render you no remedy, this Ring Deliuer them, and your Appeale to vs There make before them. Looke, the goodman weeps: He's honest on mine Honor. Gods blest Mother, I sweare he is true-hearted, and a soule None better in my Kingdome. Get you gone, And do as I haue bid you.

Exit Cranmer.

He ha's strangled his Language in his teares. Enter Olde Lady.

Gent. within. Come backe: what meane you? Lady. Ile not come backe, the tydings that I bring Will make my boldnesse, manners. Now good Angels Fly o're thy Royall head, and shade thy person Vnder their blessed wings

King. Now by thy lookes I gesse thy Message. Is the Queene deliuer'd? Say I, and of a boy

Lady. I, I my Liege, And of a louely Boy: the God of heauen Both now, and euer blesse her: 'Tis a Gyrle Promises Boyes heereafter. Sir, your Queen Desires your Visitation, and to be Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you, As Cherry, is to Cherry

King. Louell

Lou. Sir

King. Giue her an hundred Markes. Ile to the Queene.

Exit King.

Lady. An hundred Markes? By this light, Ile ha more. An ordinary Groome is for such payment. I will haue more, or scold it out of him. Said I for this, the Gyrle was like to him? Ile Haue more, or else vnsay't: and now, while 'tis hot, Ile put it to the issue.

Exit Ladie.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Cranmer, Archbyshop of Canterbury.

Cran. I hope I am not too late, and yet the Gentleman That was sent to me from the Councell, pray'd me To make great hast. All fast? What meanes this? Hoa? Who waites there? Sure you know me? Enter Keeper.

Keep. Yes, my Lord: But yet I cannot helpe you

Cran. Why? Keep. Your Grace must waight till you be call'd for. Enter Doctor Buts.

Cran. So

Buts. This is a Peere of Malice: I am glad I came this way so happily. The King Shall vnderstand it presently.

Exit Buts

Cran. 'Tis Buts. The Kings Physitian, as he past along How earnestly he cast his eyes vpon me: Pray heauen he found not my disgrace: for certaine This is of purpose laid by some that hate me, (God turne their hearts, I neuer sought their malice) To quench mine Honor; they would shame to make me Wait else at doore: a fellow Councellor 'Mong Boyes, Groomes, and Lackeyes. But their pleasures Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. Enter the King, and Buts, at a Windowe aboue.

Buts. Ile shew your Grace the strangest sight

King. What's that Buts? Butts. I thinke your Highnesse saw this many a day

Kin. Body a me: where is it? Butts. There my Lord: The high promotion of his Grace of Canterbury, Who holds his State at dore 'mongst Purseuants, Pages, and Foot-boyes

Kin. Ha? 'Tis he indeed. Is this the Honour they doe one another? 'Tis well there's one aboue 'em yet; I had thought They had parted so much honesty among 'em, At least good manners; as not thus to suffer A man of his Place, and so neere our fauour To dance attendance on their Lordships pleasures, And at the dore too, like a Post with Packets: By holy Mary (Butts) there's knauery; Let 'em alone, and draw the Curtaine close: We shall heare more anon.

A Councell Table brought in with Chayres and Stooles, and placed vnder the State. Enter Lord Chancellour, places himselfe at the vpper end of the Table, on the left hand: A Seate being left void aboue him, as for Canterburies Seate. Duke of Suffolke, Duke of Norfolke, Surrey, Lord Chamberlaine, Gardiner, seat themselues in Order on each side. Cromwell at lower end, as Secretary.

Chan. Speake to the businesse, M[aster]. Secretary; Why are we met in Councell? Crom. Please your Honours, The chiefe cause concernes his Grace of Canterbury

Gard. Ha's he had knowledge of it? Crom. Yes

Norf. Who waits there? Keep. Without my Noble Lords? Gard. Yes

Keep. My Lord Archbishop: And ha's done halfe an houre to know your pleasures

Chan. Let him come in

Keep. Your Grace may enter now.

Cranmer approches the Councell Table.

Chan. My good Lord Archbishop, I'm very sorry To sit heere at this present, and behold That Chayre stand empty: But we all are men In our owne natures fraile, and capable Of our flesh, few are Angels; out of which frailty And want of wisedome, you that best should teach vs, Haue misdemean'd your selfe, and not a little: Toward the King first, then his Lawes, in filling The whole Realme, by your teaching & your Chaplaines (For so we are inform'd) with new opinions, Diuers and dangerous; which are Heresies; And not reform'd, may proue pernicious

Gard. Which Reformation must be sodaine too My Noble Lords; for those that tame wild Horses, Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle; But stop their mouthes with stubborn Bits & spurre 'em, Till they obey the mannage. If we suffer Out of our easinesse and childish pitty To one mans Honour, this contagious sicknesse; Farewell all Physicke: and what followes then? Commotions, vprores, with a generall Taint Of the whole State; as of late dayes our neighbours, The vpper Germany can deerely witnesse: Yet freshly pittied in our memories

Cran. My good Lords; Hitherto, in all the Progresse Both of my Life and Office, I haue labour'd, And with no little study, that my teaching And the strong course of my Authority, Might goe one way, and safely; and the end Was euer to doe well: nor is there liuing, (I speake it with a single heart, my Lords) A man that more detests, more stirres against, Both in his priuate Conscience, and his place, Defacers of a publique peace then I doe: Pray Heauen the King may neuer find a heart With lesse Allegeance in it. Men that make Enuy, and crooked malice, nourishment; Dare bite the best. I doe beseech your, Lordships, That in this case of Iustice, my Accusers, Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, And freely vrge against me

Suff. Nay, my Lord, That cannot be; you are a Counsellor, And by that vertue no man dare accuse you

Gard. My Lord, because we haue busines of more moment, We will be short with you. 'Tis his Highnesse pleasure And our consent, for better tryall of you, From hence you be committed to the Tower, Where being but a priuate man againe, You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, More then (I feare) you are prouided for

Cran. Ah my good Lord of Winchester: I thanke you, You are alwayes my good Friend, if your will passe, I shall both finde your Lordship, Iudge and Iuror, You are so mercifull. I see your end, 'Tis my vndoing. Loue and meekenesse, Lord Become a Churchman, better then Ambition: Win straying Soules with modesty againe, Cast none away: That I shall cleere my selfe, Lay all the weight ye can vpon my patience, I make as little doubt as you doe conscience, In doing dayly wrongs. I could say more, But reuerence to your calling, makes me modest

Gard. My Lord, my Lord, you are a Sectary, That's the plaine truth; your painted glosse discouers To men that vnderstand you, words and weaknesse

Crom. My Lord of Winchester, y'are a little, By your good fauour, too sharpe; Men so Noble, How euer faulty, yet should finde respect For what they haue beene: 'tis a cruelty, To load a falling man

Gard. Good M[aster]. Secretary, I cry your Honour mercie; you may worst Of all this Table say so

Crom. Why my Lord? Gard. Doe not I know you for a Fauourer Of this new Sect? ye are not sound

Crom. Not sound? Gard. Not sound I say

Crom. Would you were halfe so honest: Mens prayers then would seeke you, not their feares

Gard. I shall remember this bold Language

Crom. Doe. Remember your bold life too

Cham. This is too much; Forbeare for shame my Lords

Gard. I haue done

Crom. And I

Cham. Then thus for you my Lord, it stands agreed I take it, by all voyces: That forthwith, You be conuaid to th' Tower a Prisoner; There to remaine till the Kings further pleasure Be knowne vnto vs: are you all agreed Lords

All. We are

Cran. Is there no other way of mercy, But I must needs to th' Tower my Lords? Gard. What other, Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome: Let some o'th' Guard be ready there. Enter the Guard.

Cran. For me? Must I goe like a Traytor thither? Gard. Receiue him, And see him safe i'th' Tower

Cran. Stay good my Lords, I haue a little yet to say. Looke there my Lords, By vertue of that Ring, I take my cause Out of the gripes of cruell men, and giue it To a most Noble Iudge, the King my Maister

Cham. This is the Kings Ring

Sur. 'Tis no counterfeit

Suff. 'Ts the right Ring, by Heau'n: I told ye all, When we first put this dangerous stone a rowling, 'Twold fall vpon our selues

Norf. Doe you thinke my Lords The King will suffer but the little finger Of this man to be vex'd? Cham. Tis now too certaine; How much more is his Life in value with him? Would I were fairely out on't

Crom. My mind gaue me, In seeking tales and Informations Against this man, whose honesty the Diuell And his Disciples onely enuy at, Ye blew the fire that burnes ye: now haue at ye. Enter King frowning on them, takes his Seate.

Gard. Dread Soueraigne, How much are we bound to Heauen, In dayly thankes, that gaue vs such a Prince; Not onely good and wise, but most religious: One that in all obedience, makes the Church The cheefe ayme of his Honour, and to strengthen That holy duty out of deare respect, His Royall selfe in Iudgement comes to heare The cause betwixt her, and this great offender

Kin. You were euer good at sodaine Commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But know I come not To heare such flattery now, and in my presence They are too thin, and base to hide offences, To me you cannot reach. You play the Spaniell, And thinke with wagging of your tongue to win me: But whatsoere thou tak'st me for; I'm sure Thou hast a cruell Nature and a bloody. Good man sit downe: Now let me see the proudest Hee, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee. By all that's holy, he had better starue, Then but once thinke his place becomes thee not

Sur. May it please your Grace; - Kin. No Sir, it doe's not please me, I had thought, I had had men of some vnderstanding, And wisedome of my Councell; but I finde none: Was it discretion Lords, to let this man, This good man (few of you deserue that Title) This honest man, wait like a lowsie Foot-boy At Chamber dore? and one, as great as you are? Why, what a shame was this? Did my Commission Bid ye so farre forget your selues? I gaue ye Power, as he was a Counsellour to try him, Not as a Groome: There's some of ye, I see, More out of Malice then Integrity, Would trye him to the vtmost, had ye meane, Which ye shall neuer haue while I liue

Chan. Thus farre My most dread Soueraigne, may it like your Grace, To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd Concerning his Imprisonment, was rather (If there be faith in men) meant for his Tryall, And faire purgation to the world then malice, I'm sure in me

Kin. Well, well my Lords respect him, Take him, and vse him well; hee's worthy of it. I will say thus much for him, if a Prince May be beholding to a Subiect; I Am for his loue and seruice, so to him. Make me no more adoe, but all embrace him; Be friends for shame my Lords: My Lord of Canterbury I haue a Suite which you must not deny mee. That is, a faire young Maid that yet wants Baptisme, You must be Godfather, and answere for her

Cran. The greatest Monarch now aliue may glory In such an honour: how may I deserue it, That am a poore and humble Subiect to you? Kin. Come, come my Lord, you'd spare your spoones; You shall haue two noble Partners with you: the old Duchesse of Norfolke, and Lady Marquesse Dorset? will these please you? Once more my Lord of Winchester, I charge you Embrace, and loue this man

Gard. With a true heart, And Brother; loue I doe it

Cran. And let Heauen Witnesse how deare, I hold this Confirmation

Kin. Good Man, those ioyfull teares shew thy true hearts, The common voyce I see is verified Of thee, which sayes thus: Doe my Lord of Canterbury A shrewd turne, and hee's your friend for euer: Come Lords, we trifle time away: I long To haue this young one made a Christian. As I haue made ye one Lords, one remaine: So I grow stronger, you more Honour gaine.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Noyse and Tumult within: Enter Porter and his man.

Port. You'l leaue your noyse anon ye Rascals: doe you take the Court for Parish Garden: ye rude Slaues, leaue your gaping

Within. Good M[aster]. Porter I belong to th' Larder

Port. Belong to th' Gallowes, and be hang'd ye Rogue: Is this a place to roare in? Fetch me a dozen Crab-tree staues, and strong ones; these are but switches to 'em: Ile scratch your heads; you must be seeing Christenings? Do you looke for Ale, and Cakes heere, you rude Raskalls? Man. Pray Sir be patient; 'tis as much impossible, Vnlesse wee sweepe 'em from the dore with Cannons, To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleepe On May-day Morning, which will neuer be: We may as well push against Powles as stirre 'em

Por. How got they in, and be hang'd? Man. Alas I know not, how gets the Tide in? As much as one sound Cudgell of foure foote, (You see the poore remainder) could distribute, I made no spare Sir

Port. You did nothing Sir

Man. I am not Sampson, nor Sir Guy, nor Colebrand, To mow 'em downe before me: but if I spar'd any That had a head to hit, either young or old, He or shee, Cuckold or Cuckold-maker: Let me ne're hope to see a Chine againe, And that I would not for a Cow, God saue her

Within. Do you heare M[aster]. Porter? Port. I shall be with you presently, good M[aster]. Puppy, Keepe the dore close Sirha

Man. What would you haue me doe? Por. What should you doe, But knock 'em downe by th' dozens? Is this More fields to muster in? Or haue wee some strange Indian with the great Toole, come to Court, the women so besiege vs? Bless me, what a fry of Fornication is at dore? On my Christian Conscience this one Christening will beget a thousand, here will bee Father, God-father, and all together

Man. The Spoones will be the bigger Sir: There is a fellow somewhat neere the doore, he should be a Brasier by his face, for o' my conscience twenty of the Dogdayes now reigne in's Nose; all that stand about him are vnder the Line, they need no other pennance: that FireDrake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his Nose discharged against mee; hee stands there like a Morter-piece to blow vs. There was a Habberdashers Wife of small wit, neere him, that rail'd vpon me, till her pinck'd porrenger fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the State. I mist the Meteor once, and hit that Woman, who cryed out Clubbes, when I might see from farre, some forty Truncheoners draw to her succour, which were the hope o'th' Strond where she was quartered; they fell on, I made good my place; at length they came to th' broome staffe to me, I defide 'em stil, when sodainly a File of Boyes behind 'em, loose shot, deliuer'd such a showre of Pibbles, that I was faine to draw mine Honour in, and let 'em win the Worke, the Diuell was amongst 'em I thinke surely

Por. These are the youths that thunder at a Playhouse, and fight for bitten Apples, that no Audience but the tribulation of Tower Hill, or the Limbes of Limehouse, their deare Brothers are able to endure. I haue some of 'em in Limbo Patrum, and there they are like to dance these three dayes; besides the running Banquet of two Beadles, that is to come. Enter Lord Chamberlaine.

Cham. Mercy o' me: what a Multitude are heere? They grow still too; from all Parts they are comming, As if we kept a Faire heere? Where are these Porters? These lazy knaues? Y'haue made a fine hand fellowes? Theres a trim rabble let in: are all these Your faithfull friends o'th' Suburbs? We shall haue Great store of roome no doubt, left for the Ladies, When they passe backe from the Christening? Por. And't please your Honour, We are but men; and what so many may doe, Not being torne a pieces, we haue done: An Army cannot rule 'em

Cham. As I liue, If the King blame me for't; Ile lay ye all By th' heeles, and sodainly: and on your heads Clap round Fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaues, And heere ye lye baiting of Bombards, when Ye should doe Seruice. Harke the Trumpets sound, Th'are come already from the Christening, Go breake among the preasse, and finde away out To let the Troope passe fairely; or Ile finde A Marshallsey, shall hold ye play these two Monthes

Por. Make way there, for the Princesse

Man. You great fellow, Stand close vp, or Ile make your head ake

Por. You i'th' Chamblet, get vp o'th' raile, Ile pecke you o're the pales else.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Trumpets sounding: Then two Aldermen, L[ord]. Maior, Garter, Cranmer, Duke of Norfolke with his Marshals Staffe, Duke of Suffolke, two Noblemen, bearing great standing Bowles for the Christening Guifts: Then foure Noblemen bearing a Canopy, vnder which the Dutchesse of Norfolke, Godmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in a Mantle, &c. Traine borne by a Lady: Then followes the Marchionesse Dorset, the other Godmother, and Ladies. The Troope passe once about the Stage, and Garter speakes.

Gart. Heauen From thy endlesse goodnesse, send prosperous life, Long, and euer happie, to the high and Mighty Princesse of England Elizabeth.

Flourish. Enter King and Guard.

Cran. And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queen, My Noble Partners, and my selfe thus pray All comfort, ioy in this most gracious Lady, Heauen euer laid vp to make Parents happy, May hourely fall vpon ye

Kin. Thanke you good Lord Archbishop: What is her Name? Cran. Elizabeth

Kin. Stand vp Lord, With this Kisse, take my Blessing: God protect thee, Into whose hand, I giue thy Life

Cran. Amen

Kin. My Noble Gossips, y'haue beene too Prodigall; I thanke ye heartily: So shall this Lady, When she ha's so much English

Cran. Let me speake Sir, For Heauen now bids me; and the words I vtter, Let none thinke Flattery; for they'l finde 'em Truth. This Royall Infant, Heauen still moue about her; Though in her Cradle; yet now promises Vpon this Land a thousand thousand Blessings, Which Time shall bring to ripenesse: She shall be, (But few now liuing can behold that goodnesse) A Patterne to all Princes liuing with her, And all that shall succeed: Saba was neuer More couetous of Wisedome, and faire Vertue Then this pure Soule shall be. All Princely Graces That mould vp such a mighty Piece as this is, With all the Vertues that attend the good, Shall still be doubled on her. Truth shall Nurse her, Holy and Heauenly thoughts still Counsell her: She shall be lou'd and fear'd. Her owne shall blesse her; Her Foes shake like a Field of beaten Corne, And hang their heads with sorrow: Good growes with her. In her dayes, Euery Man shall eate in safety, Vnder his owne Vine what he plants; and sing The merry Songs of Peace to all his Neighbours. God shall be truely knowne, and those about her, From her shall read the perfect way of Honour, And by those claime their greatnesse; not by Blood. Nor shall this peace sleepe with her: But as when The Bird of Wonder dyes, the Mayden Phoenix, Her Ashes new create another Heyre, As great in admiration as her selfe. So shall she leaue her Blessednesse to One, (When Heauen shal call her from this clowd of darknes) Who, from the sacred Ashes of her Honour Shall Star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, And so stand fix'd. Peace, Plenty, Loue, Truth, Terror, That were the Seruants to this chosen Infant, Shall then be his, and like a Vine grow to him; Where euer the bright Sunne of Heauen shall shine, His Honour, and the greatnesse of his Name, Shall be, and make new Nations. He shall flourish, And like a Mountaine Cedar, reach his branches, To all the Plaines about him: Our Childrens Children Shall see this, and blesse Heauen

Kin. Thou speakest wonders

Cran. She shall be to the happinesse of England, An aged Princesse; many dayes shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to Crowne it. Would I had knowne no more: But she must dye, She must, the Saints must haue her; yet a Virgin, A most vnspotted Lilly shall she passe To th' ground, and all the World shall mourne her

Kin. O Lord Archbishop Thou hast made me now a man, neuer before This happy Child, did I get any thing. This Oracle of comfort, ha's so pleas'd me, That when I am in Heauen, I shall desire To see what this Child does, and praise my Maker. I thanke ye all. To you my good Lord Maior, And you good Brethren, I am much beholding: I haue receiu'd much Honour by your presence, And ye shall find me thankfull. Lead the way Lords, Ye must all see the Queene, and she must thanke ye, She will be sicke els. This day, no man thinke 'Has businesse at his house; for all shall stay: This Little-One shall make it Holy-day.

Exeunt.

THE EPILOGVE. Tis ten to one, this Play can neuer please All that are heere: Some come to take their ease, And sleepe an Act or two; but those we feare W'haue frighted with our Trumpets: so 'tis cleare, They'l say tis naught. Others to heare the City Abus'd extreamly, and to cry that's witty, Which wee haue not done neither; that I feare All the expected good w'are like to heare. For this Play at this time, is onely in The mercifull construction of good women, For such a one we shew'd 'em: If they smile, And say twill doe; I know within a while, All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap, If they hold, when their Ladies bid 'em clap.

FINIS. The Famous History of the Life of King HENRY the Eight.

The Tragedie of Coriolanus

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter a Company of Mutinous Citizens, with Staues, Clubs, and other weapons.

1. Citizen. Before we proceed any further, heare me speake

All. Speake, speake

1.Cit. You are all resolu'd rather to dy then to famish? All. Resolu'd, resolu'd

1.Cit. First you know, Caius Martius is chiefe enemy to the people

All. We know't, we know't

1.Cit. Let vs kill him, and wee'l haue Corne at our own price. Is't a Verdict? All. No more talking on't; Let it be done, away, away 2.Cit. One word, good Citizens

1.Cit. We are accounted poore Citizens, the Patricians good: what Authority surfets one, would releeue vs. If they would yeelde vs but the superfluitie while it were wholsome, wee might guesse they releeued vs humanely: But they thinke we are too deere, the leannesse that afflicts vs, the obiect of our misery, is as an inuentory to particularize their abundance, our sufferance is a gaine to them. Let vs reuenge this with our Pikes, ere we become Rakes. For the Gods know, I speake this in hunger for Bread, not in thirst for Reuenge

2.Cit. Would you proceede especially against Caius Martius

All. Against him first: He's a very dog to the Commonalty

2.Cit. Consider you what Seruices he ha's done for his Country? 1.Cit. Very well, and could bee content to giue him good report for't, but that hee payes himselfe with beeing proud

All. Nay, but speak not maliciously

1.Cit. I say vnto you, what he hath done Famouslie, he did it to that end: though soft conscienc'd men can be content to say it was for his Countrey, he did it to please his Mother, and to be partly proud, which he is, euen to the altitude of his vertue

2.Cit. What he cannot helpe in his Nature, you account a Vice in him: You must in no way say he is couetous

1.Cit. If I must not, I neede not be barren of Accusations he hath faults (with surplus) to tyre in repetition.

Showts within.

What showts are these? The other side a'th City is risen: why stay we prating heere? To th' Capitoll

All. Come, come

1 Cit. Soft, who comes heere? Enter Menenius Agrippa.

2 Cit. Worthy Menenius Agrippa, one that hath alwayes lou'd the people

1 Cit. He's one honest enough, wold al the rest wer so

Men. What work's my Countrimen in hand? Where go you with Bats and Clubs? The matter Speake I pray you

2 Cit. Our busines is not vnknowne to th' Senat, they haue had inkling this fortnight what we intend to do, w now wee'l shew em in deeds: they say poore Suters haue strong breaths, they shal know we haue strong arms too

Menen. Why Masters, my good Friends, mine honest Neighbours, will you vndo your selues? 2 Cit. We cannot Sir, we are vndone already

Men. I tell you Friends, most charitable care Haue the Patricians of you for your wants. Your suffering in this dearth, you may as well Strike at the Heauen with your staues, as lift them Against the Roman State, whose course will on The way it takes: cracking ten thousand Curbes Of more strong linke assunder, then can euer Appeare in your impediment. For the Dearth, The Gods, not the Patricians make it, and Your knees to them (not armes) must helpe. Alacke, You are transported by Calamity Thether, where more attends you, and you slander The Helmes o'th State; who care for you like Fathers, When you curse them, as Enemies

2 Cit. Care for vs? True indeed, they nere car'd for vs yet. Suffer vs to famish, and their Store-houses cramm'd with Graine: Make Edicts for Vsurie, to support Vsurers; repeale daily any wholsome Act established against the rich, and prouide more piercing Statutes daily, to chaine vp and restraine the poore. If the Warres eate vs not vppe, they will; and there's all the loue they beare vs

Menen. Either you must Confesse your selues wondrous Malicious, Or be accus'd of Folly. I shall tell you A pretty Tale, it may be you haue heard it, But since it serues my purpose, I will venture To scale't a little more

2 Citizen. Well, Ile heare it Sir: yet you must not thinke To fobbe off our disgrace with a tale: But and't please you deliuer

Men. There was a time, when all the bodies members Rebell'd against the Belly; thus accus'd it: That onely like a Gulfe it did remaine I'th midd'st a th' body, idle and vnactiue, Still cubbording the Viand, neuer bearing Like labour with the rest, where th' other Instruments Did see, and heare, deuise, instruct, walke, feele, And mutually participate, did minister Vnto the appetite; and affection common Of the whole body, the Belly answer'd

2.Cit. Well sir, what answer made the Belly

Men. Sir, I shall tell you with a kinde of Smile, Which ne're came from the Lungs, but euen thus: For looke you I may make the belly Smile, As well as speake, it taintingly replyed To'th' discontented Members, the mutinous parts That enuied his receite: euen so most fitly, As you maligne our Senators, for that They are not such as you

2.Cit. Your Bellies answer: What The Kingly crown'd head, the vigilant eye, The Counsailor Heart, the Arme our Souldier, Our Steed the Legge, the Tongue our Trumpeter, With other Muniments and petty helpes In this our Fabricke, if that they- Men. What then? Fore me, this Fellow speakes. What then? What then? 2.Cit. Should by the Cormorant belly be restrain'd, Who is the sinke a th' body

Men. Well, what then? 2.Cit. The former Agents, if they did complaine, What could the Belly answer? Men. I will tell you, If you'l bestow a small (of what you haue little) Patience awhile; you'st heare the Bellies answer

2.Cit. Y'are long about it

Men. Note me this good Friend; Your most graue Belly was deliberate, Not rash like his Accusers, and thus answered. True is it my Incorporate Friends (quoth he) That I receiue the generall Food at first Which you do liue vpon: and fit it is, Because I am the Store-house, and the Shop Of the whole Body. But, if you do remember, I send it through the Riuers of your blood Euen to the Court, the Heart, to th' seate o'th' Braine, And through the Crankes and Offices of man, The strongest Nerues, and small inferiour Veines From me receiue that naturall competencie Whereby they liue. And though that all at once (You my good Friends, this sayes the Belly) marke me

2.Cit. I sir, well, well

Men. Though all at once, cannot See what I do deliuer out to each, Yet I can make my Awdit vp, that all From me do backe receiue the Flowre of all, And leaue me but the Bran. What say you too't? 2.Cit. It was an answer, how apply you this? Men. The Senators of Rome, are this good Belly, And you the mutinous Members: For examine Their Counsailes, and their Cares; disgest things rightly, Touching the Weale a'th Common, you shall finde No publique benefit which you receiue But it proceeds, or comes from them to you, And no way from your selues. What do you thinke? You, the great Toe of this Assembly? 2.Cit. I the great Toe? Why the great Toe? Men. For that being one o'th lowest, basest, poorest Of this most wise Rebellion, thou goest formost: Thou Rascall, that art worst in blood to run, Lead'st first to win some vantage. But make you ready your stiffe bats and clubs, Rome, and her Rats, are at the point of battell, The one side must haue baile. Enter Caius Martius.

Hayle, Noble Martius

Mar. Thanks. What's the matter you dissentious rogues That rubbing the poore Itch of your Opinion, Make your selues Scabs

2.Cit. We haue euer your good word

Mar. He that will giue good words to thee, wil flatter Beneath abhorring. What would you haue, you Curres, That like nor Peace, nor Warre? The one affrights you, The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, Where he should finde you Lyons, findes you Hares: Where Foxes, Geese you are: No surer, no, Then is the coale of fire vpon the Ice, Or Hailstone in the Sun. Your Vertue is, To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, And curse that Iustice did it. Who deserues Greatnes, Deserues your Hate: and your Affections are A sickmans Appetite; who desires most that Which would encrease his euill. He that depends Vpon your fauours, swimmes with finnes of Leade, And hewes downe Oakes, with rushes. Hang ye: trust ye? With euery Minute you do change a Minde, And call him Noble, that was now your Hate: Him vilde, that was your Garland. What's the matter, That in these seuerall places of the Citie, You cry against the Noble Senate, who (Vnder the Gods) keepe you in awe, which else Would feede on one another? What's their seeking? Men. For Corne at their owne rates, wherof they say The Citie is well stor'd

Mar. Hang 'em: They say? They'l sit by th' fire, and presume to know What's done i'th Capitoll: Who's like to rise, Who thriues, & who declines: Side factions, & giue out Coniecturall Marriages, making parties strong, And feebling such as stand not in their liking, Below their cobled Shooes. They say ther's grain enough? Would the Nobility lay aside their ruth, And let me vse my Sword, I'de make a Quarrie With thousands of these quarter'd slaues, as high As I could picke my Lance

Menen. Nay these are almost thoroughly perswaded: For though abundantly they lacke discretion Yet are they passing Cowardly. But I beseech you, What sayes the other Troope? Mar. They are dissolu'd: Hang em; They said they were an hungry, sigh'd forth Prouerbes That Hunger-broke stone wals: that dogges must eate That meate was made for mouths. That the gods sent not Corne for the Richmen onely: With these shreds They vented their Complainings, which being answer'd And a petition granted them, a strange one, To breake the heart of generosity, And make bold power looke pale, they threw their caps As they would hang them on the hornes a'th Moone, Shooting their Emulation

Menen. What is graunted them? Mar. Fiue Tribunes to defend their vulgar wisdoms Of their owne choice. One's Iunius Brutus, Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. Sdeath, The rabble should haue first vnroo'st the City Ere so preuayl'd with me; it will in time Win vpon power, and throw forth greater Theames For Insurrections arguing

Menen. This is strange

Mar. Go get you home you Fragments. Enter a Messenger hastily.

Mess. Where's Caius Martius? Mar. Heere: what's the matter! Mes. The newes is sir, the Volcies are in Armes

Mar. I am glad on't, then we shall ha meanes to vent Our mustie superfluity. See our best Elders. Enter Sicinius Velutus, Annius Brutus Cominius, Titus Lartius, with other Senatours.

1.Sen. Martius 'tis true, that you haue lately told vs, The Volces are in Armes

Mar. They haue a Leader, Tullus Auffidius that will put you too't: I sinne in enuying his Nobility: And were I any thing but what I am, I would wish me onely he

Com. You haue fought together? Mar. Were halfe to halfe the world by th' eares, & he vpon my partie, I'de reuolt to make Onely my warres with him. He is a Lion That I am proud to hunt

1.Sen. Then worthy Martius, Attend vpon Cominius to these Warres

Com. It is your former promise

Mar. Sir it is, And I am constant: Titus Lucius, thou Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus face. What art thou stiffe? Stand'st out? Tit. No Caius Martius, Ile leane vpon one Crutch, and fight with tother, Ere stay behinde this Businesse

Men. Oh true-bred

Sen. Your Company to'th' Capitoll, where I know Our greatest Friends attend vs

Tit. Lead you on: Follow Cominius, we must followe you, right worthy your Priority

Com. Noble Martius

Sen. Hence to your homes, be gone

Mar. Nay let them follow, The Volces haue much Corne: take these Rats thither, To gnaw their Garners. Worshipfull Mutiners, Your valour puts well forth: Pray follow.

Exeunt.

Citizens steale away. Manet Sicin. & Brutus.

Sicin. Was euer man so proud as is this Martius? Bru. He has no equall

Sicin. When we were chosen Tribunes for the people

Bru. Mark'd you his lip and eyes

Sicin. Nay, but his taunts

Bru. Being mou'd, he will not spare to gird the Gods

Sicin. Bemocke the modest Moone

Bru. The present Warres deuoure him, he is growne Too proud to be so valiant

Sicin. Such a Nature, tickled with good successe, disdaines the shadow which he treads on at noone, but I do wonder, his insolence can brooke to be commanded vnder Cominius? Bru. Fame, at the which he aymes, In whom already he's well grac'd, cannot Better be held, nor more attain'd then by A place below the first: for what miscarries Shall be the Generals fault, though he performe To th' vtmost of a man, and giddy censure Will then cry out of Martius: Oh, if he Had borne the businesse

Sicin. Besides, if things go well, Opinion that so stickes on Martius, shall Of his demerits rob Cominius

Bru. Come: halfe all Cominius Honors are to Martius Though Martius earn'd them not: and all his faults To Martius shall be Honors, though indeed In ought he merit not

Sicin. Let's hence, and heare How the dispatch is made, and in what fashion More then his singularity, he goes Vpon this present Action

Bru. Let's along.

Exeunt.

Enter Tullus Auffidius with Senators of Coriolus.

1.Sen. So, your opinion is Auffidius, That they of Rome are entred in our Counsailes, And know how we proceede, Auf. Is it not yours? What euer haue bin thought one in this State That could be brought to bodily act, ere Rome Had circumuention: 'tis not foure dayes gone Since I heard thence, these are the words, I thinke I haue the Letter heere: yes, heere it is; They haue prest a Power, but it is not knowne Whether for East or West: the Dearth is great, The people Mutinous: And it is rumour'd, Cominius, Martius your old Enemy (Who is of Rome worse hated then of you) And Titus Lartius, a most valiant Roman, These three leade on this Preparation Whether 'tis bent: most likely, 'tis for you: Consider of it

1.Sen. Our Armie's in the Field: We neuer yet made doubt but Rome was ready To answer vs

Auf. Nor did you thinke it folly, To keepe your great pretences vayl'd, till when They needs must shew themselues, which in the hatching It seem'd appear'd to Rome. By the discouery, We shalbe shortned in our ayme, which was To take in many Townes, ere (almost) Rome Should know we were a-foot

2.Sen. Noble Auffidius, Take your Commission, hye you to your Bands, Let vs alone to guard Corioles If they set downe before's: for the remoue Bring vp your Army: but (I thinke) you'l finde Th'haue not prepar'd for vs

Auf. O doubt not that, I speake from Certainties. Nay more, Some parcels of their Power are forth already, And onely hitherward. I leaue your Honors. If we, and Caius Martius chance to meete, 'Tis sworne betweene vs, we shall euer strike Till one can do no more

All. The Gods assist you

Auf. And keepe your Honors safe

1.Sen. Farewell

2.Sen. Farewell

All. Farewell.

Exeunt. omnes.

Enter Volumnia and Virgilia, mother and wife to Martius: They set them downe on two lowe stooles and sowe.

Volum. I pray you daughter sing, or expresse your selfe in a more comfortable sort: If my Sonne were my Husband, I should freelier reioyce in that absence wherein he wonne Honor, then in the embracements of his Bed, where he would shew most loue. When yet hee was but tender-bodied, and the onely Sonne of my womb; when youth with comelinesse pluck'd all gaze his way; when for a day of Kings entreaties, a Mother should not sel him an houre from her beholding; I considering how Honour would become such a person, that it was no better then Picture-like to hang by th' wall, if renowne made it not stirre, was pleas'd to let him seeke danger, where he was like to finde fame: To a cruell Warre I sent him, from whence he return'd, his browes bound with Oake. I tell thee Daughter, I sprang not more in ioy at first hearing he was a Man-child, then now in first seeing he had proued himselfe a man

Virg. But had he died in the Businesse Madame, how then? Volum. Then his good report should haue beene my Sonne, I therein would haue found issue. Heare me professe sincerely, had I a dozen sons each in my loue alike, and none lesse deere then thine, and my good Martius, I had rather had eleuen dye Nobly for their Countrey, then one voluptuously surfet out of Action. Enter a Gentlewoman.

Gent. Madam, the lady Valeria is come to visit you

Virg. Beseech you giue me leaue to retire my selfe

Volum. Indeed you shall not: Me thinkes, I heare hither your Husbands Drumme: See him plucke Auffidius downe by th' haire: (As children from a Beare) the Volces shunning him: Me thinkes I see him stampe thus, and call thus, Come on you Cowards, you were got in feare Though you were borne in Rome; his bloody brow With his mail'd hand, then wiping, forth he goes Like to a Haruest man, that task'd to mowe Or all, or loose his hyre

Virg. His bloody Brow? Oh Iupiter, no blood

Volum. Away you Foole; it more becomes a man Then gilt his Trophe. The brests of Hecuba When she did suckle Hector, look'd not louelier Then Hectors forhead, when it spit forth blood At Grecian sword. Contenning, tell Valeria We are fit to bid her welcome.

Exit Gent.

Vir. Heauens blesse my Lord from fell Auffidius

Vol. Hee'l beat Auffidius head below his knee, And treade vpon his necke. Enter Valeria with an Vsher, and a Gentlewoman.

Val. My Ladies both good day to you

Vol. Sweet Madam

Vir. I am glad to see your Ladyship

Val. How do you both? You are manifest house-keepers. What are you sowing heere? A fine spotte in good faith. How does your little Sonne? Vir. I thanke your Lady-ship: Well good Madam

Vol. He had rather see the swords, and heare a Drum, then looke vpon his Schoolmaster

Val. A my word the Fathers Sonne: Ile sweare 'tis a very pretty boy. A my troth, I look'd vpon him a Wensday halfe an houre together: ha's such a confirm'd countenance. I saw him run after a gilded Butterfly, & when he caught it, he let it go againe, and after it againe, and ouer and ouer he comes, and vp againe: catcht it again: or whether his fall enrag'd him, or how 'twas, hee did so set his teeth, and teare it. Oh, I warrant how he mammockt it

Vol. One on's Fathers moods

Val. Indeed la, tis a Noble childe

Virg. A Cracke Madam

Val. Come, lay aside your stitchery, I must haue you play the idle Huswife with me this afternoone

Virg. No (good Madam) I will not out of doores

Val. Not out of doores? Volum. She shall, she shall

Virg. Indeed no, by your patience; Ile not ouer the threshold, till my Lord returne from the Warres

Val. Fye, you confine your selfe most vnreasonably: Come, you must go visit the good Lady that lies in

Virg. I will wish her speedy strength, and visite her with my prayers: but I cannot go thither

Volum. Why I pray you

Vlug. 'Tis not to saue labour, nor that I want loue

Val. You would be another Penelope: yet they say, all the yearne she spun in Vlisses absence, did but fill Athica full of Mothes. Come, I would your Cambrick were sensible as your finger, that you might leaue pricking it for pitie. Come you shall go with vs

Vir. No good Madam, pardon me, indeed I will not foorth

Val. In truth la go with me, and Ile tell you excellent newes of your Husband

Virg. Oh good Madam, there can be none yet

Val. Verily I do not iest with you: there came newes from him last night

Vir. Indeed Madam

Val. In earnest it's true; I heard a Senatour speake it. Thus it is: the Volcies haue an Army forth, against who[m] Cominius the Generall is gone, with one part of our Romane power. Your Lord, and Titus Lartius, are set down before their Citie Carioles, they nothing doubt preuailing, and to make it breefe Warres. This is true on mine Honor, and so I pray go with vs

Virg. Giue me excuse good Madame, I will obey you in euery thing heereafter

Vol. Let her alone Ladie, as she is now: She will but disease our better mirth

Valeria. In troth I thinke she would: Fare you well then. Come good sweet Ladie. Prythee Virgilia turne thy solemnesse out a doore, And go along with vs

Virgil. No At a word Madam; Indeed I must not, I wish you much mirth

Val. Well, then farewell.

Exeunt. Ladies.

Enter Martius, Titus Lartius, with Drumme and Colours, with Captaines and Souldiers, as before the City Corialus: to them a Messenger.

Martius. Yonder comes Newes: A Wager they haue met

Lar. My horse to yours, no

Mar. Tis done

Lart. Agreed

Mar. Say, ha's our Generall met the Enemy? Mess. They lye in view, but haue not spoke as yet

Lart. So, the good Horse is mine

Mart. Ile buy him of you

Lart. No, Ile nor sel, nor giue him: Lend you him I will For halfe a hundred yeares: Summon the Towne

Mar. How farre off lie these Armies? Mess. Within this mile and halfe

Mar. Then shall we heare their Larum, & they Ours. Now Mars, I prythee make vs quicke in worke, That we with smoaking swords may march from hence To helpe our fielded Friends. Come, blow thy blast.

They Sound a Parley: Enter two Senators with others on the Walles of Corialus.

Tullus Auffidious, is he within your Walles? 1.Senat. No, nor a man that feares you lesse then he, That's lesser then a little:

Drum a farre off.

Hearke, our Drummes Are bringing forth our youth: Wee'l breake our Walles Rather then they shall pound vs vp our Gates, Which yet seeme shut, we haue but pin'd with Rushes, They'le open of themselues. Harke you, farre off

Alarum farre off.

There is Auffidious. List what worke he makes Among'st your clouen Army

Mart. Oh they are at it

Lart. Their noise be our instruction. Ladders hoa. Enter the Army of the Volces.

Mar. They feare vs not, but issue forth their Citie. Now put your Shields before your hearts, and fight With hearts more proofe then Shields. Aduance braue Titus, They do disdaine vs much beyond our Thoughts, which makes me sweat with wrath. Come on my fellows He that retires, Ile take him for a Volce, And he shall feele mine edge.

Alarum, the Romans are beat back to their Trenches Enter Martius Cursing.

Mar. All the contagion of the South, light on you, You Shames of Rome: you Heard of Byles and Plagues Plaister you o're, that you may be abhorr'd Farther then seene, and one infect another Against the Winde a mile: you soules of Geese, That beare the shapes of men, how haue you run From Slaues, that Apes would beate; Pluto and Hell, All hurt behinde, backes red, and faces pale With flight and agued feare, mend and charge home, Or by the fires of heauen, Ile leaue the Foe, And make my Warres on you: Looke too't: Come on, If you'l stand fast, wee'l beate them to their Wiues, As they vs to our Trenches followes.

Another Alarum, and Martius followes them to gates, and is shut in.

So, now the gates are ope: now proue good Seconds, 'Tis for the followers Fortune, widens them, Not for the flyers: Marke me, and do the like. Enter the Gati.

1.Sol. Foole-hardinesse, not I

2.Sol. Nor I

1.Sol. See they haue shut him in.

Alarum continues

All. To th' pot I warrant him.

Enter Titus Lartius

Tit. What is become of Martius? All. Slaine (Sir) doubtlesse

1.Sol. Following the Flyers at the very heeles, With them he enters: who vpon the sodaine Clapt to their Gates, he is himselfe alone, To answer all the City

Lar. Oh Noble Fellow! Who sensibly out-dares his sencelesse Sword, And when it bowes, stand'st vp: Thou art left Martius, A Carbuncle intire: as big as thou art Weare not so rich a Iewell. Thou was't a Souldier Euen to Calues wish, not fierce and terrible Onely in strokes, but with thy grim lookes, and The Thunder-like percussion of thy sounds Thou mad'st thine enemies shake, as if the World Were Feauorous, and did tremble. Enter Martius bleeding, assaulted by the Enemy.

1.Sol. Looke Sir

Lar. O 'tis Martius. Let's fetch him off, or make remaine alike.

They fight, and all enter the City.

Enter certaine Romanes with spoiles.

1.Rom. This will I carry to Rome

2.Rom. And I this

3.Rom. A Murrain on't, I tooke this for Siluer.

Exeunt.

Alarum continues still a-farre off.

Enter Martius, and Titus with a Trumpet.

Mar. See heere these mouers, that do prize their hours At a crack'd Drachme: Cushions, Leaden Spoones, Irons of a Doit, Dublets that Hangmen would Bury with those that wore them. These base slaues, Ere yet the fight be done, packe vp, downe with them. And harke, what noyse the Generall makes: To him There is the man of my soules hate, Auffidious, Piercing our Romanes: Then Valiant Titus take Conuenient Numbers to make good the City, Whil'st I with those that haue the spirit, wil haste To helpe Cominius

Lar. Worthy Sir, thou bleed'st, Thy exercise hath bin too violent, For a second course of Fight

Mar. Sir, praise me not: My worke hath yet not warm'd me. Fare you well: The blood I drop, is rather Physicall Then dangerous to me: To Auffidious thus, I will appear and fight

Lar. Now the faire Goddesse Fortune, Fall deepe in loue with thee, and her great charmes Misguide thy Opposers swords, Bold Gentleman: Prosperity be thy Page

Mar. Thy Friend no lesse, Then those she placeth highest: So farewell

Lar. Thou worthiest Martius, Go sound thy Trumpet in the Market place, Call thither all the Officers a'th' Towne, Where they shall know our minde. Away.

Exeunt.

Enter Cominius as it were in retire, with soldiers.

Com. Breath you my friends, wel fought, we are come off, Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands, Nor Cowardly in retyre: Beleeue me Sirs, We shall be charg'd againe. Whiles we haue strooke By Interims and conueying gusts, we haue heard The Charges of our Friends. The Roman Gods, Leade their successes, as we wish our owne, That both our powers, with smiling Fronts encountring, May giue you thankfull Sacrifice. Thy Newes? Enter a Messenger.

Mess. The Cittizens of Corioles haue yssued, And giuen to Lartius and to Martius Battaile: I saw our party to their Trenches driuen, And then I came away

Com. Though thou speakest truth, Me thinkes thou speak'st not well. How long is't since? Mes. Aboue an houre, my Lord

Com. 'Tis not a mile: briefely we heard their drummes. How could'st thou in a mile confound an houre, And bring thy Newes so late? Mes. Spies of the Volces Held me in chace, that I was forc'd to wheele Three or foure miles about, else had I sir Halfe an houre since brought my report. Enter Martius.

Com. Whose yonder, That doe's appeare as he were Flead? O Gods, He has the stampe of Martius, and I haue Before time seene him thus

Mar. Come I too late? Com. The Shepherd knowes not Thunder fro[m] a Taber, More then I know the sound of Martius Tongue From euery meaner man

Martius. Come I too late? Com. I, if you come not in the blood of others, But mantled in your owne

Mart. Oh! let me clip ye In Armes as sound, as when I woo'd in heart; As merry, as when our Nuptiall day was done, And Tapers burnt to Bedward

Com. Flower of Warriors, how is't with Titus Lartius? Mar. As with a man busied about Decrees: Condemning some to death, and some to exile, Ransoming him, or pittying, threatning th' other; Holding Corioles in the name of Rome, Euen like a fawning Grey-hound in the Leash, To let him slip at will

Com. Where is that Slaue Which told me they had beate you to your Trenches? Where is he? Call him hither

Mar. Let him alone, He did informe the truth: but for our Gentlemen, The common file, (a plague-Tribunes for them) The Mouse ne're shunn'd the Cat, as they did budge From Rascals worse then they

Com. But how preuail'd you? Mar. Will the time serue to tell, I do not thinke: Where is the enemy? Are you Lords a'th Field? If not, why cease you till you are so? Com. Martius, we haue at disaduantage fought, And did retyre to win our purpose

Mar. How lies their Battell? Know you on w side They haue plac'd their men of trust? Com. As I guesse Martius, Their Bands i'th Vaward are the Antients Of their best trust: O're them Auffidious, Their very heart of Hope

Mar. I do beseech you, By all the Battailes wherein we haue fought, By th' Blood we haue shed together, By th' Vowes we haue made To endure Friends, that you directly set me Against Affidious, and his Antiats, And that you not delay the present (but Filling the aire with Swords aduanc'd) and Darts, We proue this very houre

Com. Though I could wish, You were conducted to a gentle Bath, And Balmes applyed to you, yet dare I neuer Deny your asking, take your choice of those That best can ayde your action

Mar. Those are they That most are willing; if any such be heere, (As it were sinne to doubt) that loue this painting Wherein you see me smear'd, if any feare Lessen his person, then an ill report: If any thinke, braue death out-weighes bad life, And that his Countries deerer then himselfe, Let him alone: Or so many so minded, Waue thus to expresse his disposition, And follow Martius.

They all shout and waue their swords, take him vp in their Armes, and cast vp their Caps.

Oh me alone, make you a sword of me: If these shewes be not outward, which of you But is foure Volces? None of you, but is Able to beare against the great Auffidious A Shield, as hard as his. A certaine number (Though thankes to all) must I select from all: The rest shall beare the businesse in some other fight (As cause will be obey'd:) please you to March, And foure shall quickly draw out my Command, Which men are best inclin'd

Com. March on my Fellowes: Make good this ostentation, and you shall Diuide in all, with vs.

Exeunt.

Titus Lartius, hauing set a guard vpon Carioles, going with Drum and Trumpet toward Cominius, and Caius Martius, Enters with a Lieutenant, other Souldiours, and a Scout.

Lar. So, let the Ports be guarded; keepe your Duties As I haue set them downe. If I do send, dispatch Those Centuries to our ayd, the rest will serue For a short holding, if we loose the Field, We cannot keepe the Towne

Lieu. Feare not our care Sir

Lart. Hence; and shut your gates vpon's: Our Guider come, to th' Roman Campe conduct vs.

Exit

Alarum, as in Battaile.

Enter Martius and Auffidius at seueral doores.

Mar. Ile fight with none but thee, for I do hate thee Worse then a Promise-breaker

Auffid. We hate alike: Not Affricke ownes a Serpent I abhorre More then thy Fame and Enuy: Fix thy foot

Mar. Let the first Budger dye the others Slaue, And the Gods doome him after

Auf. If I flye Martius, hollow me like a Hare

Mar. Within these three houres Tullus Alone I fought in your Corioles walles, And made what worke I pleas'd: 'Tis not my blood, Wherein thou seest me maskt, for thy Reuenge Wrench vp thy power to th' highest

Auf. Wer't thou the Hector, That was the whip of your bragg'd Progeny, Thou should'st not scape me heere.

Heere they fight, and certaine Volces come in the ayde of Auffi. Martius fights til they be driuen in breathles.

Officious and not valiant, you haue sham'd me In your condemned Seconds.

Flourish. Alarum. A Retreat is sounded. Enter at one Doore Cominius, with the Romanes: At another Doore Martius, with his Arme in a Scarfe.

Com. If I should tell thee o're this thy dayes Worke, Thou't not beleeue thy deeds: but Ile report it, Where Senators shall mingle teares with smiles, Where great Patricians shall attend, and shrug, I'th' end admire: where Ladies shall be frighted, And gladly quak'd, heare more: where the dull Tribunes, That with the fustie Plebeans, hate thine Honors, Shall say against their hearts, We thanke the Gods Our Rome hath such a Souldier. Yet cam'st thou to a Morsell of this Feast, Hauing fully din'd before. Enter Titus with his Power, from the Pursuit.

Titus Lartius. Oh Generall: Here is the Steed, wee the Caparison: Hadst thou beheld- Martius. Pray now, no more: My Mother, who ha's a Charter to extoll her Bloud, When she do's prayse me, grieues me: I haue done as you haue done, that's what I can, Induc'd as you haue beene, that's for my Countrey: He that ha's but effected his good will, Hath ouerta'ne mine Act

Com. You shall not be the Graue of your deseruing, Rome must know the value of her owne: 'Twere a Concealement worse then a Theft, No lesse then a Traducement, To hide your doings, and to silence that, Which to the spire, and top of prayses vouch'd, Would seeme but modest: therefore I beseech you, In signe of what you are, not to reward What you haue done, before our Armie heare me

Martius. I haue some Wounds vpon me, and they smart To heare themselues remembred

Com. Should they not: Well might they fester 'gainst Ingratitude, And tent themselues with death: of all the Horses, Whereof we haue ta'ne good, and good store of all, The Treasure in this field atchieued, and Citie, We render you the Tenth, to be ta'ne forth, Before the common distribution, At your onely choyse

Martius. I thanke you Generall: But cannot make my heart consent to take A Bribe, to pay my Sword: I doe refuse it, And stand vpon my common part with those, That haue beheld the doing.

A long flourish. They all cry, Martius, Martius, cast vp their Caps and Launces: Cominius and Lartius stand bare.

Mar. May these same Instruments, which you prophane, Neuer sound more: when Drums and Trumpets shall I'th' field proue flatterers, let Courts and Cities be Made all of false-fac'd soothing: When Steele growes soft, as the Parasites Silke, Let him be made an Ouerture for th' Warres: No more I say, for that I haue not wash'd My Nose that bled, or foyl'd some debile Wretch, Which without note, here's many else haue done, You shoot me forth in acclamations hyperbolicall, As if I lou'd my little should be dieted In prayses, sawc'st with Lyes

Com. Too modest are you: More cruell to your good report, then gratefull To vs, that giue you truly: by your patience, If 'gainst your selfe you be incens'd, wee'le put you (Like one that meanes his proper harme) in Manacles, Then reason safely with you: Therefore be it knowne, As to vs, to all the World, That Caius Martius Weares this Warres Garland: in token of the which, My Noble Steed, knowne to the Campe, I giue him, With all his trim belonging; and from this time, For what he did before Corioles, call him, With all th' applause and Clamor of the Hoast, Marcus Caius Coriolanus. Beare th' addition Nobly euer? Flourish. Trumpets sound, and Drums.

Omnes. Marcus Caius Coriolanus

Martius. I will goe wash: And when my Face is faire, you shall perceiue Whether I blush or no: howbeit, I thanke you, I meane to stride your Steed, and at all times To vnder-crest your good Addition, To th' fairenesse of my power

Com. So, to our Tent: Where ere we doe repose vs, we will write To Rome of our successe: you Titus Lartius Must to Corioles backe, send vs to Rome The best, with whom we may articulate, For their owne good, and ours

Lartius. I shall, my Lord

Martius. The Gods begin to mocke me: I that now refus'd most Princely gifts, Am bound to begge of my Lord Generall

Com. Tak't, 'tis yours: what is't? Martius. I sometime lay here in Corioles, At a poore mans house: he vs'd me kindly, He cry'd to me: I saw him Prisoner: But then Auffidius was within my view, And Wrath o're-whelm'd my pittie: I request you To giue my poore Host freedome

Com. Oh well begg'd: Were he the Butcher of my Sonne, he should Be free, as is the Winde: deliuer him, Titus

Lartius. Martius, his Name

Martius. By Iupiter forgot: I am wearie, yea, my memorie is tyr'd: Haue we no Wine here? Com. Goe we to our Tent: The bloud vpon your Visage dryes, 'tis time It should be lookt too: come.

Exeunt.

A flourish. Cornets. Enter Tullus Auffidius bloudie, with two or three Souldiors.

Auffi. The Towne is ta'ne

Sould. 'Twill be deliuer'd backe on good Condition

Auffid. Condition? I would I were a Roman, for I cannot, Being a Volce, be that I am. Condition? What good Condition can a Treatie finde I'th' part that is at mercy? fiue times, Martius, I haue fought with thee; so often hast thou beat me: And would'st doe so, I thinke, should we encounter As often as we eate. By th' Elements, If ere againe I meet him beard to beard, He's mine, or I am his: Mine Emulation Hath not that Honor in't it had: For where I thought to crush him in an equall Force, True Sword to Sword: Ile potche at him some way, Or Wrath, or Craft may get him

Sol. He's the diuell

Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: my valors poison'd, With onely suff'ring staine by him: for him Shall flye out of it selfe, nor sleepe, nor sanctuary, Being naked, sicke; nor Phane, nor Capitoll, The Prayers of Priests, nor times of Sacrifice: Embarquements all of Fury, shall lift vp Their rotten Priuiledge, and Custome 'gainst My hate to Martius. Where I finde him, were it At home, vpon my Brothers Guard, euen there Against the hospitable Canon, would I Wash my fierce hand in's heart. Go you to th' Citie, Learne how 'tis held, and what they are that must Be Hostages for Rome

Soul. Will not you go? Auf. I am attended at the Cyprus groue. I pray you ('Tis South the City Mils) bring me word thither How the world goes: that to the pace of it I may spurre on my iourney

Soul. I shall sir.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Menenius with the two Tribunes of the people, Sicinius & Brutus.

Men. The Agurer tels me, wee shall haue Newes to night

Bru. Good or bad? Men. Not according to the prayer of the people, for they loue not Martius

Sicin. Nature teaches Beasts to know their Friends

Men. Pray you, who does the Wolfe loue? Sicin. The Lambe

Men. I, to deuour him, as the hungry Plebeians would the Noble Martius

Bru. He's a Lambe indeed, that baes like a Beare

Men. Hee's a Beare indeede, that liues like a Lambe. You two are old men, tell me one thing that I shall aske you

Both. Well sir

Men. In what enormity is Martius poore in, that you two haue not in abundance? Bru. He's poore in no one fault, but stor'd withall

Sicin. Especially in Pride

Bru. And topping all others in boasting

Men. This is strange now: Do you two know, how you are censured heere in the City, I mean of vs a'th' right hand File, do you? Both. Why? how are we censur'd? Men. Because you talke of Pride now, will you not be angry

Both. Well, well sir, well

Men. Why 'tis no great matter: for a very little theefe of Occasion, will rob you of a great deale of Patience: Giue your dispositions the reines, and bee angry at your pleasures (at the least) if you take it as a pleasure to you, in being so: you blame Martius for being proud

Brut. We do it not alone, sir

Men. I know you can doe very little alone, for your helpes are many, or else your actions would growe wondrous single: your abilities are to Infant-like, for dooing much alone. You talke of Pride: Oh, that you could turn your eyes toward the Napes of your neckes, and make but an Interiour suruey of your good selues. Oh that you could

Both. What then sir? Men. Why then you should discouer a brace of vnmeriting, proud, violent, testie Magistrates (alias Fooles) as any in Rome

Sicin. Menenius, you are knowne well enough too

Men. I am knowne to be a humorous Patritian, and one that loues a cup of hot Wine, with not a drop of alaying Tiber in't: Said, to be something imperfect in fauouring the first complaint, hasty and Tinder-like vppon, to triuiall motion: One, that conuerses more with the Buttocke of the night, then with the forhead of the morning. What I think, I vtter, and spend my malice in my breath. Meeting two such Weales men as you are (I cannot call you Licurgusses,) if the drinke you giue me, touch my Palat aduersly, I make a crooked face at it, I can say, your Worshippes haue deliuer'd the matter well, when I finde the Asse in compound, with the Maior part of your syllables. And though I must be content to beare with those, that say you are reuerend graue men, yet they lye deadly, that tell you haue good faces, if you see this in the Map of my Microcosme, followes it that I am knowne well enough too? What harme can your beesome Conspectuities gleane out of this Charracter, if I be knowne well enough too

Bru. Come sir come, we know you well enough

Menen. You know neither mee, your selues, nor any thing: you are ambitious, for poore knaues cappes and legges: you weare out a good wholesome Forenoone, in hearing a cause betweene an Orendge wife, and a Forfetseller, and then reiourne the Controuersie of three-pence to a second day of Audience. When you are hearing a matter betweene party and party, if you chaunce to bee pinch'd with the Collike, you make faces like Mummers, set vp the bloodie Flagge against all Patience, and in roaring for a Chamber-pot, dismisse the Controuersie bleeding, the more intangled by your hearing: All the peace you make in their Cause, is calling both the parties Knaues. You are a payre of strange ones

Bru. Come, come, you are well vnderstood to bee a perfecter gyber for the Table, then a necessary Bencher in the Capitoll

Men. Our very Priests must become Mockers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous Subiects as you are, when you speake best vnto the purpose. It is not woorth the wagging of your Beards, and your Beards deserue not so honourable a graue, as to stuffe a Botchers Cushion, or to be intomb'd in an Asses Packe-saddle; yet you must bee saying, Martius is proud: who in a cheape estimation, is worth all your predecessors, since Deucalion, though peraduenture some of the best of 'em were hereditarie hangmen. Godden to your Worships, more of your conuersation would infect my Braine, being the Heardsmen of the Beastly Plebeans. I will be bold to take my leaue of you.

Bru. and Scic. Aside.

Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Valeria.

How now (my as faire as Noble) Ladyes, and the Moone were shee Earthly, no Nobler; whither doe you follow your Eyes so fast? Volum. Honorable Menenius, my Boy Martius approches: for the loue of Iuno let's goe

Menen. Ha? Martius comming home? Volum. I, worthy Menenius, and with most prosperous approbation

Menen. Take my Cappe Iupiter, and I thanke thee: hoo, Martius comming home? 2.Ladies. Nay, 'tis true

Volum. Looke, here's a Letter from him, the State hath another, his Wife another, and (I thinke) there's one at home for you

Menen. I will make my very house reele to night: A Letter for me? Virgil. Yes certaine, there's a Letter for you, I saw't

Menen. A Letter for me? it giues me an Estate of seuen yeeres health; in which time, I will make a Lippe at the Physician: The most soueraigne Prescription in Galen, is but Emperickqutique; and to this Preseruatiue, of no better report then a Horse-drench. Is he not wounded? he was wont to come home wounded? Virgil. Oh no, no, no

Volum. Oh, he is wounded, I thanke the Gods for't

Menen. So doe I too, if it be not too much: brings a Victorie in his Pocket? the wounds become him

Volum. On's Browes: Menenius, hee comes the third time home with the Oaken Garland

Menen. Ha's he disciplin'd Auffidius soundly? Volum. Titus Lartius writes, they fought together, but Auffidius got off

Menen. And 'twas time for him too, Ile warrant him that: and he had stay'd by him, I would not haue been so fiddious'd, for all the Chests in Carioles, and the Gold that's in them. Is the Senate possest of this? Volum. Good Ladies let's goe. Yes, yes, yes: The Senate ha's Letters from the Generall, wherein hee giues my Sonne the whole Name of the Warre: he hath in this

## action out-done his former deeds doubly

Valer. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke of him

Menen. Wondrous: I, I warrant you, and not without his true purchasing

Virgil. The Gods graunt them true

Volum. True? pow waw

Mene. True? Ile be sworne they are true: where is hee wounded, God saue your good Worships? Martius is comming home: hee ha's more cause to be prowd: where is he wounded? Volum. Ith' Shoulder, and ith' left Arme: there will be large Cicatrices to shew the People, when hee shall stand for his place: he receiued in the repulse of Tarquin seuen hurts ith' Body

Mene. One ith' Neck, and two ith' Thigh, there's nine that I know

Volum. Hee had, before this last Expedition, twentie fiue Wounds vpon him

Mene. Now it's twentie seuen; euery gash was an Enemies Graue. Hearke, the Trumpets.

A showt, and flourish.

Volum. These are the Vshers of Martius: Before him, hee carryes Noyse; And behinde him, hee leaues Teares: Death, that darke Spirit, in's neruie Arme doth lye, Which being aduanc'd, declines, and then men dye.

A Sennet. Trumpets sound. Enter Cominius the Generall, and Titus Latius: betweene them Coriolanus, crown'd with an Oaken Garland, with Captaines and Souldiers, and a Herauld.

Herauld. Know Rome, that all alone Martius did fight Within Corioles Gates: where he hath wonne, With Fame, a Name to Martius Caius: These in honor followes Martius Caius Coriolanus. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus.

Sound. Flourish.

All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus

Coriol. No more of this, it does offend my heart: pray now no more

Com. Looke, Sir, your Mother

Coriol. Oh! you haue, I know, petition'd all the Gods for my prosperitie.

Kneeles.

Volum. Nay, my good Souldier, vp: My gentle Martius, worthy Caius, And by deed-atchieuing Honor newly nam'd, What is it (Coriolanus) must I call thee? But oh, thy Wife

Corio. My gracious silence, hayle: Would'st thou haue laugh'd, had I come Coffin'd home, That weep'st to see me triumph? Ah my deare, Such eyes the Widowes in Carioles were, And Mothers that lacke Sonnes

Mene. Now the Gods Crowne thee

Com. And liue you yet? Oh my sweet Lady, pardon

Volum. I know not where to turne. Oh welcome home: and welcome Generall, And y'are welcome all

Mene. A hundred thousand Welcomes: I could weepe, and I could laugh, I am light, and heauie; welcome: A Curse begin at very root on's heart, That is not glad to see thee. You are three, that Rome should dote on: Yet by the faith of men, we haue Some old Crab-trees here at home, That will not be grafted to your Rallish. Yet welcome Warriors: Wee call a Nettle, but a Nettle; And the faults of fooles, but folly

Com. Euer right

Cor. Menenius, euer, euer

Herauld. Giue way there, and goe on

Cor. Your Hand, and yours? Ere in our owne house I doe shade my Head, The good Patricians must be visited, From whom I haue receiu'd not onely greetings, But with them, change of Honors

Volum. I haue liued, To see inherited my very Wishes, And the Buildings of my Fancie: Onely there's one thing wanting, Which (I doubt not) but our Rome Will cast vpon thee

Cor. Know, good Mother, I had rather be their seruant in my way, Then sway with them in theirs

Com. On, to the Capitall. Flourish. Cornets.

Exeunt. in State, as before.

Enter Brutus and Scicinius

Bru. All tongues speake of him, and the bleared sights Are spectacled to see him. Your pratling Nurse Into a rapture lets her Baby crie, While she chats him: the Kitchin Malkin pinnes Her richest Lockram 'bout her reechie necke, Clambring the Walls to eye him: Stalls, Bulkes, Windowes, are smother'd vp, Leades fill'd, and Ridges hors'd With variable Complexions; all agreeing In earnestnesse to see him: seld-showne Flamins Doe presse among the popular Throngs, and puffe To winne a vulgar station: our veyl'd Dames Commit the Warre of White and Damaske In their nicely gawded Cheekes, toth' wanton spoyle Of Phoebus burning Kisses: such a poother, As if that whatsoeuer God, who leades him, Were slyly crept into his humane powers, And gaue him gracefull posture

Scicin. On the suddaine, I warrant him Consull

Brutus. Then our Office may, during his power, goe sleepe

Scicin. He cannot temp'rately transport his Honors, From where he should begin, and end, but will Lose those he hath wonne

Brutus. In that there's comfort

Scici. Doubt not, The Commoners, for whom we stand, but they Vpon their ancient mallice, will forget With the least cause, these his new Honors, Which that he will giue them, make I as little question, As he is prowd to doo't

Brutus. I heard him sweare, Were he to stand for Consull, neuer would he Appeare i'th' Market place, nor on him put The Naples Vesture of Humilitie, Nor shewing (as the manner is) his Wounds Toth' People, begge their stinking Breaths

Scicin. 'Tis right

Brutus. It was his word: Oh he would misse it, rather then carry it, But by the suite of the Gentry to him, And the desire of the Nobles

Scicin. I wish no better, then haue him hold that purpose, and to put it in execution

Brutus. 'Tis most like he will

Scicin. It shall be to him then, as our good wills; a sure destruction

Brutus. So it must fall out To him, or our Authorities, for an end. We must suggest the People, in what hatred He still hath held them: that to's power he would Haue made them Mules, silenc'd their Pleaders, And dispropertied their Freedomes; holding them, In humane Action, and Capacitie, Of no more Soule, nor fitnesse for the World, Then Cammels in their Warre, who haue their Prouand Onely for bearing Burthens, and sore blowes For sinking vnder them

Scicin. This (as you say) suggested, At some time, when his soaring Insolence Shall teach the People, which time shall not want, If he be put vpon't, and that's as easie, As to set Dogges on Sheepe, will be his fire To kindle their dry Stubble: and their Blaze Shall darken him for euer. Enter a Messenger.

Brutus. What's the matter? Mess. You are sent for to the Capitoll: 'Tis thought, that Martius shall be Consull: I haue seene the dumbe men throng to see him, And the blind to heare him speak: Matrons flong Gloues, Ladies and Maids their Scarffes, and Handkerchers, Vpon him as he pass'd: the Nobles bended As to Ioues Statue, and the Commons made A Shower, and Thunder, with their Caps, and Showts: I neuer saw the like

Brutus. Let's to the Capitoll, And carry with vs Eares and Eyes for th' time, But Hearts for the euent

Scicin. Haue with you.

Exeunt.

Enter two Officers, to lay Cushions, as it were, in the Capitoll.

1.Off. Come, come, they are almost here: how many stand for Consulships? 2.Off. Three, they say: but 'tis thought of euery one, Coriolanus will carry it

1.Off. That's a braue fellow: but hee's vengeance prowd, and loues not the common people

2.Off. 'Faith, there hath beene many great men that haue flatter'd the people, who ne're loued them; and there be many that they haue loued, they know not wherefore: so that if they loue they know not why, they hate vpon no better a ground. Therefore, for Coriolanus neyther to care whether they loue, or hate him, manifests the true knowledge he ha's in their disposition, and out of his Noble carelesnesse lets them plainely see't

1.Off. If he did not care whether he had their loue, or no, hee waued indifferently, 'twixt doing them neyther good, nor harme: but hee seekes their hate with greater deuotion, then they can render it him; and leaues nothing vndone, that may fully discouer him their opposite. Now to seeme to affect the mallice and displeasure of the People, is as bad, as that which he dislikes, to flatter them for their loue

2.Off. Hee hath deserued worthily of his Countrey, and his assent is not by such easie degrees as those, who hauing beene supple and courteous to the People, Bonnetted, without any further deed, to haue them at all into their estimation, and report: but hee hath so planted his Honors in their Eyes, and his actions in their Hearts, that for their Tongues to be silent, and not confesse so much, were a kinde of ingratefull Iniurie: to report otherwise, were a Mallice, that giuing it selfe the Lye, would plucke reproofe and rebuke from euery Eare that heard it

1.Off. No more of him, hee's a worthy man: make way, they are comming.

A Sennet. Enter the Patricians, and the Tribunes of the People, Lictors before them: Coriolanus, Menenius, Cominius the Consul: Scicinius and Brutus take their places by themselues: Coriolanus stands.

Menen. Hauing determin'd of the Volces, And to send for Titus Lartius: it remaines, As the maine Point of this our after-meeting, To gratifie his Noble seruice, that hath Thus stood for his Countrey. Therefore please you, Most reuerend and graue Elders, to desire The present Consull, and last Generall, In our well-found Successes, to report A little of that worthy Worke, perform'd By Martius Caius Coriolanus: whom We met here, both to thanke, and to remember, With Honors like himselfe

1.Sen. Speake, good Cominius: Leaue nothing out for length, and make vs thinke Rather our states defectiue for requitall, Then we to stretch it out. Masters a'th' People, We doe request your kindest eares: and after Your louing motion toward the common Body, To yeeld what passes here

Scicin. We are conuented vpon a pleasing Treatie, and haue hearts inclinable to honor and aduance the Theame of our Assembly

Brutus. Which the rather wee shall be blest to doe, if he remember a kinder value of the People, then he hath hereto priz'd them at

Menen. That's off, that's off: I would you rather had been silent: Please you to heare Cominius speake? Brutus. Most willingly: but yet my Caution was more pertinent then the rebuke you giue it

Menen. He loues your People, but tye him not to be their Bed-fellow: Worthie Cominius speake.

Coriolanus rises, and offers to goe away.

Nay, keepe your place

Senat. Sit Coriolanus: neuer shame to heare What you haue Nobly done

Coriol. Your Honors pardon: I had rather haue my Wounds to heale againe, Then heare say how I got them

Brutus. Sir, I hope my words dis-bench'd you not? Coriol. No Sir: yet oft, When blowes haue made me stay, I fled from words. You sooth'd not, therefore hurt not: but your People, I loue them as they weigh- Menen. Pray now sit downe

Corio. I had rather haue one scratch my Head i'th' Sun, When the Alarum were strucke, then idly sit To heare my Nothings monster'd. Exit Coriolanus

Menen. Masters of the People, Your multiplying Spawne, how can he flatter? That's thousand to one good one, when you now see He had rather venture all his Limbes for Honor, Then on ones Eares to heare it. Proceed Cominius

Com. I shall lacke voyce: the deeds of Coriolanus Should not be vtter'd feebly: it is held, That Valour is the chiefest Vertue, And most dignifies the hauer: if it be, The man I speake of, cannot in the World Be singly counter-poys'd. At sixteene yeeres, When Tarquin made a Head for Rome, he fought Beyond the marke of others: our then Dictator, Whom with all prayse I point at, saw him fight, When with his Amazonian Shinne he droue The brizled Lippes before him: he bestrid An o're-prest Roman, and i'th' Consuls view Slew three Opposers: Tarquins selfe he met, And strucke him on his Knee: in that dayes feates, When he might act the Woman in the Scene, He prou'd best man i'th' field, and for his meed Was Brow-bound with the Oake. His Pupill age Man-entred thus, he waxed like a Sea, And in the brunt of seuenteene Battailes since, He lurcht all Swords of the Garland: for this last, Before, and in Corioles, let me say I cannot speake him home: he stopt the flyers, And by his rare example made the Coward Turne terror into sport: as Weeds before A Vessell vnder sayle, so men obey'd, And fell below his Stem: his Sword, Deaths stampe, Where it did marke, it tooke from face to foot: He was a thing of Blood, whose euery motion Was tim'd with dying Cryes: alone he entred The mortall Gate of th' Citie, which he painted With shunlesse destinie: aydelesse came off, And with a sudden re-inforcement strucke Carioles like a Planet: now all's his, When by and by the dinne of Warre gan pierce His readie sence: then straight his doubled spirit Requickned what in flesh was fatigate, And to the Battaile came he, where he did Runne reeking o're the liues of men, as if 'twere A perpetuall spoyle: and till we call'd Both Field and Citie ours, he neuer stood To ease his Brest with panting

Menen. Worthy man

Senat. He cannot but with measure fit the Honors which we deuise him

Com. Our spoyles he kickt at, And look'd vpon things precious, as they were The common Muck of the World: he couets lesse Then Miserie it selfe would giue, rewards his deeds With doing them, and is content To spend the time, to end it

Menen. Hee's right Noble, let him be call'd for

Senat. Call Coriolanus

Off. He doth appeare. Enter Coriolanus.

Menen. The Senate, Coriolanus, are well pleas'd to make thee Consull

Corio. I doe owe them still my Life, and Seruices

Menen. It then remaines, that you doe speake to the People

Corio. I doe beseech you, Let me o're-leape that custome: for I cannot Put on the Gowne, stand naked, and entreat them For my Wounds sake, to giue their sufferage: Please you that I may passe this doing

Scicin. Sir, the People must haue their Voyces, Neyther will they bate one iot of Ceremonie

Menen. Put them not too't: Pray you goe fit you to the Custome, And take to you, as your Predecessors haue, Your Honor with your forme

Corio. It is a part that I shall blush in acting, And might well be taken from the People

Brutus. Marke you that

Corio. To brag vnto them, thus I did, and thus Shew them th' vnaking Skarres, which I should hide, As if I had receiu'd them for the hyre Of their breath onely

Menen. Doe not stand vpon't: We recommend to you Tribunes of the People Our purpose to them, and to our Noble Consull Wish we all Ioy, and Honor

Senat. To Coriolanus come all ioy and Honor. Flourish Cornets. Then Exeunt. Manet Sicinius and Brutus.

Bru. You see how he intends to vse the people

Scicin. May they perceiue's intent: he wil require them As if he did contemne what he requested, Should be in them to giue

Bru. Come, wee'l informe them Of our proceedings heere on th' Market place, I know they do attend vs. Enter seuen or eight Citizens.

1.Cit. Once if he do require our voyces, wee ought not to deny him

2.Cit. We may Sir if we will

3.Cit. We haue power in our selues to do it, but it is a power that we haue no power to do: For, if hee shew vs his wounds, and tell vs his deeds, we are to put our tongues into those wounds, and speake for them: So if he tel vs his Noble deeds, we must also tell him our Noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is monstrous, and for the multitude to be ingratefull, were to make a Monster of the multitude; of the which, we being members, should bring our selues to be monstrous members

1.Cit. And to make vs no better thought of a little helpe will serue: for once we stood vp about the Corne, he himselfe stucke not to call vs the many-headed Multitude

3.Cit. We haue beene call'd so of many, not that our heads are some browne, some blacke, some Abram, some bald; but that our wits are so diuersly Coulord; and truely I thinke, if all our wittes were to issue out of one Scull, they would flye East, West, North, South, and their consent of one direct way, should be at once to all the points a'th Compasse

2.Cit. Thinke you so? Which way do you iudge my wit would flye

3.Cit. Nay your wit will not so soone out as another mans will, 'tis strongly wadg'd vp in a blocke-head: but if it were at liberty, 'twould sure Southward

2 Cit. Why that way? 3 Cit. To loose it selfe in a Fogge, where being three parts melted away with rotten Dewes, the fourth would returne for Conscience sake, to helpe to get thee a Wife

2 Cit. You are neuer without your trickes, you may, you may

3 Cit. Are you all resolu'd to giue your voyces? But that's no matter, the greater part carries it, I say. If hee would incline to the people, there was neuer a worthier man. Enter Coriolanus in a gowne of Humility, with Menenius.

Heere he comes, and in the Gowne of humility, marke his behauiour: we are not to stay altogether, but to come by him where he stands, by ones, by twoes, & by threes. He's to make his requests by particulars, wherein euerie one of vs ha's a single Honor, in giuing him our own voices with our owne tongues, therefore follow me, and Ile direct you how you shall go by him

All. Content, content

Men. Oh Sir, you are not right: haue you not knowne The worthiest men haue done't? Corio. What must I say, I pray Sir? Plague vpon't, I cannot bring My tongue to such a pace. Looke Sir, my wounds, I got them in my Countries Seruice, when Some certaine of your Brethren roar'd, and ranne From th' noise of our owne Drummes

Menen. Oh me the Gods, you must not speak of that, You must desire them to thinke vpon you

Coriol. Thinke vpon me? Hang 'em, I would they would forget me, like the Vertues Which our Diuines lose by em

Men. You'l marre all, Ile leaue you: Pray you speake to em, I pray you In wholsome manner.

Exit

Enter three of the Citizens.

Corio. Bid them wash their Faces, And keepe their teeth cleane: So, heere comes a brace, You know the cause (Sir) of my standing heere

3 Cit. We do Sir, tell vs what hath brought you too't

Corio. Mine owne desert

2 Cit. Your owne desert

Corio. I, but mine owne desire

3 Cit. How not your owne desire? Corio. No Sir, 'twas neuer my desire yet to trouble the poore with begging

3 Cit. You must thinke if we giue you any thing, we hope to gaine by you

Corio. Well then I pray, your price a'th' Consulship

1 Cit. The price is, to aske it kindly

Corio. Kindly sir, I pray let me ha't: I haue wounds to shew you, which shall bee yours in priuate: your good voice sir, what say you? 2 Cit. You shall ha't worthy Sir

Corio. A match Sir, there's in all two worthie voyces begg'd: I haue your Almes, Adieu

3 Cit. But this is something odde

2 Cit. And 'twere to giue againe: but 'tis no matter.

Exeunt. Enter two other Citizens.

Coriol. Pray you now, if it may stand with the tune of your voices, that I may bee Consull, I haue heere the Customarie Gowne

1. You haue deserued Nobly of your Countrey, and you haue not deserued Nobly

Coriol. Your aenigma

1. You haue bin a scourge to her enemies, you haue bin a Rod to her Friends, you haue not indeede loued the Common people

Coriol. You should account mee the more Vertuous, that I haue not bin common in my Loue, I will sir flatter my sworne Brother the people to earne a deerer estimation of them, 'tis a condition they account gentle: & since the wisedome of their choice, is rather to haue my Hat, then my Heart, I will practice the insinuating nod, and be off to them most counterfetly, that is sir, I will counterfet the bewitchment of some popular man, and giue it bountifull to the desirers: Therefore beseech you, I may be Consull

2. Wee hope to finde you our friend: and therefore giue you our voices heartily

1. You haue receyued many wounds for your Countrey

Coriol. I wil not Seale your knowledge with shewing them. I will make much of your voyces, and so trouble you no farther

Both. The Gods giue you ioy Sir heartily

Coriol. Most sweet Voyces: Better it is to dye, better to sterue, Then craue the higher, which first we do deserue. Why in this Wooluish tongue should I stand heere, To begge of Hob and Dicke, that does appeere Their needlesse Vouches: Custome calls me too't. What Custome wills in all things, should we doo't? The Dust on antique Time would lye vnswept, And mountainous Error be too highly heapt, For Truth to o're-peere. Rather then foole it so, Let the high Office and the Honor go To one that would doe thus. I am halfe through, The one part suffered, the other will I doe. Enter three Citizens more.

Here come moe Voyces. Your Voyces? for your Voyces I haue sought, Watcht for your Voyces: for your Voyces, beare Of Wounds, two dozen odde: Battailes thrice six I haue seene, and heard of: for your Voyces, Haue done many things, some lesse, some more: Your Voyces? Indeed I would be Consull

1.Cit. Hee ha's done Nobly, and cannot goe without any honest mans Voyce

2.Cit. Therefore let him be Consull: the Gods giue him ioy, and make him good friend to the People

All. Amen, Amen. God saue thee, Noble Consull

Corio. Worthy Voyces. Enter Menenius, with Brutus and Scicinius.

Mene. You haue stood your Limitation: And the Tribunes endue you with the Peoples Voyce, Remaines, that in th' Officiall Markes inuested, You anon doe meet the Senate

Corio. Is this done? Scicin. The Custome of Request you haue discharg'd: The People doe admit you, and are summon'd To meet anon, vpon your approbation

Corio. Where? at the Senate-house? Scicin. There, Coriolanus

Corio. May I change these Garments? Scicin. You may, Sir

Cori. That Ile straight do: and knowing my selfe again, Repayre toth' Senatehouse

Mene. Ile keepe you company. Will you along? Brut. We stay here for the People

Scicin. Fare you well.

Exeunt. Coriol. and Mene.

He ha's it now: and by his Lookes, me thinkes, 'Tis warme at's heart

Brut. With a prowd heart he wore his humble Weeds: Will you dismisse the People? Enter the Plebeians.

Scici. How now, my Masters, haue you chose this man? 1.Cit. He ha's our Voyces, Sir

Brut. We pray the Gods, he may deserue your loues

2.Cit. Amen, Sir: to my poore vnworthy notice, He mock'd vs, when he begg'd our Voyces

3.Cit. Certainely, he flowted vs downe-right

1.Cit. No, 'tis his kind of speech, he did not mock vs

2.Cit. Not one amongst vs, saue your selfe, but sayes He vs'd vs scornefully: he should haue shew'd vs His Marks of Merit, Wounds receiu'd for's Countrey

Scicin. Why so he did, I am sure

All. No, no: no man saw 'em

3.Cit. Hee said hee had Wounds, Which he could shew in priuate: And with his Hat, thus wauing it in scorne, I would be Consull, sayes he: aged Custome, But by your Voyces, will not so permit me. Your Voyces therefore: when we graunted that, Here was, I thanke you for your Voyces, thanke you Your most sweet Voyces: now you haue left your Voyces, I haue no further with you. Was not this mockerie? Scicin. Why eyther were you ignorant to see't? Or seeing it, of such Childish friendlinesse, To yeeld your Voyces? Brut. Could you not haue told him, As you were lesson'd: When he had no Power, But was a pettie seruant to the State, He was your Enemie, euer spake against Your Liberties, and the Charters that you beare I'th' Body of the Weale: and now arriuing A place of Potencie, and sway o'th' State, If he should still malignantly remaine Fast Foe toth' Plebeij, your Voyces might Be Curses to your selues. You should haue said, That as his worthy deeds did clayme no lesse Then what he stood for: so his gracious nature Would thinke vpon you, for your Voyces, And translate his Mallice towards you, into Loue, Standing your friendly Lord

Scicin. Thus to haue said, As you were fore-aduis'd, had toucht his Spirit, And try'd his Inclination: from him pluckt Eyther his gracious Promise, which you might As cause had call'd you vp, haue held him to; Or else it would haue gall'd his surly nature, Which easily endures not Article, Tying him to ought, so putting him to Rage, You should haue ta'ne th' aduantage of his Choller, And pass'd him vnelected

Brut. Did you perceiue, He did sollicite you in free Contempt, When he did need your Loues: and doe you thinke, That his Contempt shall not be brusing to you, When he hath power to crush? Why, had your Bodyes No Heart among you? Or had you Tongues, to cry Against the Rectorship of Iudgement? Scicin. Haue you, ere now, deny'd the asker: And now againe, of him that did not aske, but mock, Bestow your su'd-for Tongues? 3.Cit. Hee's not confirm'd, we may deny him yet

2.Cit. And will deny him: Ile haue fiue hundred Voyces of that sound

1.Cit. I twice fiue hundred, & their friends, to piece 'em

Brut. Get you hence instantly, and tell those friends, They haue chose a Consull, that will from them take Their Liberties, make them of no more Voyce Then Dogges, that are as often beat for barking, As therefore kept to doe so

Scici. Let them assemble: and on a safer Iudgement, All reuoke your ignorant election: Enforce his Pride, And his old Hate vnto you: besides, forget not With what Contempt he wore the humble Weed, How in his Suit he scorn'd you: but your Loues, Thinking vpon his Seruices, tooke from you Th' apprehension of his present portance, Which most gibingly, vngrauely, he did fashion After the inueterate Hate he beares you

Brut. Lay a fault on vs, your Tribunes, That we labour'd (no impediment betweene) But that you must cast your Election on him

Scici. Say you chose him, more after our commandment, Then as guided by your owne true affections, and that Your Minds pre-occupy'd with what you rather must do, Then what you should, made you against the graine To Voyce him Consull. Lay the fault on vs

Brut. I, spare vs not: Say, we read Lectures to you, How youngly he began to serue his Countrey, How long continued, and what stock he springs of, The Noble House o'th'Martians: from whence came That Ancus Martius, Numaes Daughters Sonne: Who after great Hostilius here was King, Of the same House Publius and Quintus were, That our best Water, brought by Conduits hither, And Nobly nam'd, so twice being Censor, Was his great Ancestor

Scicin. One thus descended, That hath beside well in his person wrought, To be set high in place, we did commend To your remembrances: but you haue found, Skaling his present bearing with his past, That hee's your fixed enemie; and reuoke Your suddaine approbation

Brut. Say you ne're had don't, (Harpe on that still) but by our putting on: And presently, when you haue drawne your number, Repaire toth' Capitoll

All. We will so: almost all repent in their election.

Exeunt. Plebeians.

Brut. Let them goe on: This Mutinie were better put in hazard, Then stay past doubt, for greater: If, as his nature is, he fall in rage With their refusall, both obserue and answer The vantage of his anger

Scicin. Toth' Capitoll, come: We will be there before the streame o'th' People: And this shall seeme, as partly 'tis, their owne, Which we haue goaded on-ward.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

Cornets. Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, all the Gentry, Cominius, Titus Latius, and other Senators.

Corio. Tullus Auffidius then had made new head

Latius. He had, my Lord, and that it was which caus'd Our swifter Composition

Corio. So then the Volces stand but as at first, Readie when time shall prompt them, to make roade Vpon's againe

Com. They are worne (Lord Consull) so, That we shall hardly in our ages see Their Banners waue againe

Corio. Saw you Auffidius? Latius. On safegard he came to me, and did curse Against the Volces, for they had so vildly Yeelded the Towne: he is retyred to Antium

Corio. Spoke he of me? Latius. He did, my Lord

Corio. How? what? Latius. How often he had met you Sword to Sword: That of all things vpon the Earth, he hated Your person most: That he would pawne his fortunes To hopelesse restitution, so he might Be call'd your Vanquisher

Corio. At Antium liues he? Latius. At Antium

Corio. I wish I had a cause to seeke him there, To oppose his hatred fully. Welcome home. Enter Scicinius and Brutus.

Behold, these are the Tribunes of the People, The Tongues o'th' Common Mouth. I do despise them: For they doe pranke them in Authoritie, Against all Noble sufferance

Scicin. Passe no further

Cor. Hah? what is that? Brut. It will be dangerous to goe on- No further

Corio. What makes this change? Menen. The matter? Com. Hath he not pass'd the Noble, and the Common? Brut. Cominius, no

Corio. Haue I had Childrens Voyces? Senat. Tribunes giue way, he shall toth' Market place

Brut. The People are incens'd against him

Scicin. Stop, or all will fall in broyle

Corio. Are these your Heard? Must these haue Voyces, that can yeeld them now, And straight disclaim their toungs? what are your Offices? You being their Mouthes, why rule you not their Teeth? Haue you not set them on? Mene. Be calme, be calme

Corio. It is a purpos'd thing, and growes by Plot, To curbe the will of the Nobilitie: Suffer't, and liue with such as cannot rule, Nor euer will be ruled

Brut. Call't not a Plot: The People cry you mockt them: and of late, When Corne was giuen them gratis, you repin'd, Scandal'd the Suppliants: for the People, call'd them Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to Noblenesse

Corio. Why this was knowne before

Brut. Not to them all

Corio. Haue you inform'd them sithence? Brut. How? I informe them? Com. You are like to doe such businesse

Brut. Not vnlike each way to better yours

Corio. Why then should I be Consull? by yond Clouds Let me deserue so ill as you, and make me Your fellow Tribune

Scicin. You shew too much of that, For which the People stirre: if you will passe To where you are bound, you must enquire your way, Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit, Or neuer be so Noble as a Consull, Nor yoake with him for Tribune

Mene. Let's be calme

Com. The People are abus'd: set on, this paltring Becomes not Rome: nor ha's Coriolanus Deseru'd this so dishonor'd Rub, layd falsely I'th' plaine Way of his Merit

Corio. Tell me of Corne: this was my speech, And I will speak't againe

Mene. Not now, not now

Senat. Not in this heat, Sir, now

Corio. Now as I liue, I will. My Nobler friends, I craue their pardons: For the mutable ranke-sented Meynie, Let them regard me, as I doe not flatter, And therein behold themselues: I say againe, In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our Senate The Cockle of Rebellion, Insolence, Sedition, Which we our selues haue plowed for, sow'd, & scatter'd, By mingling them with vs, the honor'd Number, Who lack not Vertue, no, nor Power, but that Which they haue giuen to Beggers

Mene. Well, no more

Senat. No more words, we beseech you

Corio. How? no more? As for my Country, I haue shed my blood, Not fearing outward force: So shall my Lungs Coine words till their decay, against those Meazels Which we disdaine should Tetter vs, yet sought The very way to catch them

Bru. You speake a'th' people, as if you were a God, To punish; Not a man, of their Infirmity

Sicin. 'Twere well we let the people know't

Mene. What, what? His Choller? Cor. Choller? Were I as patient as the midnight sleep, By Ioue, 'twould be my minde

Sicin. It is a minde that shall remain a poison Where it is: not poyson any further

Corio. Shall remaine? Heare you this Triton of the Minnoues? Marke you His absolute Shall? Com. 'Twas from the Cannon

Cor. Shall? O God! but most vnwise Patricians: why You graue, but wreaklesse Senators, haue you thus Giuen Hidra heere to choose an Officer, That with his peremptory Shall, being but The horne, and noise o'th' Monsters, wants not spirit To say, hee'l turne your Current in a ditch, And make your Channell his? If he haue power, Then vale your Ignorance: If none, awake Your dangerous Lenity: If you are Learn'd, Be not as common Fooles; if you are not, Let them haue Cushions by you. You are Plebeians, If they be Senators: and they are no lesse, When both your voices blended, the great'st taste Most pallates theirs. They choose their Magistrate, And such a one as he, who puts his Shall, His popular Shall, against a grauer Bench Then euer frown'd in Greece. By Ioue himselfe, It makes the Consuls base; and my Soule akes To know, when two Authorities are vp, Neither Supreame; How soone Confusion May enter 'twixt the gap of Both, and take The one by th' other

Com. Well, on to'th' Market place

Corio. Who euer gaue that Counsell, to giue forth The Corne a'th' Store-house gratis, as 'twas vs'd Sometime in Greece

Mene. Well, well, no more of that

Cor. Thogh there the people had more absolute powre I say they norisht disobedience: fed, the ruin of the State

Bru. Why shall the people giue One that speakes thus, their voyce? Corio. Ile giue my Reasons, More worthier then their Voyces. They know the Corne Was not our recompence, resting well assur'd They ne're did seruice for't; being prest to'th' Warre, Euen when the Nauell of the State was touch'd, They would not thred the Gates: This kinde of Seruice Did not deserue Corne gratis. Being i'th' Warre, There Mutinies and Reuolts, wherein they shew'd Most Valour spoke not for them. Th' Accusation Which they haue often made against the Senate, All cause vnborne, could neuer be the Natiue Of our so franke Donation. Well, what then? How shall this Bosome-multiplied, digest The Senates Courtesie? Let deeds expresse What's like to be their words, We did request it, We are the greater pole, and in true feare They gaue vs our demands. Thus we debase The Nature of our Seats, and make the Rabble Call our Cares, Feares; which will in time Breake ope the Lockes a'th' Senate, and bring in The Crowes to pecke the Eagles

Mene. Come enough

Bru. Enough, with ouer measure

Corio. No, take more. What may be sworne by, both Diuine and Humane, Seale what I end withall. This double worship, Whereon part do's disdaine with cause, the other Insult without all reason: where Gentry, Title, wisedom Cannot conclude, but by the yea and no Of generall Ignorance, it must omit Reall Necessities, and giue way the while To vnstable Slightnesse. Purpose so barr'd, it followes, Nothing is done to purpose. Therefore beseech you, You that will be lesse fearefull, then discreet, That loue the Fundamentall part of State More then you doubt the change on't: That preferre A Noble life, before a Long, and Wish, To iumpe a Body with a dangerous Physicke, That's sure of death without it: at once plucke out The Multitudinous Tongue, let them not licke The sweet which is their poyson. Your dishonor Mangles true iudgement, and bereaues the State Of that Integrity which should becom't: Not hauing the power to do the good it would For th' ill which doth controul't

Bru. Has said enough

Sicin. Ha's spoken like a Traitor, and shall answer As Traitors do

Corio. Thou wretch, despight ore-whelme thee: What should the people do with these bald Tribunes? On whom depending, their obedience failes To'th' greater Bench, in a Rebellion: When what's not meet, but what must be, was Law, Then were they chosen: in a better houre, Let what is meet, be saide it must be meet, And throw their power i'th' dust

Bru. Manifest Treason

Sicin. This a Consull? No. Enter an aedile.

Bru. The Ediles hoe: Let him be apprehended: Sicin. Go call the people, in whose name my Selfe Attach thee as a Traitorous Innouator: A Foe to'th' publike Weale. Obey I charge thee, And follow to thine answer

Corio. Hence old Goat

All. Wee'l Surety him

Com. Ag'd sir, hands off

Corio. Hence rotten thing, or I shall shake thy bones Out of thy Garments

Sicin. Helpe ye Citizens. Enter a rabble of Plebeians with the Aediles.

Mene. On both sides more respect

Sicin. Heere's hee, that would take from you all your power

Bru. Seize him Aediles

All. Downe with him, downe with him

2 Sen. Weapons, weapons, weapons:

They all bustle about Coriolanus.

Tribunes, Patricians, Citizens: what ho: Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, Citizens

All. Peace, peace, peace, stay, hold, peace

Mene. What is about to be? I am out of Breath, Confusions neere, I cannot speake. You, Tribunes To'th' people: Coriolanus, patience: Speak good Sicinius

Scici. Heare me, People peace

All. Let's here our Tribune: peace, speake, speake, speake

Scici. You are at point to lose your Liberties: Martius would haue all from you; Martius, Whom late you haue nam'd for Consull

Mene. Fie, fie, fie, this is the way to kindle, not to quench

Sena. To vnbuild the Citie, and to lay all flat

Scici. What is the Citie, but the People? All. True, the People are the Citie

Brut. By the consent of all, we were establish'd the Peoples Magistrates

All. You so remaine

Mene. And so are like to doe

Com. That is the way to lay the Citie flat, To bring the Roofe to the Foundation, And burie all, which yet distinctly raunges In heapes, and piles of Ruine

Scici. This deserues Death

Brut. Or let vs stand to our Authoritie, Or let vs lose it: we doe here pronounce, Vpon the part o'th' People, in whose power We were elected theirs, Martius is worthy Of present Death

Scici. Therefore lay hold of him: Beare him toth' Rock Tarpeian, and from thence Into destruction cast him

Brut. aediles seize him

All Ple. Yeeld Martius, yeeld

Mene. Heare me one word, 'beseech you Tribunes, heare me but a word

Aediles. Peace, peace

Mene. Be that you seeme, truly your Countries friend, And temp'rately proceed to what you would Thus violently redresse

Brut. Sir, those cold wayes, That seeme like prudent helpes, are very poysonous, Where the Disease is violent. Lay hands vpon him, And beare him to the Rock.

Corio. drawes his Sword.

Corio. No, Ile die here: There's some among you haue beheld me fighting, Come trie vpon your selues, what you haue seene me

Mene. Downe with that Sword, Tribunes withdraw a while

Brut. Lay hands vpon him

Mene. Helpe Martius, helpe: you that be noble, helpe him young and old

All. Downe with him, downe with him.

Exeunt.

In this Mutinie, the Tribunes, the aediles, and the People are beat in.

Mene. Goe, get you to our House: be gone, away. All will be naught else

2.Sena. Get you gone

Com. Stand fast, we haue as many friends as enemies

Mene. Shall it be put to that? Sena. The Gods forbid: I prythee noble friend, home to thy House, Leaue vs to cure this Cause

Mene. For 'tis a Sore vpon vs, You cannot Tent your selfe: be gone, 'beseech you

Corio. Come Sir, along with vs

Mene. I would they were Barbarians, as they are, Though in Rome litter'd: not Romans, as they are not, Though calued i'th' Porch o'th' Capitoll: Be gone, put not your worthy Rage into your Tongue, One time will owe another

Corio. On faire ground, I could beat fortie of them

Mene. I could my selfe take vp a Brace o'th' best of them, yea, the two Tribunes

Com. But now 'tis oddes beyond Arithmetick, And Manhood is call'd Foolerie, when it stands Against a falling Fabrick. Will you hence, Before the Tagge returne? whose Rage doth rend Like interrupted Waters, and o're-beare What they are vs'd to beare

Mene. Pray you be gone: Ile trie whether my old Wit be in request With those that haue but little: this must be patcht With Cloth of any Colour

Com. Nay, come away.

Exeunt. Coriolanus and Cominius.

Patri. This man ha's marr'd his fortune

Mene. His nature is too noble for the World: He would not flatter Neptune for his Trident, Or Ioue, for's power to Thunder: his Heart's his Mouth: What his Brest forges, that his Tongue must vent, And being angry, does forget that euer He heard the Name of Death.

A Noise within.

Here's goodly worke

Patri. I would they were a bed

Mene. I would they were in Tyber. What the vengeance, could he not speake 'em faire? Enter Brutus and Sicinius with the rabble againe.

Sicin. Where is this Viper, That would depopulate the city, & be euery man himself Mene. You worthy Tribunes

Sicin. He shall be throwne downe the Tarpeian rock With rigorous hands: he hath resisted Law, And therefore Law shall scorne him further Triall Then the seuerity of the publike Power, Which he so sets at naught

1 Cit. He shall well know the Noble Tribunes are The peoples mouths, and we their hands

All. He shall sure ont

Mene. Sir, sir

Sicin. Peace

Me. Do not cry hauocke, where you shold but hunt With modest warrant

Sicin. Sir, how com'st that you haue holpe To make this rescue? Mene. Heere me speake? As I do know The Consuls worthinesse, so can I name his Faults

Sicin. Consull? what Consull? Mene. The Consull Coriolanus

Bru. He Consull

All. No, no, no, no, no

Mene. If by the Tribunes leaue, And yours good people, I may be heard, I would craue a word or two, The which shall turne you to no further harme, Then so much losse of time

Sic. Speake breefely then, For we are peremptory to dispatch This Viporous Traitor: to eiect him hence Were but one danger, and to keepe him heere Our certaine death: therefore it is decreed, He dyes to night

Menen. Now the good Gods forbid, That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude Towards her deserued Children, is enroll'd In Ioues owne Booke, like an vnnaturall Dam Should now eate vp her owne

Sicin. He's a Disease that must be cut away

Mene. Oh he's a Limbe, that ha's but a Disease Mortall, to cut it off: to cure it, easie. What ha's he done to Rome, that's worthy death? Killing our Enemies, the blood he hath lost (Which I dare vouch, is more then that he hath By many an Ounce) he dropp'd it for his Country: And what is left, to loose it by his Countrey, Were to vs all that doo't, and suffer it A brand to th' end a'th World

Sicin. This is cleane kamme

Brut. Meerely awry: When he did loue his Country, it honour'd him

Menen. The seruice of the foote Being once gangren'd, is not then respected For what before it was

Bru. Wee'l heare no more: Pursue him to his house, and plucke him thence, Least his infection being of catching nature, Spred further

Menen. One word more, one word: This Tiger-footed-rage, when it shall find The harme of vnskan'd swiftnesse, will (too late) Tye Leaden pounds too's heeles. Proceed by Processe, Least parties (as he is belou'd) breake out, And sacke great Rome with Romanes

Brut. If it were so? Sicin. What do ye talke? Haue we not had a taste of his Obedience? Our Ediles smot: our selues resisted: come

Mene. Consider this: He ha's bin bred i'th' Warres Since a could draw a Sword, and is ill-school'd In boulted Language: Meale and Bran together He throwes without distinction. Giue me leaue, Ile go to him, and vndertake to bring him in peace, Where he shall answer by a lawfull Forme (In peace) to his vtmost perill

1.Sen. Noble Tribunes, It is the humane way: the other course Will proue to bloody: and the end of it, Vnknowne to the Beginning

Sic. Noble Menenius, be you then as the peoples officer: Masters, lay downe your Weapons

Bru. Go not home

Sic. Meet on the Market place: wee'l attend you there: Where if you bring not Martius, wee'l proceede In our first way

Menen. Ile bring him to you. Let me desire your company: he must come, Or what is worst will follow

Sena. Pray you let's to him.

Exeunt. Omnes.

Enter Coriolanus with Nobles.

Corio. Let them pull all about mine eares, present me Death on the Wheele, or at wilde Horses heeles, Or pile ten hilles on the Tarpeian Rocke, That the precipitation might downe stretch Below the beame of sight; yet will I still Be thus to them. Enter Volumnia.

Noble. You do the Nobler

Corio. I muse my Mother Do's not approue me further, who was wont To call them Wollen Vassailes, things created To buy and sell with Groats, to shew bare heads In Congregations, to yawne, be still, and wonder, When one but of my ordinance stood vp To speake of Peace, or Warre. I talke of you, Why did you wish me milder? Would you haue me False to my Nature? Rather say, I play The man I am

Volum. Oh sir, sir, sir, I would haue had you put your power well on Before you had worne it out

Corio. Let go

Vol. You might haue beene enough the man you are, With striuing lesse to be so: Lesser had bin The things of your dispositions, if You had not shew'd them how ye were dispos'd Ere they lack'd power to crosse you

Corio. Let them hang

Volum. I, and burne too. Enter Menenius with the Senators.

Men. Come, come, you haue bin too rough, somthing too rough: you must returne, and mend it

Sen. There's no remedy, Vnlesse by not so doing, our good Citie Cleaue in the midd'st, and perish

Volum. Pray be counsail'd; I haue a heart as little apt as yours, But yet a braine, that leades my vse of Anger To better vantage

Mene. Well said, Noble woman: Before he should thus stoope to'th' heart, but that The violent fit a'th' time craues it as Physicke For the whole State; I would put mine Armour on, Which I can scarsely beare

Corio. What must I do? Mene. Returne to th' Tribunes

Corio. Well, what then? what then? Mene. Repent, what you haue spoke

Corio. For them, I cannot do it to the Gods, Must I then doo't to them? Volum. You are too absolute, Though therein you can neuer be too Noble, But when extremities speake. I haue heard you say, Honor and Policy, like vnseuer'd Friends, I'th' Warre do grow together: Grant that, and tell me In Peace, what each of them by th' other loose, That they combine not there? Corio. Tush, tush

Mene. A good demand

Volum. If it be Honor in your Warres, to seeme The same you are not, which for your best ends You adopt your policy: How is it lesse or worse That it shall hold Companionship in Peace With Honour, as in Warre; since that to both It stands in like request

Corio. Why force you this? Volum. Because, that Now it lyes you on to speake to th' people: Not by your owne instruction, nor by'th' matter Which your heart prompts you, but with such words That are but roated in your Tongue; Though but Bastards, and Syllables Of no allowance, to your bosomes truth. Now, this no more dishonors you at all, Then to take in a Towne with gentle words, Which else would put you to your fortune, and The hazard of much blood. I would dissemble with my Nature, where My Fortunes and my Friends at stake, requir'd I should do so in Honor. I am in this Your Wife, your Sonne: These Senators, the Nobles, And you, will rather shew our generall Lowts, How you can frowne, then spend a fawne vpon 'em, For the inheritance of their loues, and safegard Of what that want might ruine

Menen. Noble Lady, Come goe with vs, speake faire: you may salue so, Not what is dangerous present, but the losse Of what is past

Volum. I prythee now, my Sonne, Goe to them, with this Bonnet in thy hand, And thus farre hauing stretcht it (here be with them) Thy Knee bussing the stones: for in such businesse

## Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th' ignorant

More learned then the eares, wauing thy head, Which often thus correcting thy stout heart, Now humble as the ripest Mulberry, That will not hold the handling: or say to them, Thou art their Souldier, and being bred in broyles, Hast not the soft way, which thou do'st confesse Were fit for thee to vse, as they to clayme, In asking their good loues, but thou wilt frame Thy selfe (forsooth) hereafter theirs so farre, As thou hast power and person

Menen. This but done, Euen as she speakes, why their hearts were yours: For they haue Pardons, being ask'd, as free, As words to little purpose

Volum. Prythee now, Goe, and be rul'd: although I know thou hadst rather Follow thine Enemie in a fierie Gulfe, Then flatter him in a Bower. Enter Cominius.

Here is Cominius

Com. I haue beene i'th' Market place: and Sir 'tis fit You make strong partie, or defend your selfe By calmenesse, or by absence: all's in anger

Menen. Onely faire speech

Com. I thinke 'twill serue, if he can thereto frame his spirit

Volum. He must, and will: Prythee now say you will, and goe about it

Corio. Must I goe shew them my vnbarb'd Sconce? Must I with my base Tongue giue to my Noble Heart A Lye, that it must beare well? I will doo't: Yet were there but this single Plot, to loose This Mould of Martius, they to dust should grinde it, And throw't against the Winde. Toth' Market place: You haue put me now to such a part, which neuer I shall discharge toth' Life

Com. Come, come, wee'le prompt you

Volum. I prythee now sweet Son, as thou hast said My praises made thee first a Souldier; so To haue my praise for this, performe a part Thou hast not done before

Corio. Well, I must doo't: Away my disposition, and possesse me Some Harlots spirit: My throat of Warre be turn'd, Which quier'd with my Drumme into a Pipe, Small as an Eunuch, or the Virgin voyce That Babies lull a-sleepe: The smiles of Knaues Tent in my cheekes, and Schoole-boyes Teares take vp The Glasses of my sight: A Beggars Tongue Make motion through my Lips, and my Arm'd knees Who bow'd but in my Stirrop, bend like his That hath receiu'd an Almes. I will not doo't, Least I surcease to honor mine owne truth, And by my Bodies action, teach my Minde A most inherent Basenesse

Volum. At thy choice then: To begge of thee, it is my more dis-honor, Then thou of them. Come all to ruine, let Thy Mother rather feele thy Pride, then feare Thy dangerous Stoutnesse: for I mocke at death With as bigge heart as thou. Do as thou list, Thy Valiantnesse was mine, thou suck'st it from me: But owe thy Pride thy selfe

Corio. Pray be content: Mother, I am going to the Market place: Chide me no more. Ile Mountebanke their Loues, Cogge their Hearts from them, and come home belou'd Of all the Trades in Rome. Looke, I am going: Commend me to my Wife, Ile returne Consull, Or neuer trust to what my Tongue can do I'th way of Flattery further

Volum. Do your will.

Exit Volumnia

Com. Away, the Tribunes do attend you: arm your self To answer mildely: for they are prepar'd With Accusations, as I heare more strong Then are vpon you yet

Corio. The word is, Mildely. Pray you let vs go, Let them accuse me by inuention: I Will answer in mine Honor

Menen. I, but mildely

Corio. Well mildely be it then, Mildely.

Exeunt.

Enter Sicinius and Brutus.

Bru. In this point charge him home, that he affects Tyrannicall power: If he euade vs there, Inforce him with his enuy to the people, And that the Spoile got on the Antiats Was ne're distributed. What, will he come? Enter an Edile.

Edile. Hee's comming

Bru. How accompanied? Edile. With old Menenius, and those Senators That alwayes fauour'd him

Sicin. Haue you a Catalogue Of all the Voices that we haue procur'd, set downe by'th Pole? Edile. I haue: 'tis ready

Sicin. Haue you collected them by Tribes? Edile. I haue

Sicin. Assemble presently the people hither: And when they heare me say, it shall be so, I'th' right and strength a'th' Commons: be it either For death, for fine, or Banishment, then let them If I say Fine, cry Fine; if Death, cry Death, Insisting on the olde prerogatiue And power i'th Truth a'th Cause

Edile. I shall informe them

Bru. And when such time they haue begun to cry, Let them not cease, but with a dinne confus'd Inforce the present Execution Of what we chance to Sentence

Edi. Very well

Sicin. Make them be strong, and ready for this hint When we shall hap to giu't them

Bru. Go about it, Put him to Choller straite, he hath bene vs'd Euer to conquer, and to haue his worth Of contradiction. Being once chaft, he cannot Be rein'd againe to Temperance, then he speakes What's in his heart, and that is there which lookes With vs to breake his necke. Enter Coriolanus, Menenius, and Cominius, with others.

Sicin. Well, heere he comes

Mene. Calmely, I do beseech you

Corio. I, as an Hostler, that fourth poorest peece Will beare the Knaue by'th Volume: Th' honor'd Goddes Keepe Rome in safety, and the Chaires of Iustice Supplied with worthy men, plant loue amongs Through our large Temples with y shewes of peace And not our streets with Warre

1 Sen. Amen, Amen

Mene. A Noble wish. Enter the Edile with the Plebeians.

Sicin. Draw neere ye people

Edile. List to your Tribunes. Audience: Peace I say

Corio. First heare me speake

Both Tri. Well, say: Peace hoe

Corio. Shall I be charg'd no further then this present? Must all determine heere? Sicin. I do demand, If you submit you to the peoples voices, Allow their Officers, and are content To suffer lawfull Censure for such faults As shall be prou'd vpon you

Corio. I am Content

Mene. Lo Citizens, he sayes he is Content. The warlike Seruice he ha's done, consider: Thinke Vpon the wounds his body beares, which shew Like Graues i'th holy Church-yard

Corio. Scratches with Briars, scarres to moue Laughter onely

Mene. Consider further: That when he speakes not like a Citizen, You finde him like a Soldier: do not take His rougher Actions for malicious sounds: But as I say, such as become a Soldier, Rather then enuy you

Com. Well, well, no more

Corio. What is the matter, That being past for Consull with full voyce: I am so dishonour'd, that the very houre You take it off againe

Sicin. Answer to vs

Corio. Say then: 'tis true, I ought so Sicin. We charge you, that you haue contriu'd to take From Rome all season'd Office, and to winde Your selfe into a power tyrannicall, For which you are a Traitor to the people

Corio. How? Traytor? Mene. Nay temperately: your promise

Corio. The fires i'th' lowest hell. Fould in the people: Call me their Traitor, thou iniurious Tribune. Within thine eyes sate twenty thousand deaths In thy hands clutcht: as many Millions in Thy lying tongue, both numbers. I would say Thou lyest vnto thee, with a voice as free, As I do pray the Gods

Sicin. Marke you this people? All. To'th' Rocke, to'th' Rocke with him

Sicin. Peace: We neede not put new matter to his charge: What you haue seene him do, and heard him speake: Beating your Officers, cursing your selues, Opposing Lawes with stroakes, and heere defying Those whose great power must try him. Euen this so criminall, and in such capitall kinde Deserues th' extreamest death

Bru. But since he hath seru'd well for Rome

Corio. What do you prate of Seruice

Brut. I talke of that, that know it

Corio. You? Mene. Is this the promise that you made your mother

Com. Know, I pray you

Corio. Ile know no further: Let them pronounce the steepe Tarpeian death, Vagabond exile, Fleaing, pent to linger But with a graine a day, I would not buy Their mercie, at the price of one faire word, Nor checke my Courage for what they can giue, To haue't with saying, Good morrow

Sicin. For that he ha's (As much as in him lies) from time to time Enui'd against the people; seeking meanes To plucke away their power: as now at last, Giuen Hostile strokes, and that not in the presence Of dreaded Iustice, but on the Ministers That doth distribute it. In the name a'th' people, And in the power of vs the Tribunes, wee (Eu'n from this instant) banish him our Citie In perill of precipitation From off the Rocke Tarpeian, neuer more To enter our Rome gates. I'th' Peoples name, I say it shall bee so

All. It shall be so, it shall be so: let him away: Hee's banish'd, and it shall be so

Com. Heare me my Masters, and my common friends

Sicin. He's sentenc'd: No more hearing

Com. Let me speake: I haue bene Consull, and can shew from Rome Her Enemies markes vpon me. I do loue My Countries good, with a respect more tender, More holy, and profound, then mine owne life, My deere Wiues estimate, her wombes encrease, And treasure of my Loynes: then if I would Speake that

Sicin. We know your drift. Speake what? Bru. There's no more to be said, but he is banish'd As Enemy to the people, and his Countrey. It shall bee so

All. It shall be so, it shall be so

Corio. You common cry of Curs, whose breath I hate, As reeke a'th' rotten Fennes: whose Loues I prize, As the dead Carkasses of vnburied men, That do corrupt my Ayre: I banish you, And heere remaine with your vncertaintie. Let euery feeble Rumor shake your hearts: Your Enemies, with nodding of their Plumes Fan you into dispaire: Haue the power still To banish your Defenders, till at length Your ignorance (which findes not till it feeles, Making but reseruation of your selues, Still your owne Foes) deliuer you As most abated Captiues, to some Nation That wonne you without blowes, despising For you the City. Thus I turne my backe; There is a world elsewhere.

Exeunt. Coriolanus, Cominius, with Cumalijs. They all shout, and throw vp their Caps.

Edile. The peoples Enemy is gone, is gone

All. Our enemy is banish'd, he is gone: Hoo, oo

Sicin. Go see him out at Gates, and follow him As he hath follow'd you, with all despight Giue him deseru'd vexation. Let a guard Attend vs through the City

All. Come, come, lets see him out at gates, come: The Gods preserue our Noble Tribunes, come.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, Menenius, Cominius, with the yong Nobility of Rome.

Corio. Come leaue your teares: a brief farwel: the beast With many heads butts me away. Nay Mother, Where is your ancient Courage? You were vs'd To say, Extreamities was the trier of spirits, That common chances. Common men could beare, That when the Sea was calme, all Boats alike Shew'd Mastership in floating. Fortunes blowes, When most strooke home, being gentle wounded, craues A Noble cunning. You were vs'd to load me With Precepts that would make inuincible The heart that conn'd them

Virg. Oh heauens! O heauens! Corio. Nay, I prythee woman

Vol. Now the Red Pestilence strike al Trades in Rome, And Occupations perish

Corio. What, what, what: I shall be lou'd when I am lack'd. Nay Mother, Resume that Spirit, when you were wont to say, If you had beene the Wife of Hercules, Six of his Labours youl'd haue done, and sau'd Your Husband so much swet. Cominius, Droope not, Adieu: Farewell my Wife, my Mother, Ile do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius, Thy teares are salter then a yonger mans, And venomous to thine eyes. My (sometime) Generall, I haue seene the Sterne, and thou hast oft beheld Heart-hardning spectacles. Tell these sad women, Tis fond to waile ineuitable strokes, As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My Mother, you wot well My hazards still haue beene your solace, and Beleeu't not lightly, though I go alone Like to a lonely Dragon, that his Fenne Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more then seene: your Sonne Will or exceed the Common, or be caught With cautelous baits and practice

Volum. My first sonne, Whether will thou go? Take good Cominius With thee awhile: Determine on some course More then a wilde exposture, to each chance That starts i'th' way before thee

Corio. O the Gods! Com. Ile follow thee a Moneth, deuise with thee Where thou shalt rest, that thou may'st heare of vs, And we of thee. So if the time thrust forth A cause for thy Repeale, we shall not send O're the vast world, to seeke a single man, And loose aduantage, which doth euer coole Ith' absence of the needer

Corio. Fare ye well: Thou hast yeares vpon thee, and thou art too full Of the warres surfets, to go roue with one That's yet vnbruis'd: bring me but out at gate. Come my sweet wife, my deerest Mother, and My Friends of Noble touch: when I am forth, Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you come: While I remaine aboue the ground, you shall Heare from me still, and neuer of me ought But what is like me formerly

Menen. That's worthily As any eare can heare. Come, let's not weepe, If I could shake off but one seuen yeeres From these old armes and legges, by the good Gods I'ld with thee, euery foot

Corio. Giue me thy hand, come.

Exeunt.

Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brutus, with the Edile.

Sicin. Bid them all home, he's gone: & wee'l no further, The Nobility are vexed, whom we see haue sided In his behalfe

Brut. Now we haue shewne our power, Let vs seeme humbler after it is done, Then when it was a dooing

Sicin. Bid them home: say their great enemy is gone, And they, stand in their ancient strength

Brut. Dismisse them home. Here comes his Mother. Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Menenius.

Sicin. Let's not meet her

Brut. Why? Sicin. They say she's mad

Brut. They haue tane note of vs: keepe on your way

Volum. Oh y'are well met: Th' hoorded plague a'th' Gods requit your loue

Menen. Peace, peace, be not so loud

Volum. If that I could for weeping, you should heare, Nay, and you shall heare some. Will you be gone? Virg. You shall stay too: I would I had the power To say so to my Husband

Sicin. Are you mankinde? Volum. I foole, is that a shame. Note but this Foole, Was not a man my Father? Had'st thou Foxship To banish him that strooke more blowes for Rome Then thou hast spoken words

Sicin. Oh blessed Heauens! Volum. Moe Noble blowes, then euer y wise words. And for Romes good, Ile tell thee what: yet goe: Nay but thou shalt stay too: I would my Sonne Were in Arabia, and thy Tribe before him, His good Sword in his hand

Sicin. What then? Virg. When then? Hee'ld make an end of thy posterity Volum. Bastards, and all. Good man, the Wounds that he does beare for Rome! Menen. Come, come, peace

Sicin. I would he had continued to his Country As he began, and not vnknit himselfe The Noble knot he made

Bru. I would he had

Volum. I would he had? Twas thou incenst the rable. Cats, that can iudge as fitly of his worth, As I can of those Mysteries which heauen Will not haue earth to know

Brut. Pray let's go

Volum. Now pray sir get you gone. You haue done a braue deede: Ere you go, heare this: As farre as doth the Capitoll exceede The meanest house in Rome; so farre my Sonne This Ladies Husband heere; this (do you see) Whom you haue banish'd, does exceed you all

Bru. Well, well, wee'l leaue you

Sicin. Why stay we to be baited With one that wants her Wits.

Exit Tribunes.

Volum. Take my Prayers with you. I would the Gods had nothing else to do, But to confirme my Cursses. Could I meete 'em But once a day, it would vnclogge my heart Of what lyes heauy too't

Mene. You haue told them home, And by my troth you haue cause: you'l Sup with me

Volum. Angers my Meate: I suppe vpon my selfe, And so shall sterue with Feeding: come, let's go, Leaue this faint-puling, and lament as I do, In Anger, Iuno-like: Come, come, come.

Exeunt.

Mene. Fie, fie, fie. Enter.

Enter a Roman, and a Volce.

Rom. I know you well sir, and you know mee: your name I thinke is Adrian

Volce. It is so sir, truly I haue forgot you

Rom. I am a Roman, and my Seruices are as you are, against 'em. Know you me yet

Volce. Nicanor: no

Rom. The same sir

Volce. You had more Beard when I last saw you, but your Fauour is well appear'd by your Tongue. What's the Newes in Rome: I haue a Note from the Volcean state to finde you out there. You haue well saued mee a dayes iourney

Rom. There hath beene in Rome straunge Insurrections: The people, against the Senatours, Patricians, and Nobles

Vol. Hath bin; is it ended then? Our State thinks not so, they are in a most warlike preparation, & hope to com vpon them, in the heate of their diuision Rom. The maine blaze of it is past, but a small thing would make it flame againe. For the Nobles receyue so to heart, the Banishment of that worthy Coriolanus, that they are in a ripe aptnesse, to take al power from the people, and to plucke from them their Tribunes for euer. This lyes glowing I can tell you, and is almost mature for the violent breaking out

Vol. Coriolanus Banisht? Rom. Banish'd sir

Vol. You will be welcome with this intelligence Nicanor

Rom. The day serues well for them now. I haue heard it saide, the fittest time to corrupt a mans Wife, is when shee's falne out with her Husband. Your Noble Tullus Auffidius will appeare well in these Warres, his great Opposer Coriolanus being now in no request of his countrey

Volce. He cannot choose: I am most fortunate, thus accidentally to encounter you. You haue ended my Businesse, and I will merrily accompany you home

Rom. I shall betweene this and Supper, tell you most strange things from Rome: all tending to the good of their Aduersaries. Haue you an Army ready say you? Vol. A most Royall one: The Centurions, and their charges distinctly billetted already in th' entertainment, and to be on foot at an houres warning

Rom. I am ioyfull to heare of their readinesse, and am the man I thinke, that shall set them in present Action. So sir, heartily well met, and most glad of your Company

Volce. You take my part from me sir, I haue the most cause to be glad of yours

Rom. Well, let vs go together.

Exeunt.

Enter Coriolanus in meane Apparrell, disguisd, and muffled.

Corio. A goodly City is this Antium. Citty, 'Tis I that made thy Widdowes: Many an heyre Of these faire Edifices fore my Warres Haue I heard groane, and drop: Then know me not, Least that thy Wiues with Spits, and Boyes with stones In puny Battell slay me. Saue you sir. Enter a Citizen.

Cit. And you

Corio. Direct me, if it be your will, where great Auffidius lies: Is he in Antium? Cit. He is, and Feasts the Nobles of the State, at his house this night

Corio. Which is his house, beseech you? Cit. This heere before you

Corio. Thanke you sir, farewell.

Exit Citizen

Oh World, thy slippery turnes! Friends now fast sworn, Whose double bosomes seemes to weare one heart, Whose Houres, whose Bed, whose Meale and Exercise Are still together: who Twin (as 'twere) in Loue, Vnseparable, shall within this houre, On a dissention of a Doit, breake out To bitterest Enmity: So fellest Foes, Whose Passions, and whose Plots haue broke their sleep To take the one the other, by some chance, Some tricke not worth an Egge, shall grow deere friends And inter-ioyne their yssues. So with me, My Birth-place haue I, and my loues vpon This Enemie Towne: Ile enter, if he slay me He does faire Iustice: if he giue me way, Ile do his Country Seruice.

Enter.

Musicke playes. Enter a Seruingman.

1 Ser. Wine, Wine, Wine: What seruice is heere? I thinke our Fellowes are asleepe.

Enter another Seruingman.

2 Ser. Where's Cotus: my M[aster]. cals for him: Cotus.

Exit

Enter Coriolanus.

Corio. A goodly House: The Feast smels well: but I appeare not like a Guest. Enter the first Seruingman.

1 Ser. What would you haue Friend? whence are you? Here's no place for you: pray go to the doore?

Exit

Corio. I haue deseru'd no better entertainment, in being Coriolanus. Enter second Seruant.

2 Ser. Whence are you sir? Ha's the Porter his eyes in his head, that he giues entrance to such Companions? Pray get you out

Corio. Away

2 Ser. Away? Get you away

Corio. Now th'art troublesome

2 Ser. Are you so braue: Ile haue you talkt with anon Enter 3 Seruingman, the 1 meets him.

3 What Fellowes this? 1 A strange one as euer I look'd on: I cannot get him out o'thhouse: Prythee call my Master to him

3 What haue you to do here fellow? Pray you auoid the house

Corio. Let me but stand, I will not hurt your Harth

3 What are you? Corio. A Gentleman

3 A maru'llous poore one

Corio. True, so I am

3 Pray you poore Gentleman, take vp some other station: Heere's no place for you, pray you auoid: Come

Corio. Follow your Function, go, and batten on colde bits.

Pushes him away from him.

3 What you will not? Prythee tell my Maister what a strange Guest he ha's heere

2 And I shall.

Exit second Seruingman.

3 Where dwel'st thou? Corio. Vnder the Canopy

3 Vnder the Canopy? Corio. I

3 Where's that? Corio. I'th City of Kites and crowes

3 I'th City of Kites and Crowes? What an Asse it is, then thou dwel'st with Dawes too? Corio. No, I serue not thy Master

3 How sir? Do you meddle with my Master? Corio. I, tis an honester seruice, then to meddle with thy Mistris: Thou prat'st, and prat'st, serue with thy trencher: Hence.

Beats him away

Enter Auffidius with the Seruingman.

Auf. Where is this Fellow? 2 Here sir, I'de haue beaten him like a dogge, but for disturbing the Lords within

Auf. Whence com'st thou? What wouldst y? Thy name? Why speak'st not? Speake man: What's thy name? Corio. If Tullus not yet thou know'st me, and seeing me, dost not thinke me for the man I am, necessitie commands me name my selfe

Auf. What is thy name? Corio. A name vnmusicall to the Volcians eares, And harsh in sound to thine

Auf. Say, what's thy name? Thou hast a Grim apparance, and thy Face Beares a Command in't: Though thy Tackles torne, Thou shew'st a Noble Vessell: What's thy name? Corio. Prepare thy brow to frowne: knowst y me yet? Auf. I know thee not? Thy Name: Corio. My name is Caius Martius, who hath done To thee particularly, and to all the Volces Great hurt and Mischiefe: thereto witnesse may My Surname Coriolanus. The painfull Seruice, The extreme Dangers, and the droppes of Blood Shed for my thanklesse Country, are requitted: But with that Surname, a good memorie And witnesse of the Malice and Displeasure Which thou should'st beare me, only that name remains. The Cruelty and Enuy of the people, Permitted by our dastard Nobles, who Haue all forsooke me, hath deuour'd the rest: And suffer'd me by th' voyce of Slaues to be Hoop'd out of Rome. Now this extremity, Hath brought me to thy Harth, not out of Hope (Mistake me not) to saue my life: for if I had fear'd death, of all the Men i'th' World I would haue voided thee. But in meere spight To be full quit of those my Banishers, Stand I before thee heere: Then if thou hast A heart of wreake in thee, that wilt reuenge Thine owne particular wrongs, and stop those maimes Of shame seene through thy Country, speed thee straight And make my misery serue thy turne: So vse it, That my reuengefull Seruices may proue As Benefits to thee. For I will fight Against my Cankred Countrey, with the Spleene Of all the vnder Fiends. But if so be, Thou dar'st not this, and that to proue more Fortunes Th'art tyr'd, then in a word, I also am Longer to liue most wearie: and present My throat to thee, and to thy Ancient Malice: Which not to cut, would shew thee but a Foole, Since I haue euer followed thee with hate, Drawne Tunnes of Blood out of thy Countries brest, And cannot liue but to thy shame, vnlesse It be to do thee seruice

Auf. Oh Martius, Martius; Each word thou hast spoke, hath weeded from my heart A roote of Ancient Enuy. If Iupiter Should from yond clowd speake diuine things, And say 'tis true; I'de not beleeue them more Then thee all-Noble Martius. Let me twine Mine armes about that body, where against My grained Ash an hundred times hath broke, And scarr'd the Moone with splinters: heere I cleep The Anuile of my Sword, and do contest As hotly, and as Nobly with thy Loue, As euer in Ambitious strength, I did Contend against thy Valour. Know thou first, I lou'd the Maid I married: neuer man Sigh'd truer breath. But that I see thee heere Thou Noble thing, more dances my rapt heart, Then when I first my wedded Mistris saw Bestride my Threshold. Why, thou Mars I tell thee, We haue a Power on foote: and I had purpose Once more to hew thy Target from thy Brawne, Or loose mine Arme for't: Thou hast beate mee out Twelue seuerall times, and I haue nightly since Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thy selfe and me: We haue beene downe together in my sleepe, Vnbuckling Helmes, fisting each others Throat, And wak'd halfe dead with nothing. Worthy Martius, Had we no other quarrell else to Rome, but that Thou art thence Banish'd, we would muster all From twelue, to seuentie: and powring Warre Into the bowels of vngratefull Rome, Like a bold Flood o're-beate. Oh come, go in, And take our friendly Senators by'th' hands Who now are heere, taking their leaues of mee, Who am prepar'd against your Territories, Though not for Rome it selfe

Corio. You blesse me Gods

Auf. Therefore most absolute Sir, if thou wilt haue The leading of thine owne Reuenges, take Th' one halfe of my Commission, and set downe As best thou art experienc'd, since thou know'st Thy Countries strength and weaknesse, thine own waies Whether to knocke against the Gates of Rome, Or rudely visit them in parts remote, To fright them, ere destroy. But come in, Let me commend thee first, to those that shall Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes, And more a Friend, then ere an Enemie, Yet Martius that was much. Your hand: most welcome.

Exeunt.

Enter two of the Seruingmen.

1 Heere's a strange alteration? 2 By my hand, I had thoght to haue stroken him with a Cudgell, and yet my minde gaue me, his cloathes made a false report of him

1 What an Arme he has, he turn'd me about with his finger and his thumbe, as one would set vp a Top

2 Nay, I knew by his face that there was some-thing in him. He had sir, a kinde of face me thought, I cannot tell how to tearme it

1 He had so, looking as it were, would I were hang'd but I thought there was more in him, then I could think

2 So did I, Ile be sworne: He is simply the rarest man i'th' world

1 I thinke he is: but a greater soldier then he, You wot one

2 Who my Master? 1 Nay, it's no matter for that

2 Worth six on him

1 Nay not so neither: but I take him to be the greater Souldiour

2 Faith looke you, one cannot tell how to say that: for the Defence of a Towne, our Generall is excellent

1 I, and for an assault too. Enter the third Seruingman.

3 Oh Slaues, I can tell you Newes, News you Rascals Both. What, what, what? Let's partake

3 I would not be a Roman of all Nations; I had as liue be a condemn'd man

Both. Wherefore? Wherefore? 3 Why here's he that was wont to thwacke our Generall, Caius Martius

1 Why do you say, thwacke our Generall? 3 I do not say thwacke our Generall, but he was alwayes good enough for him 2 Come we are fellowes and friends: he was euer too hard for him, I haue heard him say so himselfe

1 He was too hard for him directly, to say the Troth on't before Corioles, he scotcht him, and notcht him like a Carbinado

2 And hee had bin Cannibally giuen, hee might haue boyld and eaten him too

1 But more of thy Newes

3 Why he is so made on heere within, as if hee were Son and Heire to Mars, set at vpper end o'th' Table: No question askt him by any of the Senators, but they stand bald before him. Our Generall himselfe makes a Mistris of him, Sanctifies himselfe with's hand, and turnes vp the white o'th' eye to his Discourse. But the bottome of the Newes is, our Generall is cut i'th' middle, & but one halfe of what he was yesterday. For the other ha's halfe, by the intreaty and graunt of the whole Table. Hee'l go he sayes, and sole the Porter of Rome Gates by th' eares. He will mowe all downe before him, and leaue his passage poul'd

2 And he's as like to do't, as any man I can imagine

3 Doo't? he will doo't: for look you sir, he has as many Friends as Enemies: which Friends sir as it were, durst not (looke you sir) shew themselues (as we terme it) his Friends, whilest he's in Directitude

1 Directitude? What's that? 3 But when they shall see sir, his Crest vp againe, and the man in blood, they will out of their Burroughes (like Conies after Raine) and reuell all with him

1 But when goes this forward: 3 To morrow, to day, presently, you shall haue the Drum strooke vp this afternoone: 'Tis as it were a parcel of their Feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips

2 Why then wee shall haue a stirring World againe: This peace is nothing, but to rust Iron, encrease Taylors, and breed Ballad-makers

1 Let me haue Warre say I, it exceeds peace as farre as day do's night: It's sprightly walking, audible, and full of Vent. Peace, is a very Apoplexy, Lethargie, mull'd, deafe, sleepe, insensible, a getter of more bastard Children, then warres a destroyer of men

2 'Tis so, and as warres in some sort may be saide to be a Rauisher, so it cannot be denied, but peace is a great maker of Cuckolds

1 I, and it makes men hate one another

3 Reason, because they then lesse neede one another: The Warres for my money. I hope to see Romanes as cheape as Volcians. They are rising, they are rising

Both. In, in, in, in.

Exeunt.

Enter the two Tribunes, Sicinius, and Brutus.

Sicin. We heare not of him, neither need we fear him, His remedies are tame, the present peace, And quietnesse of the people, which before Were in wilde hurry. Heere do we make his Friends Blush, that the world goes well: who rather had, Though they themselues did suffer by't, behold Dissentious numbers pestring streets, then see Our Tradesmen singing in their shops, and going About their Functions friendly. Enter Menenius.

Bru. We stood too't in good time. Is this Menenius? Sicin. 'Tis he, 'tis he: O he is grown most kind of late: Haile Sir

Mene. Haile to you both

Sicin. Your Coriolanus is not much mist, but with his Friends: the Commonwealth doth stand, and so would do, were he more angry at it

Mene. All's well, and might haue bene much better, if he could haue temporiz'd

Sicin. Where is he, heare you? Mene. Nay I heare nothing: His Mother and his wife, heare nothing from him. Enter three or foure Citizens.

All. The Gods preserue you both

Sicin. Gooden our Neighbours

Bru. Gooden to you all, gooden to you all

1 Our selues, our wiues, and children, on our knees, Are bound to pray for you both

Sicin. Liue, and thriue

Bru. Farewell kinde Neighbours: We wisht Coriolanus had lou'd you as we did

All. Now the Gods keepe you

Both Tri. Farewell, farewell.

Exeunt. Citizens

Sicin. This is a happier and more comely time, Then when these Fellowes ran about the streets, Crying Confusion

Bru. Caius Martius was A worthy Officer i'th' Warre, but Insolent, O'recome with Pride, Ambitious, past all thinking Selfe-louing

Sicin. And affecting one sole Throne, without assista[n]ce Mene. I thinke not so

Sicin. We should by this, to all our Lamention, If he had gone forth Consull, found it so

Bru. The Gods haue well preuented it, and Rome Sits safe and still, without him. Enter an aedile.

Aedile. Worthy Tribunes, There is a Slaue whom we haue put in prison, Reports the Volces with two seuerall Powers Are entred in the Roman Territories, And with the deepest malice of the Warre, Destroy, what lies before' em

Mene. 'Tis Auffidius, Who hearing of our Martius Banishment, Thrusts forth his hornes againe into the world Which were In-shell'd, when Martius stood for Rome, And durst not once peepe out

Sicin. Come, what talke you of Martius

Bru. Go see this Rumorer whipt, it cannot be, The Volces dare breake with vs

Mene. Cannot be? We haue Record, that very well it can, And three examples of the like, hath beene Within my Age. But reason with the fellow Before you punish him, where he heard this, Least you shall chance to whip your Information, And beate the Messenger, who bids beware Of what is to be dreaded

Sicin. Tell not me: I know this cannot be

Bru. Not possible. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. The Nobles in great earnestnesse are going All to the Senate-house: some newes is comming That turnes their Countenances

Sicin. 'Tis this Slaue: Go whip him fore the peoples eyes: His raising, Nothing but his report

Mes. Yes worthy Sir, The Slaues report is seconded, and more More fearfull is deliuer'd

Sicin. What more fearefull? Mes. It is spoke freely out of many mouths, How probable I do not know, that Martius Ioyn'd with Auffidius, leads a power 'gainst Rome, And vowes Reuenge as spacious, as betweene The yong'st and oldest thing

Sicin. This is most likely

Bru. Rais'd onely, that the weaker sort may wish Good Martius home againe

Sicin. The very tricke on't

Mene. This is vnlikely, He, and Auffidius can no more attone Then violent'st Contrariety. Enter Messenger.

Mes. You are sent for to the Senate: A fearefull Army, led by Caius Martius, Associated with Auffidius, Rages Vpon our Territories, and haue already O're-borne their way, consum'd with fire, and tooke What lay before them. Enter Cominius.

Com. Oh you haue made good worke

Mene. What newes? What newes? Com. You haue holp to rauish your owne daughters, & To melt the Citty Leades vpon your pates, To see your Wiues dishonour'd to your Noses

Mene. What's the newes? What's the newes? Com. Your Temples burned in their Ciment, and Your Franchises, whereon you stood, confin'd Into an Augors boare

Mene. Pray now, your Newes: You haue made faire worke I feare me: pray your newes, If Martius should be ioyn'd with Volceans

Com. If? He is their God, he leads them like a thing Made by some other Deity then Nature, That shapes man Better: and they follow him Against vs Brats, with no lesse Confidence, Then Boyes pursuing Summer Butter-flies, Or Butchers killing Flyes

Mene. You haue made good worke, You and your Apron men: you, that stood so much Vpon the voyce of occupation, and The breath of Garlicke-eaters

Com. Hee'l shake your Rome about your eares

Mene. As Hercules did shake downe Mellow Fruite: You haue made faire worke

Brut. But is this true sir? Com. I, and you'l looke pale Before you finde it other. All the Regions Do smilingly Reuolt, and who resists Are mock'd for valiant Ignorance, And perish constant Fooles: who is't can blame him? Your Enemies and his, finde something in him

Mene. We are all vndone, vnlesse The Noble man haue mercy

Com. Who shall aske it? The Tribunes cannot doo't for shame; the people Deserue such pitty of him, as the Wolfe Doe's of the Shepheards: For his best Friends, if they Should say be good to Rome, they charg'd him, euen As those should do that had deseru'd his hate, And therein shew'd like Enemies

Me. 'Tis true, if he were putting to my house, the brand That should consume it, I haue not the face To say, beseech you cease. You haue made faire hands, You and your Crafts, you haue crafted faire

Com. You haue brought A Trembling vpon Rome, such as was neuer S' incapeable of helpe

Tri. Say not, we brought it

Mene. How? Was't we? We lou'd him, But like Beasts, and Cowardly Nobles, Gaue way vnto your Clusters, who did hoote Him out o'th' Citty

Com. But I feare They'l roare him in againe. Tullus Affidius, The second name of men, obeyes his points As if he were his Officer: Desperation, Is all the Policy, Strength, and Defence That Rome can make against them. Enter a Troope of Citizens.

Mene. Heere come the Clusters. And is Auffidius with him? You are they That made the Ayre vnwholsome, when you cast Your stinking, greasie Caps, in hooting At Coriolanus Exile. Now he's comming, And not a haire vpon a Souldiers head Which will not proue a whip: As many Coxcombes As you threw Caps vp, will he tumble downe, And pay you for your voyces. 'Tis no matter, If he could burne vs all into one coale, We haue deseru'd it

Omnes. Faith, we heare fearfull Newes

1 Cit. For mine owne part, When I said banish him, I said 'twas pitty

2 And so did I

3 And so did I: and to say the truth, so did very many of vs, that we did we did for the best, and though wee willingly consented to his Banishment, yet it was against our will

Com. Y'are goodly things, you Voyces

Mene. You haue made good worke You and your cry. Shal's to the Capitoll? Com. Oh I, what else?

Exeunt. both.

Sicin. Go Masters get you home, be not dismaid, These are a Side, that would be glad to haue This true, which they so seeme to feare. Go home, And shew no signe of Feare

1 Cit. The Gods bee good to vs: Come Masters let's home, I euer said we were i'th wrong, when we banish'd him

2 Cit. So did we all. But come, let's home.

Exit Cit.

Bru. I do not like this Newes

Sicin. Nor I

Bru. Let's to the Capitoll: would halfe my wealth Would buy this for a lye

Sicin. Pray let's go.

Exeunt. Tribunes.

Enter Auffidius with his Lieutenant.

Auf. Do they still flye to'th' Roman? Lieu. I do not know what Witchcraft's in him: but Your Soldiers vse him as the Grace 'fore meate, Their talke at Table, and their Thankes at end, And you are darkned in this action Sir, Euen by your owne

Auf. I cannot helpe it now, Vnlesse by vsing meanes I lame the foote Of our designe. He beares himselfe more proudlier, Euen to my person, then I thought he would When first I did embrace him. Yet his Nature In that's no Changeling, and I must excuse What cannot be amended

Lieu. Yet I wish Sir, (I meane for your particular) you had not Ioyn'd in Commission with him: but either haue borne The action of your selfe, or else to him, had left it soly

Auf. I vnderstand thee well, and be thou sure When he shall come to his account, he knowes not What I can vrge against him, although it seemes And so he thinkes, and is no lesse apparant To th' vulgar eye, that he beares all things fairely: And shewes good Husbandry for the Volcian State, Fights Dragon-like, and does atcheeue as soone As draw his Sword: yet he hath left vndone That which shall breake his necke, or hazard mine, When ere we come to our account

Lieu. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'l carry Rome? Auf. All places yeelds to him ere he sits downe, And the Nobility of Rome are his: The Senators and Patricians loue him too: The Tribunes are no Soldiers: and their people Will be as rash in the repeale, as hasty To expell him thence. I thinke hee'l be to Rome As is the Aspray to the Fish, who takes it By Soueraignty of Nature. First, he was A Noble seruant to them, but he could not Carry his Honors eeuen: whether 'twas Pride Which out of dayly Fortune euer taints The happy man; whether detect of iudgement, To faile in the disposing of those chances Which he was Lord of: or whether Nature, Not to be other then one thing, not moouing From th' Caske to th' Cushion: but commanding peace Euen with the same austerity and garbe, As he controll'd the warre. But one of these (As he hath spices of them all) not all, For I dare so farre free him, made him fear'd, So hated, and so banish'd: but he ha's a Merit To choake it in the vtt'rance: So our Vertue, Lie in th' interpretation of the time, And power vnto it selfe most commendable, Hath not a Tombe so euident as a Chaire T' extoll what it hath done. One fire driues out one fire; one Naile, one Naile; Rights by rights fouler, strengths by strengths do faile. Come let's away: when Caius Rome is thine, Thou art poor'st of all; then shortly art thou mine.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Menenius, Cominius, Sicinius, Brutus, the two Tribunes, with others.

Menen. No, ile not go: you heare what he hath said Which was sometime his Generall: who loued him In a most deere particular. He call'd me Father: But what o'that? Go you that banish'd him A Mile before his Tent, fall downe, and knee The way into his mercy: Nay, if he coy'd To heare Cominius speake, Ile keepe at home

Com. He would not seeme to know me

Menen. Do you heare? Com. Yet one time he did call me by my name: I vrg'd our old acquaintance, and the drops That we haue bled together. Coriolanus He would not answer too: Forbad all Names, He was a kinde of Nothing, Titlelesse, Till he had forg'd himselfe a name a'th' fire Of burning Rome

Menen. Why so: you haue made good worke: A paire of Tribunes, that haue wrack'd for Rome, To make Coales cheape: A Noble memory

Com. I minded him, how Royall 'twas to pardon When it was lesse expected. He replyed It was a bare petition of a State To one whom they had punish'd

Menen. Very well, could he say lesse

Com. I offered to awaken his regard For's priuate Friends. His answer to me was He could not stay to picke them, in a pile Of noysome musty Chaffe. He said, 'twas folly For one poore graine or two, to leaue vnburnt And still to nose th' offence

Menen. For one poore graine or two? I am one of those: his Mother, Wife, his Childe, And this braue Fellow too: we are the Graines, You are the musty Chaffe, and you are smelt Aboue the Moone. We must be burnt for you

Sicin. Nay, pray be patient: If you refuse your ayde In this so neuer-needed helpe, yet do not Vpbraid's with our distresse. But sure if you Would be your Countries Pleader, your good tongue More then the instant Armie we can make Might stop our Countryman

Mene. No: Ile not meddle

Sicin. Pray you go to him

Mene. What should I do? Bru. Onely make triall what your Loue can do, For Rome, towards Martius

Mene. Well, and say that Martius returne mee, As Cominius is return'd, vnheard: what then? But as a discontented Friend, greefe-shot With his vnkindnesse. Say't be so? Sicin. Yet your good will Must haue that thankes from Rome, after the measure As you intended well

Mene. Ile vndertak't: I thinke hee'l heare me. Yet to bite his lip, And humme at good Cominius, much vnhearts mee. He was not taken well, he had not din'd, The Veines vnfill'd, our blood is cold, and then We powt vpon the Morning, are vnapt To giue or to forgiue; but when we haue stufft These Pipes, and these Conueyances of our blood With Wine and Feeding, we haue suppler Soules Then in our Priest-like Fasts: therefore Ile watch him Till he be dieted to my request, And then Ile set vpon him

Bru. You know the very rode into his kindnesse, And cannot lose your way

Mene. Good faith Ile proue him, Speed how it will. I shall ere long, haue knowledge Of my successe. Enter.

Com. Hee'l neuer heare him

Sicin. Not

Com. I tell you, he doe's sit in Gold, his eye Red as 'twould burne Rome: and his Iniury The Gaoler to his pitty. I kneel'd before him, 'Twas very faintly he said Rise: dismist me Thus with his speechlesse hand. What he would do He sent in writing after me: what he would not, Bound with an Oath to yeeld to his conditions: So that all hope is vaine, vnlesse his Noble Mother, And his Wife, who (as I heare) meane to solicite him For mercy to his Countrey: therefore let's hence, And with our faire intreaties hast them on.

Exeunt.

Enter Menenius to the Watch or Guard.

1.Wat. Stay: whence are you

2.Wat. Stand, and go backe

Me. You guard like men, 'tis well. But by your leaue, I am an Officer of State, & come to speak with Coriolanus 1 From whence? Mene. From Rome

I You may not passe, you must returne: our Generall will no more heare from thence

2 You'l see your Rome embrac'd with fire, before You'l speake with Coriolanus

Mene. Good my Friends, If you haue heard your Generall talke of Rome, And of his Friends there, it is Lots to Blankes, My name hath touch't your eares: it is Menenius

1 Be it so, go back: the vertue of your name, Is not heere passable

Mene. I tell thee Fellow, Thy Generall is my Louer: I haue beene The booke of his good Acts, whence men haue read His Fame vnparalell'd, happely amplified: For I haue euer verified my Friends, (Of whom hee's cheefe) with all the size that verity Would without lapsing suffer: Nay, sometimes, Like to a Bowle vpon a subtle ground I haue tumbled past the throw: and in his praise Haue (almost) stampt the Leasing. Therefore Fellow, I must haue leaue to passe

1 Faith Sir, if you had told as many lies in his behalfe, as you haue vttered words in your owne, you should not passe heere: no, though it were as vertuous to lye, as to liue chastly. Therefore go backe

Men. Prythee fellow, remember my name is Menenius, alwayes factionary on the party of your Generall

2 Howsoeuer you haue bin his Lier, as you say you haue, I am one that telling true vnder him, must say you cannot passe. Therefore go backe

Mene. Ha's he din'd can'st thou tell? For I would not speake with him, till after dinner

1 You are a Roman, are you? Mene. I am as thy Generall is

1 Then you should hate Rome, as he do's. Can you, when you haue pusht out your gates, the very Defender of them, and in a violent popular ignorance, giuen your enemy your shield, thinke to front his reuenges with the easie groanes of old women, the Virginall Palms of your daughters, or with the palsied intercession of such a decay'd Dotant as you seeme to be? Can you think to blow out the intended fire, your City is ready to flame in, with such weake breath as this? No, you are deceiu'd, therfore backe to Rome, and prepare for your execution: you are condemn'd, our Generall has sworne you out of repreeue and pardon

Mene. Sirra, if thy Captaine knew I were heere, He would vse me with estimation

1 Come, my Captaine knowes you not

Mene. I meane thy Generall

1 My Generall cares not for you. Back I say, go: least I let forth your halfe pinte of blood. Backe, that's the vtmost of your hauing, backe

Mene. Nay but Fellow, Fellow. Enter Coriolanus with Auffidius.

Corio. What's the matter? Mene. Now you Companion: Ile say an arrant for you: you shall know now that I am in estimation: you shall perceiue, that a Iacke gardant cannot office me from my Son Coriolanus, guesse but my entertainment with him: if thou stand'st not i'th state of hanging, or of some death more long in Spectatorship, and crueller in suffering, behold now presently, and swoond for what's to come vpon thee. The glorious Gods sit in hourely Synod about thy

## particular prosperity, and loue thee no worse then thy old

Father Menenius do's. O my Son, my Son! thou art preparing fire for vs: looke thee, heere's water to quench it. I was hardly moued to come to thee: but beeing assured none but my selfe could moue thee, I haue bene blowne out of your Gates with sighes: and coniure thee to pardon Rome, and thy petitionary Countrimen. The good Gods asswage thy wrath, and turne the dregs of it, vpon this Varlet heere: This, who like a blocke hath denyed my accesse to thee

Corio. Away

Mene. How? Away? Corio. Wife, Mother, Child, I know not. My affaires Are Seruanted to others: Though I owe My Reuenge properly, my remission lies In Volcean brests. That we haue beene familiar, Ingrate forgetfulnesse shall poison rather Then pitty: Note how much, therefore be gone. Mine eares against your suites, are stronger then Your gates against my force. Yet for I loued thee, Take this along, I writ it for thy sake, And would haue sent it. Another word Menenius, I will not heare thee speake. This man Auffidius Was my belou'd in Rome: yet thou behold'st

Auffid. You keepe a constant temper.

Exeunt.

Manet the Guard and Menenius.

1 Now sir, is your name Menenius? 2 'Tis a spell you see of much power: You know the way home againe

1 Do you heare how wee are shent for keeping your greatnesse backe? 2 What cause do you thinke I haue to swoond? Menen. I neither care for th' world, nor your General: for such things as you. I can scarse thinke ther's any, y'are so slight. He that hath a will to die by himselfe, feares it not from another: Let your Generall do his worst. For you, bee that you are, long; and your misery encrease with your age. I say to you, as I was said to, Away.

Exit

1 A Noble Fellow I warrant him

2 The worthy Fellow is our General. He's the Rock, The Oake not to be winde-shaken.

Exit Watch.

Enter Coriolanus and Auffidius.

Corio. We will before the walls of Rome to morrow Set downe our Hoast. My partner in this Action, You must report to th' Volcian Lords, how plainly I haue borne this Businesse

Auf. Onely their ends you haue respected, Stopt your eares against the generall suite of Rome: Neuer admitted a priuat whisper, no not with such frends That thought them sure of you

Corio. This last old man, Whom with a crack'd heart I haue sent to Rome, Lou'd me, aboue the measure of a Father, Nay godded me indeed. Their latest refuge Was to send him: for whose old Loue I haue (Though I shew'd sowrely to him) once more offer'd The first Conditions which they did refuse, And cannot now accept, to grace him onely, That thought he could do more: A very little I haue yeelded too. Fresh Embasses, and Suites, Nor from the State, nor priuate friends heereafter Will I lend eare to. Ha? what shout is this?

Shout within

Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow In the same time 'tis made? I will not. Enter Virgilia, Volumnia, Valeria, yong Martius, with Attendants.

My wife comes formost, then the honour'd mould Wherein this Trunke was fram'd, and in her hand The Grandchilde to her blood. But out affection, All bond and priuiledge of Nature breake; Let it be Vertuous to be Obstinate. What is that Curt'sie worth? Or those Doues eyes, Which can make Gods forsworne? I melt, and am not Of stronger earth then others: my Mother bowes, As if Olympus to a Mole-hill should In supplication Nod: and my yong Boy Hath an Aspect of intercession, which Great Nature cries, Deny not. Let the Volces Plough Rome, and harrow Italy, Ile neuer Be such a Gosling to obey instinct; but stand As if a man were Author of himself, & knew no other kin Virgil. My Lord and Husband

Corio. These eyes are not the same I wore in Rome

Virg. The sorrow that deliuers vs thus chang'd, Makes you thinke so

Corio. Like a dull Actor now, I haue forgot my part, And I am out, euen to a full Disgrace. Best of my Flesh, Forgiue my Tyranny: but do not say, For that forgiue our Romanes. O a kisse Long as my Exile, sweet as my Reuenge! Now by the iealous Queene of Heauen, that kisse I carried from thee deare; and my true Lippe Hath Virgin'd it ere since. You Gods, I pray, And the most noble Mother of the world Leaue vnsaluted: Sinke my knee i'th' earth,

Kneeles

Of thy deepe duty, more impression shew Then that of common Sonnes

Volum. Oh stand vp blest! Whil'st with no softer Cushion then the Flint I kneele before thee, and vnproperly Shew duty as mistaken, all this while, Betweene the Childe, and Parent

Corio. What's this? your knees to me? To your Corrected Sonne? Then let the Pibbles on the hungry beach Fillop the Starres: Then, let the mutinous windes Strike the proud Cedars 'gainst the fiery Sun: Murd'ring Impossibility, to make What cannot be, slight worke

Volum. Thou art my Warriour, I hope to frame thee Do you know this Lady? Corio. The Noble Sister of Publicola; The Moone of Rome: Chaste as the Isicle That's curdied by the Frost, from purest Snow, And hangs on Dians Temple: Deere Valeria

Volum. This is a poore Epitome of yours, Which by th' interpretation of full time, May shew like all your selfe

Corio. The God of Souldiers: With the consent of supreame Ioue, informe Thy thoughts with Noblenesse, that thou mayst proue To shame vnvulnerable, and sticke i'th Warres Like a great Sea-marke standing euery flaw, And sauing those that eye thee

Volum. Your knee, Sirrah

Corio. That's my braue Boy

Volum. Euen he, your wife, this Ladie, and my selfe, Are Sutors to you

Corio. I beseech you peace: Or if you'ld aske, remember this before; The thing I haue forsworne to graunt, may neuer Be held by you denials. Do not bid me Dismisse my Soldiers, or capitulate Againe, with Romes Mechanickes. Tell me not Wherein I seeme vnnaturall: Desire not t' allay My Rages and Reuenges, with your colder reasons

Volum. Oh no more, no more: You haue said you will not grant vs any thing: For we haue nothing else to aske, but that Which you deny already: yet we will aske, That if you faile in our request, the blame May hang vpon your hardnesse, therefore heare vs

Corio. Auffidius, and you Volces marke, for wee'l Heare nought from Rome in priuate. Your request? Volum. Should we be silent & not speak, our Raiment And state of Bodies would bewray what life We haue led since thy Exile. Thinke with thy selfe, How more vnfortunate then all liuing women Are we come hither; since that thy sight, which should Make our eies flow with ioy, harts dance with comforts, Constraines them weepe, and shake with feare & sorow, Making the Mother, wife, and Childe to see, The Sonne, the Husband, and the Father tearing His Countries Bowels out; and to poore we Thine enmities most capitall: Thou barr'st vs Our prayers to the Gods, which is a comfort That all but we enioy. For how can we? Alas! how can we, for our Country pray? Whereto we are bound, together with thy victory: Whereto we are bound: Alacke, or we must loose The Countrie our deere Nurse, or else thy person Our comfort in the Country. We must finde An euident Calamity, though we had Our wish, which side should win. For either thou Must as a Forraine Recreant be led With Manacles through our streets, or else Triumphantly treade on thy Countries ruine, And beare the Palme, for hauing brauely shed Thy Wife and Childrens blood: For my selfe, Sonne, I purpose not to waite on Fortune, till These warres determine: If I cannot perswade thee, Rather to shew a Noble grace to both parts, Then seeke the end of one; thou shalt no sooner March to assault thy Country, then to treade (Trust too't, thou shalt not) on thy Mothers wombe That brought thee to this world

Virg. I, and mine, that brought you forth this boy, To keepe your name liuing to time

Boy. A shall not tread on me: Ile run away Till I am bigger, but then Ile fight

Corio. Not of a womans tendernesse to be, Requires nor Childe, nor womans face to see: I haue sate too long

Volum. Nay, go not from vs thus: If it were so, that our request did tend To saue the Romanes, thereby to destroy The Volces whom you serue, you might condemne vs As poysonous of your Honour. No, our suite Is that you reconcile them: While the Volces May say, this mercy we haue shew'd: the Romanes, This we receiu'd, and each in either side Giue the All-haile to thee, and cry be Blest For making vp this peace. Thou know'st (great Sonne) The end of Warres vncertaine: but this certaine, That if thou conquer Rome, the benefit Which thou shalt thereby reape, is such a name Whose repetition will be dogg'd with Curses: Whose Chronicle thus writ, The man was Noble, But with his last Attempt, he wip'd it out: Destroy'd his Country, and his name remaines To th' insuing Age, abhorr'd. Speake to me Son: Thou hast affected the fiue straines of Honor, To imitate the graces of the Gods. To teare with Thunder the wide Cheekes a'th' Ayre, And yet to change thy Sulphure with a Boult That should but riue an Oake. Why do'st not speake? Think'st thou it Honourable for a Nobleman Still to remember wrongs? Daughter, speake you: He cares not for your weeping. Speake thou Boy, Perhaps thy childishnesse will moue him more Then can our Reasons. There's no man in the world More bound to's Mother, yet heere he let's me prate Like one i'th' Stockes. Thou hast neuer in thy life, Shew'd thy deere Mother any curtesie, When she (poor Hen) fond of no second brood, Ha's clock'd thee to the Warres: and safelie home Loden with Honor. Say my Request's vniust, And spurne me backe: But, if it be not so Thou art not honest, and the Gods will plague thee That thou restrain'st from me the Duty, which To a Mothers part belongs. He turnes away: Down Ladies: let vs shame him with him with our knees To his sur-name Coriolanus longs more pride Then pitty to our Prayers. Downe: an end, This is the last. So, we will home to Rome, And dye among our Neighbours: Nay, behold's, This Boy that cannot tell what he would haue, But kneeles, and holds vp hands for fellowship, Doe's reason our Petition with more strength Then thou hast to deny't. Come, let vs go: This Fellow had a Volcean to his Mother: His Wife is in Corioles, and his Childe Like him by chance: yet giue vs our dispatch: I am husht vntill our City be afire, & then Ile speak a litle

Holds her by the hand silent.

Corio. O Mother, Mother! What haue you done? Behold, the Heauens do ope, The Gods looke downe, and this vnnaturall Scene They laugh at. Oh my Mother, Mother: Oh! You haue wonne a happy Victory to Rome. But for your Sonne, beleeue it: Oh beleeue it, Most dangerously you haue with him preuail'd, If not most mortall to him. But let it come: Auffidius, though I cannot make true Warres, Ile frame conuenient peace. Now good Auffidius, Were you in my steed, would you haue heard A Mother lesse? or granted lesse Auffidius? Auf. I was mou'd withall

Corio. I dare be sworne you were: And sir, it is no little thing to make Mine eyes to sweat compassion. But (good sir) What peace you'l make, aduise me: For my part, Ile not to Rome, Ile backe with you, and pray you Stand to me in this cause. Oh Mother! Wife! Auf. I am glad thou hast set thy mercy, & thy Honor At difference in thee: Out of that Ile worke My selfe a former Fortune

Corio. I by and by; But we will drinke together: And you shall beare A better witnesse backe then words, which we On like conditions, will haue Counter-seal'd. Come enter with vs: Ladies you deserue To haue a Temple built you: All the Swords In Italy, and her Confederate Armes Could not haue made this peace.

Exeunt.

Enter Menenius and Sicinius.

Mene. See you yon'd Coin a'th Capitol, yon'd corner stone? Sicin. Why what of that? Mene. If it be possible for you to displace it with your little finger, there is some hope the Ladies of Rome, especially his Mother, may preuaile with him. But I say, there is no hope in't, our throats are sentenc'd, and stay vppon execution

Sicin. Is't possible, that so short a time can alter the condition of a man

Mene. There is differency between a Grub & a Butterfly, yet your Butterfly was a Grub: this Martius, is growne from Man to Dragon: He has wings, hee's more then a creeping thing

Sicin. He lou'd his Mother deerely

Mene. So did he mee: and he no more remembers his Mother now, then an eight yeare old horse. The tartnesse of his face, sowres ripe Grapes. When he walks, he moues like an Engine, and the ground shrinkes before his Treading. He is able to pierce a Corslet with his eye: Talkes like a knell, and his hum is a Battery. He sits in his State, as a thing made for Alexander. What he bids bee done, is finisht with his bidding. He wants nothing of a God but Eternity, and a Heauen to Throne in

Sicin. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly

Mene. I paint him in the Character. Mark what mercy his Mother shall bring from him: There is no more mercy in him, then there is milke in a male-Tyger, that shall our poore City finde: and all this is long of you

Sicin. The Gods be good vnto vs

Mene. No, in such a case the Gods will not bee good vnto vs. When we banish'd him, we respected not them: and he returning to breake our necks, they respect not vs. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Sir, if you'ld saue your life, flye to your House, The Plebeians haue got your Fellow Tribune, And hale him vp and downe; all swearing, if The Romane Ladies bring not comfort home They'l giue him death by Inches. Enter another Messenger.

Sicin. What's the Newes? Mess. Good Newes, good newes, the Ladies haue preuayl'd. The Volcians are dislodg'd, and Martius gone: A merrier day did neuer yet greet Rome, No, not th' expulsion of the Tarquins

Sicin. Friend, art thou certaine this is true? Is't most certaine

Mes. As certaine as I know the Sun is fire: Where haue you lurk'd that you make doubt of it: Ne're through an Arch so hurried the blowne Tide, As the recomforted through th' gates. Why harke you:

Trumpets, Hoboyes, Drums beate, altogether.

The Trumpets, Sack-buts, Psalteries, and Fifes, Tabors, and Symboles, and the showting Romans, Make the Sunne dance. Hearke you.

A shout within

Mene. This is good Newes: I will go meete the Ladies. This Volumnia, Is worth of Consuls, Senators, Patricians, A City full: Of Tribunes such as you, A Sea and Land full: you haue pray'd well to day: This Morning, for ten thousand of your throates, I'de not haue giuen a doit. Harke, how they ioy.

Sound still with the Shouts.

Sicin. First, the Gods blesse you for your tydings: Next, accept my thankefulnesse

Mess. Sir, we haue all great cause to giue great thanks

Sicin. They are neere the City

Mes. Almost at point to enter

Sicin. Wee'l meet them, and helpe the ioy.

Exeunt.

Enter two Senators, with Ladies, passing ouer the Stage, with other Lords.

Sena. Behold our Patronnesse, the life of Rome: Call all your Tribes together, praise the Gods, And make triumphant fires, strew Flowers before them: Vnshoot the noise that Banish'd Martius; Repeale him, with the welcome of his Mother: Cry welcome Ladies, welcome

All. Welcome Ladies, welcome.

A Flourish with Drummes & Trumpets.

Enter Tullus Auffidius, with Attendants.

Auf. Go tell the Lords a'th' City, I am heere: Deliuer them this Paper: hauing read it, Bid them repayre to th' Market place, where I Euen in theirs, and in the Commons eares Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse: The City Ports by this hath enter'd, and Intends t' appeare before the People, hoping To purge himselfe with words. Dispatch. Enter 3 or 4 Conspirators of Auffidius Faction.

Most Welcome

1.Con. How is it with our Generall? Auf. Euen so, as with a man by his owne Almes impoyson'd, and with his Charity slaine

2.Con. Most Noble Sir, If you do hold the same intent Wherein you wisht vs parties: Wee'l deliuer you Of your great danger

Auf. Sir, I cannot tell, We must proceed as we do finde the People

3.Con. The People will remaine vncertaine, whil'st 'Twixt you there's difference: but the fall of either Makes the Suruiuor heyre of all

Auf. I know it: And my pretext to strike at him, admits A good construction. I rais'd him, and I pawn'd Mine Honor for his truth: who being so heighten'd, He watered his new Plants with dewes of Flattery, Seducing so my Friends: and to this end, He bow'd his Nature, neuer knowne before, But to be rough, vnswayable, and free

3.Consp. Sir, his stoutnesse When he did stand for Consull, which he lost By lacke of stooping

Auf. That I would haue spoke of: Being banish'd for't, he came vnto my Harth, Presented to my knife his Throat: I tooke him, Made him ioynt-seruant with me: Gaue him way In all his owne desires: Nay, let him choose Out of my Files, his proiects, to accomplish My best and freshest men, seru'd his designements In mine owne person: holpe to reape the Fame Which he did end all his; and tooke some pride To do my selfe this wrong: Till at the last I seem'd his Follower, not Partner; and He wadg'd me with his Countenance, as if I had bin Mercenary

1.Con. So he did my Lord: The Army marueyl'd at it, and in the last, When he had carried Rome, and that we look'd For no lesse Spoile, then Glory

Auf. There was it: For which my sinewes shall be stretcht vpon him, At a few drops of Womens rhewme, which are As cheape as Lies; he sold the Blood and Labour Of our great Action; therefore shall he dye, And Ile renew me in his fall. But hearke.

Drummes and Trumpets sounds, with great showts of the people.

1.Con. Your Natiue Towne you enter'd like a Poste, And had no welcomes home, but he returnes Splitting the Ayre with noyse

2.Con. And patient Fooles, Whose children he hath slaine, their base throats teare With giuing him glory

3.Con. Therefore at your vantage, Ere he expresse himselfe, or moue the people With what he would say, let him feele your Sword: Which we will second, when he lies along After your way. His Tale pronounc'd, shall bury His Reasons, with his Body

Auf. Say no more. Heere come the Lords, Enter the Lords of the City.

All Lords. You are most welcome home

Auff. I haue not deseru'd it. But worthy Lords, haue you with heede perused What I haue written to you? All. We haue

1.Lord. And greeue to heare't: What faults he made before the last, I thinke Might haue found easie Fines: But there to end Where he was to begin, and giue away The benefit of our Leuies, answering vs With our owne charge: making a Treatie, where There was a yeelding; this admits no excuse

Auf. He approaches, you shall heare him. Enter Coriolanus marching with Drumme, and Colours. The Commoners being with him.

Corio. Haile Lords, I am return'd your Souldier: No more infected with my Countries loue Then when I parted hence: but still subsisting Vnder your great Command. You are to know, That prosperously I haue attempted, and With bloody passage led your Warres, euen to The gates of Rome: Our spoiles we haue brought home Doth more then counterpoize a full third part The charges of the Action. We haue made peace With no lesse Honor to the Antiates Then shame to th' Romaines. And we heere deliuer Subscrib'd by'th' Consuls, and Patricians, Together with the Seale a'th Senat, what We haue compounded on

Auf. Read it not Noble Lords, But tell the Traitor in the highest degree He hath abus'd your Powers

Corio. Traitor? How now? Auf. I Traitor, Martius

Corio. Martius? Auf. I Martius, Caius Martius: Do'st thou thinke Ile grace thee with that Robbery, thy stolne name Coriolanus in Corioles? You Lords and Heads a'th' State, perfidiously He ha's betray'd your businesse, and giuen vp For certaine drops of Salt, your City Rome: I say your City to his Wife and Mother, Breaking his Oath and Resolution, like A twist of rotten Silke, neuer admitting Counsaile a'th' warre: But at his Nurses teares He whin'd and roar'd away your Victory, That Pages blush'd at him, and men of heart Look'd wond'ring each at others

Corio. Hear'st thou Mars? Auf. Name not the God, thou boy of Teares

Corio. Ha? Aufid. No more

Corio. Measurelesse Lyar, thou hast made my heart Too great for what containes it. Boy? Oh Slaue, Pardon me Lords, 'tis the first time that euer I was forc'd to scoul'd. Your iudgments my graue Lords Must giue this Curre the Lye: and his owne Notion, Who weares my stripes imprest vpon him, that Must beare my beating to his Graue, shall ioyne To thrust the Lye vnto him

1 Lord. Peace both, and heare me speake

Corio. Cut me to peeces Volces men and Lads, Staine all your edges on me. Boy, false Hound: If you haue writ your Annales true, 'tis there, That like an Eagle in a Doue-coat, I Flatter'd your Volcians in Corioles. Alone I did it, Boy

Auf. Why Noble Lords, Will you be put in minde of his blinde Fortune, Which was your shame, by this vnholy Braggart? 'Fore your owne eyes, and eares? All Consp. Let him dye for't

All People. Teare him to peeces, do it presently: He kill'd my Sonne, my daughter, he kill'd my Cosine Marcus, he kill'd my Father

2 Lord. Peace hoe: no outrage, peace: The man is Noble, and his Fame folds in This Orbe o'th' earth: His last offences to vs Shall haue Iudicious hearing. Stand Auffidius, And trouble not the peace

Corio. O that I had him, with six Auffidiusses, or more: His Tribe, to vse my lawfull Sword

Auf. Insolent Villaine

All Consp. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him.

Draw both the Conspirators, and kils Martius, who falles, Auffidius stands on him

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold

Auf. My Noble Masters, heare me speake

1.Lord. O Tullus

2.Lord. Thou hast done a deed, whereat Valour will weepe

3.Lord. Tread not vpon him Masters, all be quiet, Put vp your Swords

Auf. My Lords, When you shall know (as in this Rage Prouok'd by him, you cannot) the great danger Which this mans life did owe you, you'l reioyce That he is thus cut off. Please it your Honours To call me to your Senate, Ile deliuer My selfe your loyall Seruant, or endure Your heauiest Censure

1.Lord. Beare from hence his body, And mourne you for him. Let him be regarded As the most Noble Coarse, that euer Herald Did follow to his Vrne

2.Lord. His owne impatience, Takes from Auffidius a great part of blame: Let's make the Best of it

Auf. My Rage is gone, And I am strucke with sorrow. Take him vp: Helpe three a'th' cheefest Souldiers, Ile be one. Beate thou the Drumme that it speake mournfully: Traile your steele Pikes. Though in this City hee Hath widdowed and vnchilded many a one, Which to this houre bewaile the Iniury, Yet he shall haue a Noble Memory. Assist.

Exeunt. bearing the Body of Martius. A dead March Sounded.

FINIS. The Tragedy of Coriolanus.

The Tragedie of Titus Andronicus

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Flourish. Enter the Tribunes and Senators aloft And then enter Saturninus and his Followers at one doore, and Bassianus and his Followers at the other, with Drum & Colours.

Saturninus. Noble Patricians, Patrons of my right, Defend the iustice of my Cause with Armes. And Countrey-men, my louing Followers, Pleade my Successiue Title with your Swords. I was the first borne Sonne, that was the last That wore the Imperiall Diadem of Rome: Then let my Fathers Honours liue in me, Nor wrong mine Age with this indignitie

Bassianus. Romaines, Friends, Followers, Fauourers of my Right: If euer Bassianus, Cæsars Sonne, Were gracious in the eyes of Royall Rome, Keepe then this passage to the Capitoll: And suffer not Dishonour to approach Th' Imperiall Seate to Vertue: consecrate To Iustice, Continence, and Nobility: But let Desert in pure Election shine; And Romanes, fight for Freedome in your Choice. Enter Marcus Andronicus aloft with the Crowne.

Princes, that striue by Factions, and by Friends, Ambitiously for Rule and Empery: Know, that the people of Rome for whom we stand A speciall Party, haue by Common voyce In Election for the Romane Emperie, Chosen Andronicus, Sur-named Pious, For many good and great deserts to Rome. A Nobler man, a brauer Warriour, Liues not this day within the City Walles. He by the Senate is accited home From weary Warres against the barbarous Gothes, That with his Sonnes (a terror to our Foes) Hath yoak'd a Nation strong, train'd vp in Armes. Ten yeares are spent, since first he vndertooke This Cause of Rome, and chasticed with Armes Our Enemies pride. Fiue times he hath return'd Bleeding to Rome, bearing his Valiant Sonnes In Coffins from the Field. And now at last, laden with Honours Spoyles, Returnes the good Andronicus to Rome, Renowned Titus, flourishing in Armes. Let vs intreat, by Honour of his Name, Whom (worthily) you would haue now succeede, And in the Capitoll and Senates right, Whom you pretend to Honour and Adore, That you withdraw you, and abate your Strength, Dismisse your Followers, and as Suters should, Pleade your Deserts in Peace and Humblenesse

Saturnine. How fayre the Tribune speakes, To calme my thoughts

Bassia. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affie In thy vprightnesse and Integrity: And so I Loue and Honor thee, and thine, Thy Noble Brother Titus, and his Sonnes, And Her (to whom my thoughts are humbled all) Gracious Lauinia, Romes rich Ornament, That I will heere dismisse my louing Friends: And to my Fortunes, and the Peoples Fauour, Commit my Cause in ballance to be weigh'd.

Exit Souldiours.

Saturnine. Friends, that haue beene Thus forward in my Right, I thanke you all, and heere Dismisse you all, And to the Loue and Fauour of my Countrey, Commit my Selfe, my Person, and the Cause: Rome, be as iust and gracious vnto me, As I am confident and kinde to thee. Open the Gates, and let me in

Bassia. Tribunes, and me, a poore Competitor.

Flourish. They go vp into the Senat house.

Enter a Captaine.

Cap. Romanes make way: the good Andronicus, Patron of Vertue, Romes best Champion, Successefull in the Battailes that he fights, With Honour and with Fortune is return'd, From whence he circumscribed with his Sword, And brought to yoke the Enemies of Rome.

Sound Drummes and Trumpets. And then enter two of Titus Sonnes; After them, two men bearing a Coffin couered with blacke, then two other Sonnes. After them, Titus Andronicus, and then Tamora the Queene of Gothes, & her two Sonnes Chiron and Demetrius, with Aaron the Moore, and others, as many as can bee: They set downe the Coffin, and Titus speakes.

Andronicus. Haile Rome: Victorious in thy Mourning Weedes: Loe as the Barke that hath discharg'd his fraught, Returnes with precious lading to the Bay, From whence at first she weigh'd her Anchorage: Commeth Andronicus bound with Lawrell bowes, To resalute his Country with his teares, Teares of true ioy for his returne to Rome, Thou great defender of this Capitoll, Stand gracious to the Rites that we intend. Romaines, of fiue and twenty Valiant Sonnes, Halfe of the number that King Priam had, Behold the poore remaines aliue and dead! These that Suruiue, let Rome reward with Loue: These that I bring vnto their latest home, With buriall amongst their Auncestors. Heere Gothes haue giuen me leaue to sheath my Sword: Titus vnkinde, and carelesse of thine owne, Why suffer'st thou thy Sonnes vnburied yet, To houer on the dreadfull shore of Stix? Make way to lay them by their Bretheren.

They open the Tombe.

There greete in silence as the dead are wont, And sleepe in peace, slaine in your Countries warres: O sacred receptacle of my ioyes, Sweet Cell of vertue and Nobilitie, How many Sonnes of mine hast thou in store, That thou wilt neuer render to me more? Luc. Giue vs the proudest prisoner of the Gothes, That we may hew his limbes, and on a pile Ad manus fratrum, sacrifice his flesh: Before this earthly prison of their bones, That so the shadowes be not vnappeas'd, Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth

Tit. I giue him you, the Noblest that Suruiues, The eldest Son of this distressed Queene

Tam. Stay Romaine Bretheren, gracious Conqueror, Victorious Titus, rue the teares I shed, A Mothers teares in passion for her sonne: And if thy Sonnes were euer deere to thee, Oh thinke my sonnes to be as deere to mee. Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome To beautifie thy Triumphs, and returne Captiue to thee, and to thy Romaine yoake, But must my Sonnes be slaughtred in the streetes, For Valiant doings in their Countries cause? O! If to fight for King and Common-weale, Were piety in thine, it is in these: Andronicus, staine not thy Tombe with blood. Wilt thou draw neere the nature of the Gods? Draw neere them then in being mercifull. Sweet mercy is Nobilities true badge, Thrice Noble Titus, spare my first borne sonne

Tit. Patient your selfe Madam, and pardon me. These are the Brethren, whom you Gothes beheld Aliue and dead, and for their Bretheren slaine, Religiously they aske a sacrifice: To this your sonne is markt, and die he must, T' appease their groaning shadowes that are gone

Luc. Away with him, and make a fire straight, And with our Swords vpon a pile of wood, Let's hew his limbes till they be cleane consum'd.

Exit Sonnes with Alarbus.

Tamo. O cruell irreligious piety

Chi. Was euer Scythia halfe so barbarous? Dem. Oppose me Scythia to ambitious Rome, Alarbus goes to rest, and we suruiue, To tremble vnder Titus threatning lookes. Then Madam stand resolu'd, but hope withall, The selfe same Gods that arm'd the Queene of Troy With opportunitie of sharpe reuenge Vpon the Thracian Tyrant in his Tent, May fauour Tamora the Queene of Gothes, (When Gothes were Gothes, and Tamora was Queene) To quit the bloody wrongs vpon her foes. Enter the Sonnes of Andronicus againe.

Luci. See Lord and Father, how we haue perform'd Our Romaine rightes, Alarbus limbs are lopt, And intrals feede the sacrifising fire, Whole smoke like incense doth perfume the skie. Remaineth nought but to interre our Brethren, And with low'd Larums welcome them to Rome

Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus Make this his latest farewell to their Soules.

Flourish.

Then Sound Trumpets, and lay the Coffins in the Tombe.

In peace and Honour rest you heere my Sonnes, Romes readiest Champions, repose you heere in rest, Secure from worldly chaunces and mishaps: Heere lurks no Treason, heere no enuie swels, Heere grow no damned grudges, heere are no stormes, No noyse, but silence and Eternall sleepe, In peace and Honour rest you heere my Sonnes. Enter Lauinia.

Laui. In peace and Honour, liue Lord Titus long, My Noble Lord and Father, liue in Fame: Loe at this Tombe my tributarie teares, I render for my Bretherens Obsequies: And at thy feete I kneele, with teares of ioy Shed on the earth for thy returne to Rome. O blesse me heere with thy victorious hand, Whose Fortune Romes best Citizens applau'd

Ti. Kind Rome, That hast thus louingly reseru'd The Cordiall of mine age to glad my hart, Lauinia liue, out-liue thy Fathers dayes: And Fames eternall date for vertues praise

Marc. Long liue Lord Titus, my beloued brother, Gracious Triumpher in the eyes of Rome

Tit. Thankes Gentle Tribune, Noble brother Marcus

Mar. And welcome Nephews from succesfull wars, You that suruiue and you that sleepe in Fame: Faire Lords your Fortunes are all alike in all, That in your Countries seruice drew your Swords. But safer Triumph is this Funerall Pompe, That hath aspir'd to Solons Happines, And Triumphs ouer chaunce in honours bed. Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, Whose friend in iustice thou hast euer bene, Send thee by me their Tribune and their trust, This Palliament of white and spotlesse Hue, And name thee in Election for the Empire, With these our late deceased Emperours Sonnes: Be Candidatus then, and put it on, And helpe to set a head on headlesse Rome

Tit. A better head her Glorious body fits, Then his that shakes for age and feeblenesse: What should I don this Robe and trouble you, Be chosen with proclamations to day, To morrow yeeld vp rule, resigne my life, And set abroad new businesse for you all. Rome I haue bene thy Souldier forty yeares, And led my Countries strength successefully, And buried one and twenty Valiant Sonnes, Knighted in Field, slaine manfully in Armes, In right and Seruice of their Noble Countrie: Giue me a staffe of Honour for mine age, But not a Scepter to controule the world, Vpright he held it Lords, that held it last

Mar. Titus, thou shalt obtaine and aske the Emperie

Sat. Proud and ambitious Tribune can'st thou tell? Titus. Patience Prince Saturninus

Sat. Romaines do me right. Patricians draw your Swords, and sheath them not Till Saturninus be Romes Emperour: Andronicus would thou wert shipt to hell, Rather then rob me of the peoples harts

Luc. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the good That Noble minded Titus meanes to thee

Tit. Content thee Prince, I will restore to thee The peoples harts, and weane them from themselues

Bass. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee But Honour thee, and will doe till I die: My Faction if thou strengthen with thy Friend? I will most thankefull be, and thankes to men Of Noble mindes, is Honourable Meede

Tit. People of Rome, and Noble Tribunes heere, I aske your voyces and your Suffrages, Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus? Tribunes. To gratifie the good Andronicus, And Gratulate his safe returne to Rome, The people will accept whom he admits

Tit. Tribunes I thanke you, and this sure I make, That you Create your Emperours eldest sonne, Lord Saturnine, whose Vertues will I hope, Reflect on Rome as Tytans Rayes on earth, And ripen Iustice in this Common-weale: Then if you will elect by my aduise, Crowne him, and say: Long liue our Emperour

Mar. An. With Voyces and applause of euery sort, Patricians and Plebeans we Create Lord Saturninus Romes Great Emperour. And say, Long liue our Emperour Saturnine.

A long Flourish till they come downe.

Satu. Titus Andronicus, for thy Fauours done, To vs in our Election this day, I giue thee thankes in part of thy Deserts, And will with Deeds requite thy gentlenesse: And for an Onset Titus to aduance Thy Name, and Honorable Familie, Lauinia will I make my Empresse, Romes Royall Mistris, Mistris of my hart And in the Sacred Pathan her espouse: Tell me Andronicus doth this motion please thee? Tit. It doth my worthy Lord, and in this match, I hold me Highly Honoured of your Grace, And heere in sight of Rome, to Saturnine, King and Commander of our Common-weale, The Wide-worlds Emperour, do I Consecrate, My Sword, my Chariot, and my Prisoners, Presents well Worthy Romes Imperiall Lord: Receiue them then, the Tribute that I owe, Mine Honours Ensignes humbled at my feete

Satu. Thankes Noble Titus, Father of my life, How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts Rome shall record, and when I do forget The least of these vnspeakable Deserts, Romans forget your Fealtie to me

Tit. Now Madam are you prisoner to an Emperour, To him that for your Honour and your State, Will vse you Nobly and your followers

Satu. A goodly Lady, trust me of the Hue That I would choose, were I to choose a new: Cleere vp Faire Queene that cloudy countenance, Though chance of warre Hath wrought this change of cheere, Thou com'st not to be made a scorne in Rome: Princely shall be thy vsage euery way. Rest on my word, and let not discontent Daunt all your hopes: Madam he comforts you, Can make you Greater then the Queene of Gothes? Lauinia you are not displeas'd with this? Lau. Not I my Lord, sith true Nobilitie, Warrants these words in Princely curtesie

Sat. Thankes sweete Lauinia, Romans let vs goe: Ransomlesse heere we set our Prisoners free, Proclaime our Honors Lords with Trumpe and Drum

Bass. Lord Titus by your leaue, this Maid is mine

Tit. How sir? Are you in earnest then my Lord? Bass. I Noble Titus, and resolu'd withall, To doe my selfe this reason, and this right

Marc. Suum cuiquam, is our Romane Iustice, This Prince in Iustice ceazeth but his owne

Luc. And that he will and shall, if Lucius liue

Tit. Traytors auant, where is the Emperours Guarde? Treason my Lord, Lauinia is surpris'd

Sat. Surpris'd, by whom? Bass. By him that iustly may Beare his Betroth'd, from all the world away

Muti. Brothers helpe to conuey her hence away, And with my Sword Ile keepe this doore safe

Tit. Follow my Lord, and Ile soone bring her backe

Mut. My Lord you passe not heere

Tit. What villaine Boy, bar'st me my way in Rome? Mut. Helpe Lucius helpe. He kils him

Luc. My Lord you are vniust, and more then so, In wrongfull quarrell, you haue slaine your son

Tit. Nor thou, nor he are any sonnes of mine, My sonnes would neuer so dishonour me. Traytor restore Lauinia to the Emperour

Luc. Dead if you will, but not to be his wife, That is anothers lawfull promist Loue. Enter aloft the Emperour with Tamora and her two sonnes, and Aaron the Moore.

Empe. No Titus, no, the Emperour needs her not, Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stocke: Ile trust by Leisure him that mocks me once. Thee neuer: nor thy Trayterous haughty sonnes, Confederates all, thus to dishonour me. Was none in Rome to make a stale But Saturnine? Full well Andronicus Agree these Deeds, with that proud bragge of thine, That said'st, I beg'd the Empire at thy hands

Tit. O monstrous, what reproachfull words are these? Sat. But goe thy wayes, goe giue that changing peece, To him that flourisht for her with his Sword: A Valliant sonne in-law thou shalt enioy: One, fit to bandy with thy lawlesse Sonnes, To ruffle in the Common-wealth of Rome

Tit. These words are Razors to my wounded hart

Sat. And therefore louely Tamora Queene of Gothes, That like the stately Thebe mong'st her Nimphs Dost ouer-shine the Gallant'st Dames of Rome, If thou be pleas'd with this my sodaine choyse, Behold I choose thee Tamora for my Bride, And will Create thee Empresse of Rome. Speake Queene of Goths dost thou applau'd my choyse? And heere I sweare by all the Romaine Gods, Sith Priest and Holy-water are so neere, And Tapers burne so bright, and euery thing In readines for Hymeneus stand, I will not resalute the streets of Rome, Or clime my Pallace, till from forth this place, I leade espous'd my Bride along with me

Tamo. And heere in sight of heauen to Rome I sweare, If Saturnine aduance the Queen of Gothes, Shee will a Hand-maid be to his desires, A louing Nurse, a Mother to his youth

Satur. Ascend Faire Queene, Panthean Lords, accompany Your Noble Emperour and his louely Bride, Sent by the heauens for Prince Saturnine, Whose wisedome hath her Fortune Conquered, There shall we Consummate our Spousall rites.

Exeunt. omnes.

Tit. I am not bid to waite vpon this Bride: Titus when wer't thou wont to walke alone, Dishonoured thus and Challenged of wrongs? Enter Marcus and Titus Sonnes.

Mar. O Titus see! O see what thou hast done! In a bad quarrell, slaine a Vertuous sonne

Tit. No foolish Tribune, no: No sonne of mine, Nor thou, nor these Confedrates in the deed, That hath dishonoured all our Family, Vnworthy brother, and vnworthy Sonnes

Luci. But let vs giue him buriall as becomes: Giue Mutius buriall with our Bretheren

Tit. Traytors away, he rest's not in this Tombe: This Monument fiue hundreth yeares hath stood, Which I haue Sumptuously re-edified. Heere none but Souldiers, and Romes Seruitors, Repose in Fame: None basely slaine in braules, Bury him where you can, he comes not heere

Mar. My Lord this is impiety in you, My Nephew Mutius deeds do plead for him, He must be buried with his bretheren

Titus two Sonnes speakes. And shall, or him we will accompany

Ti. And shall! What villaine was it spake that word? Titus sonne speakes. He that would vouch'd it in any place but heere

Tit. What would you bury him in my despight? Mar. No Noble Titus, but intreat of thee, To pardon Mutius, and to bury him

Tit. Marcus, Euen thou hast stroke vpon my Crest, And with these Boyes mine Honour thou hast wounded, My foes I doe repute you euery one. So trouble me no more, but get you gone

1.Sonne. He is not himselfe, let vs withdraw

2.Sonne. Not I tell Mutius bones be buried.

The Brother and the sonnes kneele.

Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature plea'd

2.Sonne. Father, and in that name doth nature speake

Tit. Speake thou no more if all the rest will speede

Mar. Renowned Titus more then halfe my soule

Luc. Deare Father, soule and substance of vs all

Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to interre His Noble Nephew heere in vertues nest, That died in Honour and Lauinia's cause. Thou art a Romaine, be not barbarous: The Greekes vpon aduise did bury Aiax That slew himselfe: And Laertes sonne, Did graciously plead for his Funerals: Let not young Mutius then that was thy ioy, Be bar'd his entrance heere

Tit. Rise Marcus, rise, The dismall'st day is this that ere I saw, To be dishonored by my Sonnes in Rome: Well, bury him, and bury me the next. They put him in the Tombe.

Luc. There lie thy bones sweet Mutius with thy friends. Till we with Trophees do adorne thy Tombe.

They all kneele and say.

No man shed teares for Noble Mutius, He liues in Fame, that di'd in vertues cause. Enter.

Mar. My Lord to step out of these sudden dumps, How comes it that the subtile Queene of Gothes, Is of a sodaine thus aduanc'd in Rome? Ti. I know not Marcus: but I know it is, (Whether by deuise or no) the heauens can tell, Is she not then beholding to the man, That brought her for this high good turne so farre? Yes, and will Nobly him remunerate.

Flourish.

Enter the Emperor, Tamora, and her two sons, with the Moore at one doore. Enter at the other doore Bassianus and Lauinia with others.

Sat. So Bassianus, you haue plaid your prize, God giue you ioy sir of your Gallant Bride

Bass. And you of yours my Lord: I say no more, Nor wish no lesse, and so I take my leaue

Sat. Traytor, if Rome haue law, or we haue power, Thou and thy Faction shall repent this Rape

Bass. Rape call you it my Lord, to cease my owne, My true betrothed Loue, and now my wife? But let the lawes of Rome determine all, Meane while I am possest of that is mine

Sat. 'Tis good sir: you are very short with vs, But if we liue, weele be as sharpe with you

Bass. My Lord, what I haue done as best I may, Answere I must, and shall do with my life, Onely thus much I giue your Grace to know, By all the duties that I owe to Rome, This Noble Gentleman Lord Titus heere, Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd, That in the rescue of Lauinia, With his owne hand did slay his youngest Son, In zeale to you, and highly mou'd to wrath. To be controul'd in that he frankly gaue: Receiue him then to fauour Saturnine, That hath expre'st himselfe in all his deeds, A Father and a friend to thee, and Rome

Tit. Prince Bassianus leaue to plead my Deeds, 'Tis thou, and those, that haue dishonoured me, Rome and the righteous heauens be my iudge, How I haue lou'd and Honour'd Saturnine

Tam. My worthy Lord if euer Tamora, Were gracious in those Princely eyes of thine, Then heare me speake indifferently for all: And at my sute (sweet) pardon what is past

Satu. What Madam, be dishonoured openly, And basely put it vp without reuenge? Tam. Not so my Lord, The Gods of Rome fore-fend, I should be Authour to dishonour you. But on mine honour dare, I vndertake For good Lord Titus innocence in all: Whose fury not dissembled speakes his griefes: Then at my sute looke graciously on him, Loose not so noble a friend on vaine suppose, Nor with sowre lookes afflict his gentle heart. My Lord, be rul'd by me, be wonne at last, Dissemble all your griefes and discontents, You are but newly planted in your Throne, Least then the people, and Patricians too, Vpon a iust suruey take Titus part, And so supplant vs for ingratitude, Which Rome reputes to be a hainous sinne. Yeeld at intreats, and then let me alone: Ile finde a day to massacre them all, And race their faction, and their familie, The cruell Father, and his trayt'rous sonnes, To whom I sued for my deare sonnes life. And make them know what 'tis to let a Queene. Kneele in the streetes, and beg for grace in vaine. Come, come, sweet Emperour, (come Andronicus) Take vp this good old man, and cheere the heart, That dies in tempest of thy angry frowne

King. Rise Titus, rise, My Empresse hath preuail'd

Titus. I thanke your Maiestie, And her my Lord. These words, these lookes, Infuse new life in me

Tamo. Titus, I am incorparate in Rome, A Roman now adopted happily. And must aduise the Emperour for his good, This day all quarrels die Andronicus. And let it be mine honour good my Lord, That I haue reconcil'd your friends and you. For you Prince Bassianus, I haue past My word and promise to the Emperour, That you will be more milde and tractable. And feare not Lords: And you Lauinia, By my aduise all humbled on your knees, You shall aske pardon of his Maiestie

Son. We doe, And vow to heauen, and to his Highnes, That what we did, was mildly, as we might, Tendring our sisters honour and our owne

Mar. That on mine honour heere I do protest

King. Away and talke not, trouble vs no more

Tamora. Nay, nay, Sweet Emperour, we must all be friends, The Tribune and his Nephews kneele for grace, I will not be denied, sweet hart looke back

King. Marcus, For thy sake and thy brothers heere, And at my louely Tamora's intreats, I doe remit these young mens haynous faults. Stand vp: Lauinia, though you left me like a churle, I found a friend, and sure as death I sware, I would not part a Batchellour from the Priest. Come, if the Emperours Court can feast two Brides, You are my guest Lauinia, and your friends: This day shall be a Loue-day Tamora

Tit. To morrow and it please your Maiestie, To hunt the Panther and the Hart with me, With horne and Hound, Weele giue your Grace Bon iour

Satur. Be it so Titus, and Gramercy to.

Exeunt.

Actus Secunda.

Flourish. Enter Aaron alone.

Aron. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus toppe, Safe out of Fortunes shot, and sits aloft, Secure of Thunders cracke or lightning flash, Aduanc'd about pale enuies threatning reach: As when the golden Sunne salutes the morne, And hauing gilt the Ocean with his beames, Gallops the Zodiacke in his glistering Coach, And ouer-lookes the highest piering hills: So Tamora Vpon her wit doth earthly honour waite, And vertue stoopes and trembles at her frowne. Then Aaron arme thy hart, and fit thy thoughts, To mount aloft with thy Emperiall Mistris, And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph long Hast prisoner held, fettred in amorous chaines, And faster bound to Aarons charming eyes, Then is Prometheus ti'de to Caucasus. Away with slauish weedes, and idle thoughts, I will be bright and shine in Pearle and Gold, To waite vpon this new made Empresse. To waite said I? To wanton with this Queene, This Goddesse, this Semirimis, this Queene. This Syren, that will charme Romes Saturnine, And see his shipwracke, and his Common weales. Hollo, what storme is this? Enter Chiron and Demetrius brauing.

Dem. Chiron thy yeres wants wit, thy wit wants edge And manners to intru'd where I am grac'd, And may for ought thou know'st affected be

Chi. Demetrius, thou doo'st ouer-weene in all, And so in this, to beare me downe with braues, 'Tis not the difference of a yeere or two Makes me lesse gracious, or thee more fortunate: I am as able, and as fit, as thou, To serue, and to deserue my Mistris grace, And that my sword vpon thee shall approue, And plead my passions for Lauinia's loue

Aron. Clubs, clubs, these louers will not keep the peace

Dem. Why Boy, although our mother (vnaduised) Gaue you a daunsing Rapier by your side, Are you so desperate growne to threat your friends? Goe too: haue your Lath glued within your sheath, Till you know better how to handle it

Chi. Meane while sir, with the little skill I haue, Full well shalt thou perceiue how much I dare

Deme. I Boy, grow ye so braue?

They drawe.

Aron. Why how now Lords? So nere the Emperours Pallace dare you draw, And maintaine such a quarrell openly? Full well I wote, the ground of all this grudge. I would not for a million of Gold, The cause were knowne to them it most concernes. Nor would your noble mother for much more Be so dishonored in the Court of Rome: For shame put vp

Deme. Not I, till I haue sheath'd My rapier in his bosome, and withall Thrust these reprochfull speeches downe his throat, That he hath breath'd in my dishonour heere

Chi. For that I am prepar'd, and full resolu'd, Foule spoken Coward, That thundrest with thy tongue, And with thy weapon nothing dar'st performe

Aron. A way I say. Now by the Gods that warlike Gothes adore, This pretty brabble will vndoo vs all: Why Lords, and thinke you not how dangerous It is to set vpon a Princes right? What is Lauinia then become so loose, Or Bassianus so degenerate, That for her loue such quarrels may be broacht, Without controulement, Iustice, or reuenge? Young Lords beware, and should the Empresse know, This discord ground, the musicke would not please

Chi. I care not I, knew she and all the world, I loue Lauinia more then all the world

Demet. Youngling, Learne thou to make some meaner choise, Lauinia is thine elder brothers hope

Aron. Why are ye mad? Or know ye not in Rome, How furious and impatient they be, And cannot brooke Competitors in loue? I tell you Lords, you doe but plot your deaths, By this deuise

Chi. Aaron, a thousand deaths would I propose, To atchieue her whom I do loue

Aron. To atcheiue her, how? Deme. Why, mak'st thou it so strange? Shee is a woman, therefore may be woo'd, Shee is a woman, therfore may be wonne, Shee is Lauinia therefore must be lou'd. What man, more water glideth by the Mill Then wots the Miller of, and easie it is Of a cut loafe to steale a shiue we know: Though Bassianus be the Emperours brother, Better then he haue worne Vulcans badge

Aron. I, and as good as Saturninus may

Deme. Then why should he dispaire that knowes to court it With words, faire lookes, and liberality: What hast not thou full often strucke a Doe, And borne her cleanly by the Keepers nose? Aron. Why then it seemes some certaine snatch or so Would serue your turnes

Chi. I so the turne were serued

Deme. Aaron thou hast hit it

Aron. Would you had hit it too, Then should not we be tir'd with this adoo: Why harke yee, harke yee, and are you such fooles, To square for this? Would it offend you then? Chi. Faith not me

Deme. Nor me, so I were one

Aron. For shame be friends, & ioyne for that you iar: 'Tis pollicie, and stratageme must doe That you affect, and so must you resolue, That what you cannot as you would atcheiue, You must perforce accomplish as you may: Take this of me, Lucrece was not more chast Then this Lauinia, Bassianus loue, A speedier course this lingring languishment Must we pursue, and I haue found the path: My Lords, a solemne hunting is in hand. There will the louely Roman Ladies troope: The Forrest walkes are wide and spacious, And many vnfrequented plots there are, Fitted by kinde for rape and villanie: Single you thither then this dainty Doe, And strike her home by force, if not by words: This way or not at all, stand you in hope. Come, come, our Empresse with her sacred wit To villainie and vengance consecrate, Will we acquaint with all that we intend, And she shall file our engines with aduise, That will not suffer you to square your selues, But to your wishes height aduance you both. The Emperours Court is like the house of Fame, The pallace full of tongues, of eyes, of eares: The Woods are ruthlesse, dreadfull, deafe, and dull: There speake, and strike braue Boyes, & take your turnes. There serue your lusts, shadow'd from heauens eye, And reuell in Lauinia's Treasurie

Chi. Thy counsell Lad smells of no cowardise

Deme. Sit fas aut nefas, till I finde the streames, To coole this heat, a Charme to calme their fits, Per Stigia per manes Vehor.

Exeunt.

Enter Titus Andronicus and his three sonnes, making a noyse with hounds and hornes, and Marcus.

Tit. The hunt is vp, the morne is bright and gray, The fields are fragrant, and the Woods are greene, Vncouple heere, and let vs make a bay, And wake the Emperour, and his louely Bride, And rouze the Prince, and ring a hunters peale, That all the Court may eccho with the noyse. Sonnes let it be your charge, as it is ours, To attend the Emperours person carefully: I haue bene troubled in my sleepe this night, But dawning day new comfort hath inspir'd.

Winde Hornes.

Heere a cry of houndes, and winde hornes in a peale, then Enter Saturninus, Tamora, Bassianus, Lauinia, Chiron, Demetrius, and their Attendants.

Ti. Many good morrowes to your Maiestie, Madam to you as many and as good. I promised your Grace, a Hunters peale

Satur. And you haue rung it lustily my Lords, Somewhat to earely for new married Ladies

Bass. Lauinia, how say you? Laui. I say no: I haue bene awake two houres and more

Satur. Come on then, horse and Chariots let vs haue, And to our sport: Madam, now shall ye see, Our Romaine hunting

Mar. I haue dogges my Lord, Will rouze the proudest Panther in the Chase, And clime the highest Promontary top

Tit. And I haue horse will follow where the game Makes way, and runnes likes Swallowes ore the plaine Deme. Chiron we hunt not we, with Horse nor Hound But hope to plucke a dainty Doe to ground.

Exeunt.

Enter Aaron alone.

Aron. He that had wit, would thinke that I had none, To bury so much Gold vnder a Tree, And neuer after to inherit it. Let him that thinks of me so abiectly, Know that this Gold must coine a Stratageme, Which cunningly effected, will beget A very excellent peece of villany; And so repose sweet Gold for their vnrest, That haue their Almes out of the Empresse Chest. Enter Tamora to the Moore.

Tamo. My louely Aaron, Wherefore look'st thou sad, When euery thing doth make a Gleefull boast? The Birds chaunt melody on euery bush, The Snake lies rolled in the chearefull Sunne, The greene leaues quiuer, with the cooling winde, And make a cheker'd shadow on the ground: Vnder their sweete shade, Aaron let vs sit, And whil'st the babling Eccho mock's the Hounds, Replying shrilly to the well tun'd-Hornes, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let vs sit downe, and marke their yelping noyse: And after conflict, such as was suppos'd. The wandring Prince and Dido once enioy'd, When with a happy storme they were surpris'd, And Curtain'd with a Counsaile-keeping Caue, We may each wreathed in the others armes, (Our pastimes done) possesse a Golden slumber, Whiles Hounds and Hornes, and sweet Melodious Birds Be vnto vs, as is a Nurses Song Of Lullabie, to bring her Babe asleepe

Aron. Madame, Though Venus gouerne your desires, Saturne is Dominator ouer mine: What signifies my deadly standing eye, My silence, and my Cloudy Melancholie, My fleece of Woolly haire, that now vncurles, Euen as an Adder when she doth vnrowle To do some fatall execution? No Madam, these are no Veneriall signes, Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood, and reuenge, are Hammering in my head. Harke Tamora, the Empresse of my Soule, Which neuer hopes more heauen, then rests in thee, This is the day of Doome for Bassianus; His Philomel must loose her tongue to day, Thy Sonnes make Pillage of her Chastity, And wash their hands in Bassianus blood. Seest thou this Letter, take it vp I pray thee, And giue the King this fatall plotted Scrowle, Now question me no more, we are espied, Heere comes a parcell of our hopefull Booty, Which dreads not yet their liues destruction. Enter Bassianus and Lauinia.

Tamo. Ah my sweet Moore: Sweeter to me then life

Aron. No more great Empresse, Bassianus comes, Be crosse with him, and Ile goe fetch thy Sonnes To backe thy quarrell what so ere they be

Bassi. Whom haue we heere? Romes Royall Empresse, Vnfurnisht of our well beseeming troope? Or is it Dian habited like her, Who hath abandoned her holy Groues, To see the generall Hunting in this Forrest? Tamo. Sawcie controuler of our priuate steps: Had I the power, that some say Dian had, Thy Temples should be planted presently. With Hornes, as was Acteons, and the Hounds Should driue vpon his new transformed limbes, Vnmannerly Intruder as thou art

Laui. Vnder your patience gentle Empresse, 'Tis thought you haue a goodly gift in Horning, And to be doubted, that your Moore and you Are singled forth to try experiments: Ioue sheild your husband from his Hounds to day, 'Tis pitty they should take him for a Stag

Bassi. Beleeue me Queene, your swarth Cymerion, Doth make your Honour of his bodies Hue, Spotted, detested, and abhominable. Why are you sequestred from all your traine? Dismounted from your Snow-white goodly Steed, And wandred hither to an obscure plot, Accompanied with a barbarous Moore, If foule desire had not conducted you? Laui. And being intercepted in your sport, Great reason that my Noble Lord, be rated For Saucinesse, I pray you let vs hence, And let her ioy her Rauen coloured loue, This valley fits the purpose passing well

Bassi. The King my Brother shall haue notice of this

Laui. I, for these slips haue made him noted long, Good King, to be so mightily abused

Tamora. Why I haue patience to endure all this? Enter Chiron and Demetrius.

Dem. How now deere Soueraigne And our gracious Mother, Why doth your Highnes looke so pale and wan? Tamo. Haue I not reason thinke you to looke pale. These two haue tic'd me hither to this place, A barren, detested vale you see it is. The Trees though Sommer, yet forlorne and leane, Ore-come with Mosse, and balefull Misselto. Heere neuer shines the Sunne, heere nothing breeds, Vnlesse the nightly Owle, or fatall Rauen: And when they shew'd me this abhorred pit, They told me heere at dead time of the night, A thousand Fiends, a thousand hissing Snakes, Ten thousand swelling Toades, as many Vrchins, Would make such fearefull and confused cries, As any mortall body hearing it, Should straite fall mad, or else die suddenly. No sooner had they told this hellish tale, But strait they told me they would binde me heere, Vnto the body of a dismall yew, And leaue me to this miserable death. And then they call'd me foule Adulteresse, Lasciuious Goth, and all the bitterest tearmes That euer eare did heare to such effect. And had you not by wondrous fortune come, This vengeance on me had they executed: Reuenge it, as you loue your Mothers life, Or be ye not henceforth cal'd my Children

Dem. This is a witnesse that I am thy Sonne.

stab him.

Chi. And this for me, Strook home to shew my strength

Laui. I come Semeramis, nay Barbarous Tamora. For no name fits thy nature but thy owne

Tam. Giue me thy poyniard, you shal know my boyes Your Mothers hand shall right your Mothers wrong

Deme. Stay Madam heere is more belongs to her, First thrash the Corne, then after burne the straw: This Minion stood vpon her chastity, Vpon her Nuptiall vow, her loyaltie. And with that painted hope, braues your Mightinesse, And shall she carry this vnto her graue? Chi. And if she doe, I would I were an Eunuch, Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, And make his dead Trunke-Pillow to our lust

Tamo. But when ye haue the hony we desire, Let not this Waspe out-liue vs both to sting

Chir. I warrant you Madam we will make that sure: Come Mistris, now perforce we will enioy, That nice-preserued honesty of yours

Laui. Oh Tamora, thou bear'st a woman face

Tamo. I will not heare her speake, away with her

Laui. Sweet Lords intreat her heare me but a word

Demet. Listen faire Madam, let it be your glory To see her teares, but be your hart to them, As vnrelenting flint to drops of raine

Laui. When did the Tigers young-ones teach the dam? O doe not learne her wrath, she taught it thee, The milke thou suck'st from her did turne to Marble, Euen at thy Teat thou had'st thy Tyranny, Yet euery Mother breeds not Sonnes alike, Do thou intreat her shew a woman pitty

Chiro. What, Would'st thou haue me proue my selfe a bastard? Laui. 'Tis true, The Rauen doth not hatch a Larke, Yet haue I heard, Oh could I finde it now, The Lion mou'd with pitty, did indure To haue his Princely pawes par'd all away. Some say, that Rauens foster forlorne children, The whil'st their owne birds famish in their nests: Oh be to me though thy hard hart say no, Nothing so kind but something pittifull

Tamo. I know not what it meanes, away with her

Lauin. Oh let me teach thee for my Fathers sake, That gaue thee life when well he might haue slaine thee: Be not obdurate, open thy deafe eares

Tamo. Had'st thou in person nere offended me. Euen for his sake am I pittilesse: Remember Boyes I powr'd forth teares in vaine, To saue your brother from the sacrifice, But fierce Andronicus would not relent, Therefore away with her, and vse her as you will, The worse to her, the better lou'd of me

Laui. Oh Tamora, Be call'd a gentle Queene, And with thine owne hands kill me in this place, For 'tis not life that I haue beg'd so long, Poore I was slaine, when Bassianus dy'd

Tam. What beg'st thou then? fond woman let me go? Laui. 'Tis present death I beg, and one thing more, That womanhood denies my tongue to tell: Oh keepe me from their worse then killing lust, And tumble me into some loathsome pit, Where neuer mans eye may behold my body, Doe this, and be a charitable murderer

Tam. So should I rob my sweet Sonnes of their fee, No let them satisfie their lust on thee

Deme. Away, For thou hast staid vs heere too long

Lauinia. No Grace, No womanhood? Ah beastly creature, The blot and enemy to our generall name, Confusion fall- Chi. Nay then Ile stop your mouth Bring thou her husband, This is the Hole where Aaron bid vs hide him

Tam. Farewell my Sonnes, see that you make her sure, Nere let my heart know merry cheere indeed, Till all the Andronici be made away: Now will I hence to seeke my louely Moore, And let my spleenefull Sonnes this Trull defloure. Enter.

Enter Aaron with two of Titus Sonnes.

Aron. Come on my Lords, the better foote before, Straight will I bring you to the lothsome pit, Where I espied the Panther fast asleepe

Quin. My sight is very dull what ere it bodes

Marti. And mine I promise you, were it not for shame, Well could I leaue our sport to sleepe a while

Quin. What art thou fallen? What subtile Hole is this, Whose mouth is couered with Rude growing Briers, Vpon whose leaues are drops of new-shed-blood, As fresh as mornings dew distil'd on flowers, A very fatall place it seemes to me: Speake Brother hast thou hurt thee with the fall? Martius. Oh Brother, With the dismal'st obiect That euer eye with sight made heart lament

Aron. Now will I fetch the King to finde them heere, That he thereby may haue a likely gesse, How these were they that made away his Brother.

Exit Aaron.

Marti. Why dost not comfort me and helpe me out, From this vnhallow'd and blood-stained Hole? Quintus. I am surprised with an vncouth feare, A chilling sweat ore-runs my trembling ioynts, My heart suspects more then mine eie can see

Marti. To proue thou hast a true diuining heart, Aaron and thou looke downe into this den, And see a fearefull sight of blood and death

Quintus. Aaron is gone, And my compassionate heart Will not permit mine eyes once to behold The thing whereat it trembles by surmise: Oh tell me how it is, for nere till now Was I a child to feare I know not what

Marti. Lord Bassianus lies embrewed heere, All on a heape like to the slaughtred Lambe, In this detested, darke, blood-drinking pit

Quin. If it be darke, how doost thou know 'tis he? Mart. Vpon his bloody finger he doth weare A precious Ring, that lightens all the Hole: Which like a Taper in some Monument, Doth shine vpon the dead mans earthly cheekes, And shewes the ragged intrailes of the pit: So pale did shine the Moone on Piramus, When he by night lay bath'd in Maiden blood: O Brother helpe me with thy fainting hand. If feare hath made thee faint, as mee it hath, Out of this fell deuouring receptacle, As hatefull as Ocitus mistie mouth

Quint. Reach me thy hand, that I may helpe thee out, Or wanting strength to doe thee so much good, I may be pluckt into the swallowing wombe, Of this deepe pit, poore Bassianus graue: I haue no strength to plucke thee to the brinke

Martius. Nor I no strength to clime without thy help

Quin. Thy hand once more, I will not loose againe, Till thou art heere aloft, or I below, Thou can'st not come to me, I come to thee.

Both fall in.

Enter the Emperour, Aaron the Moore.

Satur. Along with me, Ile see what hole is heere, And what he is that now is leapt into it. Say, who art thou that lately did'st descend, Into this gaping hollow of the earth? Marti. The vnhappie sonne of old Andronicus, Brought hither in a most vnluckie houre, To finde thy brother Bassianus dead

Satur. My brother dead? I know thou dost but iest, He and his Lady both are at the Lodge, Vpon the North-side of this pleasant Chase, 'Tis not an houre since I left him there

Marti. We know not where you left him all aliue, But out alas, heere haue we found him dead. Enter Tamora, Andronicus, and Lucius.

Tamo. Where is my Lord the King? King. Heere Tamora, though grieu'd with killing griefe

Tam. Where is thy brother Bassianus? King. Now to the bottome dost thou search my wound, Poore Bassianus heere lies murthered

Tam. Then all too late I bring this fatall writ, The complot of this timelesse Tragedie, And wonder greatly that mans face can fold, In pleasing smiles such murderous Tyrannie.

She giueth Saturnine a Letter.

Saturninus reads the Letter. And if we misse to meete him hansomely, Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 'tis we meane, Doe thou so much as dig the graue for him, Thou know'st our meaning, looke for thy reward Among the Nettles at the Elder tree: Which ouer-shades the mouth of that same pit: Where we decreed to bury Bassianuss Doe this and purchase vs thy lasting friends

King. Oh Tamora, was euer heard the like? This is the pit, and this the Elder tree, Looke sirs, if you can finde the huntsman out, That should haue murthered Bassianus heere

Aron. My gracious Lord heere is the bag of Gold

King. Two of thy whelpes, fell Curs of bloody kind Haue heere bereft my brother of his life: Sirs drag them from the pit vnto the prison, There let them bide vntill we haue deuis'd Some neuer heard-of tortering paine for them

Tamo. What are they in this pit, Oh wondrous thing! How easily murder is discouered? Tit. High Emperour, vpon my feeble knee, I beg this boone, with teares, not lightly shed, That this fell fault of my accursed Sonnes, Accursed, if the faults be prou'd in them

King. If it be prou'd? you see it is apparant, Who found this Letter, Tamora was it you? Tamora. Andronicus himselfe did take it vp

Tit. I did my Lord, Yet let me be their baile, For by my Fathers reuerent Tombe I vow They shall be ready at your Highnes will, To answere their suspition with their liues

King. Thou shalt not baile them, see thou follow me: Some bring the murthered body, some the murtherers, Let them not speake a word, the guilt is plaine, For by my soule, were there worse end then death, That end vpon them should be executed

Tamo. Andronicus I will entreat the King, Feare not thy Sonnes, they shall do well enough

Tit. Come Lucius come, Stay not to talke with them.

Exeunt.

Enter the Empresse Sonnes, with Lauinia, her hands cut off and her tongue cut out, and rauisht.

Deme. So now goe tell and if thy tongue can speake, Who t'was that cut thy tongue and rauisht thee

Chi. Write downe thy mind, bewray thy meaning so, And if thy stumpes will let thee play the Scribe

Dem. See how with signes and tokens she can scowle

Chi. Goe home, Call for sweet water, wash thy hands

Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands to wash. And so let's leaue her to her silent walkes

Chi. And t'were my cause, I should goe hang my selfe

Dem. If thou had'st hands to helpe thee knit the cord.

Exeunt.

Winde Hornes.

Enter Marcus from hunting, to Lauinia.

Who is this, my Neece that flies away so fast? Cosen a word, where is your husband? If I do dreame, would all my wealth would wake me; If I doe wake, some Planet strike me downe, That I may slumber in eternall sleepe. Speake gentle Neece, what sterne vngentle hands Hath lopt, and hew'd, and made thy body bare Of her two branches, those sweet Ornaments Whose circkling shadowes, Kings haue sought to sleep in And might not gaine so great a happines As halfe thy Loue: Why doost not speake to me? Alas, a Crimson riuer of warme blood, Like to a bubling fountaine stir'd with winde, Doth rise and fall betweene thy Rosed lips, Comming and going with thy hony breath. But sure some Tereus hath defloured thee, And least thou should'st detect them, cut thy tongue. Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame: And notwithstanding all this losse of blood, As from a Conduit with their issuing Spouts, Yet doe thy cheekes looke red as Titans face, Blushing to be encountred with a Cloud, Shall I speake for thee? shall I say 'tis so? Oh that I knew thy hart, and knew the beast That I might raile at him to ease my mind. Sorrow concealed, like an Ouen stopt. Doth burne the hart to Cinders where it is. Faire Philomela she but lost her tongue, And in a tedious Sampler sowed her minde. But louely Neece, that meane is cut from thee, A craftier Tereus hast thou met withall, And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, That could haue better sowed then Philomel. Oh had the monster seene those Lilly hands, Tremble like Aspen leaues vpon a Lute, And make the silken strings delight to kisse them, He would not then haue toucht them for his life. Or had he heard the heauenly Harmony, Which that sweet tongue hath made: He would haue dropt his knife and fell asleepe, As Cerberus at the Thracian Poets feete. Come, let vs goe, and make thy father blinde, For such a sight will blinde a fathers eye. One houres storme will drowne the fragrant meades, What, will whole months of teares thy Fathers eyes? Doe not draw backe, for we will mourne with thee: Oh could our mourning ease thy misery.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

Enter the Iudges and Senatours with Titus two sonnes bound, passing on the Stage to the place of execution, and Titus going before pleading.

Ti. Heare me graue fathers, noble Tribunes stay, For pitty of mine age, whose youth was spent In dangerous warres, whilst you securely slept: For all my blood in Romes great quarrell shed, For all the frosty nights that I haue watcht, And for these bitter teares, which now you see, Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheekes, Be pittifull to my condemned Sonnes, Whose soules is not corrupted as 'tis thought: For two and twenty sonnes I neuer wept, Because they died in honours lofty bed. Andronicus lyeth downe, and the Iudges passe by him. For these, Tribunes, in the dust I write My harts deepe languor, and my soules sad teares: Let my teares stanch the earths drie appetite. My sonnes sweet blood, will make it shame and blush: O earth! I will be friend thee more with raine

Exeunt.

That shall distill from these two ancient ruines, Then youthfull Aprill shall with all his showres In summers drought: Ile drop vpon thee still, In Winter with warme teares Ile melt the snow, And keepe eternall spring time on thy face, So thou refuse to drinke my deare sonnes blood. Enter Lucius, with his weapon drawne.

Oh reuerent Tribunes, oh gentle aged men, Vnbinde my sonnes, reuerse the doome of death, And let me say (that neuer wept before) My teares are now preualing Oratours

Lu. Oh noble father, you lament in vaine, The Tribunes heare not, no man is by, And you recount your sorrowes to a stone

Ti. Ah Lucius for thy brothers let me plead, Graue Tribunes, once more I intreat of you

Lu. My gracious Lord, no Tribune heares you speake

Ti. Why 'tis no matter man, if they did heare They would not marke me: oh if they did heare They would not pitty me. Therefore I tell my sorrowes bootles to the stones. Who though they cannot answere my distresse, Yet in some sort they are better then the Tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale; When I doe weepe, they humbly at my feete Receiue my teares, and seeme to weepe with me, And were they but attired in graue weedes, Rome could afford no Tribune like to these. A stone is as soft waxe, Tribunes more hard then stones: A stone is silent, and offendeth not, And Tribunes with their tongues doome men to death. But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon drawne? Lu. To rescue my two brothers from their death, For which attempt the Iudges haue pronounc'st My euerlasting doome of banishment

Ti. O happy man, they haue befriended thee: Why foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceiue That Rome is but a wildernes of Tigers? Tigers must pray, and Rome affords no prey But me and mine: how happy art thou then, From these deuourers to be banished? But who comes with our brother Marcus heere? Enter Marcus and Lauinia.

Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weepe, Or if not so, thy noble heart to breake: I bring consuming sorrow to thine age

Ti. Will it consume me? Let me see it then

Mar. This was thy daughter

Ti. Why Marcus so she is

Luc. Aye me this obiect kils me

Ti. Faint-harted boy, arise and looke vpon her, Speake Lauinia, what accursed hand Hath made thee handlesse in thy Fathers sight? What foole hath added water to the Sea? Or brought a faggot to bright burning Troy? My griefe was at the height before thou cam'st, And now like Nylus it disdaineth bounds: Giue me a sword, Ile chop off my hands too, For they haue fought for Rome, and all in vaine: And they haue nur'st this woe, In feeding life: In bootelesse prayer haue they bene held vp, And they haue seru'd me to effectlesse vse. Now all the seruice I require of them, Is that the one will helpe to cut the other: 'Tis well Lauinia, that thou hast no hands, For hands to do Rome seruice, is but vaine

Luci. Speake gentle sister, who hath martyr'd thee? Mar. O that delightfull engine of her thoughts, That blab'd them with such pleasing eloquence, Is torne from forth that pretty hollow cage, Where like a sweet mellodius bird it sung, Sweet varied notes inchanting euery eare

Luci. Oh say thou for her, Who hath done this deed? Marc. Oh thus I found her straying in the Parke, Seeking to hide herselfe as doth the Deare That hath receiude some vnrecuring wound

Tit. It was my Deare, And he that wounded her, Hath hurt me more, then had he kild me dead: For now I stand as one vpon a Rocke, Inuiron'd with a wildernesse of Sea. Who markes the waxing tide, Grow waue by waue, Expecting euer when some enuious surge, Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. This way to death my wretched sonnes are gone: Heere stands my other sonne, a banisht man, And heere my brother weeping at my woes. But that which giues my soule the greatest spurne, Is deere Lauinia, deerer then my soule. Had I but seene thy picture in this plight, It would haue madded me. What shall I doe? Now I behold thy liuely body so? Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy teares, Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee: Thy husband he is dead, and for his death Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by this. Looke Marcus, ah sonne Lucius looke on her: When I did name her brothers, then fresh teares Stood on her cheekes, as doth the hony dew, Vpon a gathred Lillie almost withered

Mar. Perchance she weepes because they kil'd her husband, Perchance because she knowes him innocent

Ti. If they did kill thy husband then be ioyfull, Because the law hath tane reuenge on them. No, no, they would not doe so foule a deede, Witnes the sorrow that their sister makes. Gentle Lauinia let me kisse thy lips, Or make some signes how I may do thee ease: Shall thy good Vncle, and thy brother Lucius, And thou and I sit round about some Fountaine, Looking all downewards to behold our cheekes How they are stain'd in meadowes, yet not dry With miery slime left on them by a flood: And in the Fountaine shall we gaze so long, Till the fresh taste be taken from that cleerenes, And made a brine pit with our bitter teares? Or shall we cut away our hands like thine? Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumbe shewes Passe the remainder of our hatefull dayes? What shall we doe? Let vs that haue our tongues Plot some deuise of further miseries To make vs wondred at in time to come

Lu. Sweet Father cease your teares, for at your griefe See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps

Mar. Patience deere Neece, good Titus drie thine eyes

Ti. Ah Marcus, Marcus, Brother well I wot, Thy napkin cannot drinke a teare of mine, For thou poore man hast drown'd it with thine owne

Lu. Ah my Lauinia I will wipe thy cheekes

Ti. Marke Marcus marke, I vnderstand her signes, Had she a tongue to speake, now would she say That to her brother which I said to thee. His Napkin with her true teares all bewet, Can do no seruice on her sorrowfull cheekes. Oh what a simpathy of woe is this! As farre from helpe as Limbo is from blisse, Enter Aron the Moore alone.

Moore. Titus Andronicus, my Lord the Emperour, Sends thee this word, that if thou loue thy sonnes, Let Marcus, Lucius, or thy selfe old Titus, Or any one of you, chop off your hand, And send it to the King: he for the same, Will send thee hither both thy sonnes aliue, And that shall be the ransome for their fault

Ti. Oh gracious Emperour, oh gentle Aaron. Did euer Rauen sing so like a Larke, That giues sweet tydings of the Sunnes vprise? With all my heart, Ile send the Emperour my hand, Good Aron wilt thou help to chop it off? Lu. Stay Father, for that noble hand of thine, That hath throwne downe so many enemies, Shall not be sent: my hand will serue the turne, My youth can better spare my blood then you, And therfore mine shall saue my brothers liues

Mar. Which of your hands hath not defended Rome, And rear'd aloft the bloody Battleaxe, Writing destruction on the enemies Castle? Oh none of both but are of high desert: My hand hath bin but idle, let it serue To ransome my two nephewes from their death, Then haue I kept it to a worthy end

Moore. Nay come agree, whose hand shall goe along For feare they die before their pardon come

Mar. My hand shall goe

Lu. By heauen it shall not goe

Ti. Sirs striue no more, such withered hearbs as these Are meete for plucking vp, and therefore mine

Lu. Sweet Father, if I shall be thought thy sonne, Let me redeeme my brothers both from death

Mar. And for our fathers sake, and mothers care, Now let me shew a brothers loue to thee

Ti. Agree betweene you, I will spare my hand

Lu. Then Ile goe fetch an Axe

Mar. But I will vse the Axe.

Exeunt.

Ti. Come hither Aaron, Ile deceiue them both, Lend me thy hand, and I will giue thee mine, Moore. If that be cal'd deceit, I will be honest, And neuer whil'st I liue deceiue men so: But Ile deceiue you in another sort, And that you'l say ere halfe an houre passe.

He cuts off Titus hand.

Enter Lucius and Marcus againe.

Ti. Now stay your strife, what shall be, is dispatcht: Good Aron giue his Maiestie my hand, Tell him, it was a hand that warded him From thousand dangers: bid him bury it: More hath it merited: That let it haue. As for my sonnes, say I account of them, As iewels purchast at an easie price, And yet deere too, because I bought mine owne

Aron. I goe Andronicus, and for thy hand, Looke by and by to haue thy sonnes with thee: Their heads I meane: Oh how this villany Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it. Let fooles doe good, and faire men call for grace, Aron will haue his soule blacke like his face. Enter.

Ti. O heere I lift this one hand vp to heauen, And bow this feeble ruine to the earth, If any power pitties wretched teares, To that I call: what wilt thou kneele with me? Doe then deare heart, for heauen shall heare our prayers, Or with our sighs weele breath the welkin dimme, And staine the Sun with fogge as somtime cloudes, When they do hug him in their melting bosomes

Mar. Oh brother speake with possibilities, And do not breake into these deepe extreames

Ti. Is not my sorrow deepe, hauing no bottome? Then be my passions bottomlesse with them

Mar. But yet let reason gouerne thy lament

Titus. If there were reason for these miseries, Then into limits could I binde my woes: When heauen doth weepe, doth not the earth oreflow? If the windes rage, doth not the Sea wax mad, Threatning the welkin with his big-swolne face? And wilt thou haue a reason for this coile? I am the Sea. Harke how her sighes doe flow: Shee is the weeping welkin, I the earth: Then must my Sea be moued with her sighes, Then must my earth with her continuall teares, Become a deluge: ouerflow'd and drown'd: For why, my bowels cannot hide her woes, But like a drunkard must I vomit them: Then giue me leaue, for loosers will haue leaue, To ease their stomackes with their bitter tongues, Enter a messenger with two heads and a hand.

Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid, For that good hand thou sentst the Emperour: Heere are the heads of thy two noble sonnes. And heeres thy hand in scorne to thee sent backe: Thy griefes, their sports: Thy resolution mockt, That woe is me to thinke vpon thy woes, More then remembrance of my fathers death. Enter.

Marc. Now let hot aetna coole in Cicilie, And be my heart an euer-burning hell: These miseries are more then may be borne. To weepe with them that weepe, doth ease some deale, But sorrow flouted at, is double death

Luci. Ah that this sight should make so deep a wound, And yet detested life not shrinke thereat: That euer death should let life beare his name, Where life hath no more interest but to breath

Mar. Alas poore hart that kisse is comfortlesse, As frozen water to a starued snake

Titus. When will this fearefull slumber haue an end? Mar. Now farwell flatterie, die Andronicus, Thou dost not slumber, see thy two sons heads, Thy warlike hands, thy mangled daughter here: Thy other banisht sonnes with this deere sight Strucke pale and bloodlesse, and thy brother I, Euen like a stony Image, cold and numme. Ah now no more will I controule my griefes, Rent off thy siluer haire, thy other hand Gnawing with thy teeth, and be this dismall sight The closing vp of our most wretched eyes: Now is a time to storme, why art thou still? Titus. Ha, ha, ha, Mar. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not with this houre

Ti. Why I haue not another teare to shed: Besides, this sorrow is an enemy, And would vsurpe vpon my watry eyes, And make them blinde with tributarie teares. Then which way shall I finde Reuenges Caue? For these two heads doe seeme to speake to me, And threat me, I shall neuer come to blisse, Till all these mischiefes be returned againe, Euen in their throats that haue committed them. Come let me see what taske I haue to doe, You heauie people, circle me about, That I may turne me to each one of you, And sweare vnto my soule to right your wrongs. The vow is made, come Brother take a head, And in this hand the other will I beare. And Lauinia thou shalt be employd in these things: Beare thou my hand sweet wench betweene thy teeth: As for thee boy, goe get thee from my sight, Thou art an Exile, and thou must not stay, Hie to the Gothes, and raise an army there, And if you loue me, as I thinke you doe, Let's kisse and part, for we haue much to doe.

Exeunt.

Manet Lucius.

Luci. Farewell Andronicus my noble Father: The woful'st man that euer liu'd in Rome: Farewell proud Rome, til Lucius come againe, He loues his pledges dearer then his life: Farewell Lauinia my noble sister, O would thou wert as thou to fore hast beene, But now, nor Lucius nor Lauinia liues But in obliuion and hateful griefes: If Lucius liue, he will requit your wrongs, And make proud Saturnine and his Empresse Beg at the gates like Tarquin and his Queene. Now will I to the Gothes and raise a power, To be reueng'd on Rome and Saturnine.

Exit Lucius

A Banket.

Enter Andronicus, Marcus, Lauinia, and the Boy.

An. So, so, now sit, and looke you eate no more Then will preserue iust so much strength in vs As will reuenge these bitter woes of ours. Marcus vnknit that sorrow-wreathen knot: Thy Neece and I (poore Creatures) want our hands And cannot passionate our tenfold griefe, With foulded Armes. This poore right hand of mine, Is left to tirranize vppon my breast. Who when my hart all mad with misery, Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh, Then thus I thumpe it downe. Thou Map of woe, that thus dost talk in signes, When thy poore hart beates without ragious beating, Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still? Wound it with sighing girle, kil it with grones: Or get some little knife betweene thy teeth, And iust against thy hart make thou a hole, That all the teares that thy poore eyes let fall May run into that sinke, and soaking in, Drowne the lamenting foole, in Sea salt teares

Mar. Fy brother fy, teach her not thus to lay Such violent hands vppon her tender life

An. How now! Has sorrow made thee doate already? Why Marcus, no man should be mad but I: What violent hands can she lay on her life: Ah, wherefore dost thou vrge the name of hands, To bid Aeneas tell the tale twice ore How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable? O handle not the theame, to talke of hands, Least we remember still that we haue none, Fie, fie, how Frantiquely I square my talke As if we should forget we had no hands: If Marcus did not name the word of hands. Come, lets fall too, and gentle girle eate this, Heere is no drinke? Harke Marcus what she saies, I can interpret all her martir'd signes, She saies, she drinkes no other drinke but teares Breu'd with her sorrow: mesh'd vppon her cheekes, Speechlesse complayner, I will learne thy thought: In thy dumb action, will I be as perfect As begging Hermits in their holy prayers. Thou shalt not sighe nor hold thy stumps to heauen, Nor winke, nor nod, nor kneele, nor make a signe; But I (of these) will wrest an Alphabet, And by still practice, learne to know thy meaning

Boy. Good grandsire leaue these bitter deepe laments, Make my Aunt merry, with some pleasing tale

Mar. Alas, the tender boy in passion mou'd, Doth weepe to see his grandsires heauinesse

An. Peace tender Sapling, thou art made of teares, And teares will quickly melt thy life away.

Marcus strikes the dish with a knife.

What doest thou strike at Marcus with knife

Mar. At that that I haue kil'd my Lord, a Fly An. Out on the murderour: thou kil'st my hart, Mine eyes cloi'd with view of Tirranie: A deed of death done on the Innocent Becoms not Titus brother: get thee gone, I see thou art not for my company

Mar. Alas (my Lord) I haue but kild a flie

An. But? How: if that Flie had a father and mother? How would he hang his slender gilded wings And buz lamenting doings in the ayer, Poore harmelesse Fly, That with his pretty buzing melody, Came heere to make vs merry, And thou hast kil'd him

Mar. Pardon me sir, It was a blacke illfauour'd Fly, Like to the Empresse Moore, therefore I kild him

An. O, o, o, Then pardon me for reprehending thee, For thou hast done a Charitable deed: Giue me thy knife, I will insult on him, Flattering my selfe, as if it were the Moore, Come hither purposely to poyson me. There's for thy selfe, and thats for Tamora: Ah sirra, Yet I thinke we are not brought so low, But that betweene vs, we can kill a Fly, That comes in likenesse of a Cole-blacke Moore

Mar. Alas poore man, griefe ha's so wrought on him, He takes false shadowes, for true substances

An. Come, take away: Lauinia, goe with me, Ile to thy closset, and goe read with thee Sad stories, chanced in the times of old. Come boy, and goe with me, thy sight is young, And thou shalt read, when mine begin to dazell.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

Enter young Lucius and Lauinia running after him, and the Boy flies from her with his bookes vnder his arme. Enter Titus and Marcus.

Boy. Helpe Gransier helpe, my Aunt Lauinia, Followes me euery where I know not why. Good Vncle Marcus see how swift she comes, Alas sweet Aunt, I know not what you meane

Mar. Stand by me Lucius, doe not feare thy Aunt

Titus. She loues thee boy too well to doe thee harme Boy. I when my father was in Rome she did

Mar. What meanes my Neece Lauinia by these signes? Ti. Feare not Lucius, somewhat doth she meane: See Lucius see, how much she makes of thee: Some whether would she haue thee goe with her. Ah boy, Cornelia neuer with more care Read to her sonnes, then she hath read to thee, Sweet Poetry, and Tullies Oratour: Canst thou not gesse wherefore she plies thee thus? Boy. My Lord I know not I, nor can I gesse, Vnlesse some fit or frenzie do possesse her: For I haue heard my Gransier say full oft, Extremitie of griefes would make men mad. And I haue read that Hecuba of Troy, Ran mad through sorrow, that made me to feare, Although my Lord, I know my noble Aunt, Loues me as deare as ere my mother did, And would not but in fury fright my youth, Which made me downe to throw my bookes, and flie Causles perhaps, but pardon me sweet Aunt, And Madam, if my Vncle Marcus goe, I will most willingly attend your Ladyship

Mar. Lucius I will

Ti. How now Lauinia, Marcus what meanes this? Some booke there is that she desires to see, Which is it girle of these? Open them boy, But thou art deeper read and better skild, Come and take choyse of all my Library, And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heauens Reueale the damn'd contriuer of this deed. What booke? Why lifts she vp her armes in sequence thus? Mar. I thinke she meanes that ther was more then one Confederate in the fact, I more there was: Or else to heauen she heaues them to reuenge

Ti. Lucius what booke is that she tosseth so? Boy. Grandsier 'tis Ouids Metamorphosis, My mother gaue it me

Mar. For loue of her that's gone, Perhaps she culd it from among the rest

Ti. Soft, so busily she turnes the leaues, Helpe her, what would she finde? Lauinia shall I read? This is the tragicke tale of Philomel? And treates of Tereus treason and his rape, And rape I feare was roote of thine annoy

Mar. See brother see, note how she quotes the leaues Ti. Lauinia, wert thou thus surpriz'd sweet girle, Rauisht and wrong'd as Philomela was? Forc'd in the ruthlesse, vast, and gloomy woods? See, see, I such a place there is where we did hunt, (O had we neuer, neuer hunted there) Patern'd by that the Poet heere describes, By nature made for murthers and for rapes

Mar. O why should nature build so foule a den, Vnlesse the Gods delight in tragedies? Ti. Giue signes sweet girle, for heere are none but friends What Romaine Lord it was durst do the deed? Or slunke not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, That left the Campe to sinne in Lucrece bed

Mar. Sit downe sweet Neece, brother sit downe by me, Appollo, Pallas, Ioue, or Mercury, Inspire me that I may this treason finde. My Lord looke heere, looke heere Lauinia.

He writes his Name with his staffe, and guides it with feete and mouth.

This sandie plot is plaine, guide if thou canst This after me, I haue writ my name, Without the helpe of any hand at all. Curst be that hart that forc'st vs to that shift: Write thou good Neece, and heere display at last, What God will haue discouered for reuenge, Heauen guide thy pen to print thy sorrowes plaine, That we may know the Traytors and the truth.

She takes the staffe in her mouth, and guides it with her stumps and writes.

Ti. Oh doe ye read my Lord what she hath writ? Stuprum, Chiron, Demetrius

Mar. What, what, the lustfull sonnes of Tamora, Performers of this hainous bloody deed? Ti. Magni Dominator poli, Tam lentus audis scelera, tam lentus vides? Mar. Oh calme thee gentle Lord: Although I know There is enough written vpon this earth, To stirre a mutinie in the mildest thoughts, And arme the mindes of infants to exclaimes. My Lord kneele downe with me: Lauinia kneele, And kneele sweet boy, the Romaine Hectors hope, And sweare with me, as with the wofull Feere And father of that chast dishonoured Dame, Lord Iunius Brutus sweare for Lucrece rape, That we will prosecute (by good aduise) Mortall reuenge vpon these traytorous Gothes, And see their blood, or die with this reproach

Ti. Tis sure enough, and you knew how. But if you hunt these Beare-whelpes, then beware The Dam will wake, and if she winde you once, Shee's with the Lyon deepely still in league. And lulls him whilst she playeth on her backe, And when he sleepes will she do what she list. You are a young huntsman Marcus, let it alone: And come, I will goe get a leafe of brasse, And with a Gad of steele will write these words, And lay it by: the angry Northerne winde Will blow these sands like Sibels leaues abroad, And wheres your lesson then. Boy what say you? Boy. I say my Lord, that if I were a man, Their mothers bed-chamber should not be safe, For these bad bond-men to the yoake of Rome

Mar. I that's my boy, thy father hath full oft, For his vngratefull country done the like

Boy. And Vncle so will I, and if I liue

Ti. Come goe with me into mine Armorie, Lucius Ile fit thee, and withall, my boy Shall carry from me to the Empresse sonnes, Presents that I intend to send them both, Come, come, thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou not? Boy. I with my dagger in their bosomes Grandsire: Ti. No boy not so, Ile teach thee another course, Lauinia come, Marcus looke to my house, Lucius and Ile goe braue it at the Court, I marry will we sir, and weele be waited on.

Exeunt.

Mar. O heauens! Can you heare a good man grone And not relent, or not compassion him? Marcus attend him in his extasie, That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart, Then foe-mens markes vpon his batter'd shield, But yet so iust, that he will not reuenge, Reuenge the heauens for old Andronicus.

Exit

Enter Aron, Chiron and Demetrius at one dore: and at another dore young Lucius and another, with a bundle of weapons, and verses writ vpon them.

Chi. Demetrius heeres the sonne of Lucius, He hath some message to deliuer vs

Aron. I some mad message from his mad Grandfather

Boy. My Lords, with all the humblenesse I may, I greete your honours from Andronicus, And pray the Romane Gods confound you both

Deme. Gramercie louely Lucius, what's the newes? For villanie's markt with rape. May it please you, My Grandsire well aduis'd hath sent by me, The goodliest weapons of his Armorie, To gratifie your honourable youth, The hope of Rome, for so he bad me say: And so I do and with his gifts present Your Lordships, when euer you haue need, You may be armed and appointed well, And so I leaue you both: like bloody villaines.

Exit

Deme. What's heere? a scrole, & written round about? Let's see. Integer vitæ scelerisque purus, non egit maury iaculis nec arcus

Chi. O 'tis a verse in Horace, I know it well. I read it in the Grammer long agoe

Moore. I iust, a verse in Horace: right, you haue it, Now what a thing it is to be an Asse? Heer's no sound iest, the old man hath found their guilt, And sends the weapons wrapt about with lines, That wound (beyond their feeling) to the quick: But were our witty Empresse well a foot, She would applaud Andronicus conceit: But let her rest, in her vnrest a while. And now young Lords, was't not a happy starre Led vs to Rome strangers, and more then so; Captiues, to be aduanced to this height? It did me good before the Pallace gate, To braue the Tribune in his brothers hearing

Deme. But me more good, to see so great a Lord Basely insinuate, and send vs gifts

Moore. Had he not reason Lord Demetrius? Did you not vse his daughter very friendly? Deme. I would we had a thousand Romane Dames At such a bay, by turne to serue our lust

Chi. A charitable wish, and full of loue

Moore. Heere lack's but your mother for to say, Amen

Chi. And that would she for twenty thousand more

Deme. Come, let vs go, and pray to all the Gods For our beloued mother in her paines

Moore. Pray to the deuils, the gods haue giuen vs ouer.

Flourish.

Dem. Why do the Emperors trumpets flourish thus? Chi. Belike for ioy the Emperour hath a sonne

Deme. Soft, who comes heere? Enter Nurse with a blacke a Moore childe.

Nur. Good morrow Lords: O tell me, did you see Aaron the Moore? Aron. Well, more or lesse, or nere a whit at all, Heere Aaron is, and what with Aaron now? Nurse. Oh gentle Aaron, we are all vndone. Now helpe, or woe betide thee euermore

Aron. Why, what a catterwalling dost thou keepe? What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine armes? Nurse. O that which I would hide from heauens eye, Our Empresse shame, and stately Romes disgrace, She is deliuered Lords, she is deliuered

Aron. To whom? Nurse. I meane she is brought a bed? Aron. Wel God giue her good rest, What hath he sent her? Nurse. A deuill

Aron. Why then she is the Deuils Dam: a ioyfull issue

Nurse. A ioylesse, dismall, blacke &, sorrowfull issue, Heere is the babe as loathsome as a toad, Among'st the fairest breeders of our clime, The Empresse sends it thee, thy stampe, thy seale, And bids thee christen it with thy daggers point

Aron. Out you whore, is black so base a hue? Sweet blowse, you are a beautious blossome sure

Deme. Villaine what hast thou done? Aron. That which thou canst not vndoe

Chi. Thou hast vndone our mother

Deme. And therein hellish dog, thou hast vndone, Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choyce, Accur'st the off-spring of so foule a fiend

Chi. It shall not liue

Aron. It shall not die

Nurse. Aaron it must, the mother wils it so

Aron. What, must it Nurse? Then let no man but I Doe execution on my flesh and blood

Deme. Ile broach the Tadpole on my Rapiers point: Nurse giue it me, my sword shall soone dispatch it

Aron. Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels vp. Stay murtherous villaines, will you kill your brother? Now by the burning Tapers of the skie, That shone so brightly when this Boy was got, He dies vpon my Semitars sharpe point, That touches this my first borne sonne and heire. I tell you younglings, not Enceladus With all his threatning band of Typhons broode, Nor great Alcides, nor the God of warre, Shall ceaze this prey out of his fathers hands: What, what, ye sanguine shallow harted Boyes, Ye white-limb'd walls, ye Ale-house painted signes, Cole-blacke is better then another hue, In that it scornes to beare another hue: For all the water in the Ocean, Can neuer turne the Swans blacke legs to white, Although she laue them hourely in the flood: Tell the Empresse from me, I am of age To keepe mine owne, excuse it how she can Deme. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistris thus? Aron. My mistris is my mistris: this my selfe, The vigour, and the picture of my youth: This, before all the world do I preferre, This mauger all the world will I keepe safe, Or some of you shall smoake for it in Rome

Deme. By this our mother is for euer sham'd

Chi. Rome will despise her for this foule escape

Nur. The Emperour in his rage will doome her death

Chi. I blush to thinke vpon this ignominie

Aron. Why ther's the priuiledge your beauty beares: Fie trecherous hue, that will betray with blushing The close enacts and counsels of the hart: Heer's a young Lad fram'd of another leere, Looke how the blacke slaue smiles vpon the father; As who should say, old Lad I am thine owne. He is your brother Lords, sensibly fed Of that selfe blood that first gaue life to you, And from that wombe where you imprisoned were He is infranchised and come to light: Nay he is your brother by the surer side, Although my seale be stamped in his face

Nurse. Aaron what shall I say vnto the Empresse? Dem. Aduise thee Aaron, what is to be done, And we will all subscribe to thy aduise: Saue thou the child, so we may all be safe

Aron. Then sit we downe and let vs all consult. My sonne and I will haue the winde of you: Keepe there, now talke at pleasure of your safety

Deme. How many women saw this childe of his? Aron. Why so braue Lords, when we ioyne in league I am a Lambe: but if you braue the Moore, The chafed Bore, the mountaine Lyonesse, The Ocean swells not so as Aaron stormes: But say againe, how many saw the childe? Nurse. Cornelia, the midwife, and my selfe, And none else but the deliuered Empresse

Aron. The Empresse, the Midwife, and your selfe, Two may keepe counsell, when the third's away: Goe to the Empresse, tell her this I said,

He kils her

Weeke, weeke, so cries a Pigge prepared to th' spit

Deme. What mean'st thou Aron? Wherefore did'st thou this? Aron. O Lord sir, 'tis a deed of pollicie? Shall she liue to betray this guilt of our's: A long tongu'd babling Gossip? No Lords no: And now be it knowne to you my full intent. Not farre, one Muliteus my Country-man His wife but yesternight was brought to bed, His childe is like to her, faire as you are: Goe packe with them, and giue the mother gold, And tell them both the circumstance of all, And how by this their Childe shall be aduaunc'd, And be receiued for the Emperours heyre, And substituted in the place of mine, To calme this tempest whirling in the Court, And let the Emperour dandle him for his owne, Harke ye Lords, ye see I haue giuen her physicke, And you must needs bestow her funerall, The fields are neere, and you are gallant Groomes: This done, see that you take no longer daies But send the Midwife presently to me. The Midwife and the Nurse well made away, Then let the Ladies tattle what they please

Chi. Aaron I see thou wilt not trust the ayre with secrets

Deme. For this care of Tamora, Her selfe, and hers are highly bound to thee.

Exeunt

Aron. Now to the Gothes, as swift as Swallow flies, There to dispose this treasure in mine armes, And secretly to greete the Empresse friends: Come on you thick-lipt-slaue, Ile beare you hence, For it is you that puts vs to our shifts: Ile make you feed on berries, and on rootes, And feed on curds and whay, and sucke the Goate, And cabbin in a Caue, and bring you vp To be a warriour, and command a Campe.

Exit

Enter Titus, old Marcus, young Lucius, and other gentlemen with bowes, and Titus beares the arrowes with Letters on the end of them.

Tit. Come Marcus, come, kinsmen this is the way. Sir Boy let me see your Archerie, Looke yee draw home enough, and 'tis there straight: Terras Astrea reliquit, be you remembred Marcus. She's gone, she's fled, sirs take you to your tooles, You Cosens shall goe sound the Ocean: And cast your nets, haply you may find her in the Sea, Yet ther's as little iustice as at Land: No Publius and Sempronius, you must doe it, 'Tis you must dig with Mattocke, and with Spade, And pierce the inmost Center of the earth: Then when you come to Plutoes Region, I pray you deliuer him this petition, Tell him it is for iustice, and for aide, And that it comes from old Andronicus, Shaken with sorrowes in vngratefull Rome. Ah Rome! Well, well, I made thee miserable, What time I threw the peoples suffrages On him that thus doth tyrannize ore me. Goe get you gone, and pray be carefull all, And leaue you not a man of warre vnsearcht, This wicked Emperour may haue shipt her hence, And kinsmen then we may goe pipe for iustice

Marc. O Publius is not this a heauie case To see thy Noble Vnckle thus distract? Publ. Therefore my Lords it highly vs concernes, By day and night t' attend him carefully: And feede his humour kindely as we may, Till time beget some carefull remedie

Marc. Kinsmen, his sorrowes are past remedie. Ioyne with the Gothes, and with reuengefull warre, Take wreake on Rome for this ingratitude, And vengeance on the Traytor Saturnine

Tit. Publius how now? how now my Maisters? What haue you met with her? Publ. No my good Lord, but Pluto sends you word, If you will haue reuenge from hell you shall, Marrie for iustice she is so imploy'd, He thinkes with Ioue in heauen, or some where else: So that perforce you must needs stay a time

Tit. He doth me wrong to feed me with delayes, Ile diue into the burning Lake below, And pull her out of Acaron by the heeles. Marcus we are but shrubs, no Cedars we, No big-bon'd-men, fram'd of the Cyclops size, But mettall Marcus steele to the very backe, Yet wrung with wrongs more then our backe can beare: And sith there's no iustice in earth nor hell, We will sollicite heauen, and moue the Gods To send downe Iustice for to wreake our wrongs: Come to this geare, you are a good Archer Marcus.

He giues them the Arrowes.

Ad Iouem, that's for you: here ad Appollonem, Ad Martem, that's for my selfe, Heere Boy to Pallas, heere to Mercury, To Saturnine, to Caius, not to Saturnine, You were as good to shoote against the winde. Too it Boy, Marcus loose when I bid: Of my word, I haue written to effect, Ther's not a God left vnsollicited

Marc. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the Court, We will afflict the Emperour in his pride

Tit. Now Maisters draw, Oh well said Lucius: Good Boy in Virgoes lap, giue it Pallas

Marc. My Lord, I aime a Mile beyond the Moone, Your letter is with Iupiter by this

Tit. Ha, ha, Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus hornes

Mar. This was the sport my Lord, when Publius shot, The Bull being gal'd, gaue Aries such a knocke, That downe fell both the Rams hornes in the Court, And who should finde them but the Empresse villaine: She laught, and told the Moore he should not choose But giue them to his Maister for a present

Tit. Why there it goes, God giue your Lordship ioy. Enter the Clowne with a basket and two Pigeons in it.

Titus. Newes, newes, from heauen, Marcus the poast is come. Sirrah, what tydings? haue you any letters? Shall I haue Iustice, what sayes Iupiter? Clowne. Ho the Iibbetmaker, he sayes that he hath taken them downe againe, for the man must not be hang'd till the next weeke

Tit. But what sayes Iupiter I aske thee? Clowne. Alas sir I know not Iupiter: I neuer dranke with him in all my life

Tit. Why villaine art not thou the Carrier? Clowne. I of my Pigions sir, nothing else

Tit. Why, did'st thou not come from heauen? Clowne. From heauen? Alas sir, I neuer came there, God forbid I should be so bold, to presse to heauen in my young dayes. Why I am going with my pigeons to the Tribunall Plebs, to take vp a matter of brawle, betwixt my Vncle, and one of the Emperialls men

Mar. Why sir, that is as fit as can be to serue for your Oration, and let him deliuer the Pigions to the Emperour from you

Tit. Tell mee, can you deliuer an Oration to the Emperour with a Grace? Clowne. Nay truely sir, I could neuer say grace in all my life

Tit. Sirrah come hither, make no more adoe, But giue your Pigeons to the Emperour, By me thou shalt haue Iustice at his hands. Hold, hold, meane while her's money for thy charges. Giue me pen and inke. Sirrah, can you with a Grace deliuer a Supplication? Clowne. I sir Titus. Then here is a Supplication for you, and when you come to him, at the first approach you must kneele, then kisse his foote, then deliuer vp your Pigeons, and then looke for your reward. Ile be at hand sir, see you do it brauely

Clowne. I warrant you sir, let me alone

Tit. Sirrha hast thou a knife? Come let me see it. Heere Marcus, fold it in the Oration, For thou hast made it like an humble Suppliant: And when thou hast giuen it the Emperour, Knocke at my dore, and tell me what he sayes

Clowne. God be with you sir, I will. Enter.

Tit. Come Marcus let vs goe, Publius follow me.

Exeunt.

Enter Emperour and Empresse, and her two sonnes, the Emperour brings the Arrowes in his hand that Titus shot at him.

Satur. Why Lords, What wrongs are these? was euer seene An Emperour in Rome thus ouerborne, Troubled, Confronted thus, and for the extent Of egall iustice, vs'd in such contempt? My Lords, you know the mightfull Gods, (How euer these disturbers of our peace Buz in the peoples eares) there nought hath past, But euen with law against the willfull Sonnes Of old Andronicus. And what and if His sorrowes haue so ouerwhelm'd his wits, Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreakes, His fits, his frenzie, and his bitternesse? And now he writes to heauen for his redresse. See, heeres to Ioue, and this to Mercury, This to Apollo, this to the God of warre: Sweet scrowles to flie about the streets of Rome: What's this but Libelling against the Senate, And blazoning our Iniustice euery where? A goodly humour, is it not my Lords? As who would say, in Rome no Iustice were. But if I liue, his fained extasies Shall be no shelter to these outrages: But he and his shall know, that Iustice liues In Saturninus health; whom if he sleepe, Hee'l so awake, as he in fury shall Cut off the proud'st Conspirator that liues

Tamo. My gracious Lord, my louely Saturnine, Lord of my life, Commander of my thoughts, Calme thee, and beare the faults of Titus age, Th' effects of sorrow for his valiant Sonnes, Whose losse hath pier'st him deepe, and scar'd his heart; And rather comfort his distressed plight, Then prosecute the meanest or the best For these contempts. Why thus it shall become High witted Tamora to glose with all:

Aside.

But Titus, I haue touch'd thee to the quicke, Thy life blood out: If Aaron now be wise, Then is all safe, the Anchor's in the Port. Enter Clowne.

How now good fellow, would'st thou speake with vs? Clow. Yea forsooth, and your Mistership be Emperiall

Tam. Empresse I am, but yonder sits the Emperour

Clo. 'Tis he; God & Saint Stephen giue you good den; I haue brought you a Letter, & a couple of Pigions heere.

He reads the Letter.

Satu. Goe take him away, and hang him presently

Clowne. How much money must I haue? Tam. Come sirrah you must be hang'd

Clow. Hang'd? ber Lady, then I haue brought vp a neck to a faire end. Enter.

Satu. Despightfull and intollerable wrongs, Shall I endure this monstrous villany? I know from whence this same deuise proceedes: May this be borne? As if his traytrous Sonnes, That dy'd by law for murther of our Brother, Haue by my meanes beene butcher'd wrongfully? Goe dragge the villaine hither by the haire, Nor Age, nor Honour, shall shape priuiledge: For this proud mocke, Ile be thy slaughter man: Sly franticke wretch, that holp'st to make me great, In hope thy selfe should gouerne Rome and me. Enter Nuntius Emillius.

Satur. What newes with thee Emillius? Emil. Arme my Lords, Rome neuer had more cause, The Gothes haue gather'd head, and with a power Of high resolued men, bent to the spoyle They hither march amaine, vnder conduct Of Lucius, Sonne to old Andronicus: Who threats in course of this reuenge to do As much as euer Coriolanus did

King. Is warlike Lucius Generall of the Gothes? These tydings nip me, and I hang the head As flowers with frost, or grasse beat downe with stormes: I, now begins our sorrowes to approach, 'Tis he the common people loue so much, My selfe hath often heard them say, (When I haue walked like a priuate man) That Lucius banishment was wrongfully, And they haue wisht that Lucius were their Emperour

Tam. Why should you feare? Is not our City strong? King. I, but the Cittizens fauour Lucius, And will reuolt from me, to succour him

Tam. King, be thy thoughts Imperious like thy name. Is the Sunne dim'd, that Gnats do flie in it? The Eagle suffers little Birds to sing, And is not carefull what they meane thereby, Knowing that with the shadow of his wings, He can at pleasure stint their melodie. Euen so mayest thou, the giddy men of Rome, Then cheare thy spirit, for know thou Emperour, I will enchaunt the old Andronicus, With words more sweet, and yet more dangerous Then baites to fish, or hony stalkes to sheepe, When as the one is wounded with the baite, The other rotted with delicious foode

King. But he will not entreat his Sonne for vs

Tam. If Tamora entreat him, then he will, For I can smooth and fill his aged eare, With golden promises, that were his heart Almost Impregnable, his old eares deafe, Yet should both eare and heart, obey my tongue. Goe thou before to our Embassadour, Say, that the Emperour requests a parly Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting

King. Emillius do this message Honourably, And if he stand in Hostage for his safety, Bid him demaund what pledge will please him best

Emill. Your bidding shall I do effectually. Enter.

Tam. Now will I to that old Andronicus, And temper him with all the Art I haue, To plucke proud Lucius from the warlike Gothes. And now sweet Emperour be blithe againe, And bury all thy feare in my deuises

Satu. Then goe successantly and plead for him. Enter.

Actus Quintus.

Flourish. Enter Lucius with an Army of Gothes, with Drum and Souldiers.

Luci. Approued warriours, and my faithfull Friends, I haue receiued Letters from great Rome, Which signifies what hate they beare their Emperour, And how desirous of our sight they are. Therefore great Lords, be as your Titles witnesse, Imperious and impatient of your wrongs, And wherein Rome hath done you any scathe, Let him make treble satisfaction

Goth. Braue slip, sprung from the Great Andronicus, Whose name was once our terrour, now our comfort, Whose high exploits, and honourable Deeds, Ingratefull Rome requites with foule contempt: Behold in vs, weele follow where thou lead'st, Like stinging Bees in hottest Sommers day, Led by their Maister to the flowred fields, And be aueng'd on cursed Tamora: And as he saith, so say we all with him

Luci. I humbly thanke him, and I thanke you all. But who comes heere, led by a lusty Goth? Enter a Goth leading of Aaron with his child in his armes.

Goth. Renowned Lucius, from our troups I straid, To gaze vpon a ruinous Monasterie, And as I earnestly did fixe mine eye Vpon the wasted building, suddainely I heard a childe cry vnderneath a wall: I made vnto the noyse, when soone I heard, The crying babe control'd with this discourse: Peace Tawny slaue, halfe me, and halfe thy Dam, Did not thy Hue bewray whose brat thou art? Had nature lent thee, but thy Mothers looke, Villaine thou might'st haue bene an Emperour. But where the Bull and Cow are both milk-white, They neuer do beget a cole-blacke-Calfe: Peace, villaine peace, euen thus he rates the babe, For I must beare thee to a trusty Goth, Who when he knowes thou art the Empresse babe, Will hold thee dearely for thy Mothers sake. With this, my weapon drawne I rusht vpon him, Surpriz'd him suddainely, and brought him hither To vse, as you thinke needefull of the man

Luci. Oh worthy Goth, this is the incarnate deuill, That rob'd Andronicus of his good hand: This is the Pearle that pleas'd your Empresse eye, And heere's the Base Fruit of his burning lust. Say wall-ey'd slaue, whether would'st thou conuay This growing Image of thy fiend-like face? Why dost not speake? what deafe? Not a word? A halter Souldiers, hang him on this Tree, And by his side his Fruite of Bastardie

Aron. Touch not the Boy, he is of Royall blood

Luci. Too like the Syre for euer being good. First hang the Child that he may see it sprall, A sight to vexe the Fathers soule withall

Aron. Get me a Ladder Lucius, saue the Childe, And beare it from me to the Empresse: If thou do this, Ile shew thee wondrous things, That highly may aduantage thee to heare; If thou wilt not, befall what may befall, Ile speake no more: but vengeance rot you all

Luci. Say on, and if it please me which thou speak'st, Thy child shall liue, and I will see it Nourisht

Aron. And if it please thee? why assure thee Lucius, 'Twill vexe thy soule to heare what I shall speake: For I must talke of Murthers, Rapes, and Massacres, Acts of Blacke-night, abhominable Deeds, Complots of Mischiefe, Treason, Villanies Ruthfull to heare, yet pittiously perform'd, And this shall all be buried by my death, Vnlesse thou sweare to me my Childe shall liue

Luci. Tell on thy minde, I say thy Childe shall liue

Aron. Sweare that he shall, and then I will begin

Luci. Who should I sweare by, Thou beleeuest no God, That graunted, how can'st thou beleeue an oath? Aron. What if I do not, as indeed I do not, Yet for I know thou art Religious, And hast a thing within thee, called Conscience, With twenty Popish trickes and Ceremonies, Which I haue seene thee carefull to obserue: Therefore I vrge thy oath, for that I know An Ideot holds his Bauble for a God, And keepes the oath which by that God he sweares, To that Ile vrge him: therefore thou shalt vow By that same God, what God so ere it be That thou adorest, and hast in reuerence, To saue my Boy, to nourish and bring him vp, Ore else I will discouer nought to thee

Luci. Euen by my God I sweare to thee I will

Aron. First know thou, I begot him on the Empresse

Luci. Oh most Insatiate luxurious woman! Aron. Tut Lucius, this was but a deed of Charitie, To that which thou shalt heare of me anon, 'Twas her two Sonnes that murdered Bassianus, They cut thy Sisters tongue, and rauisht her, And cut her hands off, and trim'd her as thou saw'st

Lucius. Oh detestable villaine! Call'st thou that Trimming? Aron. Why she was washt, and cut, and trim'd, And 'twas trim sport for them that had the doing of it

Luci. Oh barbarous beastly villaines like thy selfe! Aron. Indeede, I was their Tutor to instruct them That Codding spirit had they from their Mother, As sure a Card as euer wonne the Set: That bloody minde I thinke they learn'd of me, As true a Dog as euer fought at head. Well, let my Deeds be witnesse of my worth: I trayn'd thy Bretheren to that guilefull Hole, Where the dead Corps of Bassianus lay: I wrote the Letter, that thy Father found, And hid the Gold within the Letter mention'd. Confederate with the Queene, and her two Sonnes, And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, Wherein I had no stroke of Mischeife in it. I play'd the Cheater for thy Fathers hand, And when I had it, drew my selfe apart, And almost broke my heart with extreame laughter. I pried me through the Creuice of a Wall, When for his hand, he had his two Sonnes heads, Beheld his teares, and laught so hartily, That both mine eyes were rainie like to his: And when I told the Empresse of this sport, She sounded almost at my pleasing tale, And for my tydings, gaue me twenty kisses

Goth. What canst thou say all this, and neuer blush? Aron. I, like a blacke Dogge, as the saying is

Luci. Art thou not sorry for these hainous deedes? Aron. I, that I had not done a thousand more: Euen now I curse the day, and yet I thinke Few come within few compasse of my curse, Wherein I did not some Notorious ill, As kill a man, or else deuise his death, Rauish a Maid, or plot the way to do it, Accuse some Innocent, and forsweare my selfe, Set deadly Enmity betweene two Friends, Make poore mens Cattell breake their neckes, Set fire on Barnes and Haystackes in the night, And bid the Owners quench them with the teares: Oft haue I dig'd vp dead men from their graues, And set them vpright at their deere Friends doore, Euen when their sorrowes almost was forgot, And on their skinnes, as on the Barke of Trees, Haue with my knife carued in Romaine Letters, Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead. Tut, I haue done a thousand dreadfull things As willingly, as one would kill a Fly, And nothing greeues me hartily indeede, But that I cannot doe ten thousand more

Luci. Bring downe the diuell, for he must not die So sweet a death as hanging presently

Aron. If there be diuels, would I were a deuill, To liue and burne in euerlasting fire, So I might haue your company in hell, But to torment you with my bitter tongue

Luci. Sirs stop his mouth, & let him speake no more. Enter Emillius.

Goth. My Lord, there is a Messenger from Rome Desires to be admitted to your presence

Luc. Let him come neere. Welcome Emillius, what the newes from Rome? Emi. Lord Lucius, and you Princes of the Gothes, The Romaine Emperour greetes you all by me, And for he vnderstands you are in Armes, He craues a parly at your Fathers house Willing you to demand your Hostages, And they shall be immediately deliuered

Goth. What saies our Generall? Luc. Emillius, let the Emperour giue his pledges Vnto my Father, and my Vncle Marcus,

Flourish.

And we will come: march away.

Exeunt.

Enter Tamora, and her two Sonnes disguised.

Tam. Thus in this strange and sad Habilliament, I will encounter with Andronicus, And say, I am Reuenge sent from below, To ioyne with him and right his hainous wrongs: Knocke at his study where they say he keepes, To ruminate strange plots of dire Reuenge, Tell him Reuenge is come to ioyne with him, And worke confusion on his Enemies.

They knocke and Titus opens his study dore.

Tit. Who doth mollest my Contemplation? Is it your tricke to make me ope the dore, That so my sad decrees may flie away, And all my studie be to no effect? You are deceiu'd, for what I meane to do, See heere in bloody lines I haue set downe: And what is written shall be executed

Tam. Titus, I am come to talke with thee, Tit. No not a word: how can I grace my talke, Wanting a hand to giue it action, Thou hast the ods of me, therefore no more

Tam. If thou did'st know me, Thou would'st talke with me

Tit. I am not mad, I know thee well enough, Witnesse this wretched stump, Witnesse these crimson lines, Witnesse these Trenches made by griefe and care, Witnesse the tyring day, and heauie night, Witnesse all sorrow, that I know thee well For our proud Empresse, Mighty Tamora: Is not thy comming for my other hand? Tamo. Know thou sad man, I am not Tamora, She is thy Enemie, and I thy Friend, I am Reuenge sent from th' infernall Kingdome, To ease the gnawing Vulture of the mind, By working wreakefull vengeance on my Foes: Come downe and welcome me to this worlds light, Conferre with me of Murder and of Death, Ther's not a hollow Caue or lurking place, No Vast obscurity, or Misty vale, Where bloody Murther or detested Rape, Can couch for feare, but I will finde them out, And in their eares tell them my dreadfull name, Reuenge, which makes the foule offenders quake

Tit. Art thou Reuenge? and art thou sent to me, To be a torment to mine Enemies? Tam. I am, therefore come downe and welcome me

Tit. Doe me some seruice ere I come to thee: Loe by thy side where Rape and Murder stands, Now giue some surance that thou art Reuenge, Stab them, or teare them on thy Chariot wheeles, And then Ile come and be thy Waggoner, And whirle along with thee about the Globes. Prouide thee two proper Palfries, as blacke as Iet, To hale thy vengefull Waggon swift away, And finde out Murder in their guilty cares. And when thy Car is loaden with their heads, I will dismount, and by the Waggon wheele, Trot like a Seruile footeman all day long, Euen from Eptons rising in the East, Vntill his very downefall in the Sea. And day by day Ile do this heauy taske, So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there

Tam. These are my Ministers, and come with me

Tit. Are them thy Ministers, what are they call'd? Tam. Rape and Murder, therefore called so, Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men

Tit. Good Lord how like the Empresse Sons they are, And you the Empresse: But we worldly men, Haue miserable mad mistaking eyes: Oh sweet Reuenge, now do I come to thee, And if one armes imbracement will content thee, I will imbrace thee in it by and by

Tam. This closing with him, fits his Lunacie, What ere I forge to feede his braine-sicke fits, Do you vphold, and maintaine in your speeches, For now he firmely takes me for Reuenge, And being Credulous in this mad thought, Ile make him send for Lucius his Sonne, And whil'st I at a Banquet hold him sure, Ile find some cunning practise out of hand To scatter and disperse the giddie Gothes, Or at the least make them his Enemies: See heere he comes, and I must play my theame

Tit. Long haue I bene forlorne, and all for thee, Welcome dread Fury to my woefull house, Rapine and Murther, you are welcome too, How like the Empresse and her Sonnes you are. Well are you fitted, had you but a Moore, Could not all hell afford you such a deuill? For well I wote the Empresse neuer wags; But in her company there is a Moore, And would you represent our Queene aright It were conuenient you had such a deuill: But welcome as you are, what shall we doe? Tam. What would'st thou haue vs doe Andronicus? Dem. Shew me a Murtherer, Ile deale with him

Chi. Shew me a Villaine that hath done a Rape, And I am sent to be reueng'd on him

Tam. Shew me a thousand that haue done thee wrong, And Ile be reuenged on them all

Tit. Looke round about the wicked streets of Rome, And when thou find'st a man that's like thy selfe, Good Murder stab him, hee's a Murtherer. Goe thou with him, and when it is thy hap To finde another that is like to thee, Good Rapine stab him, he is a Rauisher. Go thou with them, and in the Emperours Court, There is a Queene attended by a Moore, Well maist thou know her by thy owne proportion, For vp and downe she doth resemble thee. I pray thee doe on them some violent death, They haue bene violent to me and mine

Tam. Well hast thou lesson'd vs, this shall we do. But would it please thee good Andronicus, To send for Lucius thy thrice Valiant Sonne, Who leades towards Rome a Band of Warlike Gothes, And bid him come and Banquet at thy house. When he is heere, euen at thy Solemne Feast, I will bring in the Empresse and her Sonnes, The Emperour himselfe, and all thy Foes, And at thy mercy shall they stoop, and kneele, And on them shalt thou ease, thy angry heart: What saies Andronicus to this deuise? Enter Marcus.

Tit. Marcus my Brother, 'tis sad Titus calls, Go gentle Marcus to thy Nephew Lucius, Thou shalt enquire him out among the Gothes, Bid him repaire to me, and bring with him Some of the chiefest Princes of the Gothes, Bid him encampe his Souldiers where they are, Tell him the Emperour, and the Empresse too, Feasts at my house, and he shall Feast with them, This do thou for my loue, and so let him, As he regards his aged Fathers life

Mar. This will I do, and soone returne againe

Tam. Now will I hence about thy businesse, And take my Ministers along with me

Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay with me, Or els Ile call my Brother backe againe, And cleaue to no reuenge but Lucius

Tam. What say you Boyes, will you bide with him, Whiles I goe tell my Lord the Emperour, How I haue gouern'd our determined iest? Yeeld to his Humour, smooth and speake him faire, And tarry with him till I turne againe

Tit. I know them all, though they suppose me mad, And will ore-reach them in their owne deuises, A payre of cursed hell-hounds and their Dam

Dem. Madam depart at pleasure, leaue vs heere

Tam. Farewell Andronicus, reuenge now goes To lay a complot to betray thy Foes

Tit. I know thou doo'st, and sweet reuenge farewell

Chi. Tell vs old man, how shall we be imploy'd? Tit. Tut, I haue worke enough for you to doe, Publius come hither, Caius, and Valentine

Pub. What is your will? Tit. Know you these two? Pub. The Empresse Sonnes I take them, Chiron, Demetrius

Titus. Fie Publius, fie, thou art too much deceau'd, The one is Murder, Rape is the others name, And therefore bind them gentle Publius, Caius, and Valentine, lay hands on them, Oft haue you heard me wish for such an houre, And now I find it, therefore binde them sure, Chi. Villaines forbeare, we are the Empresse Sonnes

Pub. And therefore do we, what we are commanded. Stop close their mouthes, let them not speake a word, Is he sure bound, looke that you binde them fast.

Exeunt.

Enter Titus Andronicus with a knife, and Lauinia with a Bason.

Tit. Come, come Lauinia, looke, thy Foes are bound, Sirs stop their mouthes, let them not speake to me, But let them heare what fearefull words I vtter. Oh Villaines, Chiron, and Demetrius, Here stands the spring whom you haue stain'd with mud, This goodly Sommer with your Winter mixt, You kil'd her husband, and for that vil'd fault, Two of her Brothers were condemn'd to death, My hand cut off, and made a merry iest, Both her sweet Hands, her Tongue, and that more deere Then Hands or tongue, her spotlesse Chastity, Inhumaine Traytors, you constrain'd and for'st. What would you say, if I should let you speake? Villaines for shame you could not beg for grace. Harke Wretches, how I meane to martyr you, This one Hand yet is left, to cut your throats, Whil'st that Lauinia tweene her stumps doth hold: The Bason that receiues your guilty blood. You know your Mother meanes to feast with me, And calls herselfe Reuenge, and thinkes me mad. Harke Villaines, I will grin'd your bones to dust, And with your blood and it, Ile make a Paste, And of the Paste a Coffen I will reare, And make two Pasties of your shamefull Heads, And bid that strumpet your vnhallowed Dam, Like to the earth swallow her increase. This is the Feast, that I haue bid her to, And this the Banquet she shall surfet on, For worse then Philomel you vsd my Daughter, And worse then Progne, I will be reueng'd, And now prepare your throats: Lauinia come. Receiue the blood, and when that they are dead, Let me goe grin'd their Bones to powder small, And with this hatefull Liquor temper it, And in that Paste let their vil'd Heads be bakte, Come, come, be euery one officious, To make this Banket, which I wish might proue, More sterne and bloody then the Centaures Feast. He cuts their throats.

So now bring them in, for Ile play the Cooke, And see them ready, gainst their Mother comes.

Exeunt.

Enter Lucius, Marcus, and the Gothes.

Luc. Vnckle Marcus, since 'tis my Fathers minde That I repair to Rome, I am content

Goth. And ours with thine befall, what Fortune will

Luc. Good Vnckle take you in this barbarous Moore, This Rauenous Tiger, this accursed deuill, Let him receiue no sustenance, fetter him, Till he be brought vnto the Emperours face, For testimony of her foule proceedings. And see the Ambush of our Friends be strong, If ere the Emperour meanes no good to vs

Aron. Some deuill whisper curses in my eare, And prompt me that my tongue may vtter forth, The Venemous Mallice of my swelling heart

Luc. Away Inhumaine Dogge, Vnhallowed Slaue, Sirs, helpe our Vnckle, to conuey him in,

Flourish.

The Trumpets shew the Emperour is at hand.

Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperour and Empresse, with Tribunes and others.

Sat. What, hath the Firemament more Suns then one? Luc. What bootes it thee to call thy selfe a Sunne? Mar. Romes Emperour & Nephewe breake the parle These quarrels must be quietly debated, The Feast is ready which the carefull Titus, Hath ordained to an Honourable end, For Peace, for Loue, for League, and good to Rome: Please you therfore draw nie and take your places

Satur. Marcus we will.

Hoboyes.

A Table brought in. Enter Titus like a Cooke, placing the meat on the Table, and Lauinia with a vale ouer her face.

Titus. Welcome my gracious Lord, Welcome Dread Queene, Welcome ye Warlike Gothes, welcome Lucius, And welcome all: although the cheere be poore, 'Twill fill your stomacks, please you eat of it

Sat. Why art thou thus attir'd Andronicus? Tit. Because I would be sure to haue all well, To entertaine your Highnesse, and your Empresse

Tam. We are beholding to you good Andronicus? Tit. And if your Highnesse knew my heart, you were: My Lord the Emperour resolue me this, Was it well done of rash Virginius, To slay his daughter with his owne right hand. Because she was enfor'st, stain'd, and deflowr'd? Satur. It was Andronicus

Tit. Your reason, Mighty Lord? Sat. Because the Girle, should not suruiue her shame, And by her presence still renew his sorrowes

Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and effectuall, A patterne, president, and liuely warrant, For me (most wretched) to performe the like: Die, die, Lauinia, and thy shame with thee, And with thy shame, thy Fathers sorrow die.

He kils her.

Sat. What hast done, vnnaturall and vnkinde? Tit. Kil'd her for whom my teares haue made me blind. I am as wofull as Virginius was, And haue a thousand times more cause then he

Sat. What was she rauisht? tell who did the deed, Tit. Wilt please you eat, Wilt please your Highnesse feed? Tam. Why hast thou slaine thine onely Daughter? Titus. Not I, 'twas Chiron and Demetrius, They rauisht her, and cut away her tongue, And they, 'twas they, that did her all this wrong

Satu. Go fetch them hither to vs presently

Tit. Why there they are both, baked in that Pie, Whereof their Mother daintily hath fed, Eating the flesh that she herselfe hath bred. 'Tis true, 'tis true, witnesse my kniues sharpe point.

He stabs the Empresse.

Satu. Die franticke wretch, for this accursed deed

Luc. Can the Sonnes eye, behold his Father bleed? There's meede for meede, death for a deadly deed

Mar. You sad fac'd men, people and Sonnes of Rome, By vprores seuer'd like a flight of Fowle, Scattred by windes and high tempestuous gusts: Oh let me teach you how, to knit againe This scattred Corne, into one mutuall sheafe, These broken limbs againe into one body

Goth. Let Rome herselfe be bane vnto herselfe, And shee whom mightie kingdomes cursie too, Like a forlorne and desperate castaway, Doe shamefull execution on her selfe. But if my frostie signes and chaps of age, Graue witnesses of true experience, Cannot induce you to attend my words, Speake Romes deere friend, as er'st our Auncestor, When with his solemne tongue he did discourse To loue-sicke Didoes sad attending eare, The story of that balefull burning night, When subtil Greekes surpriz'd King Priams Troy: Tell vs what Sinon hath bewicht our eares, Or who hath brought the fatall engine in, That giues our Troy, our Rome the ciuill wound. My heart is not compact of flint nor steele, Nor can I vtter all our bitter griefe, But floods of teares will drowne my Oratorie, And breake my very vttrance, euen in the time When it should moue you to attend me most, Lending your kind hand Commiseration. Heere is a Captaine, let him tell the tale, Your hearts will throb and weepe to heare him speake

Luc. This Noble Auditory, be it knowne to you, That cursed Chiron and Demetrius Were they that murdred our Emperours Brother, And they it were that rauished our Sister, For their fell faults our Brothers were beheaded, Our Fathers teares despis'd, and basely cousen'd, Of that true hand that fought Romes quarrell out, And sent her enemies vnto the graue. Lastly, my selfe vnkindly banished, The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out, To beg reliefe among Romes Enemies, Who drown'd their enmity in my true teares, And op'd their armes to imbrace me as a Friend: And I am turned forth, be it knowne to you, That haue preseru'd her welfare in my blood, And from her bosome tooke the Enemies point, Sheathing the steele in my aduentrous body. Alas you know, I am no Vaunter I, My scars can witnesse, dumbe although they are, That my report is iust and full of truth: But soft, me thinkes I do digresse too much, Cyting my worthlesse praise: Oh pardon me, For when no Friends are by, men praise themselues, Marc. Now is my turne to speake: Behold this Child, Of this was Tamora deliuered, The issue of an Irreligious Moore, Chiefe Architect and plotter of these woes, The Villaine is aliue in Titus house, And as he is, to witnesse this is true. Now iudge what course had Titus to reuenge These wrongs, vnspeakeable past patience, Or more then any liuing man could beare. Now you haue heard the truth, what say you Romaines? Haue we done ought amisse? shew vs wherein, And from the place where you behold vs now, The poore remainder of Andronici, Will hand in hand all headlong cast vs downe, And on the ragged stones beat forth our braines, And make a mutuall closure of our house: Speake Romaines speake, and if you say we shall, Loe hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall

Emilli. Come come, thou reuerent man of Rome, And bring our Emperour gently in thy hand, Lucius our Emperour: for well I know, The common voyce do cry it shall be so

Mar. Lucius, all haile Romes Royall Emperour, Goe, goe into old Titus sorrowfull house, And hither hale that misbelieuing Moore, To be adiudg'd some direfull slaughtering death, As punishment for his most wicked life. Lucius all haile to Romes gracious Gouernour

Luc. Thankes gentle Romanes, may I gouerne so, To heale Romes harmes, and wipe away her woe. But gentle people, giue me ayme a-while, For Nature puts me to a heauy taske: Stand all aloofe, but Vnckle draw you neere, To shed obsequious teares vpon this Trunke: Oh take this warme kisse on thy pale cold lips, These sorrowfull drops vpon thy bloud-slaine face, The last true Duties of thy Noble Sonne

Mar. Teare for teare, and louing kisse for kisse, Thy Brother Marcus tenders on thy Lips: O were the summe of these that I should pay Countlesse, and infinit, yet would I pay them

Luc. Come hither Boy, come, come, and learne of vs To melt in showres: thy Grandsire lou'd thee well: Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee: Sung thee asleepe, his Louing Brest, thy Pillow: Many a matter hath he told to thee, Meete, and agreeing with thine Infancie: In that respect then, like a louing Childe, Shed yet some small drops from thy tender Spring, Because kinde Nature doth require it so: Friends, should associate Friends, in Greefe and Wo. Bid him farwell, commit him to the Graue, Do him that kindnesse, and take leaue of him

Boy. O Grandsire, Grandsire: euen with all my heart Would I were Dead, so you did Liue againe. O Lord, I cannot speake to him for weeping, My teares will choake me, if I ope my mouth

Romans. You sad Andronici, haue done with woes, Giue sentence on this execrable Wretch, That hath beene breeder of these dire euents

Luc. Set him brest deepe in earth, and famish him: There let him stand, and raue, and cry for foode: If any one releeues, or pitties him, For the offence, he dyes. This is our doome: Some stay, to see him fast'ned in the earth

Aron. O why should wrath be mute, & Fury dumbe? I am no Baby I, that with base Prayers I should repent the Euils I haue done. Ten thousand worse, then euer yet I did, Would I performe if I might haue my will: If one good Deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very Soule

Lucius. Some louing Friends conuey the Emp[erour]. hence, And giue him buriall in his Fathers graue. My Father, and Lauinia, shall forthwith Be closed in our Housholds Monument: As for that heynous Tyger Tamora, No Funerall Rite, nor man in mournfull Weeds: No mournfull Bell shall ring her Buriall: But throw her foorth to Beasts and Birds of prey: Her life was Beast-like, and deuoid of pitty, And being so, shall haue like want of pitty. See Iustice done on Aaron that damn'd Moore, From whom, our heauy happes had their beginning: Then afterwards, to Order well the State, That like Euents, may ne're it Ruinate.

Exeunt. omnes.

FINIS. The Lamentable Tragedy of Titus Andronicus.

The Tragedie of Romeo and Juliet

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Sampson and Gregory, with Swords and Bucklers, of the House of Capulet.

Sampson. Gregory: A my word wee'l not carry coales

Greg. No, for then we should be Colliars

Samp. I mean, if we be in choller, wee'l draw

Greg. I, While you liue, draw your necke out o'th Collar

Samp. I strike quickly, being mou'd

Greg. But thou art not quickly mou'd to strike

Samp. A dog of the house of Mountague, moues me

Greg. To moue, is to stir: and to be valiant, is to stand: Therefore, if thou art mou'd, thou runst away

Samp. A dogge of that house shall moue me to stand. I will take the wall of any Man or Maid of Mountagues

Greg. That shewes thee a weake slaue, for the weakest goes to the wall

Samp. True, and therefore women being the weaker Vessels, are euer thrust to the wall: therefore I will push Mountagues men from the wall, and thrust his Maides to the wall

Greg. The Quarrell is betweene our Masters, and vs their men

Samp. 'Tis all one, I will shew my selfe a tyrant: when I haue fought with the men, I will bee ciuill with the Maids, and cut off their heads

Greg. The heads of the Maids? Sam. I, the heads of the Maids, or their Maiden-heads, Take it in what sence thou wilt

Greg. They must take it sence, that feele it

Samp. Me they shall feele while I am able to stand: And 'tis knowne I am a pretty peece of flesh

Greg. 'Tis well thou art not Fish: If thou had'st, thou had'st beene poore Iohn. Draw thy Toole, here comes of the House of the Mountagues. Enter two other Seruingmen.

Sam. My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I wil back thee Gre. How? Turne thy backe, and run

Sam. Feare me not

Gre. No marry: I feare thee

Sam. Let vs take the Law of our sides: let them begin

Gr. I wil frown as I passe by, & let the[m] take it as they list Sam. Nay, as they dare. I wil bite my Thumb at them, which is a disgrace to them, if they beare it

Abra. Do you bite your Thumbe at vs sir? Samp. I do bite my Thumbe, sir

Abra. Do you bite your Thumb at vs, sir? Sam. Is the Law of our side, if I say I? Gre. No

Sam. No sir, I do not bite my Thumbe at you sir: but I bite my Thumbe sir

Greg. Do you quarrell sir? Abra. Quarrell sir? no sir

Sam. If you do sir, I am for you, I serue as good a man as you Abra. No better? Samp. Well sir. Enter Benuolio.

Gr. Say better: here comes one of my masters kinsmen

Samp. Yes, better

Abra. You Lye

Samp. Draw if you be men. Gregory, remember thy washing blow.

They Fight.

Ben. Part Fooles, put vp your Swords, you know not what you do. Enter Tibalt.

Tyb. What art thou drawne, among these heartlesse Hindes? Turne thee Benuolio, looke vpon thy death

Ben. I do but keepe the peace, put vp thy Sword, Or manage it to part these men with me

Tyb. What draw, and talke of peace? I hate the word As I hate hell, all Mountagues, and thee: Haue at thee Coward.

Fight.

Enter three or foure Citizens with Clubs.

Offi. Clubs, Bils, and Partisons, strike, beat them down Downe with the Capulets, downe with the Mountagues. Enter old Capulet in his Gowne, and his wife.

Cap. What noise is this? Giue me my long Sword ho

Wife. A crutch, a crutch: why call you for a Sword? Cap. My Sword I say: Old Mountague is come, And flourishes his Blade in spight of me. Enter old Mountague, & his wife.

Moun. Thou villaine Capulet. Hold me not, let me go 2.Wife. Thou shalt not stir a foote to seeke a Foe. Enter Prince Eskales, with his Traine.

Prince. Rebellious Subiects, Enemies to peace, Prophaners of this Neighbor-stained Steele, Will they not heare? What hoe, you Men, you Beasts, That quench the fire of your pernitious Rage, With purple Fountaines issuing from your Veines: On paine of Torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd Weapons to the ground, And heare the Sentence of your mooued Prince. Three ciuill Broyles, bred of an Ayery word, By thee old Capulet and Mountague, Haue thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's ancient Citizens Cast by their Graue beseeming Ornaments, To wield old Partizans, in hands as old, Cankred with peace, to part your Cankred hate, If euer you disturbe our streets againe, Your liues shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time all the rest depart away: You Capulet shall goe along with me, And Mountague come you this afternoone, To know our Fathers pleasure in this case: To old Free-towne, our common iudgement place: Once more on paine of death, all men depart.

Exeunt.

Moun. Who set this auncient quarrell new abroach? Speake Nephew, were you by, when it began: Ben. Heere were the seruants of your aduersarie, And yours close fighting ere I did approach, I drew to part them, in the instant came The fiery Tibalt, with his sword prepar'd, Which as he breath'd defiance to my eares, He swong about his head, and cut the windes, Who nothing hurt withall, hist him in scorne. While we were enterchanging thrusts and blowes, Came more and more, and fought on part and part, Till the Prince came, who parted either part

Wife. O where is Romeo, saw you him to day? Right glad am I, he was not at this fray

Ben. Madam, an houre before the worshipt Sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the East, A troubled mind draue me to walke abroad, Where vnderneath the groue of Sycamour, That West-ward rooteth from this City side: So earely walking did I see your Sonne: Towards him I made, but he was ware of me, And stole into the couert of the wood, I measuring his affections by my owne, Which then most sought, wher most might not be found: Being one too many by my weary selfe, Pursued my Honour, not pursuing his And gladly shunn'd, who gladly fled from me

Mount. Many a morning hath he there beene seene, With teares augmenting the fresh mornings deaw, Adding to cloudes, more cloudes with his deepe sighes, But all so soone as the all-cheering Sunne, Should in the farthest East begin to draw The shadie Curtaines from Auroras bed, Away from light steales home my heauy Sonne, And priuate in his Chamber pennes himselfe, Shuts vp his windowes, lockes faire day-light out, And makes himselfe an artificiall night: Blacke and portendous must this humour proue, Vnlesse good counsell may the cause remoue

Ben. My Noble Vncle doe you know the cause? Moun. I neither know it, nor can learne of him

Ben. Haue you importun'd him by any meanes? Moun. Both by my selfe and many other Friends, But he his owne affections counseller, Is to himselfe (I will not say how true) But to himselfe so secret and so close, So farre from sounding and discouery, As is the bud bit with an enuious worme, Ere he can spread his sweete leaues to the ayre, Or dedicate his beauty to the same. Could we but learne from whence his sorrowes grow, We would as willingly giue cure, as know. Enter Romeo.

Ben. See where he comes, so please you step aside, Ile know his greeuance, or be much denide

Moun. I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To heare true shrift. Come Madam let's away.

Exeunt.

Ben. Good morrow Cousin

Rom. Is the day so young? Ben. But new strooke nine

Rom. Aye me, sad houres seeme long: Was that my Father that went hence so fast? Ben. It was: what sadnes lengthens Romeo's houres? Ro. Not hauing that, which hauing, makes them short Ben. In loue

Romeo. Out

Ben. Of loue

Rom. Out of her fauour where I am in loue

Ben. Alas that loue so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proofe

Rom. Alas that loue, whose view is muffled still, Should without eyes, see path-wayes to his will: Where shall we dine? O me: what fray was heere? Yet tell me not, for I haue heard it all: Heere's much to do with hate, but more with loue: Why then, O brawling loue, O louing hate, O any thing, of nothing first created: O heauie lightnesse, serious vanity, Mishapen Chaos of welseeming formes, Feather of lead, bright smoake, cold fire, sicke health, Still waking sleepe, that is not what it is: This loue feele I, that feele no loue in this. Doest thou not laugh? Ben. No Coze, I rather weepe

Rom. Good heart, at what? Ben. At thy good hearts oppression

Rom. Why such is loues transgression. Griefes of mine owne lie heauie in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate to haue it preast With more of thine, this loue that thou hast showne, Doth adde more griefe, to too much of mine owne. Loue, is a smoake made with the fume of sighes, Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in Louers eyes, Being vext, a Sea nourisht with louing teares, What is it else? a madnesse, most discreet, A choking gall, and a preseruing sweet: Farewell my Coze

Ben. Soft I will goe along. And if you leaue me so, you do me wrong

Rom. Tut I haue lost my selfe, I am not here, This is not Romeo, hee's some other where

Ben. Tell me in sadnesse, who is that you loue? Rom. What shall I grone and tell thee? Ben. Grone, why no: but sadly tell me who

Rom. A sicke man in sadnesse makes his will: A word ill vrg'd to one that is so ill: In sadnesse Cozin, I do loue a woman

Ben. I aym'd so neare, when I suppos'd you lou'd

Rom. A right good marke man, and shee's faire I loue Ben. A right faire marke, faire Coze, is soonest hit

Rom. Well in that hit you misse, sheel not be hit With Cupids arrow, she hath Dians wit: And in strong proofe of chastity well arm'd: From loues weake childish Bow, she liues vncharm'd. Shee will not stay the siege of louing tearmes, Nor bid th' encounter of assailing eyes. Nor open her lap to Sainct-seducing Gold: O she is rich in beautie, onely poore, That when she dies, with beautie dies her store

Ben. Then she hath sworne, that she will still liue chast? Rom. She hath, and in that sparing make huge wast? For beauty steru'd with her seuerity, Cuts beauty off from all posteritie. She is too faire, too wise: wisely too faire, To merit blisse by making me dispaire: She hath forsworne to loue, and in that vow Do I liue dead, that liue to tell it now

Ben. Be rul'd by me, forget to thinke of her

Rom. O teach me how I should forget to thinke

Ben. By giuing liberty vnto thine eyes, Examine other beauties, Ro. 'Tis the way to cal hers (exquisit) in question more, These happy maskes that kisse faire Ladies browes, Being blacke, puts vs in mind they hide the faire: He that is strooken blind, cannot forget The precious treasure of his eye-sight lost: Shew me a Mistresse that is passing faire, What doth her beauty serue but as a note, Where I may read who past that passing faire. Farewell thou can'st not teach me to forget, Ben. Ile pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.

Exeunt.

Enter Capulet, Countie Paris, and the Clowne.

Capu. Mountague is bound as well as I, In penalty alike, and 'tis not hard I thinke, For men so old as wee, to keepe the peace

Par. Of Honourable reckoning are you both, And pittie 'tis you liu'd at ods so long: But now my Lord, what say you to my sute? Capu. But saying ore what I haue said before, My Child is yet a stranger in the world, Shee hath not seene the change of fourteene yeares, Let two more Summers wither in their pride, Ere we may thinke her ripe to be a Bride

Pari. Younger then she, are happy mothers made

Capu. And too soone mar'd are those so early made: Earth hath swallowed all my hopes but she, Shee's the hopefull Lady of my earth: But wooe her gentle Paris, get her heart, My will to her consent, is but a part, And shee agree, within her scope of choise, Lyes my consent, and faire according voice: This night I hold an old accustom'd Feast, Whereto I haue inuited many a Guest, Such as I loue, and you among the store, One more, most welcome makes my number more: At my poore house, looke to behold this night, Earth-treading starres, that make darke heauen light, Such comfort as do lusty young men feele, When well apparrel'd Aprill on the heele Of limping Winter treads, euen such delight Among fresh Fennell buds shall you this night Inherit at my house: heare all, all see: And like her most, whose merit most shall be: Which one more veiw, of many, mine being one, May stand in number, though in reckning none. Come, goe with me: goe sirrah trudge about, Through faire Verona, find those persons out, Whose names are written there, and to them say, My house and welcome, on their pleasure stay. Enter.

Ser. Find them out whose names are written. Heere it is written, that the Shoo-maker should meddle with his Yard, and the Tayler with his Last, the Fisher with his Pensill, and the Painter with his Nets. But I am sent to find those persons whose names are writ, & can neuer find what names the writing person hath here writ (I must to the learned) in good time. Enter Benuolio, and Romeo.

Ben. Tut man, one fire burnes out anothers burning, One paine is lesned by anothers anguish: Turne giddie, and be holpe by backward turning: One desparate greefe, cures with anothers languish: Take thou some new infection to the eye, And the rank poyson of the old wil die

Rom. Your Plantan leafe is excellent for that

Ben. For what I pray thee? Rom. For your broken shin

Ben. Why Romeo art thou mad? Rom. Not mad, but bound more then a mad man is: Shut vp in prison, kept without my foode, Whipt and tormented: and Godden good fellow, Ser. Godgigoden, I pray sir can you read? Rom. I mine owne fortune in my miserie

Ser. Perhaps you haue learn'd it without booke: But I pray can you read any thing you see? Rom. I, if I know the Letters and the Language

Ser. Ye say honestly, rest you merry

Rom. Stay fellow, I can read.

He reades the Letter.

Seigneur Martino, and his wife and daughter: County Anselme and his beautious sisters: the Lady widdow of Vtruuio, Seigneur Placentio, and his louely Neeces: Mercutio and his brother Valentine: mine vncle Capulet his wife and daughters: my faire Neece Rosaline, Liuia, Seigneur Valentio, & his Cosen Tybalt: Lucio and the liuely Helena. A faire assembly, whither should they come? Ser. Vp

Rom. Whither? to supper? Ser. To our house

Rom. Whose house? Ser. My Maisters

Rom. Indeed I should haue askt you that before

Ser. Now Ile tell you without asking. My maister is the great rich Capulet, and if you be not of the house of Mountagues I pray come and crush a cup of wine. Rest you merry. Enter.

Ben. At this same auncient Feast of Capulets Sups the faire Rosaline, whom thou so loues: With all the admired Beauties of Verona, Go thither and with vnattainted eye, Compare her face with some that I shall show, And I will make thee thinke thy Swan a Crow

Rom. When the deuout religion of mine eye Maintaines such falshood, then turne teares to fire: And these who often drown'd could neuer die, Transparent Heretiques be burnt for liers. One fairer then my loue: the all-seeing Sun Nere saw her match, since first the world begun

Ben. Tut, you saw her faire, none else being by, Herselfe poys'd with herselfe in either eye: But in that Christall scales, let there be waid, Your Ladies loue against some other Maid That I will show you, shining at this Feast, And she shew scant shell, well, that now shewes best

Rom. Ile goe along, no such sight to be showne, But to reioyce in splendor of mine owne. Enter Capulets Wife and Nurse.

Wife. Nurse wher's my daughter? call her forth to me

Nurse. Now by my Maidenhead, at twelue yeare old I bad her come, what Lamb: what Ladi-bird, God forbid, Where's this Girle? what Iuliet? Enter Iuliet

Iuliet. How now, who calls? Nur. Your Mother

Iuliet. Madam I am heere, what is your will? Wife. This is the matter: Nurse giue me leaue awhile, we must talke in secret. Nurse come backe againe, I haue remembred me, thou'se heare our counsell. Thou knowest my daughter's of a prety age

Nurse. Faith I can tell her age vnto an houre

Wife. Shee's not fourteene

Nurse. Ile lay fourteene of my teeth, And yet to my teene be it spoken, I haue but foure, shee's not fourteene. How long is it now to Lammas tide? Wife. A fortnight and odde dayes

Nurse. Euen or odde, of all daies in the yeare come Lammas Eue at night shall she be fourteene. Susan & she, God rest all Christian soules, were of an age. Well Susan is with God, she was too good for me. But as I said, on Lamas Eue at night shall she be fourteene, that shall she marie, I remember it well. 'Tis since the Earth-quake now eleuen yeares, and she was wean'd I neuer shall forget it, of all the daies of the yeare, vpon that day: for I had then laid Worme-wood to my Dug sitting in the Sunne vnder the Douehouse wall, my Lord and you were then at Mantua, nay I doe beare a braine. But as I said, when it did tast the Worme-wood on the nipple of my Dugge, and felt it bitter, pretty foole, to see it teachie, and fall out with the Dugge, Shake quoth the Doue-house, 'twas no neede I trow to bid mee trudge, and since that time it is a eleuen yeares, for then she could stand alone, nay bi'th' roode she could haue runne, & wadled all about: for euen the day before she broke her brow, & then my Husband God be with his soule, a was a merrie man, tooke vp the Child, yea quoth hee, doest thou fall vpon thy face? thou wilt fall backeward when thou hast more wit, wilt thou not Iule? And by my holy-dam, the pretty wretch lefte crying, & said I: to see now how a Iest shall come about. I warrant, & I shall liue a thousand yeares, I neuer should forget it: wilt thou not Iule quoth he? and pretty foole it stinted, and said I

Old La. Inough of this, I pray thee hold thy peace

Nurse. Yes Madam, yet I cannot chuse but laugh, to thinke it should leaue crying, & say I: and yet I warrant it had vpon it brow, a bumpe as big as a young Cockrels stone? A perilous knock, and it cryed bitterly. Yea quoth my husband, fall'st vpon thy face, thou wilt fall backward when thou commest to age: wilt thou not Iule? It stinted: and said I

Iule. And stint thou too, I pray thee Nurse, say I

Nur. Peace I haue done: God marke thee too his grace thou wast the prettiest Babe that ere I nurst, and I might liue to see thee married once, I haue my wish

Old La. Marry that marry is the very theame I came to talke of, tell me daughter Iuliet, How stands your disposition to be Married? Iuli. It is an houre that I dreame not of

Nur. An houre, were I not thine onely Nurse, I would say thou had'st suckt wisedome from thy teat

Old La. Well thinke of marriage now, yonger then you Heere in Verona, Ladies of esteeme, Are made already Mothers. By my count I was your Mother, much vpon these yeares That you are now a Maide, thus then in briefe: The valiant Paris seekes you for his loue

Nurse. A man young Lady, Lady, such a man as all the world. Why hee's a man of waxe

Old La. Veronas Summer hath not such a flower

Nurse. Nay hee's a flower, infaith a very flower

Old La. What say you, can you loue the Gentleman? This night you shall behold him at our Feast, Read ore the volume of young Paris face, And find delight, writ there with Beauties pen: Examine euery seuerall liniament, And see how one another lends content: And what obscur'd in this faire volume lies, Find written in the Margent of his eyes. This precious Booke of Loue, this vnbound Louer, To Beautifie him, onely lacks a Couer. The fish liues in the Sea, and 'tis much pride For faire without, the faire within to hide: That Booke in manies eyes doth share the glorie, That in Gold claspes, Lockes in the Golden storie: So shall you share all that he doth possesse, By hauing him, making your selfe no lesse

Nurse. No lesse, nay bigger: women grow by men

Old La. Speake briefly, can you like of Paris loue? Iuli. Ile looke to like, if looking liking moue. But no more deepe will I endart mine eye, Then your consent giues strength to make flye. Enter a Seruing man.

Ser. Madam, the guests are come, supper seru'd vp, you cal'd, my young Lady askt for, the Nurse cur'st in the Pantery, and euery thing in extremitie: I must hence to wait, I beseech you follow straight. Enter.

Mo. We follow thee, Iuliet, the Countie staies

Nurse. Goe Gyrle, seeke happie nights to happy daies.

Exeunt.

Enter Romeo, Mercutio, Benuolio, with fiue or sixe other Maskers, Torch-bearers.

Rom. What shall this spech be spoke for our excuse? Or shall we on without Apologie? Ben. The date is out of such prolixitie, Weele haue no Cupid, hood winkt with a skarfe, Bearing a Tartars painted Bow of lath, Skaring the Ladies like a Crow-keeper. But let them measure vs by what they will, Weele measure them with a Measure, and be gone

Rom. Giue me a Torch, I am not for this ambling. Being but heauy I will beare the light

Mer. Nay gentle Romeo, we must haue you dance

Rom. Not I beleeue me, you haue dancing shooes With nimble soles, I haue a soale of Lead So stakes me to the ground, I cannot moue

Mer. You are a Louer, borrow Cupids wings, And soare with them aboue a common bound

Rom. I am too sore enpearced with his shaft, To soare with his light feathers, and to bound: I cannot bound a pitch aboue dull woe, Vnder loues heauy burthen doe I sinke

Hora. And to sinke in it should you burthen loue, Too great oppression for a tender thing

Rom. Is loue a tender thing? it is too rough, Too rude, too boysterous, and it pricks like thorne

Mer. If loue be rough with you, be rough with loue, Pricke loue for pricking, and you beat loue downe, Giue me a Case to put my visage in, A Visor for a Visor, what care I What curious eye doth quote deformities: Here are the Beetle-browes shall blush for me

Ben. Come knocke and enter, and no sooner in, But euery man betake him to his legs

Rom. A Torch for me, let wantons light of heart Tickle the sencelesse rushes with their heeles: For I am prouerb'd with a Grandsier Phrase, Ile be a Candle-holder and looke on, The game was nere so faire, and I am done

Mer. Tut, duns the Mouse, the Constables owne word, If thou art dun, weele draw thee from the mire. Or saue your reuerence loue, wherein thou stickest Vp to the eares, come we burne day-light ho

Rom. Nay that's not so

Mer. I meane sir I delay, We wast our lights in vaine, lights, lights, by day; Take our good meaning, for our Iudgement sits Fiue times in that, ere once in our fiue wits

Rom. And we meane well in going to this Maske, But 'tis no wit to go

Mer. Why may one aske? Rom. I dreampt a dreame to night

Mer. And so did I

Rom. Well what was yours? Mer. That dreamers often lye

Ro. In bed a sleepe while they do dreame things true

Mer. O then I see Queene Mab hath beene with you: She is the Fairies Midwife, & she comes in shape no bigger then Agat-stone, on the fore-finger of an Alderman, drawne with a teeme of little Atomies, ouer mens noses as they lie asleepe: her Waggon Spokes made of long Spinners legs: the Couer of the wings of Grashoppers, her Traces of the smallest Spiders web, her coullers of the Moonshines watry Beames, her Whip of Crickets bone, the Lash of Philome, her Waggoner, a small gray-coated Gnat, not halfe so bigge as a round little Worme, prickt from the Lazie-finger of a man. Her Chariot is an emptie Haselnut, made by the Ioyner Squirrel or old Grub, time out a mind, the Faries Coach-makers: & in this state she gallops night by night, through Louers braines: and then they dreame of Loue. On Courtiers knees, that dreame on Cursies strait: ore Lawyers fingers, who strait dreampt on Fees, ore Ladies lips, who strait on kisses dreame, which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, because their breath with Sweet meats tainted are. Sometime she gallops ore a Courtiers nose, & then dreames he of smelling out a sute: & somtime comes she with Tith pigs tale, tickling a Parsons nose as a lies asleepe, then he dreames of another Benefice. Sometime she driueth ore a Souldiers necke, & then dreames he of cutting Forraine throats, of Breaches, Ambuscados, Spanish Blades: Of Healths fiue Fadome deepe, and then anon drums in his eares, at which he startes and wakes; and being thus frighted, sweares a prayer or two & sleepes againe: this is that very Mab that plats the manes of Horses in the night: & bakes the Elklocks in foule sluttish haires, which once vntangled, much misfortune bodes, This is the hag, when Maides lie on their backs, That presses them, and learnes them first to beare, Making them women of good carriage: This is she

Rom. Peace, peace, Mercutio peace, Thou talk'st of nothing

Mer. True, I talke of dreames: Which are the children of an idle braine, Begot of nothing, but vaine phantasie, Which is as thin of substance as the ayre, And more inconstant then the wind, who wooes Euen now the frozen bosome of the North: And being anger'd, puffes away from thence, Turning his side to the dew dropping South

Ben. This wind you talke of blowes vs from our selues, Supper is done, and we shall come too late

Rom. I feare too early, for my mind misgiues, Some consequence yet hanging in the starres, Shall bitterly begin his fearefull date With this nights reuels, and expire the tearme Of a despised life clos'd in my brest: By some vile forfeit of vntimely death. But he that hath the stirrage of my course, Direct my sute: on lustie Gentlemen

Ben. Strike Drum.

They march about the Stage, and Seruingmen come forth with their napkins.

Enter Seruant.

Ser. Where's Potpan, that he helpes not to take away? He shift a Trencher? he scrape a Trencher? 1. When good manners, shall lie in one or two mens hands, and they vnwasht too, 'tis a foule thing

Ser. Away with the Ioynstooles, remoue the Courtcubbord, looke to the Plate: good thou, saue mee a piece of Marchpane, and as thou louest me, let the Porter let in Susan Grindstone, and Nell, Anthonie and Potpan

2. I Boy readie

Ser. You are lookt for, and cal'd for, askt for, & sought for, in the great Chamber

1. We cannot be here and there too, chearly Boyes, Be brisk awhile, and the longer liuer take all.

Exeunt.

Enter all the Guests and Gentlewomen to the Maskers.

1. Capu. Welcome Gentlemen, Ladies that haue their toes Vnplagu'd with Cornes, will walke about with you: Ah my Mistresses, which of you all Will now deny to dance? She that makes dainty, She Ile sweare hath Cornes: am I come neare ye now? Welcome Gentlemen, I haue seene the day That I haue worne a Visor, and could tell A whispering tale in a faire Ladies eare: Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone, You are welcome Gentlemen, come Musitians play:

Musicke plaies: and they dance.

A Hall, Hall, giue roome, and foote it Girles, More light you knaues, and turne the Tables vp: And quench the fire, the Roome is growne too hot. Ah sirrah, this vnlookt for sport comes well: Nay sit, nay sit, good Cozin Capulet, For you and I are past our dauncing daies: How long 'ist now since last your selfe and I Were in a Maske? 2. Capu. Berlady thirty yeares

1. Capu. What man: 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much, 'Tis since the Nuptiall of Lucentio, Come Pentycost as quickely as it will, Some fiue and twenty yeares, and then we Maskt

2. Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more, his Sonne is elder sir: His Sonne is thirty

3. Cap. Will you tell me that? His Sonne was but a Ward two yeares agoe

Rom. What Ladie is that which doth inrich the hand Of yonder Knight? Ser. I know not sir

Rom. O she doth teach the Torches to burne bright: It seemes she hangs vpon the cheeke of night, As a rich Iewel in an aethiops eare: Beauty too rich for vse, for earth too deare: So shewes a Snowy Doue trooping with Crowes, As yonder Lady ore her fellowes showes; The measure done, Ile watch her place of stand, And touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart loue till now, forsweare it sight, For I neuer saw true Beauty till this night

Tib. This by his voice, should be a Mountague. Fetch me my Rapier Boy, what dares the slaue Come hither couer'd with an antique face, To fleere and scorne at our Solemnitie? Now by the stocke and Honour of my kin, To strike him dead I hold it not a sin

Cap. Why how now kinsman, Wherefore storme you so? Tib. Vncle this is a Mountague, our foe: A Villaine that is hither come in spight, To scorne at our Solemnitie this night

Cap. Young Romeo is it? Tib. 'Tis he, that Villaine Romeo

Cap. Content thee gentle Coz, let him alone, A beares him like a portly Gentleman: And to say truth, Verona brags of him, To be a vertuous and well gouern'd youth: I would not for the wealth of all the towne, Here in my house do him disparagement: Therfore be patient, take no note of him, It is my will, the which if thou respect, Shew a faire presence, and put off these frownes, An ill beseeming semblance for a Feast Tib. It fits when such a Villaine is a guest, Ile not endure him

Cap. He shall be endur'd. What goodman boy, I say he shall, go too, Am I the Maister here or you? go too, Youle not endure him, God shall mend my soule, Youle make a Mutinie among the Guests: You will set cocke a hoope, youle be the man

Tib. Why Vncle, 'tis a shame

Cap. Go too, go too, You are a sawcy Boy, 'ist so indeed? This tricke may chance to scath you, I know what, You must contrary me, marry 'tis time. Well said my hearts, you are a Princox, goe, Be quiet, or more light, more light for shame, Ile make you quiet. What, chearely my hearts

Tib. Patience perforce, with wilfull choler meeting, Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting: I will withdraw, but this intrusion shall Now seeming sweet, conuert to bitter gall. Enter.

Rom. If I prophane with my vnworthiest hand, This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, My lips to blushing Pilgrims did ready stand, To smooth that rough touch, with a tender kisse

Iul. Good Pilgrime, You do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly deuotion shewes in this, For Saints haue hands, that Pilgrims hands do tuch, And palme to palme, is holy Palmers kisse

Rom. Haue not Saints lips, and holy Palmers too? Iul. I Pilgrim, lips that they must vse in prayer

Rom. O then deare Saint, let lips do what hands do, They pray (grant thou) least faith turne to dispaire

Iul. Saints do not moue, Though grant for prayers sake

Rom. Then moue not while my prayers effect I take: Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd

Iul. Then haue my lips the sin that they haue tooke

Rom. Sin from my lips? O trespasse sweetly vrg'd: Giue me my sin againe

Iul. You kisse by'th' booke

Nur. Madam your Mother craues a word with you

Rom. What is her Mother? Nurs. Marrie Batcheler, Her Mother is the Lady of the house, And a good Lady, and a wise, and Vertuous, I Nur'st her Daughter that you talkt withall: I tell you, he that can lay hold of her, Shall haue the chincks

Rom. Is she a Capulet? O deare account! My life is my foes debt

Ben. Away, be gone, the sport is at the best

Rom. I so I feare, the more is my vnrest

Cap. Nay Gentlemen prepare not to be gone, We haue a trifling foolish Banquet towards: Is it e'ne so? why then I thanke you all. I thanke you honest Gentlemen, good night: More Torches here: come on, then let's to bed. Ah sirrah, by my faie it waxes late, Ile to my rest

Iuli. Come hither Nurse, What is yond Gentleman: Nur. The Sonne and Heire of old Tyberio

Iuli. What's he that now is going out of doore? Nur. Marrie that I thinke be young Petruchio

Iul. What's he that follows here that would not dance? Nur. I know not

Iul. Go aske his name: if he be married, My graue is like to be my wedded bed

Nur. His name is Romeo, and a Mountague, The onely Sonne of your great Enemie

Iul. My onely Loue sprung from my onely hate, Too early seene, vnknowne, and knowne too late, Prodigious birth of Loue it is to me, That I must loue a loathed Enemie

Nur. What's this? whats this? Iul. A rime, I learne euen now Of one I dan'st withall.

One cals within, Iuliet.

Nur. Anon, anon: Come let's away, the strangers all are gone.

Exeunt.

Chorus. Now old desire doth in his death bed lie, And yong affection gapes to be his Heire, That faire, for which Loue gron'd for and would die, With tender Iuliet matcht, is now not faire. Now Romeo is beloued, and Loues againe, A like bewitched by the charme of lookes: But to his foe suppos'd he must complaine, And she steale Loues sweet bait from fearefull hookes: Being held a foe, he may not haue accesse To breath such vowes as Louers vse to sweare, And she as much in Loue, her meanes much lesse, To meete her new Beloued any where: But passion lends them Power, time, meanes to meete, Temp'ring extremities with extreame sweete. Enter Romeo alone.

Rom. Can I goe forward when my heart is here? Turne backe dull earth, and find thy Center out. Enter Benuolio, with Mercutio.

Ben. Romeo, my Cozen Romeo, Romeo

Merc. He is wise, And on my life hath stolne him home to bed

Ben. He ran this way and leapt this Orchard wall. Call good Mercutio: Nay, Ile coniure too

Mer. Romeo, Humours, Madman, Passion, Louer, Appeare thou in the likenesse of a sigh, Speake but one time, and I am satisfied: Cry me but ay me, Prouant, but Loue and day, Speake to my goship Venus one faire word, One Nickname for her purblind Sonne and her, Young Abraham Cupid he that shot so true, When King Cophetua lou'd the begger Maid, He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moueth not, The Ape is dead, I must coniure him, I coniure thee by Rosalines bright eyes, By her High forehead, and her Scarlet lip, By her Fine foote, Straight leg, and Quiuering thigh, And the Demeanes, that there Adiacent lie, That in thy likenesse thou appeare to vs

Ben. And if he heare thee thou wilt anger him

Mer. This cannot anger him, t'would anger him To raise a spirit in his Mistresse circle, Of some strange nature, letting it stand Till she had laid it, and coniured it downe, That were some spight. My inuocation is faire and honest, & in his Mistris name, I coniure onely but to raise vp him

Ben. Come, he hath hid himselfe among these Trees To be consorted with the Humerous night: Blind is his Loue, and best befits the darke

Mer. If Loue be blind, Loue cannot hit the marke, Now will he sit vnder a Medler tree, And wish his Mistresse were that kind of Fruite, As Maides cal Medlers when they laugh alone, O Romeo that she were, O that she were An open, or thou a Poprin Peare, Romeo goodnight, Ile to my Truckle bed, This Field-bed is to cold for me to sleepe, Come shall we go? Ben. Go then, for 'tis in vaine to seeke him here That meanes not to be found.

Exeunt.

Rom. He ieasts at Scarres that neuer felt a wound, But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Iuliet is the Sunne, Arise faire Sun and kill the enuious Moone, Who is already sicke and pale with griefe, That thou her Maid art far more faire then she: Be not her Maid since she is enuious, Her Vestal liuery is but sicke and greene, And none but fooles do weare it, cast it off: It is my Lady, O it is my Loue, O that she knew she were, She speakes, yet she sayes nothing, what of that? Her eye discourses, I will answere it: I am too bold 'tis not to me she speakes: Two of the fairest starres in all the Heauen, Hauing some businesse do entreat her eyes, To twinckle in their Spheres till they returne. What if her eyes were there, they in her head, The brightnesse of her cheeke would shame those starres, As day-light doth a Lampe, her eye in heauen, Would through the ayrie Region streame so bright, That Birds would sing, and thinke it were not night: See how she leanes her cheeke vpon her hand. O that I were a Gloue vpon that hand, That I might touch that cheeke

Iul. Ay me

Rom. She speakes. Oh speake againe bright Angell, for thou art As glorious to this night being ore my head, As is a winged messenger of heauen Vnto the white vpturned wondring eyes Of mortalls that fall backe to gaze on him, When he bestrides the lazie puffing Cloudes, And sailes vpon the bosome of the ayre

Iul. O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Denie thy Father and refuse thy name: Or if thou wilt not, be but sworne to my Loue, And Ile no longer be a Capulet

Rom. Shall I heare more, or shall I speake at this? Iu. 'Tis but thy name that is my Enemy: Thou art thy selfe, though not a Mountague, What's Mountague? it is nor hand nor foote, Nor arme, nor face, O be some other name Belonging to a man. What? in a names that which we call a Rose, By any other word would smell as sweete, So Romeo would, were he not Romeo cal'd, Retaine that deare perfection which he owes, Without that title Romeo, doffe thy name, And for thy name which is no part of thee, Take all my selfe

Rom. I take thee at thy word: Call me but Loue, and Ile be new baptiz'd, Hence foorth I neuer will be Romeo

Iuli. What man art thou, that thus bescreen'd in night So stumblest on my counsell? Rom. By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name deare Saint, is hatefull to my selfe, Because it is an Enemy to thee, Had I it written, I would teare the word

Iuli. My eares haue yet not drunke a hundred words Of thy tongues vttering, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague? Rom. Neither faire Maid, if either thee dislike

Iul. How cam'st thou hither. Tell me, and wherefore? The Orchard walls are high, and hard to climbe, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here, Rom. With Loues light wings Did I ore-perch these Walls, For stony limits cannot hold Loue out, And what Loue can do, that dares Loue attempt: Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me

Iul. If they do see thee, they will murther thee

Rom. Alacke there lies more perill in thine eye, Then twenty of their Swords, looke thou but sweete, And I am proofe against their enmity

Iul. I would not for the world they saw thee here

Rom. I haue nights cloake to hide me from their eyes And but thou loue me, let them finde me here, My life were better ended by their hate, Then death proroged wanting of thy Loue

Iul. By whose direction found'st thou out this place? Rom. By Loue that first did prompt me to enquire, He lent me counsell, and I lent him eyes, I am no Pylot, yet wert thou as far As that vast-shore-washet with the farthest Sea, I should aduenture for such Marchandise

Iul. Thou knowest the maske of night is on my face, Else would a Maiden blush bepaint my cheeke, For that which thou hast heard me speake to night, Faine would I dwell on forme, faine, faine, denie What I haue spoke, but farewell Complement, Doest thou Loue? I know thou wilt say I, And I will take thy word, yet if thou swear'st, Thou maiest proue false: at Louers periuries They say Ioue laught, oh gentle Romeo, If thou dost Loue, pronounce it faithfully: Or if thou thinkest I am too quickly wonne, Ile frowne and be peruerse, and say thee nay, So thou wilt wooe: But else not for the world. In truth faire Mountague I am too fond: And therefore thou maiest thinke my behauiour light, But trust me Gentleman, Ile proue more true, Then those that haue coying to be strange, I should haue beene more strange, I must confesse, But that thou ouer heard'st ere I was ware My true Loues passion, therefore pardon me, And not impute this yeelding to light Loue, Which the darke night hath so discouered

Rom. Lady, by yonder Moone I vow, That tips with siluer all these Fruite tree tops

Iul. O sweare not by the Moone, th' inconstant Moone, That monethly changes in her circled Orbe, Least that thy Loue proue likewise variable

Rom. What shall I sweare by? Iul. Do not sweare at all: Or if thou wilt sweare by thy gratious selfe, Which is the God of my Idolatry, And Ile beleeue thee

Rom. If my hearts deare loue

Iuli. Well do not sweare, although I ioy in thee: I haue no ioy of this contract to night, It is too rash, too vnaduis'd, too sudden, Too like the lightning which doth cease to be Ere, one can say, it lightens, Sweete good night: This bud of Loue by Summers ripening breath, May proue a beautious Flower when next we meete: Goodnight, goodnight, as sweete repose and rest, Come to thy heart, as that within my brest

Rom. O wilt thou leaue me so vnsatisfied? Iuli. What satisfaction can'st thou haue to night? Ro. Th' exchange of thy Loues faithfull vow for mine

Iul. I gaue thee mine before thou did'st request it: And yet I would it were to giue againe

Rom. Would'st thou withdraw it, For what purpose Loue? Iul. But to be franke and giue it thee againe, And yet I wish but for the thing I haue, My bounty is as boundlesse as the Sea, My Loue as deepe, the more I giue to thee The more I haue, for both are Infinite: I heare some noyse within deare Loue adue:

Cals within.

Anon good Nurse, sweet Mountague be true: Stay but a little, I will come againe

Rom. O blessed blessed night, I am afear'd Being in night, all this is but a dreame, Too flattering sweet to be substantiall

Iul. Three words deare Romeo, And goodnight indeed, If that thy bent of Loue be Honourable, Thy purpose marriage, send me word to morrow, By one that Ile procure to come to thee, Where and what time thou wilt performe the right, And all my Fortunes at thy foote Ile lay, And follow thee my Lord throughout the world

Within: Madam. I come, anon: but if thou meanest not well, I do beseech thee Within: Madam. (By and by I come) To cease thy strife, and leaue me to my griefe, To morrow will I send

Rom. So thriue my soule

Iu. A thousand times goodnight. Enter.

Rome. A thousand times the worse to want thy light, Loue goes toward Loue as school-boyes fro[m] their books But Loue fro[m] Loue, towards schoole with heauie lookes. Enter Iuliet againe.

Iul. Hist Romeo hist: O for a Falkners voice, To lure this Tassell gentle backe againe, Bondage is hoarse, and may not speake aloud, Else would I teare the Caue where Eccho lies, And make her ayrie tongue more hoarse, then With repetition of my Romeo

Rom. It is my soule that calls vpon my name. How siluer sweet, sound Louers tongues by night, Like softest Musicke to attending eares

Iul. Romeo

Rom. My Neece

Iul. What a clock to morrow Shall I send to thee? Rom. By the houre of nine

Iul. I will not faile, 'tis twenty yeares till then, I haue forgot why I did call thee backe

Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it

Iul. I shall forget, to haue thee still stand there, Remembring how I Loue thy company

Rom. And Ile still stay, to haue thee still forget, Forgetting any other home but this

Iul. 'Tis almost morning, I would haue thee gone, And yet no further then a wantons Bird, That let's it hop a little from his hand, Like a poore prisoner in his twisted Gyues, And with a silken thred plucks it backe againe, So louing Iealous of his liberty

Rom. I would I were thy Bird

Iul. Sweet so would I, Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing: Good night, good night

Rom. Parting is such sweete sorrow, That I shall say goodnight, till it be morrow

Iul. Sleepe dwell vpon thine eyes, peace in thy brest

Rom. Would I were sleepe and peace so sweet to rest, The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night, Checkring the Easterne Clouds with streakes of light, And darkenesse fleckel'd like a drunkard reeles, From forth dayes pathway, made by Titans wheeles. Hence will I to my ghostly Friers close Cell, His helpe to craue, and my deare hap to tell. Enter.

Enter Frier alone with a basket.

Fri. The gray ey'd morne smiles on the frowning night, Checkring the Easterne Cloudes with streaks of light: And fleckled darknesse like a drunkard reeles, From forth daies path, and Titans burning wheeles: Now ere the Sun aduance his burning eye, The day to cheere, and nights danke dew to dry, I must vpfill this Osier Cage of ours, With balefull weedes, and precious Iuiced flowers, The earth that's Natures mother, is her Tombe, What is her burying graue that is her wombe: And from her wombe children of diuers kind We sucking on her naturall bosome find: Many for many vertues excellent: None but for some, and yet all different. O mickle is the powerfull grace that lies In Plants, Hearbs, stones, and their true qualities: For nought so vile, that on earth doth liue, But to the earth some speciall good doth giue. Nor ought so good, but strain'd from that faire vse, Reuolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse. Vertue it selfe turnes vice being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified. Enter Romeo.

Within the infant rind of this weake flower, Poyson hath residence, and medicine power: For this being smelt, with that part cheares each part, Being tasted stayes all sences with the heart. Two such opposed Kings encampe them still, In man as well as Hearbes, grace and rude will: And where the worser is predominant, Full soone the Canker death eates vp that Plant

Rom. Good morrow Father

Fri. Benedecite. What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young Sonne, it argues a distempered head, So soone to bid goodmorrow to thy bed; Care keepes his watch in euery old mans eye, And where Care lodges, sleepe will neuer lye: But where vnbrused youth with vnstuft braine Doth couch his lims, there, golden sleepe doth raigne; Therefore thy earlinesse doth me assure, Thou art vprous'd with some distemprature; Or if not so, then here I hit it right. Our Romeo hath not beene in bed to night

Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was mine

Fri. God pardon sin: wast thou with Rosaline? Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly Father? No, I haue forgot that name, and that names woe

Fri. That's my good Son, but wher hast thou bin then? Rom. Ile tell thee ere thou aske it me agen: I haue beene feasting with mine enemie, Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, That's by me wounded: both our remedies Within thy helpe and holy phisicke lies: I beare no hatred, blessed man: for loe My intercession likewise steads my foe

Fri. Be plaine good Son, rest homely in thy drift, Ridling confession, findes but ridling shrift

Rom. Then plainly know my hearts deare Loue is set, On the faire daughter of rich Capulet: As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine; And all combin'd, saue what thou must combine By holy marriage: when and where, and how, We met, we wooed, and made exchange of vow: Ile tell thee as we passe, but this I pray, That thou consent to marrie vs to day

Fri. Holy S[aint]. Francis, what a change is heere? Is Rosaline that thou didst Loue so deare So soone forsaken? young mens Loue then lies Not truely in their hearts, but in their eyes. Iesu Maria, what a deale of brine Hath washt thy sallow cheekes for Rosaline? How much salt water throwne away in wast, To season Loue that of it doth not tast. The Sun not yet thy sighes, from heauen cleares, Thy old grones yet ringing in my auncient eares: Lo here vpon thy cheeke the staine doth sit, Of an old teare that is not washt off yet. If ere thou wast thy selfe, and these woes thine, Thou and these woes, were all for Rosaline. And art thou chang'd? pronounce this sentence then, Women may fall, when there's no strength in men

Rom. Thou chid'st me oft for louing Rosaline

Fri. For doting, not for louing pupill mine

Rom. And bad'st me bury Loue

Fri. Not in a graue, To lay one in, another out to haue

Rom. I pray thee chide me not, her I Loue now Doth grace for grace, and Loue for Loue allow: The other did not so

Fri. O she knew well, Thy Loue did read by rote, that could not spell: But come young wauerer, come goe with me, In one respect, Ile thy assistant be: For this alliance may so happy proue, To turne your houshould rancor to pure Loue

Rom. O let vs hence, I stand on sudden hast

Fri. Wisely and slow, they stumble that run fast.

Exeunt.

Enter Benuolio and Mercutio.

Mer. Where the deule should this Romeo be? came he not home to night? Ben. Not to his Fathers, I spoke with his man

Mer. Why that same pale hard-harted wench, that Rosaline torments him so, that he will sure run mad

Ben. Tibalt, the kinsman to old Capulet, hath sent a Letter to his Fathers house

Mer. A challenge on my life

Ben. Romeo will answere it

Mer. Any man that can write, may answere a Letter

Ben. Nay, he will answere the Letters Maister how he dares, being dared

Mer. Alas poore Romeo, he is already dead stab'd with a white wenches blacke eye, runne through the eare with a Loue song, the very pinne of his heart, cleft with the blind Bowe-boyes but-shaft, and is he a man to encounter Tybalt? Ben. Why what is Tibalt? Mer. More then Prince of Cats. Oh hee's the Couragious Captaine of Complements: he fights as you sing pricksong, keeps time, distance, and proportion, he rests his minum, one, two, and the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk button, a Dualist, a Dualist: a Gentleman of the very first house of the first and second cause: ah the immortall Passado, the Punto reuerso, the Hay

Ben. The what? Mer. The Pox of such antique lisping affecting phantacies, these new tuners of accent: Iesu a very good blade, a very tall man, a very good whore. Why is not this a lamentable thing Grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with these strange flies: these fashion Mongers, these pardon-mee's, who stand so much on the new form, that they cannot sit at ease on the old bench. O their bones, their bones. Enter Romeo.

Ben. Here comes Romeo, here comes Romeo

Mer. Without his Roe, like a dryed Hering. O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified? Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his Lady, was a kitchen wench, marrie she had a better Loue to berime her: Dido a dowdie, Cleopatra a Gipsie, Hellen and Hero, hildings and Harlots: Thisbie a gray eie or so, but not to the purpose. Signior Romeo, Bon iour, there's a French salutation to your French slop: you gaue vs the counterfait fairely last night

Romeo. Good morrow to you both, what counterfeit did I giue you? Mer. The slip sir, the slip, can you not conceiue? Rom. Pardon Mercutio, my businesse was great, and in such a case as mine, a man may straine curtesie

Mer. That's as much as to say, such a case as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams

Rom. Meaning to cursie

Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it

Rom. A most curteous exposition

Mer. Nay, I am the very pinck of curtesie

Rom. Pinke for flower

Mer. Right

Rom. Why then is my Pump well flowr'd

Mer. Sure wit, follow me this ieast, now till thou hast worne out thy Pump, that when the single sole of it is worne, the ieast may remaine after the wearing, sole-singular

Rom. O single sol'd ieast, Soly singular for the singlenesse

Mer. Come betweene vs good Benuolio, my wits faints

Rom. Swits and spurs, Swits and spurs, or Ile crie a match

Mer. Nay, if our wits run the Wild-Goose chase, I am done: For thou hast more of the Wild-Goose in one of thy wits, then I am sure I haue in my whole fiue. Was I with you there for the Goose? Rom. Thou wast neuer with mee for any thing, when thou wast not there for the Goose

Mer. I will bite thee by the eare for that iest

Rom. Nay, good Goose bite not

Mer. Thy wit is a very Bitter-sweeting, It is a most sharpe sawce

Rom. And is it not well seru'd into a Sweet-Goose? Mer. Oh here's a wit of Cheuerell, that stretches from an ynch narrow, to an ell broad

Rom. I stretch it out for that word, broad, which added to the Goose, proues thee farre and wide, abroad Goose

Mer. Why is not this better now, then groning for Loue, now art thou sociable, now art thou Romeo: now art thou what thou art, by Art as well as by Nature, for this driueling Loue is like a great Naturall, that runs lolling vp and downe to hid his bable in a hole

Ben. Stop there, stop there

Mer. Thou desir'st me to stop in my tale against the haire

Ben. Thou would'st else haue made thy tale large

Mer. O thou art deceiu'd, I would haue made it short, or I was come to the whole depth of my tale, and meant indeed to occupie the argument no longer. Enter Nurse and her man.

Rom. Here's a goodly geare. A sayle, a sayle

Mer. Two, two: a Shirt and a Smocke

Nur. Peter? Peter. Anon

Nur. My Fan Peter? Mer. Good Peter to hide her face? For her Fans the fairer face? Nur. God ye good morrow Gentlemen

Mer. God ye gooden faire Gentlewoman

Nur. Is it gooden? Mer. 'Tis no lesse I tell you: for the bawdy hand of the Dyall is now vpon the pricke of Noone

Nur. Out vpon you: what a man are you? Rom. One Gentlewoman, That God hath made, himselfe to mar

Nur. By my troth it is said, for himselfe to, mar quatha: Gentlemen, can any of you tel me where I may find the young Romeo? Romeo. I can tell you: but young Romeo will be older when you haue found him, then he was when you sought him: I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse

Nur. You say well

Mer. Yea is the worst well, Very well tooke: Ifaith, wisely, wisely

Nur. If you be he sir, I desire some confidence with you? Ben. She will endite him to some Supper

Mer. A baud, a baud, a baud. So ho

Rom. What hast thou found? Mer. No Hare sir, vnlesse a Hare sir in a Lenten pie, that is something stale and hoare ere it be spent. An old Hare hoare, and an old Hare hoare is very good meat in Lent. But a Hare that is hoare is too much for a score, when it hoares ere it be spent, Romeo will you come to your Fathers? Weele to dinner thither

Rom. I will follow you

Mer. Farewell auncient Lady: Farewell Lady, Lady, Lady.

Exit. Mercutio, Benuolio.

Nur. I pray you sir, what sawcie Merchant was this that was so full of his roperie? Rom. A Gentleman Nurse, that loues to heare himselfe talke, and will speake more in a minute, then he will stand to in a Moneth

Nur. And a speake any thing against me, Ile take him downe, z a were lustier then he is, and twentie such Iacks: and if I cannot, Ile finde those that shall: scuruie knaue, I am none of his flurt-gils, I am none of his skaines mates, and thou must stand by too and suffer euery knaue to vse me at his pleasure

Pet. I saw no man vse you at his pleasure: if I had, my weapon should quickly haue beene out, I warrant you, I dare draw assoone as another man, if I see occasion in a good quarrell, and the law on my side

Nur. Now afore God, I am so vext, that euery part about me quiuers, skuruy knaue: pray you sir a word: and as I told you, my young Lady bid me enquire you out, what she bid me say, I will keepe to my selfe: but first let me tell ye, if ye should leade her in a fooles paradise, as they say, it were a very grosse kind of behauiour, as they say: for the Gentlewoman is yong: & therefore, if you should deale double with her, truely it were an ill thing to be offered to any Gentlewoman, and very weake dealing

Nur. Nurse commend me to thy Lady and Mistresse, I protest vnto thee

Nur. Good heart, and yfaith I will tell her as much: Lord, Lord she will be a ioyfull woman

Rom. What wilt thou tell her Nurse? thou doest not marke me? Nur. I will tell her sir, that you do protest, which as I take it, is a Gentleman-like offer

Rom. Bid her deuise some meanes to come to shrift this afternoone, And there she shall at Frier Lawrence Cell Be shriu'd and married: here is for thy paines

Nur. No truly sir not a penny

Rom. Go too, I say you shall

Nur. This afternoone sir? well she shall be there

Ro. And stay thou good Nurse behind the Abbey wall, Within this houre my man shall be with thee, And bring thee Cords made like a tackled staire, Which to the high top gallant of my ioy, Must be my conuoy in the secret night. Farewell, be trustie and Ile quite thy paines: Farewell, commend me to thy Mistresse

Nur. Now God in heauen blesse thee: harke you sir, Rom. What saist thou my deare Nurse? Nurse. Is your man secret, did you nere heare say two may keepe counsell putting one away

Ro. Warrant thee my man is true as steele

Nur. Well sir, my Mistresse is the sweetest Lady, Lord, Lord, when 'twas a little prating thing. O there is a Noble man in Towne one Paris, that would faine lay knife aboard: but she good soule had as leeue see a Toade, a very Toade as see him: I anger her sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the properer man, but Ile warrant you, when I say so, shee lookes as pale as any clout in the versall world. Doth not Rosemarie and Romeo begin both with a letter? Rom. I Nurse, what of that? Both with an R Nur. A mocker that's the dogs name. R. is for the no, I know it begins with some other letter, and she hath the prettiest sententious of it, of you and Rosemary, that it would do you good to heare it

Rom. Commend me to thy Lady

Nur. I a thousand times. Peter? Pet. Anon

Nur. Before and apace.

Exit Nurse and Peter.

Enter Iuliet.

Iul. The clocke strook nine, when I did send the Nurse, In halfe an houre she promised to returne, Perchance she cannot meete him: that's not so: Oh she is lame, Loues Herauld should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glides then the Sunnes beames, Driuing backe shadowes ouer lowring hils. Therefore do nimble Pinion'd Doues draw Loue, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings: Now is the Sun vpon the highmost hill Of this daies iourney, and from nine till twelue, Is three long houres, yet she is not come. Had she affections and warme youthfull blood, She would be as swift in motion as a ball, My words would bandy her to my sweete Loue, And his to me, but old folkes, Many faine as they were dead, Vnwieldie, slow, heauy, and pale as lead. Enter Nurse.

O God she comes, O hony Nurse what newes? Hast thou met with him? send thy man away

Nur. Peter stay at the gate

Iul. Now good sweet Nurse: O Lord, why lookest thou sad? Though newes, be sad, yet tell them merrily. If good thou sham'st the musicke of sweet newes, By playing it to me, with so sower a face

Nur. I am a weary, giue me leaue awhile, Fie how my bones ake, what a iaunt haue I had? Iul. I would thou had'st my bones, and I thy newes: Nay come I pray thee speake, good good Nurse speake

Nur. Iesu what hast? can you not stay a while? Do you not see that I am out of breath? Iul. How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breth To say to me, that thou art out of breath? The excuse that thou dost make in this delay, Is longer then the tale thou dost excuse. Is thy newes good or bad? answere to that, Say either, and Ile stay the circumstance: Let me be satisfied, ist good or bad? Nur. Well, you haue made a simple choice, you know not how to chuse a man: Romeo, no not he though his face be better then any mans, yet his legs excels all mens, and for a hand, and a foote, and a body, though they be not to be talkt on, yet they are past compare: he is not the flower of curtesie, but Ile warrant him as gentle a Lambe: go thy waies wench, serue God. What haue you din'd at home? Iul. No no: but all this did I know before What saies he of our marriage? what of that? Nur. Lord how my head akes, what a head haue I? It beates as it would fall in twenty peeces. My backe a tother side: o my backe, my backe: Beshrew your heart for sending me about To catch my death with iaunting vp and downe

Iul. Ifaith: I am sorrie that thou art so well. Sweet sweet, sweet Nurse, tell me what saies my Loue? Nur. Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman, And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, And I warrant a vertuous: where is your Mother? Iul. Where is my Mother? Why she is within, where should she be? How odly thou repli'st: Your Loue saies like an honest Gentleman: Where is your Mother? Nur. O Gods Lady deare, Are you so hot? marrie come vp I trow, Is this the Poultis for my aking bones? Henceforward do your messages your selfe

Iul. Heere's such a coile, come what saies Romeo? Nur. Haue you got leaue to go to shift to day? Iul. I haue

Nur. Then high you hence to Frier Lawrence Cell, There staies a Husband to make you a wife: Now comes the wanton bloud vp in your cheekes, Thei'le be in Scarlet straight at any newes: Hie you to Church, I must an other way, To fetch a Ladder by the which your Loue Must climde a birds nest Soone when it is darke: I am the drudge, and toile in your delight: But you shall beare the burthen soone at night. Go Ile to dinner, hie you to the Cell

Iul. Hie to high Fortune, honest Nurse, farewell.

Exeunt.

Enter Frier and Romeo.

Fri. So smile the heauens vpon this holy act, That after houres, with sorrow chide vs not

Rom. Amen, amen, but come what sorrow can, It cannot counteruaile the exchange of ioy That one short minute giues me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words. Then Loue-deuouring death do what he dare, It is inough. I may call her mine

Fri. These violent delights haue violent endes, And in their triumph: die like fire and powder; Which as they kisse consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his owne deliciousnesse, And in the taste confoundes the appetite. Therefore Loue moderately, long Loue doth so, Too swift arriues as tardie as too slow. Enter Iuliet.

Here comes the Lady. Oh so light a foot Will nere weare out the euerlasting flint, A Louer may bestride the Gossamours, That ydles in the wanton Summer ayre, And yet not fall, so light is vanitie

Iul. Good euen to my ghostly Confessor

Fri. Romeo shall thanke thee Daughter for vs both

Iul. As much to him, else in his thanks too much

Fri. Ah Iuliet, if the measure of thy ioy Be heapt like mine, and that thy skill be more To blason it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour ayre, and let rich musickes tongue, Vnfold the imagin'd happinesse that both Receiue in either, by this deere encounter

Iul. Conceit more rich in matter then in words, Brags of his substance, not of Ornament: They are but beggers that can count their worth, But my true Loue is growne to such excesse, I cannot sum vp some of halfe my wealth

Fri. Come, come with me, & we will make short worke, For by your leaues, you shall not stay alone, Till holy Church incorporate two in one. Enter Mercutio, Benuolio, and men.

Ben. I pray thee good Mercutio lets retire, The day is hot, the Capulets abroad: And if we meet, we shal not scape a brawle, for now these hot dayes, is the mad blood stirring

Mer. Thou art like one of these fellowes, that when he enters the confines of a Tauerne, claps me his Sword vpon the Table, and sayes, God send me no need of thee: and by the operation of the second cup, drawes him on the Drawer, when indeed there is no need

Ben. Am I like such a Fellow? Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Iacke in thy mood, as any in Italie: and assoone moued to be moodie, and assoone moodie to be mou'd

Ben. And what too? Mer. Nay, and there were two such, we should haue none shortly, for one would kill the other: thou, why thou wilt quarrell with a man that hath a haire more, or a haire lesse in his beard, then thou hast: thou wilt quarrell with a man for cracking Nuts, hauing no other reason, but because thou hast hasell eyes: what eye, but such an eye, would spie out such a quarrell? thy head is full of quarrels, as an egge is full of meat, and yet thy head hath bin beaten as addle as an egge for quarreling: thou hast quarrel'd with a man for coffing in the street, because he hath wakened thy Dog that hath laine asleepe in the Sun. Did'st thou not fall out with a Tailor for wearing his new Doublet before Easter? with another, for tying his new shooes with old Riband, and yet thou wilt Tutor me from quarrelling? Ben. And I were so apt to quarell as thou art, any man should buy the Fee-simple of my life, for an houre and a quarter

Mer. The Fee-simple? O simple. Enter Tybalt, Petruchio, and others.

Ben. By my head here comes the Capulets

Mer. By my heele I care not

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speake to them. Gentlemen, Good den, a word with one of you

Mer. And but one word with one of vs? couple it with something, make it a word and a blow

Tib. You shall find me apt inough to that sir, and you will giue me occasion

Mercu. Could you not take some occasion without giuing? Tib. Mercutio thou consort'st with Romeo

Mer. Consort? what dost thou make vs Minstrels? & thou make Minstrels of vs, looke to heare nothing but discords: heere's my fiddlesticke, heere's that shall make you daunce. Come consort

Ben. We talke here in the publike haunt of men, Either withdraw vnto some priuate place, Or reason coldly of your greeuances: Or else depart, here all eies gaze on vs

Mer. Mens eyes were made to looke, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no mans pleasure I. Enter Romeo.

Tib. Well peace be with you sir, here comes my man

Mer. But Ile be hang'd sir if he weare your Liuery. Marry go before to field, heele be your follower, Your worship in that sense, may call him man

Tib. Romeo, the loue I beare thee, can affoord No better terme then this: Thou art a Villaine

Rom. Tibalt, the reason that I haue to loue thee, Doth much excuse the appertaining rage To such a greeting: Villaine am I none; Therefore farewell, I see thou know'st me not

Tib. Boy, this shall not excuse the iniuries That thou hast done me, therefore turne and draw

Rom. I do protest I neuer iniur'd thee, But lou'd thee better then thou can'st deuise: Till thou shalt know the reason of my loue, And so good Capulet, which name I tender As dearely as my owne, be satisfied

Mer. O calme, dishonourable, vile submission: Alla stucatho carries it away. Tybalt, you Rat-catcher, will you walke? Tib. What wouldst thou haue with me? Mer. Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine liues, that I meane to make bold withall, and as you shall vse me hereafter dry beate the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your Sword out of his Pilcher by the eares? Make hast, least mine be about your eares ere it be out

Tib. I am for you

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy Rapier vp

Mer. Come sir, your Passado

Rom. Draw Benuolio, beat downe their weapons: Gentlemen, for shame forbeare this outrage, Tibalt, Mercutio, the Prince expresly hath Forbidden bandying in Verona streetes. Hold Tybalt, good Mercutio.

Exit Tybalt.

Mer. I am hurt. A plague a both the Houses, I am sped: Is he gone and hath nothing? Ben. What art thou hurt? Mer. I, I, a scratch, a scratch, marry 'tis inough, Where is my Page? go Villaine fetch a Surgeon

Rom. Courage man, the hurt cannot be much

Mer. No: 'tis not so deepe as a well, nor so wide as a Church doore, but 'tis inough, 'twill serue: aske for me to morrow, and you shall find me a graue man. I am pepper'd I warrant, for this world: a plague a both your houses. What, a Dog, a Rat, a Mouse, a Cat to scratch a man to death: a Braggart, a Rogue, a Villaine, that fights by the booke of Arithmeticke, why the deu'le came you betweene vs? I was hurt vnder your arme

Rom. I thought all for the best

Mer. Helpe me into some house Benuolio, Or I shall faint: a plague a both your houses. They haue made wormesmeat of me, I haue it, and soundly to your Houses. Enter.

Rom. This Gentleman the Princes neere Alie, My very Friend hath got his mortall hurt In my behalfe, my reputation stain'd With Tibalts slaunder, Tybalt that an houre Hath beene my Cozin: O Sweet Iuliet, Thy Beauty hath made me Effeminate, And in my temper softned Valours steele. Enter Benuolio.

Ben. O Romeo, Romeo, braue Mercutio's is dead, That Gallant spirit hath aspir'd the Cloudes, Which too vntimely here did scorne the earth

Rom. This daies blacke Fate, on mo daies depend, This but begins, the wo others must end. Enter Tybalt.

Ben. Here comes the Furious Tybalt backe againe

Rom. He gon in triumph, and Mercutio slaine? Away to heauen respectiue Lenitie, And fire and Fury, be my conduct now. Now Tybalt take the Villaine backe againe That late thou gau'st me, for Mercutios soule Is but a little way aboue our heads, Staying for thine to keepe him companie: Either thou or I, or both, must goe with him

Tib. Thou wretched Boy that didst consort him here, Shalt with him hence

Rom. This shall determine that.

They fight. Tybalt falles.

Ben. Romeo, away be gone: The Citizens are vp, and Tybalt slaine, Stand not amaz'd, the Prince will Doome thee death If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away

Rom. O! I am Fortunes foole

Ben. Why dost thou stay?

Exit Romeo.

Enter Citizens.

Citi. Which way ran he that kild Mercutio? Tibalt that Murtherer, which way ran he? Ben. There lies that Tybalt

Citi. Vp sir go with me: I charge thee in the Princes names obey. Enter Prince, old Montague, Capulet, their Wiues and all.

Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this Fray? Ben. O Noble Prince, I can discouer all The vnluckie Mannage of this fatall brall: There lies the man slaine by young Romeo, That slew thy kinsman braue Mercutio

Cap. Wi. Tybalt, my Cozin? O my Brothers Child, O Prince, O Cozin, Husband, O the blood is spild Of my deare kinsman. Prince as thou art true, For bloud of ours, shed bloud of Mountague. O Cozin, Cozin

Prin. Benuolio, who began this Fray? Ben. Tybalt here slaine, whom Romeo's hand did slay, Romeo that spoke him faire, bid him bethinke How nice the Quarrell was, and vrg'd withall Your high displeasure: all this vttered, With gentle breath, calme looke, knees humbly bow'd Could not take truce with the vnruly spleene Of Tybalts deafe to peace, but that he Tilts With Peircing steele at bold Mercutio's breast, Who all as hot, turnes deadly point to point, And with a Martiall scorne, with one hand beates Cold death aside, and with the other sends It back to Tybalt, whose dexterity Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, Hold Friends, Friends part, and swifter then his tongue, His aged arme, beats downe their fatall points, And twixt them rushes, vnderneath whose arme, An enuious thrust from Tybalt, hit the life Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled. But by and by comes backe to Romeo, Who had but newly entertained Reuenge, And too't they goe like lightning, for ere I Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slaine: And as he fell, did Romeo turne and flie: This is the truth, or let Benuolio die

Cap. Wi. He is a kinsman to the Mountague, Affection makes him false, he speakes not true: Some twenty of them fought in this blacke strife, And all those twenty could but kill one life. I beg for Iustice, which thou Prince must giue: Romeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not liue

Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio, Who now the price of his deare blood doth owe

Cap. Not Romeo Prince, he was Mercutios Friend, His fault concludes, but what the law should end, The life of Tybalt

Prin. And for that offence, Immediately we doe exile him hence: I haue an interest in your hearts proceeding: My bloud for your rude brawles doth lie a bleeding. But Ile Amerce you with so strong a fine, That you shall all repent the losse of mine. It will be deafe to pleading and excuses, Nor teares, nor prayers shall purchase our abuses. Therefore vse none, let Romeo hence in hast, Else when he is found, that houre is his last. Beare hence his body, and attend our will: Mercy not Murders, pardoning those that kill.

Exeunt.

Enter Iuliet alone.

Iul. Gallop apace, you fiery footed steedes, Towards Phoebus lodging, such a Wagoner As Phaeton would whip you to the west, And bring in Cloudie night immediately. Spred thy close Curtaine Loue-performing night, That run-awayes eyes may wincke, and Romeo Leape to these armes, vntalkt of and vnseene, Louers can see to doe their Amorous rights, And by their owne Beauties: or if Loue be blind, It best agrees with night: come ciuill night, Thou sober suted Matron all in blacke, And learne me how to loose a winning match, Plaid for a paire of stainlesse Maidenhoods, Hood my vnman'd blood bayting in my Cheekes, With thy Blacke mantle, till strange Loue grow bold, Thinke true Loue acted simple modestie: Come night, come Romeo, come thou day in night, For thou wilt lie vpon the wings of night Whiter then new Snow vpon a Rauens backe: Come gentle night, come louing blackebrow'd night. Giue me my Romeo, and when I shall die, Take him and cut him out in little starres, And he will make the Face of heauen so fine, That all the world will be in Loue with night, And pay no worship to the Garish Sun. O I haue bought the Mansion of a Loue, But not possest it, and though I am sold, Not yet enioy'd, so tedious is this day, As is the night before some Festiuall, To an impatient child that hath new robes And may not weare them, O here comes my Nurse: Enter Nurse with cords.

And she brings newes and euery tongue that speaks But Romeos name, speakes heauenly eloquence: Now Nurse, what newes? what hast thou there? The Cords that Romeo bid thee fetch? Nur. I, I, the Cords

Iuli. Ay me, what newes? Why dost thou wring thy hands

Nur. A weladay, hee's dead, hee's dead, We are vndone Lady, we are vndone. Alacke the day, hee's gone, hee's kil'd, he's dead

Iul. Can heauen be so enuious? Nur. Romeo can, Though heauen cannot. O Romeo, Romeo. Who euer would haue thought it Romeo

Iuli. What diuell art thou, That dost torment me thus? This torture should be roar'd in dismall hell, Hath Romeo slaine himselfe? say thou but I, And that bare vowell I shall poyson more Then the death-darting eye of Cockatrice, I am not I, if there be such an I. Or those eyes shot, that makes thee answere I: If he be slaine say I, or if not, no. Briefe, sounds, determine of my weale or wo

Nur. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes, God saue the marke, here on his manly brest, A pitteous Coarse, a bloody piteous Coarse: Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood, All in gore blood I sounded at the sight

Iul. O breake my heart, Poore Banckrout breake at once, To prison eyes, nere looke on libertie. Vile earth to earth resigne, end motion here, And thou and Romeo presse on heauie beere

Nur. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best Friend I had: O curteous Tybalt honest Gentleman, That euer I should liue to see thee dead

Iul. What storme is this that blowes so contrarie? Is Romeo slaughtred? and is Tybalt dead? My dearest Cozen, and my dearer Lord: Then dreadfull Trumpet sound the generall doome, For who is liuing, if those two are gone? Nur. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished, Romeo that kil'd him, he is banished

Iul. O God! Did Romeo's hand shed Tybalts blood It did, it did, alas the day, it did

Nur. O Serpent heart hid with a flowring face

Iul. Did euer Dragon keepe so faire a Caue? Beautifull Tyrant, fiend Angelicall: Rauenous Doue-feather'd Rauen, Woluish-rauening Lambe, Dispised substance of Diuinest show: Iust opposite to what thou iustly seem'st, A dimne Saint, an Honourable Villaine: O Nature! what had'st thou to doe in hell, When thou did'st bower the spirit of a fiend In mortall paradise of such sweet flesh? Was euer booke containing such vile matter So fairely bound? O that deceit should dwell In such a gorgeous Pallace

Nur. There's no trust, no faith, no honestie in men, All periur'd, all forsworne, all naught, all dissemblers, Ah where's my man? giue me some Aqua-vitae? These griefes, these woes, these sorrowes make me old: Shame come to Romeo

Iul. Blister'd be thy tongue For such a wish, he was not borne to shame: Vpon his brow shame is asham'd to sit; For 'tis a throane where Honour may be Crown'd Sole Monarch of the vniuersall earth: O what a beast was I to chide him? Nur. Will you speake well of him, That kil'd your Cozen? Iul. Shall I speake ill of him that is my husband? Ah poore my Lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name, When I thy three houres wife haue mangled it. But wherefore Villaine did'st thou kill my Cozin? That Villaine Cozin would haue kil'd my husband: Backe foolish teares, backe to your natiue spring, Your tributarie drops belong to woe, Which you mistaking offer vp to ioy: My husband liues that Tibalt would haue slaine, And Tibalt dead that would haue slaine my husband: All this is comfort, wherefore weepe I then? Some words there was worser then Tybalts death That murdered me, I would forget it feine, But oh, it presses to my memory, Like damned guilty deedes to sinners minds, Tybalt is dead and Romeo banished: That banished, that one word banished, Hath slaine ten thousand Tibalts: Tibalts death Was woe inough if it had ended there: Or if sower woe delights in fellowship, And needly will be rankt with other griefes, Why followed not when she said Tibalts dead, Thy Father or thy Mother, nay or both, Which moderne lamentation might haue mou'd. But which a rere-ward following Tybalts death Romeo is banished to speake that word, Is Father, Mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Iuliet, All slaine, all dead: Romeo is banished, There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, In that words death, no words can that woe sound. Where is my Father and my Mother Nurse? Nur. Weeping and wailing ouer Tybalts Coarse, Will you go to them? I will bring you thither

Iu. Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shal be spent When theirs are drie for Romeo's banishment. Take vp those Cordes, poore ropes you are beguil'd, Both you and I for Romeo is exild: He made you for a high-way to my bed, But I a Maid, die Maiden widowed. Come Cord, come Nurse, Ile to my wedding bed, And death not Romeo, take my Maiden head

Nur. Hie to your Chamber, Ile find Romeo To comfort you, I wot well where he is: Harke ye your Romeo will be heere at night, Ile to him, he is hid at Lawrence Cell

Iul. O find him, giue this Ring to my true Knight, And bid him come, to take his last farewell.

Exit

Enter Frier and Romeo.

Fri. Romeo come forth, Come forth thou fearfull man, Affliction is enamor'd of thy parts And thou art wedded to calamitie, Rom. Father what newes? What is the Princes Doome? What sorrow craues acquaintance at my hand, That I yet know not? Fri. Too familiar Is my deare Sonne with such sowre Company I bring thee tydings of the Princes Doome

Rom. What lesse then Doomesday, Is the Princes Doome? Fri. A gentler iudgement vanisht from his lips, Not bodies death, but bodies banishment

Rom. Ha, banishment? be mercifull, say death: For exile hath more terror in his looke, Much more then death: do not say banishment

Fri. Here from Verona art thou banished: Be patient, for the world is broad and wide

Rom. There is no world without Verona walles, But Purgatorie, Torture, hell it selfe: Hence banished, is banisht from the world, And worlds exile is death. Then banished, Is death, mistearm'd, calling death banished, Thou cut'st my head off with a golden Axe, And smilest vpon the stroke that murders me

Fri. O deadly sin, O rude vnthankefulnesse! Thy falt our Law calles death, but the kind Prince Taking thy part, hath rusht aside the Law, And turn'd that blacke word death, to banishment. This is deare mercy, and thou seest it not

Rom. 'Tis Torture and not mercy, heauen is here Where Iuliet liues, and euery Cat and Dog, And little Mouse, euery vnworthy thing Liue here in Heauen and may looke on her, But Romeo may not. More Validitie, More Honourable state, more Courtship liues In carrion Flies, then Romeo: they may seaze On the white wonder of deare Iuliets hand, And steale immortall blessing from her lips, Who euen in pure and vestall modestie Still blush, as thinking their owne kisses sin. This may Flies doe, when I from this must flie, And saist thou yet, that exile is not death? But Romeo may not, hee is banished. Had'st thou no poyson mixt, no sharpe ground knife, No sudden meane of death, though nere so meane, But banished to kill me? Banished? O Frier, the damned vse that word in hell: Howlings attends it, how hast then the hart Being a Diuine, a Ghostly Confessor, A Sin-Absoluer, and my Friend profest: To mangle me with that word, banished? Fri. Then fond Mad man, heare me speake

Rom. O thou wilt speake againe of banishment

Fri. Ile giue thee Armour to keepe off that word, Aduersities sweete milke, Philosophie, To comfort thee, though thou art banished

Rom. Yet banished? hang vp Philosophie: Vnlesse Philosophie can make a Iuliet, Displant a Towne, reuerse a Princes Doome, It helpes not, it preuailes not, talke no more

Fri. O then I see, that Mad men haue no eares

Rom. How should they, When wisemen haue no eyes? Fri. Let me dispaire with thee of thy estate, Rom. Thou can'st not speake of that y dost not feele, Wert thou as young as Iuliet my Loue: An houre but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me, and like me banished, Then mightest thou speake, Then mightest thou teare thy hayre, And fall vpon the ground as I doe now, Taking the measure of an vnmade graue. Enter Nurse, and knockes.

Frier. Arise one knockes, Good Romeo hide thy selfe

Rom. Not I, Vnlesse the breath of Hartsicke groanes Mist-like infold me from the search of eyes.

Knocke

Fri. Harke how they knocke: (Who's there) Romeo arise, Thou wilt be taken, stay a while, stand vp:

Knocke.

Run to my study: by and by, Gods will What simplenesse is this: I come, I come.

Knocke.

Who knocks so hard? Whence come you? what's your will? Enter Nurse.

Nur. Let me come in, And you shall know my errand: I come from Lady Iuliet

Fri. Welcome then

Nur. O holy Frier, O tell me holy Frier, Where's my Ladies Lord? where's Romeo? Fri. There on the ground, With his owne teares made drunke

Nur. O he is euen in my Mistresse case, Iust in her case. O wofull simpathy: Pittious predicament, euen so lies she, Blubbring and weeping, weeping and blubbring, Stand vp, stand vp, stand and you be a man, For Iuliets sake, for her sake rise and stand: Why should you fall into so deepe an O

Rom. Nurse

Nur. Ah sir, ah sir, deaths the end of all

Rom. Speak'st thou of Iuliet? how is it with her? Doth not she thinke me an old Murtherer, Now I haue stain'd the Childhood of our ioy, With blood remoued, but little from her owne? Where is she? and how doth she? and what sayes My conceal'd Lady to our conceal'd Loue? Nur. Oh she sayes nothing sir, but weeps and weeps, And now fals on her bed, and then starts vp, And Tybalt calls, and then on Romeo cries, And then downe falls againe

Ro. As if that name shot from the dead leuell of a Gun, Did murder her, as that names cursed hand Murdred her kinsman. Oh tell me Frier, tell me, In what vile part of this Anatomie Doth my name lodge? Tell me, that I may sacke The hatefull Mansion

Fri. Hold thy desperate hand: Art thou a man? thy forme cries out thou art: Thy teares are womanish, thy wild acts denote The vnreasonable Furie of a beast. Vnseemely woman, in a seeming man, And ill beseeming beast in seeming both, Thou hast amaz'd me. By my holy order, I thought thy disposition better temper'd. Hast thou slaine Tybalt? wilt thou slay thy selfe? And slay thy Lady, that in thy life lies, By doing damned hate vpon thy selfe? Why rayl'st thou on thy birth? the heauen and earth? Since birth, and heauen and earth, all three do meete In thee at once, which thou at once would'st loose. Fie, fie, thou sham'st thy shape, thy loue, thy wit, Which like a Vsurer abound'st in all: And vsest none in that true vse indeed, Which should bedecke thy shape, thy loue, thy wit: Thy Noble shape, is but a forme of waxe, Digressing from the Valour of a man, Thy deare Loue sworne but hollow periurie, Killing that Loue which thou hast vow'd to cherish. Thy wit, that Ornament, to shape and Loue, Mishapen in the conduct of them both: Like powder in a skillesse Souldiers flaske, Is set a fire by thine owne ignorance, And thou dismembred with thine owne defence. What, rowse thee man, thy Iuliet is aliue, For whose deare sake thou wast but lately dead. There art thou happy. Tybalt would kill thee, But thou slew'st Tybalt, there art thou happie. The law that threatned death became thy Friend. And turn'd it to exile, there art thou happy. A packe or blessing light vpon thy backe, Happinesse Courts thee in her best array, But like a mishaped and sullen wench, Thou puttest vp thy Fortune and thy Loue: Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. Goe get thee to thy Loue as was decreed, Ascend her Chamber, hence and comfort her: But looke thou stay not till the watch be set, For then thou canst not passe to Mantua, Where thou shalt liue till we can finde a time To blaze your marriage, reconcile your Friends, Beg pardon of thy Prince, and call thee backe, With twenty hundred thousand times more ioy Then thou went'st forth in lamentation. Goe before Nurse, commend me to thy Lady, And bid her hasten all the house to bed, Which heauy sorrow makes them apt vnto. Romeo is comming

Nur. O Lord, I could haue staid here all night, To heare good counsell: oh what learning is! My Lord Ile tell my Lady you will come

Rom. Do so, and bid my Sweete prepare to chide

Nur. Heere sir, a Ring she bid me giue you sir: Hie you, make hast, for it growes very late

Rom. How well my comfort is reuiu'd by this

Fri. Go hence, Goodnight, and here stands all your state: Either be gone before the watch be set, Or by the breake of day disguis'd from hence, Soiourne in Mantua, Ile find out your man, And he shall signifie from time to time, Euery good hap to you, that chaunces heere: Giue me thy hand, 'tis late, farewell, goodnight

Rom. But that a ioy past ioy, calls out on me, It were a griefe, so briefe to part with thee: Farewell.

Exeunt.

Enter old Capulet, his Wife and Paris.

Cap. Things haue falne out sir so vnluckily, That we haue had no time to moue our Daughter: Looke you, she Lou'd her kinsman Tybalt dearely, And so did I. Well, we were borne to die. 'Tis very late, she'l not come downe to night: I promise you, but for your company, I would haue bin a bed an houre ago

Par. These times of wo, affoord no times to wooe: Madam goodnight, commend me to your Daughter

Lady. I will, and know her mind early to morrow, To night, she is mewed vp to her heauinesse

Cap. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate tender Of my Childes loue: I thinke she will be rul'd In all respects by me: nay more, I doubt it not. Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed, Acquaint her here, of my Sonne Paris Loue, And bid her, marke you me, on Wendsday next, But soft, what day is this? Par. Monday my Lord

Cap. Monday, ha ha: well Wendsday is too soone, A Thursday let it be: a Thursday tell her, She shall be married to this Noble Earle: Will you be ready? do you like this hast? Weele keepe no great adoe, a Friend or two, For harke you, Tybalt being slaine so late, It may be thought we held him carelesly, Being our kinsman, if we reuell much: Therefore weele haue some halfe a dozen Friends, And there an end. But what say you to Thursday? Paris. My Lord, I would that Thursday were to morrow

Cap. Well, get you gone, a Thursday, be it then: Go you to Iuliet ere you go to bed, Prepare her wife, against this wedding day. Farewell my Lord, light to my Chamber hoa, Afore me, it is so late, that we may call it early by and by, Goodnight.

Exeunt.

Enter Romeo and Iuliet aloft.

Iul. Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet neere day: It was the Nightingale, and not the Larke, That pier'st the fearefull hollow of thine eare, Nightly she sings on yond Pomgranet tree, Beleeue me Loue, it was the Nightingale

Rom. It was the Larke the Herauld of the Morne: No Nightingale: looke Loue what enuious streakes Do lace the seuering Cloudes in yonder East: Nights Candles are burnt out, and Iocond day Stands tipto on the mistie Mountaines tops, I must be gone and liue, or stay and die

Iul. Yond light is not daylight, I know it I: It is some Meteor that the Sun exhales, To be to thee this night a Torch-bearer, And light thee on thy way to Mantua. Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not be gone, Rom. Let me be tane, let me be put to death, I am content, so thou wilt haue it so. Ile say yon gray is not the mornings eye, 'Tis but the pale reflexe of Cinthias brow. Nor that is not Larke whose noates do beate The vaulty heauen so high aboue our heads, I haue more care to stay, then will to go: Come death and welcome, Iuliet wills it so. How ist my soule, lets talke, it is not day

Iuli. It is, it is, hie hence be gone away: It is the Larke that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh Discords, and vnpleasing Sharpes. Some say the Larke makes sweete Diuision; This doth not so: for she diuideth vs. Some say, the Larke and loathed Toad change eyes, O now I would they had chang'd voyces too: Since arme from arme that voyce doth vs affray, Hunting thee hence, with Hunts-vp to the day, O now be gone, more light and it light growes

Rom. More light & light, more darke & darke our woes. Enter Madam and Nurse.

Nur. Madam

Iul. Nurse

Nur. Your Lady Mother is comming to your chamber, The day is broke, be wary, looke about

Iul. Then window let day in, and let life out

Rom. Farewell, farewell, one kisse and Ile descend

Iul. Art thou gone so? Loue, Lord, ay Husband, Friend, I must heare from thee euery day in the houre, For in a minute there are many dayes, O by this count I shall be much in yeares, Ere I againe behold my Romeo

Rom. Farewell: I will omit no oportunitie, That may conuey my greetings Loue, to thee

Iul. O thinkest thou we shall euer meet againe? Rom. I doubt it not, and all these woes shall serue For sweet discourses in our time to come

Iuliet. O God! I haue an ill Diuining soule, Me thinkes I see thee now, thou art so lowe, As one dead in the bottome of a Tombe, Either my eye-sight failes, or thou look'st pale

Rom. And trust me Loue, in my eye so do you: Drie sorrow drinkes our blood. Adue, adue. Enter.

Iul. O Fortune, Fortune, all men call thee fickle, If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him That is renown'd for faith? be fickle Fortune: For then I hope thou wilt not keepe him long, But send him backe. Enter Mother.

Lad. Ho Daughter, are you vp? Iul. Who ist that calls? Is it my Lady Mother. Is she not downe so late, or vp so early? What vnaccustom'd cause procures her hither? Lad. Why how now Iuliet? Iul. Madam I am not well

Lad. Euermore weeping for your Cozins death? What wilt thou wash him from his graue with teares? And if thou could'st, thou could'st not make him liue: Therefore haue done, some griefe shewes much of Loue, But much of griefe, shewes still some want of wit

Iul. Yet let me weepe, for such a feeling losse

Lad. So shall you feele the losse, but not the Friend Which you weepe for

Iul. Feeling so the losse, I cannot chuse but euer weepe the Friend

La. Well Girle, thou weep'st not so much for his death, As that the Villaine liues which slaughter'd him

Iul. What Villaine, Madam? Lad. That same Villaine Romeo

Iul. Villaine and he, be many miles assunder: God pardon, I doe with all my heart: And yet no man like he, doth grieue my heart

Lad. That is because the Traitor liues

Iul. I Madam from the reach of these my hands: Would none but I might venge my Cozins death

Lad. We will haue vengeance for it, feare thou not. Then weepe no more, Ile send to one in Mantua, Where that same banisht Run-agate doth liue, Shall giue him such an vnaccustom'd dram, That he shall soone keepe Tybalt company: And then I hope thou wilt be satisfied

Iul. Indeed I neuer shall be satisfied With Romeo, till I behold him. Dead Is my poore heart so for a kinsman vext: Madam, if you could find out but a man To beare a poyson, I would temper it; That Romeo should vpon receit thereof, Soone sleepe in quiet. O how my heart abhors To heare him nam'd, and cannot come to him, To wreake the Loue I bore my Cozin, Vpon his body that hath slaughter'd him

Mo. Find thou the meanes, and Ile find such a man. But now Ile tell thee ioyfull tidings Gyrle

Iul. And ioy comes well, in such a needy time, What are they, beseech your Ladyship? Mo. Well, well, thou hast a carefull Father Child? One who to put thee from thy heauinesse, Hath sorted out a sudden day of ioy, That thou expects not, nor I lookt not for

Iul. Madam in happy time, what day is this? Mo. Marry my Child, early next Thursday morne, The gallant, young, and Noble Gentleman, The Countie Paris at Saint Peters Church, Shall happily make thee a ioyfull Bride

Iul. Now by Saint Peters Church, and Peter too, He shall not make me there a ioyfull Bride. I wonder at this hast, that I must wed Ere he that should be Husband comes to woe: I pray you tell my Lord and Father Madam, I will not marrie yet, and when I doe, I sweare It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate Rather then Paris. These are newes indeed

Mo. Here comes your Father, tell him so your selfe, And see how he will take it at your hands. Enter Capulet and Nurse.

Cap. When the Sun sets, the earth doth drizzle deaw But for the Sunset of my Brothers Sonne, It raines downright. How now? A Conduit Gyrle, what still in teares? Euermore showring in one little body? Thou counterfaits a Barke, a Sea, a Wind: For still thy eyes, which I may call the Sea, Do ebbe and flow with teares, the Barke thy body is Sayling in this salt floud, the windes thy sighes, Who raging with the teares and they with them, Without a sudden calme will ouer set Thy tempest tossed body. How now wife? Haue you deliuered to her our decree? Lady. I sir; But she will none, she giues you thankes, I would the foole were married to her graue

Cap. Soft, take me with you, take me with you wife, How, will she none? doth she not giue vs thanks? Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest, Vnworthy as she is, that we haue wrought So worthy a Gentleman, to be her Bridegroome Iul. Not proud you haue, But thankfull that you haue: Proud can I neuer be of what I haue, But thankfull euen for hate, that is meant Loue

Cap. How now? How now? Chopt Logicke? what is this? Proud, and I thanke you: and I thanke you not. Thanke me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds, But fettle your fine ioints 'gainst Thursday next, To go with Paris to Saint Peters Church: Or I will drag thee, on a Hurdle thither. Out you greene sicknesse carrion, out you baggage, You tallow face

Lady. Fie, fie, what are you mad? Iul. Good Father, I beseech you on my knees Heare me with patience, but to speake a word

Fa. Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch, I tell thee what, get thee to Church a Thursday, Or neuer after looke me in the face. Speake not, reply not, do not answere me. My fingers itch, wife: we scarce thought vs blest, That God had lent vs but this onely Child, But now I see this one is one too much, And that we haue a curse in hauing her: Out on her Hilding

Nur. God in heauen blesse her, You are too blame my Lord to rate her so

Fa. And why my Lady wisedome? hold your tongue, Good Prudence, smatter with your gossip, go

Nur. I speak no treason, Father, O Godigoden, May not one speake? Fa. Peace you mumbling foole, Vtter your grauitie ore a Gossips bowles For here we need it not

La. You are too hot

Fa. Gods bread, it makes me mad: Day, night, houre, ride, time, worke, play, Alone in companie, still my care hath bin To haue her matcht, and hauing now prouided A Gentleman of Noble Parentage, Of faire Demeanes, Youthfull, and Nobly Allied, Stuft as they say with Honourable parts, Proportion'd as ones thought would wish a man, And then to haue a wretched puling foole, A whining mammet, in her Fortunes tender, To answer, Ile not wed, I cannot Loue: I am too young, I pray you pardon me. But, and you will not wed, Ile pardon you. Graze where you will, you shall not house with me: Looke too't, thinke on't, I do not vse to iest. Thursday is neere, lay hand on heart, aduise, And you be mine, Ile giue you to my Friend: And you be not, hang, beg, starue, die in the streets, For by my soule, Ile nere acknowledge thee, Nor what is mine shall neuer do thee good: Trust too't, bethinke you, Ile not be forsworne Enter.

Iuli. Is there no pittie sitting in the Cloudes, That sees into the bottome of my griefe? O sweet my Mother cast me not away, Delay this marriage, for a month, a weeke, Or if you do not, make the Bridall bed In that dim Monument where Tybalt lies

Mo. Talke not to me, for Ile not speake a word, Do as thou wilt, for I haue done with thee. Enter.

Iul. O God! O Nurse, how shall this be preuented? My Husband is on earth, my faith in heauen, How shall that faith returne againe to earth, Vnlesse that Husband send it me from heauen, By leauing earth? Comfort me, counsaile me: Alacke, alacke, that heauen should practise stratagems Vpon so soft a subiect as my selfe. What saist thou? hast thou not a word of ioy? Some comfort Nurse

Nur. Faith here it is, Romeo is banished, and all the world to nothing, That he dares nere come backe to challenge you: Or if he do, it needs must be by stealth. Then since the case so stands as now it doth, I thinke it best you married with the Countie, O hee's a Louely Gentleman: Romeos a dish-clout to him: an Eagle Madam Hath not so greene, so quicke, so faire an eye As Paris hath, beshrow my very heart, I thinke you are happy in this second match, For it excels your first: or if it did not, Your first is dead, or 'twere as good he were, As liuing here and you no vse of him

Iul. Speakest thou from thy heart? Nur. And from my soule too, Or else beshrew them both

Iul. Amen

Nur. What? Iul. Well, thou hast comforted me marue'lous much, Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone, Hauing displeas'd my Father, to Lawrence Cell, To make confession, and to be absolu'd

Nur. Marrie I will, and this is wisely done

Iul. Auncient damnation, O most wicked fiend! It is more sin to wish me thus forsworne, Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue Which she hath prais'd him with aboue compare, So many thousand times? Go Counsellor, Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twaine: Ile to the Frier to know his remedie, If all else faile, my selfe haue power to die.

Exeunt.

Enter Frier and Countie Paris.

Fri. On Thursday sir? the time is very short

Par. My Father Capulet will haue it so, And I am nothing slow to slack his hast

Fri. You say you do not know the Ladies mind? Vneuen is the course, I like it not

Pa. Immoderately she weepes for Tybalts death, And therfore haue I little talke of Loue, For Venus smiles not in a house of teares. Now sir, her Father counts it dangerous That she doth giue her sorrow so much sway: And in his wisedome, hasts our marriage, To stop the inundation of her teares, Which too much minded by her selfe alone, May be put from her by societie. Now doe you know the reason of this hast? Fri. I would I knew not why it should be slow'd. Looke sir, here comes the Lady towards my Cell. Enter Iuliet.

Par. Happily met, my Lady and my wife

Iul. That may be sir, when I may be a wife

Par. That may be, must be Loue, on Thursday next

Iul. What must be shall be

Fri. That's a certaine text

Par. Come you to make confession to this Father? Iul. To answere that, I should confesse to you

Par. Do not denie to him, that you Loue me

Iul. I will confesse to you that I Loue him

Par. So will ye, I am sure that you Loue me

Iul. If I do so, it will be of more price, Being spoke behind your backe, then to your face

Par. Poore soule, thy face is much abus'd with teares

Iul. The teares haue got small victorie by that: For it was bad inough before their spight

Pa. Thou wrong'st it more then teares with that report

Iul. That is no slaunder sir, which is a truth, And what I spake, I spake it to thy face

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slaundred it

Iul. It may be so, for it is not mine owne. Are you at leisure, Holy Father now, Or shall I come to you at euening Masse? Fri. My leisure serues me pensiue daughter now. My Lord you must intreat the time alone

Par. Godsheild: I should disturbe Deuotion, Iuliet, on Thursday early will I rowse yee, Till then adue, and keepe this holy kisse.

Exit Paris.

Iul. O shut the doore, and when thou hast done so, Come weepe with me, past hope, past care, past helpe

Fri. O Iuliet, I alreadie know thy griefe, It streames me past the compasse of my wits: I heare thou must and nothing may prorogue it, On Thursday next be married to this Countie

Iul. Tell me not Frier that thou hearest of this, Vnlesse thou tell me how I may preuent it: If in thy wisedome, thou canst giue no helpe, Do thou but call my resolution wise, And with this knife, Ile helpe it presently. God ioyn'd my heart, and Romeos, thou our hands, And ere this hand by thee to Romeo seal'd: Shall be the Labell to another Deede, Or my true heart with trecherous reuolt, Turne to another, this shall slay them both: Therefore out of thy long experien'st time, Giue me some present counsell, or behold Twixt my extreames and me, this bloody knife Shall play the vmpeere, arbitrating that, Which the commission of thy yeares and art, Could to no issue of true honour bring: Be not so long to speak, I long to die, If what thou speak'st, speake not of remedy

Fri. Hold Daughter, I doe spie a kind of hope, Which craues as desperate an execution, As that is desperate which we would preuent. If rather then to marrie Countie Paris Thou hast the strength of will to slay thy selfe, Then is it likely thou wilt vndertake A thing like death to chide away this shame, That coap'st with death himselfe, to scape fro it: And if thou dar'st, Ile giue thee remedie

Iul. Oh bid me leape, rather then marrie Paris, From of the Battlements of any Tower, Or walke in theeuish waies, or bid me lurke Where Serpents are: chaine me with roaring Beares Or hide me nightly in a Charnell house, Orecouered quite with dead mens ratling bones, With reckie shankes and yellow chappels sculls: Or bid me go into a new made graue, And hide me with a dead man in his graue, Things that to heare them told, haue made me tremble, And I will doe it without feare or doubt, To liue an vnstained wife to my sweet Loue

Fri. Hold then: goe home, be merrie, giue consent, To marrie Paris: wensday is to morrow, To morrow night looke that thou lie alone, Let not thy Nurse lie with thee in thy Chamber: Take thou this Violl being then in bed, And this distilling liquor drinke thou off, When presently through all thy veines shall run, A cold and drowsie humour: for no pulse Shall keepe his natiue progresse, but surcease: No warmth, no breath shall testifie thou liuest, The Roses in thy lips and cheekes shall fade To many ashes, the eyes windowes fall Like death when he shut vp the day of life: Each part depriu'd of supple gouernment, Shall stiffe and starke, and cold appeare like death, And in this borrowed likenesse of shrunke death Thou shalt continue two and forty houres, And then awake, as from a pleasant sleepe. Now when the Bridegroome in the morning comes, To rowse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead: Then as the manner of our country is, In thy best Robes vncouer'd on the Beere, Be borne to buriall in thy kindreds graue: Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault, Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie, In the meane time against thou shalt awake, Shall Romeo by my Letters know our drift, And hither shall he come, and that very night Shall Romeo beare thee hence to Mantua. And this shall free thee from this present shame, If no inconstant toy nor womanish feare, Abate thy valour in the acting it

Iul. Giue me, giue me, O tell me not of care

Fri. Hold get you gone, be strong and prosperous: In this resolue, Ile send a Frier with speed To Mantua with my Letters to thy Lord

Iu. Loue giue me strength, And the strength shall helpe afford: Farewell deare father.

Exit

Enter Father Capulet, Mother, Nurse, and Seruing men, two or three.

Cap. So many guests inuite as here are writ, Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning Cookes

Ser. You shall haue none ill sir, for Ile trie if they can licke their fingers

Cap. How canst thou trie them so? Ser. Marrie sir, 'tis an ill Cooke that cannot licke his owne fingers: therefore he that cannot licke his fingers goes not with me

Cap. Go be gone, we shall be much vnfurnisht for this time: what is my Daughter gone to Frier Lawrence? Nur. I forsooth

Cap. Well he may chance to do some good on her, A peeuish selfe-wild harlotry it is. Enter Iuliet.

Nur. See where she comes from shrift With merrie looke

Cap. How now my headstrong, Where haue you bin gadding? Iul. Where I haue learnt me to repent the sin Of disobedient opposition: To you and your behests, and am enioyn'd By holy Lawrence, to fall prostrate here, To beg your pardon: pardon I beseech you, Henceforward I am euer rul'd by you

Cap. Send for the Countie, goe tell him of this, Ile haue this knot knit vp to morrow morning

Iul. I met the youthfull Lord at Lawrence Cell, And gaue him what becomed Loue I might, Not stepping ore the bounds of modestie

Cap. Why I am glad on't, this is well, stand vp, This is as't should be, let me see the County: I marrie go I say, and fetch him hither. Now afore God, this reueren'd holy Frier, All our whole Cittie is much bound to him

Iul. Nurse will you goe with me into my Closet, To helpe me sort such needfull ornaments, As you thinke fit to furnish me to morrow? Mo. No not till Thursday, there's time inough

Fa. Go Nurse, go with her, Weele to Church to morrow.

Exeunt. Iuliet and Nurse.

Mo. We shall be short in our prouision, 'Tis now neere night

Fa. Tush, I will stirre about, And all things shall be well, I warrant thee wife: Go thou to Iuliet, helpe to decke vp her, Ile not to bed to night, let me alone: Ile play the huswife for this once. What ho? They are all forth, well I will walke my selfe To Countie Paris, to prepare him vp Against to morrow, my heart is wondrous light, Since this same way-ward Gyrle is so reclaim'd.

Exeunt. Father and Mother.

Enter Iuliet and Nurse.

Iul. I those attires are best, but gentle Nurse I pray thee leaue me to my selfe to night: For I haue need of many Orysons, To moue the heauens to smile vpon my state, Which well thou know'st, is crosse and full of sin. Enter Mother.

Mo. What are you busie ho? need you my help? Iul. No Madam, we haue cul'd such necessaries As are behoouefull for our state to morrow: So please you, let me now be left alone; And let the Nurse this night sit vp with you, For I am sure, you haue your hands full all, In this so sudden businesse

Mo. Goodnight. Get thee to bed and rest, for thou hast need.

Exeunt.

Iul. Farewell: God knowes when we shall meete againe. I haue a faint cold feare thrills through my veines, That almost freezes vp the heate of fire: Ile call them backe againe to comfort me. Nurse, what should she do here? My dismall Sceane, I needs must act alone: Come Viall, what if this mixture do not worke at all? Shall I be married then to morrow morning? No, no, this shall forbid it. Lie thou there, What if it be a poyson which the Frier Subtilly hath ministred to haue me dead, Least in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, Because he married me before to Romeo? I feare it is, and yet me thinkes it should not, For he hath still beene tried a holy man. How, if when I am laid into the Tombe, I wake before the time that Romeo Come to redeeme me? There's a fearefull point: Shall I not then be stifled in the Vault? To whose foule mouth no healthsome ayre breaths in, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes. Or if I liue, is it not very like, The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place, As in a Vaulte, an ancient receptacle, Where for these many hundred yeeres the bones Of all my buried Auncestors are packt, Where bloody Tybalt, yet but greene in earth, Lies festring in his shrow'd, where as they say, At some houres in the night, Spirits resort: Alacke, alacke, is it not like that I So early waking, what with loathsome smels, And shrikes like Mandrakes torne out of the earth, That liuing mortalls hearing them, run mad. O if I wake, shall I not be distraught, Inuironed with all these hidious feares, And madly play with my forefathers ioynts? And plucke the mangled Tybalt from his shrow'd? And in this rage, with some great kinsmans bone, As (with a club) dash out my desperate braines. O looke, me thinks I see my Cozins Ghost, Seeking out Romeo that did spit his body Vpon my Rapiers point: stay Tybalt, stay; Romeo, Romeo, Romeo, here's drinke: I drinke to thee. Enter Lady of the house, and Nurse.

Lady. Hold, Take these keies, and fetch more spices Nurse

Nur. They call for Dates and Quinces in the Pastrie. Enter old Capulet.

Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir, The second Cocke hath Crow'd, The Curphew Bell hath rung, 'tis three a clocke: Looke to the bakte meates, good Angelica, Spare not for cost

Nur. Go you Cot-queane, go, Get you to bed, faith youle be sicke to morrow For this nights watching

Cap. No not a whit: what? I haue watcht ere now All night for lesse cause, and nere beene sicke

La. I you haue bin a Mouse-hunt in your time, But I will watch you from such watching now.

Exit Lady and Nurse.

Cap. A iealous hood, a iealous hood, Now fellow, what there? Enter three or foure with spits, and logs, and baskets.

Fel. Things for the Cooke sir, but I know not what

Cap. Make hast, make hast, sirrah, fetch drier Logs. Call Peter, he will shew thee where they are

Fel. I haue a head sir, that will find out logs, And neuer trouble Peter for the matter

Cap. Masse and well said, a merrie horson, ha, Thou shalt be loggerhead; good Father, 'tis day.

Play Musicke

The Countie will be here with Musicke straight, For so he said he would, I heare him neere, Nurse, wife, what ho? what Nurse I say? Enter Nurse.

Go waken Iuliet, go and trim her vp, Ile go and chat with Paris: hie, make hast, Make hast, the Bridegroome, he is come already: Make hast I say

Nur. Mistris, what Mistris? Iuliet? Fast I warrant her she. Why Lambe, why Lady? fie you sluggabed, Why Loue I say? Madam, sweet heart: why Bride? What not a word? You take your peniworths now. Sleepe for a weeke, for the next night I warrant The Countie Paris hath set vp his rest, That you shall rest but little, God forgiue me: Marrie and Amen: how sound is she a sleepe? I must needs wake her: Madam, Madam, Madam, I, let the Countie take you in your bed, Heele fright you vp yfaith. Will it not be? What drest, and in your clothes, and downe againe? I must needs wake you: Lady, Lady, Lady? Alas, alas, helpe, helpe, my Ladyes dead, Oh weladay, that euer I was borne, Some Aqua-vitæ ho, my Lord, my Lady? Mo. What noise is heere? Enter Mother.

Nur. O lamentable day

Mo. What is the matter? Nur. Looke, looke, oh heauie day

Mo. O me, O me, my Child, my onely life: Reuiue, looke vp, or I will die with thee: Helpe, helpe, call helpe. Enter Father.

Fa. For shame bring Iuliet forth, her Lord is come

Nur. Shee's dead: deceast, shee's dead: alacke the day

M. Alacke the day, shee's dead, shee's dead, shee's dead

Fa. Ha? Let me see her: out alas shee's cold, Her blood is setled and her ioynts are stiffe: Life and these lips haue long bene seperated: Death lies on her like an vntimely frost Vpon the swetest flower of all the field

Nur. O Lamentable day! Mo. O wofull time

Fa. Death that hath tane her hence to make me waile, Ties vp my tongue, and will not let me speake. Enter Frier and the Countie.

Fri. Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church? Fa. Ready to go, but neuer to returne. O Sonne, the night before thy wedding day, Hath death laine with thy wife: there she lies, Flower as she was, deflowred by him. Death is my Sonne in law, death is my Heire, My Daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leaue him all life liuing, all is deaths

Pa. Haue I thought long to see this mornings face, And doth it giue me such a sight as this? Mo. Accur'st, vnhappie, wretched hatefull day, Most miserable houre, that ere time saw In lasting labour of his Pilgrimage. But one, poore one, one poore and louing Child, But one thing to reioyce and solace in, And cruell death hath catcht it from my sight

Nur. O wo, O wofull, wofull, wofull day, Most lamentable day, most wofull day, That euer, euer, I did yet behold. O day, O day, O day, O hatefull day, Neuer was seene so blacke a day as this: O wofull day, O wofull day

Pa. Beguild, diuorced, wronged, spighted, slaine, Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd, By cruell, cruell thee, quite ouerthrowne: O loue, O life; not life, but loue in death

Fat. Despis'd, distressed, hated, martir'd, kil'd, Vncomfortable time, why cam'st thou now To murther, murther our solemnitie? O Child, O Child; my soule, and not my Child, Dead art thou, alacke my Child is dead, And with my Child, my ioyes are buried

Fri. Peace ho for shame, confusions: Care liues not In these confusions, heauen and your selfe Had part in this faire Maid, now heauen hath all, And all the better is it for the Maid: Your part in her, you could not keepe from death, But heauen keepes his part in eternall life: The most you sought was her promotion, For 'twas your heauen, she shouldst be aduan'st, And weepe ye now, seeing she is aduan'st Aboue the Cloudes, as high as Heauen it selfe? O in this loue, you loue your Child so ill, That you run mad, seeing that she is well: Shee's not well married, that liues married long, But shee's best married, that dies married yong. Drie vp your teares, and sticke your Rosemarie On this faire Coarse, and as the custome is, And in her best array beare her to Church: For though some Nature bids all vs lament, Yet Natures teares are Reasons merriment

Fa. All things that we ordained Festiuall, Turne from their office to blacke Funerall: Our instruments to melancholy Bells, Our wedding cheare, to a sad buriall Feast: Our solemne Hymnes, to sullen Dyrges change: Our Bridall flowers serue for a buried Coarse: And all things change them to the contrarie

Fri. Sir go you in; and Madam, go with him, And go sir Paris, euery one prepare To follow this faire Coarse vnto her graue: The heauens do lowre vpon you, for some ill: Moue them no more, by crossing their high will.

Exeunt.

Mu. Faith we may put vp our Pipes and be gone

Nur. Honest goodfellowes: Ah put vp, put vp, For well you know, this is a pitifull case

Mu. I by my troth, the case may be amended. Enter Peter.

Pet. Musitions, oh Musitions, Hearts ease, hearts ease, O, and you will haue me liue, play hearts ease

Mu. Why hearts ease; Pet. O Musitions, Because my heart it selfe plaies, my heart is full

Mu. Not a dump we, 'tis no time to play now

Pet. You will not then? Mu. No

Pet. I will then giue it you soundly

Mu. What will you giue vs? Pet. No money on my faith, but the gleeke. I will giue you the Minstrell

Mu. Then will I giue you the Seruing creature

Peter. Then will I lay the seruing Creatures Dagger on your pate. I will carie no Crochets, Ile Re you, Ile Fa you, do you note me? Mu. And you Re vs, and Fa vs, you Note vs

2.M. Pray you put vp your Dagger, And put out your wit. Then haue at you with my wit

Peter. I will drie-beate you with an yron wit, And put vp my yron Dagger. Answere me like men: When griping griefes the heart doth wound, then Musicke with her siluer sound. Why siluer sound? why Musicke with her siluer sound? what say you Simon Catling? Mu. Mary sir, because siluer hath a sweet sound

Pet. Pratest, what say you Hugh Rebicke? 2.M. I say siluer sound, because Musitions sound for siluer Pet. Pratest to, what say you Iames Sound-Post? 3.Mu. Faith I know not what to say

Pet. O I cry you mercy, you are the Singer. I will say for you; it is Musicke with her siluer sound, Because Musitions haue no gold for sounding: Then Musicke with her siluer sound, with speedy helpe doth lend redresse. Enter.

Mu. What a pestilent knaue is this same? M.2. Hang him Iacke, come weele in here, tarrie for the Mourners, and stay dinner. Enter.

Enter Romeo.

Rom. If I may trust the flattering truth of sleepe, My dreames presage some ioyfull newes at hand: My bosomes L[ord]. sits lightly in his throne: And all this day an vnaccustom'd spirit, Lifts me aboue the ground with cheerefull thoughts. I dreamt my Lady came and found me dead, (Strange dreame that giues a dead man leaue to thinke,) And breath'd such life with kisses in my lips, That I reuiu'd and was an Emperour. Ah me, how sweet is loue it selfe possest, When but loues shadowes are so rich in ioy. Enter Romeo's man.

Newes from Verona, how now Balthazer? Dost thou not bring me Letters from the Frier? How doth my Lady? Is my Father well? How doth my Lady Iuliet? that I aske againe, For nothing can be ill, is she be well

Man. Then she is well, and nothing can be ill. Her body sleepes in Capels Monument, And her immortall part with Angels liue, I saw her laid low in her kindreds Vault, And presently tooke Poste to tell it you: O pardon me for bringing these ill newes, Since you did leaue it for my office Sir

Rom. Is it euen so? Then I denie you Starres. Thou knowest my lodging, get me inke and paper, And hire Post-Horses, I will hence to night

Man. I do beseech you sir, haue patience: Your lookes are pale and wild, and do import Some misaduenture

Rom. Tush, thou art deceiu'd, Leaue me, and do the thing I bid thee do. Hast thou no Letters to me from the Frier? Man. No my good Lord.

Exit Man.

Rom. No matter: Get thee gone, And hyre those Horses, Ile be with thee straight, Well Iuliet, I will lie with thee to night: Lets see for meanes, O mischiefe thou art swift, To enter in the thoughts of desperate men: I do remember an Appothecarie, And here abouts dwells, which late I noted In tattred weeds, with ouerwhelming browes, Culling of Simples, meager were his lookes, Sharp miserie had worne him to the bones: And in his needie shop a Tortoyrs hung, An Allegater stuft, and other skins Of ill shap'd fishes, and about his shelues, A beggerly account of emptie boxes , Greene earthen pots, Bladders, and mustie seedes, Remnants of packthred, and old cakes of Roses Were thinly scattered, to make vp a shew. Noting this penury, to my selfe I said, An if a man did need a poyson now, Whose sale is present death in Mantua, Here liues a Caitiffe wretch would sell it him. O this same thought did but fore-run my need, And this same needie man must sell it me. As I remember, this should be the house, Being holy day, the beggers shop is shut. What ho? Appothecarie? Enter Appothecarie.

App. Who call's so low'd? Rom. Come hither man, I see that thou art poore, Hold, there is fortie Duckets, let me haue A dram of poyson, such soone speeding geare, As will disperse it selfe through all the veines, That the life-wearie-taker may fall dead, And that the Trunke may be discharg'd of breath, As violently, as hastie powder fier'd Doth hurry from the fatall Canons wombe

App. Such mortall drugs I haue, but Mantuas law Is death to any he, that vtters them

Rom. Art thou so bare and full of wretchednesse, And fear'st to die? Famine is in thy cheekes, Need and opression starueth in thy eyes, Contempt and beggery hangs vpon thy backe: The world is not thy friend, nor the worlds law: The world affords no law to make thee rich. Then be not poore, but breake it, and take this

App. My pouerty, but not my will consents

Rom. I pray thy pouerty, and not thy will

App. Put this in any liquid thing you will And drinke it off, and if you had the strength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight

Rom. There's thy Gold, Worse poyson to mens soules, Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Then these poore compounds that thou maiest not sell. I sell thee poyson, thou hast sold me none, Farewell, buy food, and get thy selfe in flesh. Come Cordiall, and not poyson, go with me To Iuliets graue, for there must I vse thee.

Exeunt.

Enter Frier Iohn to Frier Lawrence.

Iohn. Holy Franciscan Frier, Brother, ho? Enter Frier Lawrence.

Law. This same should be the voice of Frier Iohn. Welcome from Mantua, what sayes Romeo? Or if his mind be writ, giue me his Letter

Iohn. Going to find a bare-foote Brother out, One of our order to associate me, Here in this Citie visiting the sick, And finding him, the Searchers of the Towne Suspecting that we both were in a house Where the infectious pestilence did raigne, Seal'd vp the doores, and would not let vs forth, So that my speed to Mantua there was staid

Law. Who bare my Letter then to Romeo? Iohn. I could not send it, here it is againe, Nor get a messenger to bring it thee, So fearefull were they of infection

Law. Vnhappie Fortune: by my Brotherhood The Letter was not nice; but full of charge, Of deare import; and the neglecting it May do much danger: Frier Iohn go hence, Get me an Iron Crow, and bring it straight Vnto my Cell

Iohn. Brother Ile go and bring it thee. Enter.

Law. Now must I to the Monument alone, Within this three houres will faire Iuliet wake, Shee will beshrew me much that Romeo Hath had no notice of these accidents: But I will write againe to Mantua, And keepe her at my Cell till Romeo come, Poore liuing Coarse, clos'd in a dead mans Tombe, Enter.

Enter Paris and his Page.

Par. Giue me thy Torch Boy, hence and stand aloft, Yet put it out, for I would not be seene: Vnder yond young Trees lay thee all along, Holding thy eare close to the hollow ground, So shall no foot vpon the Churchyard tread, Being loose, vnfirme with digging vp of Graues, But thou shalt heare it: whistle then to me, As signall that thou hearest some thing approach, Giue me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go

Page. I am almost afraid to stand alone Here in the Churchyard, yet I will aduenture

Pa. Sweet Flower with flowers thy Bridall bed I strew: O woe, thy Canopie is dust and stones, Which with sweet water nightly I will dewe, Or wanting that, with teares destil'd by mones; The obsequies that I for thee will keepe, Nightly shall be, to strew thy graue, and weepe.

Whistle Boy.

The Boy giues warning, something doth approach, What cursed foot wanders this wayes to night, To crosse my obsequies, and true loues right? What with a Torch? Muffle me night a while. Enter Romeo, and Peter.

Rom. Giue me that Mattocke, & the wrenching Iron, Hold take this Letter, early in the morning See thou deliuer it to my Lord and Father, Giue me the light; vpon thy life I charge thee, What ere thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloofe, And do not interrupt me in my course. Why I descend into this bed of death, Is partly to behold my Ladies face: But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger, A precious Ring, a Ring that I must vse, In deare employment, therefore hence be gone: But if thou iealous dost returne to prie In what I further shall intend to do, By heauen I will teare thee ioynt by ioynt, And strew this hungry Churchyard with thy limbs: The time, and my intents are sauage wilde: More fierce and more inexorable farre, Them emptie Tygers, or the roaring Sea

Pet. I will be gone sir, and not trouble you Ro. So shalt thou shew me friendship: take thou that, Liue and be prosperous, and farewell good fellow

Pet. For all this same, Ile hide me here about, His lookes I feare, and his intents I doubt

Rom. Thou detestable mawe, thou wombe of death, Gorg'd with the dearest morsell of the earth: Thus I enforce thy rotten Iawes to open, And in despight, Ile cram thee with more food

Par. This is that banisht haughtie Mountague, That murdred my Loues Cozin; with which griefe, It is supposed the faire Creature died, And here is come to do some villanous shame To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him. Stop thy vnhallowed toyle, vile Mountague: Can vengeance be pursued further then death? Condemned villaine, I do apprehend thee. Obey and go with me, for thou must die, Rom. I must indeed, and therfore came I hither: Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man, Flie hence and leaue me, thinke vpon those gone, Let them affright thee. I beseech thee Youth, Put not an other sin vpon my head, By vrging me to furie. O be gone, By heauen I loue thee better then my selfe, For I come hither arm'd against my selfe: Stay not, be gone, liue, and hereafter say, A mad mans mercy bid thee run away

Par. I do defie thy commisseration, And apprehend thee for a Fellon here

Ro. Wilt thou prouoke me? Then haue at thee Boy

Pet. O Lord they fight, I will go call the Watch

Pa. O I am slaine, if thou be mercifull, Open the Tombe, lay me with Iuliet

Rom. In faith I will, let me peruse this face: Mercutius kinsman, Noble Countie Paris, What said my man, when my betossed soule Did not attend him as we rode? I thinke He told me Paris should haue married Iuliet. Said he not so? Or did I dreame it so? Or am I mad, hearing him talke of Iuliet, To thinke it was so? O giue me thy hand, One, writ with me in sowre misfortunes booke. Ile burie thee in a triumphant graue. A Graue; O no, a Lanthorne; slaughtred Youth: For here lies Iuliet, and her beautie makes This Vault a feasting presence full of light. Death lie thou there, by a dead man inter'd, How oft when men are at the point of death, Haue they beene merrie? Which their Keepers call A lightning before death? Oh how may I Call this a lightning? O my Loue, my Wife, Death that hath suckt the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet vpon thy Beautie: Thou are not conquer'd: Beauties ensigne yet Is Crymson in thy lips, and in thy cheekes, And Deaths pale flag is not aduanced there. Tybalt, ly'st thou there in thy bloudy sheet? O what more fauour can I do to thee, Then with that hand that cut thy youth in twaine, To sunder his that was thy enemie? Forgiue me Cozen. Ah deare Iuliet: Why art thou yet so faire? I will beleeue, Shall I beleeue, that vnsubstantiall death is amorous? And that the leane abhorred Monster keepes Thee here in darke to be his Paramour? For feare of that, I still will stay with thee, And neuer from this Pallace of dym night Depart againe: come lie thou in my armes, Heere's to thy health, where ere thou tumblest in. O true Appothecarie! Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die. Depart againe; here, here will I remaine, With Wormes that are thy Chambermaides: O here Will I set vp my euerlasting rest: And shake the yoke of inauspicious starres From this world-wearied flesh: Eyes looke your last: Armes take your last embrace: And lips, O you The doores of breath, seale with a righteous kisse A datelesse bargaine to ingrossing death: Come bitter conduct, come vnsauory guide, Thou desperate Pilot, now at once run on The dashing Rocks, thy Sea-sicke wearie Barke: Heere's to my Loue. O true Appothecary: Thy drugs are quicke. Thus with a kisse I die. Enter Frier with a Lanthorne, Crow, and Spade.

Fri. St. Francis be my speed, how oft to night Haue my old feet stumbled at graues? Who's there? Man. Here's one, a Friend, & one that knowes you well

Fri. Blisse be vpon you. Tell me good my Friend What Torch is yond that vainely lends his light To grubs, and eyelesse Sculles? As I discerne, It burneth in the Capels Monument

Man. It doth so holy sir, And there's my Master, one that you loue

Fri. Who is it? Man. Romeo

Fri. How long hath he bin there? Man. Full halfe an houre

Fri. Go with me to the Vault

Man. I dare not Sir. My Master knowes not but I am gone hence, And fearefully did menace me with death, If I did stay to looke on his entents

Fri. Stay, then Ile go alone, feares comes vpon me. O much I feare some ill vnluckie thing

Man. As I did sleepe vnder this young tree here, I dreamt my maister and another fought, And that my Maister slew him

Fri. Romeo. Alacke, alacke, what blood is this which staines The stony entrance of this Sepulcher? What meane these Masterlesse, and goarie Swords To lie discolour'd by this place of peace? Romeo, oh pale: who else? what Paris too? And steept in blood? Ah what an vnkind houre Is guiltie of this lamentable chance? The Lady stirs

Iul. O comfortable Frier, where's my Lord? I do remember well where I should be: And there I am, where is my Romeo? Fri. I heare some noyse Lady, come from that nest Of death, contagion, and vnnaturall sleepe, A greater power then we can contradict Hath thwarted our entents, come, come away, Thy husband in thy bosome there lies dead: And Paris too: come Ile dispose of thee, Among a Sisterhood of holy Nunnes: Stay not to question, for the watch is comming. Come, go good Iuliet, I dare no longer stay. Enter.

Iul. Go get thee hence, for I will not away, What's here, A cup clos'd in my true loues hand? Poyson I see hath bin his timelesse end O churle, drinke all? and left no friendly drop, To helpe me after, I will kisse thy lips, Happlie some poyson yet doth hang on them, To make me die with a restoratiue. Thy lips are warme. Enter Boy and Watch.

Watch. Lead Boy, which way? Iul. Yea noise? Then ile be briefe. O happy Dagger. 'Tis in thy sheath, there rust and let me die.

Kils herselfe.

Boy. This is the place, There where the Torch doth burne Watch. The ground is bloody, Search about the Churchyard. Go some of you, who ere you find attach. Pittifull sight, here lies the Countie slaine, And Iuliet bleeding, warme and newly dead Who here hath laine these two dayes buried. Go tell the Prince, runne to the Capulets, Raise vp the Mountagues, some others search, We see the ground whereon these woes do lye, But the true ground of all these piteous woes, We cannot without circumstance descry. Enter Romeo's man.

Watch. Here's Romeo's man, We found him in the Churchyard

Con. Hold him in safety, till the Prince come hither. Enter Frier, and another Watchman.

3.Wat. Here is a Frier that trembles, sighes, and weepes We tooke this Mattocke and this Spade from him, As he was comming from this Church-yard side

Con. A great suspition, stay the Frier too. Enter the Prince.

Prin. What misaduenture is so earely vp, That calls our person from our mornings rest? Enter Capulet and his Wife.

Cap. What should it be that they so shrike abroad? Wife. O the people in the streete crie Romeo. Some Iuliet, and some Paris, and all runne With open outcry toward our Monument

Pri. What feare is this which startles in your eares? Wat. Soueraigne, here lies the Countie Paris slaine, And Romeo dead, and Iuliet dead before, Warme and new kil'd

Prin. Search, Seeke, and know how, this foule murder comes

Wat. Here is a Frier, and Slaughter'd Romeos man, With Instruments vpon them fit to open These dead mens Tombes

Cap. O heauen! O wife looke how our Daughter bleedes! This Dagger hath mistaine, for loe his house Is empty on the backe of Mountague, And is misheathed in my Daughters bosome

Wife. O me, this sight of death, is as a Bell That warnes my old age to a Sepulcher. Enter Mountague.

Pri. Come Mountague, for thou art early vp To see thy Sonne and Heire, now early downe

Moun. Alas my liege, my wife is dead to night, Griefe of my Sonnes exile hath stopt her breath: What further woe conspires against my age? Prin. Looke: and thou shalt see

Moun. O thou vntaught, what manners is in this, To presse before thy Father to a graue? Prin. Seale vp the mouth of outrage for a while, Till we can cleare these ambiguities, And know their spring, their head, their true descent, And then I will be generall of your woes, And lead you euen to death? meane time forbeare, And let mischance be slaue to patience, Bring forth the parties of suspition

Fri. I am the greatest, able to doe least, Yet most suspected as the time and place Doth make against me of this direfull murther: And heere I stand both to impeach and purge My selfe condemned, and my selfe excus'd

Prin. Then say at once, what thou dost know in this? Fri. I will be briefe, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale. Romeo there dead, was husband to that Iuliet, And she there dead, that's Romeos faithfull wife: I married them; and their stolne marriage day Was Tybalts Doomesday: whose vntimely death Banish'd the new-made Bridegroome from this Citie: For whom (and not for Tybalt) Iuliet pinde. You, to remoue that siege of Greefe from her, Betroth'd, and would haue married her perforce To Countie Paris. Then comes she to me, And (with wilde lookes) bid me deuise some meanes To rid her from this second Marriage, Or in my Cell there would she kill her selfe. Then gaue I her (so Tutor'd by my Art) A sleeping Potion, which so tooke effect As I intended, for it wrought on her The forme of death. Meane time, I writ to Romeo, That he should hither come, as this dyre night, To helpe to take her from her borrowed graue, Being the time the Potions force should cease. But he which bore my Letter, Frier Iohn, Was stay'd by accident; and yesternight Return'd my Letter backe. Then all alone, At the prefixed houre of her waking, Came I to take her from her Kindreds vault, Meaning to keepe her closely at my Cell, Till I conueniently could send to Romeo. But when I came (some Minute ere the time Of her awaking) heere vntimely lay The Noble Paris, and true Romeo dead. Shee wakes, and I intreated her come foorth, And beare this worke of Heauen, with patience: But then, a noyse did scarre me from the Tombe, And she (too desperate) would not go with me, But (as it seemes) did violence on her selfe. All this I know, and to the Marriage her Nurse is priuy: And if ought in this miscarried by my fault, Let my old life be sacrific'd, some houre before the time, Vnto the rigour of seuerest Law

Prin. We still haue knowne thee for a Holy man. Where's Romeo's man? What can he say to this? Boy. I brought my Master newes of Iuliets death, And then in poste he came from Mantua To this same place, to this same Monument. This Letter he early bid me giue his Father, And threatned me with death, going in the Vault, If I departed not, and left him there

Prin. Giue me the Letter, I will look on it. Where is the Counties Page that rais'd the Watch? Sirra, what made your Master in this place? Page. He came with flowres to strew his Ladies graue, And bid me stand aloofe, and so I did: Anon comes one with light to ope the Tombe, And by and by my Maister drew on him, And then I ran away to call the Watch

Prin. This Letter doth make good the Friers words, Their course of Loue, the tydings of her death: And heere he writes, that he did buy a poyson Of a poore Pothecarie, and therewithall Came to this Vault to dye, and lye with Iuliet. Where be these Enemies? Capulet, Mountague, See what a scourge is laide vpon your hate, That Heauen finds meanes to kill your ioyes with Loue; And I, for winking at your discords too, Haue lost a brace of Kinsmen: All are punish'd

Cap. O Brother Mountague, giue me thy hand, This is my Daughters ioynture, for no more Can I demand

Moun. But I can giue thee more: For I will raise her Statue in pure Gold, That whiles Verona by that name is knowne, There shall no figure at that Rate be set, As that of True and Faithfull Iuliet

Cap. As rich shall Romeo by his Lady ly, Poore sacrifices of our enmity

Prin. A glooming peace this morning with it brings, The Sunne for sorrow will not shew his head; Go hence, to haue more talke of these sad things, Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished. For neuer was a Storie of more Wo, Then this of Iuliet, and her Romeo.

Exeunt. omnes

FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF ROMEO and IVLIET

The Life of Timon of Athens

Enter Poet, Painter, Ieweller, Merchant, and Mercer, at seuerall doores.

Poet. Good day Sir

Pain. I am glad y'are well

Poet. I haue not seene you long, how goes the World? Pain. It weares sir, as it growes

Poet. I that's well knowne: But what particular Rarity? What strange, Which manifold record not matches: see Magicke of Bounty, all these spirits thy power Hath coniur'd to attend. I know the Merchant

Pain. I know them both: th' others a Ieweller

Mer. O 'tis a worthy Lord

Iew. Nay that's most fixt

Mer. A most incomparable man, breath'd as it were, To an vntyreable and continuate goodnesse: He passes

Iew. I haue a Iewell heere

Mer. O pray let's see't. For the Lord Timon, sir? Iewel. If he will touch the estimate. But for that- Poet. When we for recompence haue prais'd the vild, It staines the glory in that happy Verse, Which aptly sings the good

Mer. 'Tis a good forme

Iewel. And rich: heere is a Water looke ye

Pain. You are rapt sir, in some worke, some Dedication to the great Lord

Poet. A thing slipt idlely from me. Our Poesie is as a Gowne, which vses From whence 'tis nourisht: the fire i'th' Flint Shewes not, till it be strooke: our gentle flame Prouokes it selfe, and like the currant flyes Each bound it chases. What haue you there? Pain. A Picture sir: when comes your Booke forth? Poet. Vpon the heeles of my presentment sir. Let's see your peece

Pain. 'Tis a good Peece

Poet. So 'tis, this comes off well, and excellent

Pain. Indifferent

Poet. Admirable: How this grace Speakes his owne standing: what a mentall power This eye shootes forth? How bigge imagination Moues in this Lip, to th' dumbnesse of the gesture, One might interpret

Pain. It is a pretty mocking of the life: Heere is a touch: Is't good? Poet. I will say of it, It Tutors Nature, Artificiall strife Liues in these toutches, liuelier then life. Enter certaine Senators.

Pain. How this Lord is followed

Poet. The Senators of Athens, happy men

Pain. Looke moe

Po. You see this confluence, this great flood of visitors, I haue in this rough worke, shap'd out a man Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hugge With amplest entertainment: My free drift Halts not particularly, but moues it selfe In a wide Sea of wax, no leuell'd malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an Eagle flight, bold, and forth on, Leauing no Tract behinde

Pain. How shall I vnderstand you? Poet. I will vnboult to you. You see how all Conditions, how all Mindes, As well of glib and slipp'ry Creatures, as Of Graue and austere qualitie, tender downe Their seruices to Lord Timon: his large Fortune, Vpon his good and gracious Nature hanging, Subdues and properties to his loue and tendance All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glasse-fac'd Flatterer To Apemantus, that few things loues better Then to abhorre himselfe; euen hee drops downe The knee before him, and returnes in peace Most rich in Timons nod

Pain. I saw them speake together

Poet. Sir, I haue vpon a high and pleasant hill Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd. The Base o'th' Mount Is rank'd with all deserts, all kinde of Natures That labour on the bosome of this Sphere, To propagate their states; among'st them all, Whose eyes are on this Soueraigne Lady fixt, One do I personate of Lord Timons frame, Whom Fortune with her Iuory hand wafts to her, Whose present grace, to present slaues and seruants Translates his Riuals

Pain. 'Tis conceyu'd, to scope This Throne, this Fortune, and this Hill me thinkes With one man becken'd from the rest below, Bowing his head against the sleepy Mount To climbe his happinesse, would be well exprest In our Condition

Poet. Nay Sir, but heare me on: All those which were his Fellowes but of late, Some better then his valew; on the moment Follow his strides, his Lobbies fill with tendance, Raine Sacrificiall whisperings in his eare, Make Sacred euen his styrrop, and through him Drinke the free Ayre

Pain. I marry, what of these? Poet. When Fortune in her shift and change of mood Spurnes downe her late beloued; all his Dependants Which labour'd after him to the Mountaines top, Euen on their knees and hand, let him sit downe, Not one accompanying his declining foot

Pain. Tis common: A thousand morall Paintings I can shew, That shall demonstrate these quicke blowes of Fortunes, More pregnantly then words. Yet you do well, To shew Lord Timon, that meane eyes haue seene The foot aboue the head. Trumpets sound.

Enter Lord Timon, addressing himselfe curteously to euery Sutor.

Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you? Mes. I my good Lord, fiue Talents is his debt, His meanes most short, his Creditors most straite: Your Honourable Letter he desires To those haue shut him vp, which failing, Periods his comfort

Tim. Noble Ventidius, well: I am not of that Feather, to shake off My Friend when he must neede me. I do know him A Gentleman, that well deserues a helpe, Which he shall haue. Ile pay the debt, and free him

Mes. Your Lordship euer bindes him

Tim. Commend me to him, I will send his ransome, And being enfranchized bid him come to me; 'Tis not enough to helpe the Feeble vp, But to support him after. Fare you well

Mes. All happinesse to your Honor. Enter.

Enter an old Athenian.

Oldm. Lord Timon, heare me speake

Tim. Freely good Father

Oldm. Thou hast a Seruant nam'd Lucilius

Tim. I haue so: What of him? Oldm. Most Noble Timon, call the man before thee

Tim. Attends he heere, or no? Lucillius

Luc. Heere at your Lordships seruice

Oldm. This Fellow heere, L[ord]. Timon, this thy Creature, By night frequents my house. I am a man That from my first haue beene inclin'd to thrift, And my estate deserues an Heyre more rais'd, Then one which holds a Trencher

Tim. Well: what further? Old. One onely Daughter haue I, no Kin else, On whom I may conferre what I haue got: The Maid is faire, a'th' youngest for a Bride, And I haue bred her at my deerest cost In Qualities of the best. This man of thine Attempts her loue: I prythee (Noble Lord) Ioyne with me to forbid him her resort, My selfe haue spoke in vaine

Tim. The man is honest

Oldm. Therefore he will be Timon, His honesty rewards him in it selfe, It must not beare my Daughter

Tim. Does she loue him? Oldm. She is yong and apt: Our owne precedent passions do instruct vs What leuities in youth

Tim. Loue you the Maid? Luc. I my good Lord, and she accepts of it

Oldm. If in her Marriage my consent be missing, I call the Gods to witnesse, I will choose Mine heyre from forth the Beggers of the world, And dispossesse her all

Tim. How shall she be endowed, If she be mated with an equall Husband? Oldm. Three Talents on the present; in future, all

Tim. This Gentleman of mine Hath seru'd me long: To build his Fortune, I will straine a little, For 'tis a Bond in men. Giue him thy Daughter, What you bestow, in him Ile counterpoize, And make him weigh with her

Oldm. Most Noble Lord, Pawne me to this your Honour, she is his

Tim. My hand to thee, Mine Honour on my promise

Luc. Humbly I thanke your Lordship, neuer may That state or Fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not owed to you.

Exit

Poet. Vouchsafe my Labour, And long liue your Lordship

Tim. I thanke you, you shall heare from me anon: Go not away. What haue you there, my Friend? Pain. A peece of Painting, which I do beseech Your Lordship to accept

Tim. Painting is welcome. The Painting is almost the Naturall man: For since Dishonor Traffickes with mans Nature, He is but out-side: These Pensil'd Figures are Euen such as they giue out. I like your worke, And you shall finde I like it; Waite attendance Till you heare further from me

Pain. The Gods preserue ye

Tim. Well fare you Gentleman: giue me your hand. We must needs dine together: sir your Iewell Hath suffered vnder praise

Iewel. What my Lord, dispraise? Tim. A meere saciety of Commendations, If I should pay you for't as 'tis extold, It would vnclew me quite

Iewel. My Lord, 'tis rated As those which sell would giue: but you well know, Things of like valew differing in the Owners, Are prized by their Masters. Beleeu't deere Lord, You mend the Iewell by the wearing it

Tim. Well mock'd. Enter Apermantus.

Mer. No my good Lord, he speakes y common toong Which all men speake with him

Tim. Looke who comes heere, will you be chid? Iewel. Wee'l beare with your Lordship

Mer. Hee'l spare none

Tim. Good morrow to thee, Gentle Apermantus

Ape. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy good morrow. When thou art Timons dogge, and these Knaues honest

Tim. Why dost thou call them Knaues, thou know'st them not? Ape. Are they not Athenians? Tim. Yes

Ape. Then I repent not

Iew. You know me, Apemantus? Ape. Thou know'st I do, I call'd thee by thy name

Tim. Thou art proud Apemantus? Ape. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Timon Tim. Whether art going? Ape. To knocke out an honest Athenians braines

Tim. That's a deed thou't dye for

Ape. Right, if doing nothing be death by th' Law

Tim. How lik'st thou this picture Apemantus? Ape. The best, for the innocence

Tim. Wrought he not well that painted it

Ape. He wrought better that made the Painter, and yet he's but a filthy peece of worke

Pain. Y'are a Dogge

Ape. Thy Mothers of my generation: what's she, if I be a Dogge? Tim. Wilt dine with me Apemantus? Ape. No: I eate not Lords

Tim. And thou should'st, thoud'st anger Ladies

Ape. O they eate Lords; So they come by great bellies

Tim. That's a lasciuious apprehension

Ape. So, thou apprehend'st it, Take it for thy labour

Tim. How dost thou like this Iewell, Apemantus? Ape. Not so well as plain-dealing, which wil not cast a man a Doit

Tim. What dost thou thinke 'tis worth? Ape. Not worth my thinking. How now Poet? Poet. How now Philosopher? Ape. Thou lyest

Poet. Art not one? Ape. Yes

Poet. Then I lye not

Ape. Art not a Poet? Poet. Yes

Ape. Then thou lyest: Looke in thy last worke, where thou hast feign'd him a worthy Fellow

Poet. That's not feign'd, he is so

Ape. Yes he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour. He that loues to be flattered, is worthy o'th flatterer. Heauens, that I were a Lord

Tim. What wouldst do then Apemantus? Ape. E'ne as Apemantus does now, hate a Lord with my heart

Tim. What thy selfe? Ape. I

Tim. Wherefore? Ape. That I had no angry wit to be a Lord. Art not thou a Merchant? Mer. I Apemantus

Ape. Traffick confound thee, if the Gods will not

Mer. If Trafficke do it, the Gods do it

Ape. Traffickes thy God, & thy God confound thee.

Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger.

Tim. What Trumpets that? Mes. 'Tis Alcibiades, and some twenty Horse All of Companionship

Tim. Pray entertaine them, giue them guide to vs. You must needs dine with me: go not you hence Till I haue thankt you: when dinners done Shew me this peece, I am ioyfull of your sights. Enter Alcibiades with the rest.

Most welcome Sir

Ape. So, so; their Aches contract, and sterue your supple ioynts: that there should bee small loue amongest these sweet Knaues, and all this Curtesie. The straine of mans bred out into Baboon and Monkey

Alc. Sir, you haue sau'd my longing, and I feed Most hungerly on your sight

Tim. Right welcome Sir: Ere we depart, wee'l share a bounteous time In different pleasures. Pray you let vs in.

Exeunt.

Enter two Lords.

1.Lord What time a day is't Apemantus? Ape. Time to be honest

1 That time serues still

Ape. The most accursed thou that still omitst it

2 Thou art going to Lord Timons Feast

Ape. I, to see meate fill Knaues, and Wine heat fooles

2 Farthee well, farthee well

Ape. Thou art a Foole to bid me farewell twice

2 Why Apemantus? Ape. Should'st haue kept one to thy selfe, for I meane to giue thee none

1 Hang thy selfe

Ape. No I will do nothing at thy bidding: Make thy requests to thy Friend

2 Away vnpeaceable Dogge, Or Ile spurne thee hence

Ape. I will flye like a dogge, the heeles a'th' Asse

1 Hee's opposite to humanity. Come shall we in, And taste Lord Timons bountie: he out-goes The verie heart of kindnesse

2 He powres it out: Plutus the God of Gold Is but his Steward: no meede but he repayes Seuen-fold aboue it selfe: No guift to him, But breeds the giuer a returne: exceeding All vse of quittance

1 The Noblest minde he carries, That euer gouern'd man

2 Long may he liue in Fortunes. Shall we in? Ile keepe you Company.

Exeunt.

Hoboyes Playing lowd Musicke. A great Banquet seru'd in: and then, Enter Lord Timon, the States, the Athenian Lords, Ventigius which Timon redeem'd from prison. Then comes dropping after all Apemantus discontentedly like himselfe.

Ventig. Most honoured Timon, It hath pleas'd the Gods to remember my Fathers age, And call him to long peace: He is gone happy, and has left me rich: Then, as in gratefull Vertue I am bound To your free heart, I do returne those Talents Doubled with thankes and seruice, from whose helpe I deriu'd libertie

Tim. O by no meanes, Honest Ventigius: You mistake my loue, I gaue it freely euer, and ther's none Can truely say he giues, if he receiues: If our betters play at that game, we must not dare To imitate them: faults that are rich are faire

Vint. A Noble spirit

Tim. Nay my Lords, Ceremony was but deuis'd at first To set a glosse on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodnesse, sorry ere 'tis showne: But where there is true friendship, there needs none. Pray sit, more welcome are ye to my Fortunes, Then my Fortunes to me

1.Lord. My Lord, we alwaies haue confest it

Aper. Ho ho, confest it? Handg'd it? Haue you not? Timo. O Apermantus, you are welcome

Aper. No: You shall not make me welcome: I come to haue thee thrust me out of doores

Tim. Fie, th'art a churle, ye'haue got a humour there Does not become a man, 'tis much too blame: They say my Lords, Ira furor breuis est, But yond man is verie angrie. Go, let him haue a Table by himselfe: For he does neither affect companie, Nor is he fit for't indeed

Aper. Let me stay at thine apperill Timon, I come to obserue, I giue thee warning on't

Tim. I take no heede of thee: Th'art an Athenian, therefore welcome: I my selfe would haue no power, prythee let my meate make thee silent

Aper. I scorne thy meate, 'twould choake me: for I should nere flatter thee. Oh you Gods! What a number of men eats Timon, and he sees 'em not? It greeues me to see so many dip there meate in one mans blood, and all the madnesse is, he cheeres them vp too. I wonder men dare trust themselues with men. Me thinks they should enuite them without kniues, Good for there meate, and safer for their liues. There's much example for't, the fellow that sits next him, now parts bread with him, pledges the breath of him in a diuided draught: is the readiest man to kill him. 'Tas beene proued, if I were a huge man I should feare to drinke at meales, least they should spie my wind-pipes dangerous noates, great men should drinke with harnesse on their throates

Tim. My Lord in heart: and let the health go round

2.Lord. Let it flow this way my good Lord

Aper. Flow this way? A braue fellow. He keepes his tides well, those healths will make thee and thy state looke ill, Timon. Heere's that which is too weake to be a sinner, Honest water, which nere left man i'th' mire: This and my food are equals, there's no ods, Feasts are to proud to giue thanks to the Gods.

Apermantus Grace.

Immortall Gods, I craue no pelfe, I pray for no man but my selfe, Graunt I may neuer proue so fond, To trust man on his Oath or Bond. Or a Harlot for her weeping, Or a Dogge that seemes asleeping, Or a keeper with my freedome, Or my friends if I should need 'em. Amen. So fall too't: Richmen sin, and I eat root. Much good dich thy good heart, Apermantus Tim. Captaine, Alcibiades, your hearts in the field now

Alci. My heart is euer at your seruice, my Lord

Tim. You had rather be at a breakefast of Enemies, then a dinner of Friends

Alc. So they were bleeding new my Lord, there's no meat like 'em, I could wish my best friend at such a Feast

Aper. Would all those Flatterers were thine Enemies then, that then thou might'st kill 'em: & bid me to 'em

1.Lord. Might we but haue that happinesse my Lord, that you would once vse our hearts, whereby we might expresse some part of our zeales, we should thinke our selues for euer perfect

Timon. Oh no doubt my good Friends, but the Gods themselues haue prouided that I shall haue much helpe from you: how had you beene my Friends else. Why haue you that charitable title from thousands? Did not you chiefely belong to my heart? I haue told more of you to my selfe, then you can with modestie speake in your owne behalfe. And thus farre I confirme you. Oh you Gods (thinke I,) what need we haue any Friends; if we should nere haue need of 'em? They were the most needlesse Creatures liuing; should we nere haue vse for 'em? And would most resemble sweete Instruments hung vp in Cases, that keepes there sounds to themselues. Why I haue often wisht my selfe poorer, that I might come neerer to you: we are borne to do benefits. And what better or properer can we call our owne, then the riches of our Friends? Oh what a pretious comfort 'tis, to haue so many like Brothers commanding one anothers Fortunes. Oh ioyes, e'ne made away er't can be borne: mine eies cannot hold out water me thinks to forget their Faults. I drinke to you

Aper. Thou weep'st to make them drinke, Timon

2.Lord. Ioy had the like conception in our eies, And at that instant, like a babe sprung vp

Aper. Ho, ho: I laugh to thinke that babe a bastard

3.Lord. I promise you my Lord you mou'd me much

Aper. Much.

Sound Tucket. Enter the Maskers of Amazons, with Lutes in their hands, dauncing and playing.

Tim. What meanes that Trumpe? How now? Enter Seruant.

Ser. Please you my Lord, there are certaine Ladies Most desirous of admittance

Tim. Ladies? what are their wils? Ser. There comes with them a fore-runner my Lord, which beares that office, to signifie their pleasures

Tim. I pray let them be admitted. Enter Cupid with the Maske of Ladies.

Cup. Haile to thee worthy Timon and to all that of his Bounties taste: the fiue best Sences acknowledge thee their Patron, and come freely to gratulate thy plentious bosome. There tast, touch all, pleas'd from thy Table rise: They onely now come but to Feast thine eies

Timo. They'r welcome all, let 'em haue kind admittance. Musicke make their welcome

Luc. You see my Lord, how ample y'are belou'd

Aper. Hoyday, What a sweepe of vanitie comes this way. They daunce? They are madwomen, Like Madnesse is the glory of this life, As this pompe shewes to a little oyle and roote. We make our selues Fooles, to disport our selues, And spend our Flatteries, to drinke those men, Vpon whose Age we voyde it vp agen With poysonous Spight and Enuy. Who liues, that's not depraued, or depraues; Who dyes, that beares not one spurne to their graues Of their Friends guift: I should feare, those that dance before me now, Would one day stampe vpon me: 'Tas bene done, Men shut their doores against a setting Sunne.

The Lords rise from Table, with much adoring of Timon, and to shew their loues, each single out an Amazon, and all Dance, men with women, a loftie straine or two to the Hoboyes, and cease.

Tim. You haue done our pleasures Much grace (faire Ladies) Set a faire fashion on our entertainment, Which was not halfe so beautifull, and kinde: You haue added worth vntoo't, and luster, And entertain'd me with mine owne deuice. I am to thanke you for't

1 Lord. My Lord you take vs euen at the best

Aper. Faith for the worst is filthy, and would not hold taking, I doubt me

Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet attends you, Please you to dispose your selues

All La. Most thankfully, my Lord.

Exeunt.

Tim. Flauius

Fla. My Lord

Tim. The little Casket bring me hither

Fla. Yes, my Lord. More Iewels yet? There is no crossing him in's humor, Else I should tell him well, yfaith I should; When all's spent, hee'ld be crost then, and he could: 'Tis pitty Bounty had not eyes behinde, That man might ne're be wretched for his minde. Enter.

1 Lord. Where be our men? Ser. Heere my Lord, in readinesse

2 Lord. Our Horses

Tim. O my Friends: I haue one word to say to you: Looke you, my good L[ord]. I must intreat you honour me so much, As to aduance this Iewell, accept it, and weare it, Kinde my Lord

1 Lord. I am so farre already in your guifts

All. So are we all. Enter a Seruant.

Ser. My Lord, there are certaine Nobles of the Senate newly alighted, and come to visit you

Tim. They are fairely welcome. Enter Flauius.

Fla. I beseech your Honor, vouchsafe me a word, it does concerne you neere

Tim. Neere? why then another time Ile heare thee. I prythee let's be prouided to shew them entertainment

Fla. I scarse know how. Enter another Seruant.

Ser. May it please your Honor, Lord Lucius (Out of his free loue) hath presented to you Foure Milke-white Horses, trapt in Siluer

Tim. I shall accept them fairely: let the Presents Be worthily entertain'd. Enter a third Seruant.

How now? What newes? 3.Ser. Please you my Lord, that honourable Gentleman Lord Lucullus, entreats your companie to morrow, to hunt with him, and ha's sent your Honour two brace of Grey-hounds

Tim. Ile hunt with him, And let them be receiu'd, not without faire Reward

Fla. What will this come to? He commands vs to prouide, and giue great guifts, and all out of an empty Coffer: Nor will he know his Purse, or yeeld me this, To shew him what a Begger his heart is, Being of no power to make his wishes good. His promises flye so beyond his state, That what he speaks is all in debt, he ows for eu'ry word: He is so kinde, that he now payes interest for't; His Land's put to their Bookes. Well, would I were Gently put out of Office, before I were forc'd out: Happier is he that has no friend to feede, Then such that do e'ne Enemies exceede. I bleed inwardly for my Lord.

Exit

Tim. You do your selues much wrong, You bate too much of your owne merits. Heere my Lord, a trifle of our Loue

2.Lord. With more then common thankes I will receyue it

3.Lord. O he's the very soule of Bounty

Tim. And now I remember my Lord, you gaue good words the other day of a Bay Courser I rod on. Tis yours because you lik'd it

1.L. Oh, I beseech you pardon mee, my Lord, in that

Tim. You may take my word my Lord: I know no man can iustly praise, but what he does affect. I weighe my Friends affection with mine owne: Ile tell you true, Ile call to you

All Lor. O none so welcome

Tim. I take all, and your seuerall visitations So kinde to heart, 'tis not enough to giue: Me thinkes, I could deale Kingdomes to my Friends, And nere be wearie. Alcibiades, Thou art a Soldiour, therefore sildome rich, It comes in Charitie to thee: for all thy liuing Is mong'st the dead: and all the Lands thou hast Lye in a pitcht field

Alc. I, defil'd Land, my Lord

1.Lord. We are so vertuously bound

Tim. And so am I to you

2.Lord. So infinitely endeer'd

Tim. All to you. Lights, more Lights

1.Lord. The best of Happines, Honor, and Fortunes Keepe with you Lord Timon

Tim. Ready for his Friends.

Exeunt. Lords

Aper. What a coiles heere, seruing of beckes, and iutting out of bummes. I doubt whether their Legges be worth the summes that are giuen for 'em. Friendships full of dregges, Me thinkes false hearts, should neuer haue sound legges. Thus honest Fooles lay out their wealth on Curtsies

Tim. Now Apermantus (if thou wert not sullen) I would be good to thee

Aper. No, Ile nothing; for if I should be brib'd too, there would be none left to raile vpon thee, and then thou wouldst sinne the faster. Thou giu'st so long Timon (I feare me) thou wilt giue away thy selfe in paper shortly. What needs these Feasts, pompes, and Vaine-glories? Tim. Nay, and you begin to raile on Societie once, I am sworne not to giue regard to you. Farewell, & come with better Musicke.

Exit

Aper. So: Thou wilt not heare mee now, thou shalt not then. Ile locke thy heauen from thee: Oh that mens eares should be To Counsell deafe, but not to Flatterie.

Exit

Enter a Senator.

Sen. And late fiue thousand: to Varro and to Isidore He owes nine thousand, besides my former summe, Which makes it fiue and twenty. Still in motion Of raging waste? It cannot hold, it will not. If I want Gold, steale but a beggers Dogge, And giue it Timon, why the Dogge coines Gold. If I would sell my Horse, and buy twenty moe Better then he; why giue my Horse to Timon. Aske nothing, giue it him, it Foles me straight And able Horses: No Porter at his gate, But rather one that smiles, and still inuites All that passe by. It cannot hold, no reason Can sound his state in safety. Caphis hoa, Caphis I say. Enter Caphis.

Ca. Heere sir, what is your pleasure

Sen. Get on your cloake, & hast you to Lord Timon, Importune him for my Moneyes, be not ceast With slight deniall; nor then silenc'd, when Commend me to your Master, and the Cap Playes in the right hand, thus: but tell him, My Vses cry to me; I must serue my turne Out of mine owne, his dayes and times are past, And my reliances on his fracted dates Haue smit my credit. I loue, and honour him, But must not breake my backe, to heale his finger. Immediate are my needs, and my releefe Must not be tost and turn'd to me in words, But finde supply immediate. Get you gone, Put on a most importunate aspect, A visage of demand: for I do feare When euery Feather stickes in his owne wing, Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, Which flashes now a Phoenix, get you gone

Ca. I go sir

Sen. I go sir? Take the Bonds along with you, And haue the dates in. Come

Ca. I will Sir

Sen. Go.

Exeunt.

Enter Steward, with many billes in his hand.

Stew. No care, no stop, so senselesse of expence, That he will neither know how to maintaine it, Nor cease his flow of Riot. Takes no accompt How things go from him, nor resume no care Of what is to continue: neuer minde, Was to be so vnwise, to be so kinde. What shall be done, he will not heare, till feele: I must be round with him, now he comes from hunting. Fye, fie, fie, fie. Enter Caphis, Isidore, and Varro.

Cap. Good euen Varro: what, you come for money? Var. Is't not your businesse too? Cap. It is, and yours too, Isidore? Isid. It is so

Cap. Would we were all discharg'd

Var. I feare it, Cap. Heere comes the Lord. Enter Timon, and his Traine

Tim. So soone as dinners done, wee'l forth againe My Alcibiades. With me, what is your will? Cap. My Lord, heere is a note of certaine dues

Tim. Dues? whence are you? Cap. Of Athens heere, my Lord

Tim. Go to my Steward

Cap. Please it your Lordship, he hath put me off To the succession of new dayes this moneth: My Master is awak'd by great Occasion, To call vpon his owne, and humbly prayes you, That with your other Noble parts, you'l suite, In giuing him his right

Tim. Mine honest Friend, I prythee but repaire to me next morning

Cap. Nay, good my Lord

Tim. Containe thy selfe, good Friend

Var. One Varroes seruant, my good Lord

Isid. From Isidore, he humbly prayes your speedy payment

Cap. If you did know my Lord, my Masters wants

Var. 'Twas due on forfeyture my Lord, sixe weekes, and past

Isi. Your Steward puts me off my Lord, and I Am sent expressely to your Lordship

Tim. Giue me breath: I do beseech you good my Lords keepe on, Ile waite vpon you instantly. Come hither: pray you How goes the world, that I am thus encountred With clamorous demands of debt, broken Bonds, And the detention of long since due debts Against my Honor? Stew. Please you Gentlemen, The time is vnagreeable to this businesse: Your importunacie cease, till after dinner, That I may make his Lordship vnderstand Wherefore you are not paid

Tim. Do so my Friends, see them well entertain'd

Stew. Pray draw neere. Enter.

Enter Apemantus and Foole.

Caph. Stay, stay, here comes the Foole with Apemantus, let's ha some sport with 'em

Var. Hang him, hee'l abuse vs

Isid. A plague vpon him dogge

Var. How dost Foole? Ape. Dost Dialogue with thy shadow? Var. I speake not to thee

Ape. No 'tis to thy selfe. Come away

Isi. There's the Foole hangs on your backe already

Ape. No thou stand'st single, th'art not on him yet

Cap. Where's the Foole now? Ape. He last ask'd the question. Poore Rogues, and Vsurers men, Bauds betweene Gold and want

Al. What are we Apemantus? Ape. Asses

All. Why? Ape. That you ask me what you are, & do not know your selues. Speake to 'em Foole

Foole. How do you Gentlemen? All. Gramercies good Foole: How does your Mistris? Foole. She's e'ne setting on water to scal'd such Chickens as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth

Ape. Good, Gramercy. Enter Page.

Foole. Looke you, heere comes my Masters Page

Page. Why how now Captaine? what do you in this wise Company. How dost thou Apermantus? Ape. Would I had a Rod in my mouth, that I might answer thee profitably

Boy. Prythee Apemantus reade me the superscription of these Letters, I know not which is which

Ape. Canst not read? Page. No

Ape. There will litle Learning dye then that day thou art hang'd. This is to Lord Timon, this to Alcibiades. Go thou was't borne a Bastard, and thou't dye a Bawd

Page. Thou was't whelpt a Dogge, and thou shalt famish a Dogges death. Answer not, I am gone.

Exit

Ape. E'ne so thou out-runst Grace, Foole I will go with you to Lord Timons

Foole. Will you leaue me there? Ape. If Timon stay at home. You three serue three Vsurers? All. I would they seru'd vs

Ape. So would I: As good a tricke as euer Hangman seru'd Theefe

Foole. Are you three Vsurers men? All. I Foole

Foole. I thinke no Vsurer, but ha's a Foole to his Seruant. My Mistris is one, and I am her Foole: when men come to borrow of your Masters, they approach sadly, and go away merry: but they enter my Masters house merrily, and go away sadly. The reason of this? Var. I could render one

Ap. Do it then, that we may account thee a Whoremaster, and a Knaue, which notwithstanding thou shalt be no lesse esteemed

Varro. What is a Whoremaster Foole? Foole. A Foole in good cloathes, and something like thee. 'Tis a spirit, sometime t' appeares like a Lord, somtime like a Lawyer, sometime like a Philosopher, with two stones moe then's artificiall one. Hee is verie often like a Knight; and generally, in all shapes that man goes vp and downe in, from fourescore to thirteen, this spirit walkes in

Var. Thou art not altogether a Foole

Foole. Nor thou altogether a Wise man, As much foolerie as I haue, so much wit thou lack'st

Ape. That answer might haue become Apemantus

All. Aside, aside, heere comes Lord Timon. Enter Timon and Steward.

Ape. Come with me (Foole) come

Foole. I do not alwayes follow Louer, elder Brother, and Woman, sometime the Philosopher

Stew. Pray you walke neere, Ile speake with you anon.

Exeunt.

Tim. You make me meruell wherefore ere this time Had you not fully laide my state before me, That I might so haue rated my expence As I had leaue of meanes

Stew. You would not heare me: At many leysures I propose

Tim. Go too: Perchance some single vantages you tooke, When my indisposition put you backe, And that vnaptnesse made your minister Thus to excuse your selfe

Stew. O my good Lord, At many times I brought in my accompts, Laid them before you, you would throw them off, And say you sound them in mine honestie, When for some trifling present you haue bid me Returne so much, I haue shooke my head, and wept: Yea 'gainst th' Authoritie of manners, pray'd you To hold your hand more close: I did indure Not sildome, nor no slight checkes, when I haue Prompted you in the ebbe of your estate, And your great flow of debts; my lou'd Lord, Though you heare now (too late) yet nowes a time, The greatest of your hauing, lackes a halfe, To pay your present debts

Tim. Let all my Land be sold

Stew. 'Tis all engag'd, some forfeyted and gone, And what remaines will hardly stop the mouth Of present dues; the future comes apace: What shall defend the interim, and at length How goes our reck'ning? Tim. To Lacedemon did my Land extend

Stew. O my good Lord, the world is but a word, Were it all yours, to giue it in a breath, How quickely were it gone

Tim. You tell me true

Stew. If you suspect my Husbandry or Falshood, Call me before th' exactest Auditors, And set me on the proofe. So the Gods blesse me, When all our Offices haue beene opprest With riotous Feeders, when our Vaults haue wept With drunken spilth of Wine; when euery roome Hath blaz'd with Lights, and braid with Minstrelsie, I haue retyr'd me to a wastefull cocke, And set mine eyes at flow

Tim. Prythee no more

Stew. Heauens, haue I said, the bounty of this Lord: How many prodigall bits haue Slaues and Pezants This night englutted: who is not Timons, What heart, head, sword, force, meanes, but is L[ord]. Timons: Great Timon, Noble, Worthy, Royall Timon: Ah, when the meanes are gone, that buy this praise, The breath is gone, whereof this praise is made: Feast won, fast lost; one cloud of Winter showres, These flyes are coucht

Tim. Come sermon me no further. No villanous bounty yet hath past my heart; Vnwisely, not ignobly haue I giuen. Why dost thou weepe, canst thou the conscience lacke, To thinke I shall lacke friends: secure thy heart, If I would broach the vessels of my loue, And try the argument of hearts, by borrowing, Men, and mens fortunes could I frankely vse As I can bid thee speake

Ste. Assurance blesse your thoughts

Tim. And in some sort these wants of mine are crown'd, That I account them blessings. For by these Shall I trie Friends. You shall perceiue How you mistake my Fortunes: I am wealthie in my Friends. Within there, Flauius, Seruilius? Enter three Seruants.

Ser. My Lord, my Lord

Tim. I will dispatch you seuerally. You to Lord Lucius, to Lord Lucullus you, I hunted with his Honor to day; you to Sempronius; commend me to their loues; and I am proud say, that my occasions haue found time to vse 'em toward a supply of mony: let the request be fifty Talents

Flam. As you haue said, my Lord

Stew. Lord Lucius and Lucullus? Humh

Tim. Go you sir to the Senators; Of whom, euen to the States best health; I haue Deseru'd this Hearing: bid 'em send o'th' instant A thousand Talents to me

Ste. I haue beene bold (For that I knew it the most generall way) To them, to vse your Signet, and your Name, But they do shake their heads, and I am heere No richer in returne

Tim. Is't true? Can't be? Stew. They answer in a ioynt and corporate voice, That now they are at fall, want Treasure cannot Do what they would, are sorrie: you are Honourable, But yet they could haue wisht, they know not, Something hath beene amisse; a Noble Nature May catch a wrench; would all were well; tis pitty, And so intending other serious matters, After distastefull lookes; and these hard Fractions With certaine halfe-caps, and cold mouing nods, They froze me into Silence

Tim. You Gods reward them: Prythee man looke cheerely. These old Fellowes Haue their ingratitude in them Hereditary: Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it sildome flowes, 'Tis lacke of kindely warmth, they are not kinde; And Nature, as it growes againe toward earth, Is fashion'd for the iourney, dull and heauy. Go to Ventiddius (prythee be not sad, Thou art true, and honest; Ingeniously I speake, No blame belongs to thee:) Ventiddius lately Buried his Father, by whose death hee's stepp'd Into a great estate: When he was poore, Imprison'd, and in scarsitie of Friends, I cleer'd him with fiue Talents: Greet him from me, Bid him suppose, some good necessity Touches his Friend, which craues to be remembred With those fiue Talents; that had, giue't these Fellowes To whom 'tis instant due. Neu'r speake, or thinke, That Timons fortunes 'mong his Friends can sinke

Stew. I would I could not thinke it: That thought is Bounties Foe; Being free it selfe, it thinkes all others so.

Exeunt.

Flaminius waiting to speake with a Lord from his Master, enters a seruant to him.

Ser. I haue told my Lord of you, he is comming down to you

Flam. I thanke you Sir. Enter Lucullus.

Ser. Heere's my Lord

Luc. One of Lord Timons men? A Guift I warrant. Why this hits right: I dreampt of a Siluer Bason & Ewre to night. Flaminius, honest Flaminius, you are verie respectiuely welcome sir. Fill me some Wine. And how does that Honourable, Compleate, Free-hearted Gentleman of Athens, thy very bountifull good Lord and Mayster? Flam. His health is well sir

Luc. I am right glad that his health is well sir: and what hast thou there vnder thy Cloake, pretty Flaminius? Flam. Faith, nothing but an empty box Sir, which in my Lords behalfe, I come to intreat your Honor to supply: who hauing great and instant occasion to vse fiftie Talents, hath sent to your Lordship to furnish him: nothing doubting your present assistance therein

Luc. La, la, la, la: Nothing doubting sayes hee? Alas good Lord, a Noble Gentleman 'tis, if he would not keep so good a house. Many a time and often I ha din'd with him, and told him on't, and come againe to supper to him of purpose, to haue him spend lesse, and yet he wold embrace no counsell, take no warning by my comming, euery man has his fault, and honesty is his. I ha told him on't, but I could nere get him from't. Enter Seruant with Wine.

Ser. Please your Lordship, heere is the Wine

Luc. Flaminius, I haue noted thee alwayes wise. Heere's to thee

Flam. Your Lordship speakes your pleasure

Luc. I haue obserued thee alwayes for a towardlie prompt spirit, giue thee thy due, and one that knowes what belongs to reason; and canst vse the time wel, if the time vse thee well. Good parts in thee; get you gone sirrah. Draw neerer honest Flaminius. Thy Lords a bountifull Gentleman, but thou art wise, and thou know'st well enough (although thou com'st to me) that this is no time to lend money, especially vpon bare friendshippe without securitie. Here's three Solidares for thee, good Boy winke at me, and say thou saw'st mee not. Fare thee well

Flam. Is't possible the world should so much differ, And we aliue that liued? Fly damned basenesse To him that worships thee

Luc. Ha? Now I see thou art a Foole, and fit for thy Master.

Exit L[ucullus].

Flam. May these adde to the number y may scald thee: Let moulten Coine be thy damnation, Thou disease of a friend, and not himselfe: Has friendship such a faint and milkie heart, It turnes in lesse then two nights? O you Gods! I feele my Masters passion. This Slaue vnto his Honor, Has my Lords meate in him: Why should it thriue, and turne to Nutriment, When he is turn'd to poyson? O may Diseases onely worke vpon't: And when he's sicke to death, let not that part of Nature Which my Lord payd for, be of any power To expell sicknesse, but prolong his hower. Enter.

Enter Lucius, with three strangers.

Luc. Who the Lord Timon? He is my very good friend and an Honourable Gentleman

1 We know him for no lesse, thogh we are but strangers to him. But I can tell you one thing my Lord, and which I heare from common rumours, now Lord Timons happie howres are done and past, and his estate shrinkes from him

Lucius. Fye no, doe not beleeue it: hee cannot want for money

2 But beleeue you this my Lord, that not long agoe, one of his men was with the Lord Lucullus, to borrow so many Talents, nay vrg'd extreamly for't, and shewed what necessity belong'd too't, and yet was deny'de

Luci. How? 2 I tell you, deny'de my Lord

Luci. What a strange case was that? Now before the Gods I am asham'd on't. Denied that honourable man? There was verie little Honour shew'd in't. For my owne part, I must needes confesse, I haue receyued some small kindnesses from him, as Money, Plate, Iewels, and such like Trifles; nothing comparing to his: yet had hee mistooke him, and sent to me, I should ne're haue denied his Occasion so many Talents. Enter Seruilius.

Seruil. See, by good hap yonders my Lord, I haue swet to see his Honor. My Honor'd Lord

Lucil. Seruilius? You are kindely met sir. Farthewell, commend me to thy Honourable vertuous Lord, my very exquisite Friend

Seruil. May it please your Honour, my Lord hath sent- Luci. Ha? what ha's he sent? I am so much endeered to that Lord; hee's euer sending: how shall I thank him think'st thou? And what has he sent now? Seruil. Has onely sent his present Occasion now my Lord: requesting your Lordship to supply his instant vse with so many Talents

Lucil. I know his Lordship is but merry with me, He cannot want fifty fiue hundred Talents

Seruil. But in the mean time he wants lesse my Lord. If his occasion were not vertuous, I should not vrge it halfe so faithfully

Luc. Dost thou speake seriously Seruilius? Seruil. Vpon my soule 'tis true Sir

Luci. What a wicked Beast was I to disfurnish my self against such a good time, when I might ha shewn my selfe Honourable? How vnluckily it hapned, that I shold Purchase the day before for a little part, and vndo a great deale of Honour? Seruilius, now before the Gods I am not able to do (the more beast I say) I was sending to vse Lord Timon my selfe, these Gentlemen can witnesse; but I would not for the wealth of Athens I had done't now. Commend me bountifully to his good Lordship, and I hope his Honor will conceiue the fairest of mee, because I haue no power to be kinde. And tell him this from me, I count it one of my greatest afflictions say, that I cannot pleasure such an Honourable Gentleman. Good Seruilius, will you befriend mee so farre, as to vse mine owne words to him? Ser. Yes sir, I shall.

Exit Seruil[ius].

Lucil. Ile looke you out a good turne Seruilius. True as you said, Timon is shrunke indeede, And he that's once deny'de, will hardly speede. Enter.

1 Do you obserue this Hostilius? 2 I, to well

1 Why this is the worlds soule, And iust of the same peece Is euery Flatterers sport: who can call him his Friend That dips in the same dish? For in my knowing Timon has bin this Lords Father, And kept his credit with his purse: Supported his estate, nay Timons money Has paid his men their wages. He ne're drinkes, But Timons Siluer treads vpon his Lip, And yet, oh see the monstrousnesse of man, When he lookes out in an vngratefull shape; He does deny him (in respect of his) What charitable men affoord to Beggers

3 Religion grones at it

1 For mine owne part, I neuer tasted Timon in my life Nor came any of his bounties ouer me, To marke me for his Friend. Yet I protest, For his right Noble minde, illustrious Vertue, And Honourable Carriage, Had his necessity made vse of me, I would haue put my wealth into Donation, And the best halfe should haue return'd to him, So much I loue his heart: But I perceiue, Men must learne now with pitty to dispence, For Policy sits aboue Conscience.

Exeunt.

Enter a third seruant with Sempronius, another of Timons Friends.

Semp. Must he needs trouble me in't? Hum. 'Boue all others? He might haue tried Lord Lucius, or Lucullus, And now Ventidgius is wealthy too, Whom he redeem'd from prison. All these Owes their estates vnto him

Ser. My Lord, They haue all bin touch'd, and found Base-Mettle, For they haue all denied him

Semp. How? Haue they deny'de him? Has Ventidgius and Lucullus deny'de him, And does he send to me? Three? Humh? It shewes but little loue, or iudgement in him. Must I be his last Refuge? His Friends (like Physitians) Thriue, giue him ouer: Must I take th' Cure vpon me? Has much disgrac'd me in't, I'me angry at him, That might haue knowne my place. I see no sense for't, But his Occasions might haue wooed me first: For in my conscience, I was the first man That ere receiued guift from him. And does he thinke so backwardly of me now, That Ile requite it last? No: So it may proue an Argument of Laughter To th' rest, and 'mong'st Lords be thought a Foole: I'de rather then the worth of thrice the summe, Had sent to me first, but for my mindes sake: I'de such a courage to do him good. But now returne, And with their faint reply, this answer ioyne; Who bates mine Honor, shall not know my Coyne.

Exit

Ser. Excellent: Your Lordships a goodly Villain: the diuell knew not what he did, when hee made man Politicke; he crossed himselfe by't: and I cannot thinke, but in the end, the Villanies of man will set him cleere. How fairely this Lord striues to appeare foule? Takes Vertuous Copies to be wicked: like those, that vnder hotte ardent zeale, would set whole Realmes on fire, of such a nature is his politike loue. This was my Lords best hope, now all are fled Saue onely the Gods. Now his Friends are dead, Doores that were ne're acquainted with their Wards Many a bounteous yeere, must be imploy'd Now to guard sure their Master: And this is all a liberall course allowes, Who cannot keepe his wealth, must keep his house. Enter.

Enter Varro's man, meeting others. All Timons Creditors to wait for his comming out. Then enter Lucius and Hortensius.

Var.man. Well met, goodmorrow Titus & Hortensius Tit. The like to you kinde Varro

Hort. Lucius, what do we meet together? Luci. I, and I think one businesse do's command vs all. For mine is money

Tit. So is theirs, and ours. Enter Philotus.

Luci. And sir Philotus too

Phil. Good day at once

Luci. Welcome good Brother. What do you thinke the houre? Phil. Labouring for Nine

Luci. So much? Phil. Is not my Lord seene yet? Luci. Not yet

Phil. I wonder on't, he was wont to shine at seauen

Luci. I, but the dayes are waxt shorter with him: You must consider, that a Prodigall course Is like the Sunnes, but not like his recouerable, I feare: 'Tis deepest Winter in Lord Timons purse, that is: One may reach deepe enough, and yet finde little

Phil. I am of your feare, for that

Tit. Ile shew you how t' obserue a strange euent: Your Lord sends now for Money? Hort. Most true, he doe's

Tit. And he weares Iewels now of Timons guift, For which I waite for money

Hort. It is against my heart

Luci. Marke how strange it showes, Timon in this, should pay more then he owes: And e'ne as if your Lord should weare rich Iewels, And send for money for 'em

Hort. I'me weary of this Charge, The Gods can witnesse: I know my Lord hath spent of Timons wealth, And now Ingratitude, makes it worse then stealth

Varro. Yes, mine's three thousand Crownes: What's yours? Luci. Fiue thousand mine

Varro. 'Tis much deepe, and it should seem by th' sum Your Masters confidence was aboue mine, Else surely his had equall'd. Enter Flaminius.

Tit. One of Lord Timons men

Luc. Flaminius? Sir, a word: Pray is my Lord readie to come forth? Flam. No, indeed he is not

Tit. We attend his Lordship: pray signifie so much

Flam. I need not tell him that, he knowes you are too diligent. Enter Steward in a Cloake, muffled.

Luci. Ha: is not that his Steward muffled so? He goes away in a Clowd: Call him, call him

Tit. Do you heare, sir? 2.Varro. By your leaue, sir

Stew. What do ye aske of me, my Friend

Tit. We waite for certaine Money heere, sir

Stew. I, if Money were as certaine as your waiting, 'Twere sure enough. Why then preferr'd you not your summes and Billes When your false Masters eate of my Lords meat? Then they could smile, and fawne vpon his debts. And take downe th' Intrest into their glutt'nous Mawes. You do your selues but wrong, to stirre me vp, Let me passe quietly: Beleeue't, my Lord and I haue made an end, I haue no more to reckon, he to spend

Luci. I, but this answer will not serue

Stew. If't 'twill not serue, 'tis not so base as you, For you serue Knaues

1.Varro. How? What does his casheer'd Worship mutter? 2.Varro. No matter what, hee's poore, and that's reuenge enough. Who can speake broader, then hee that has no house to put his head in? Such may rayle against great buildings. Enter Seruilius.

Tit. Oh heere's Seruilius: now wee shall know some answere

Seru. If I might beseech you Gentlemen, to repayre some other houre, I should deriue much from't. For tak't of my soule, my Lord leanes wondrously to discontent: His comfortable temper has forsooke him, he's much out of health, and keepes his Chamber

Luci. Many do keepe their Chambers, are not sicke: And if it be so farre beyond his health, Me thinkes he should the sooner pay his debts, And make a cleere way to the Gods

Seruil. Good Gods

Titus. We cannot take this for answer, sir

Flaminius within. Seruilius helpe, my Lord, my Lord. Enter Timon in a rage.

Tim. What, are my dores oppos'd against my passage? Haue I bin euer free, and must my house Be my retentiue Enemy? My Gaole? The place which I haue Feasted, does it now (Like all Mankinde) shew me an Iron heart? Luci. Put in now Titus

Tit. My Lord, heere is my Bill

Luci. Here's mine

1.Var. And mine, my Lord

2.Var. And ours, my Lord

Philo. All our Billes

Tim. Knocke me downe with 'em, cleaue mee to the Girdle

Luc. Alas, my Lord

Tim. Cut my heart in summes

Tit. Mine, fifty Talents

Tim. Tell out my blood

Luc. Fiue thousand Crownes, my Lord

Tim. Fiue thousand drops payes that. What yours? and yours? 1.Var. My Lord

2.Var. My Lord

Tim. Teare me, take me, and the Gods fall vpon you.

Exit Timon.

Hort. Faith I perceiue our Masters may throwe their caps at their money, these debts may well be call'd desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em.

Exeunt.

Enter Timon.

Timon. They haue e'ene put my breath from mee the slaues. Creditors? Diuels

Stew. My deere Lord

Tim. What if it should be so? Stew. My Lord

Tim. Ile haue it so. My Steward? Stew. Heere my Lord

Tim. So fitly? Go, bid all my Friends againe, Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius Vllorxa: All, Ile once more feast the Rascals

Stew. O my Lord, you onely speake from your distracted soule; there's not so much left to furnish out a moderate Table

Tim. Be it not in thy care: Go I charge thee, inuite them all, let in the tide Of Knaues once more: my Cooke and Ile prouide.

Exeunt.

Enter three Senators at one doore, Alcibiades meeting them, with Attendants

1.Sen. My Lord, you haue my voyce, too't, The faults Bloody: 'Tis necessary he should dye: Nothing imboldens sinne so much, as Mercy

2 Most true; the Law shall bruise 'em

Alc. Honor, health, and compassion to the Senate

1 Now Captaine

Alc. I am an humble Sutor to your Vertues; For pitty is the vertue of the Law, And none but Tyrants vse it cruelly. It pleases time and Fortune to lye heauie Vpon a Friend of mine, who in hot blood Hath stept into the Law: which is past depth To those that (without heede) do plundge intoo't. He is a Man (setting his Fate aside) of comely Vertues, Nor did he soyle the fact with Cowardice. (And Honour in him, which buyes out his fault) But with a Noble Fury, and faire spirit, Seeing his Reputation touch'd to death, He did oppose his Foe: And with such sober and vnnoted passion He did behooue his anger ere 'twas spent, As if he had but prou'd an Argument

1.Sen. You vndergo too strict a Paradox, Striuing to make an vgly deed looke faire: Your words haue tooke such paines, as if they labour'd To bring Man-slaughter into forme, and set Quarrelling Vpon the head of Valour; which indeede Is Valour mis-begot, and came into the world, When Sects, and Factions were newly borne. Hee's truly Valiant, that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breath, And make his Wrongs, his Out-sides, To weare them like his Rayment, carelessely, And ne're preferre his iniuries to his heart, To bring it into danger. If Wrongs be euilles, and inforce vs kill, What Folly 'tis, to hazard life for Ill

Alci. My Lord

1.Sen. You cannot make grosse sinnes looke cleare, To reuenge is no Valour, but to beare

Alci. My Lords, then vnder fauour, pardon me, If I speake like a Captaine. Why do fond men expose themselues to Battell, And not endure all threats? Sleepe vpon't, And let the Foes quietly cut their Throats Without repugnancy? If there be Such Valour in the bearing, what make wee Abroad? Why then, Women are more valiant That stay at home, if Bearing carry it: And the Asse, more Captaine then the Lyon? The fellow loaden with Irons, wiser then the Iudge? If Wisedome be in suffering. Oh my Lords, As you are great, be pittifully Good, Who cannot condemne rashnesse in cold blood? To kill, I grant, is sinnes extreamest Gust, But in defence, by Mercy, 'tis most iust. To be in Anger, is impietie: But who is Man, that is not Angrie. Weigh but the Crime with this

2.Sen. You breath in vaine

Alci. In vaine? His seruice done at Lacedemon, and Bizantium, Were a sufficient briber for his life

1 What's that? Alc. Why say my Lords ha's done faire seruice, And slaine in fight many of your enemies: How full of valour did he beare himselfe In the last Conflict, and made plenteous wounds? 2 He has made too much plenty with him: He's a sworne Riotor, he has a sinne That often drownes him, and takes his valour prisoner. If there were no Foes, that were enough To ouercome him. In that Beastly furie, He has bin knowne to commit outrages, And cherrish Factions. 'Tis inferr'd to vs, His dayes are foule, and his drinke dangerous

1 He dyes

Alci. Hard fate: he might haue dyed in warre. My Lords, if not for any parts in him, Though his right arme might purchase his owne time, And be in debt to none: yet more to moue you, Take my deserts to his, and ioyne 'em both. And for I know, your reuerend Ages loue Security, Ile pawne my Victories, all my Honour to you Vpon his good returnes. If by this Crime, he owes the Law his life, Why let the Warre receiue't in valiant gore, For Law is strict, and Warre is nothing more

1 We are for Law, he dyes, vrge it no more On height of our displeasure: Friend, or Brother, He forfeits his owne blood, that spilles another

Alc. Must it be so? It must not bee: My Lords, I do beseech you know mee

2 How? Alc. Call me to your remembrances

3 What

Alc. I cannot thinke but your Age has forgot me, It could not else be, I should proue so bace, To sue and be deny'de such common Grace. My wounds ake at you

1 Do you dare our anger? 'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect: We banish thee for euer

Alc. Banish me? Banish your dotage, banish vsurie, That makes the Senate vgly

1 If after two dayes shine, Athens containe thee, Attend our waightier Iudgement. And not to swell our Spirit, He shall be executed presently.

Exeunt.

Alc. Now the Gods keepe you old enough, That you may liue Onely in bone, that none may looke on you. I'm worse then mad: I haue kept backe their Foes While they haue told their Money, and let out Their Coine vpon large interest. I my selfe, Rich onely in large hurts. All those, for this? Is this the Balsome, that the vsuring Senat Powres into Captaines wounds? Banishment. It comes not ill: I hate not to be banisht, It is a cause worthy my Spleene and Furie, That I may strike at Athens. Ile cheere vp My discontented Troopes, and lay for hearts; 'Tis Honour with most Lands to be at ods, Souldiers should brooke as little wrongs as Gods. Enter.

Enter diuers Friends at seuerall doores.

1 The good time of day to you, sir

2 I also wish it to you: I thinke this Honorable Lord did but try vs this other day

1 Vpon that were my thoughts tyring when wee encountred. I hope it is not so low with him as he made it seeme in the triall of his seuerall Friends

2 It should not be, by the perswasion of his new Feasting

1 I should thinke so. He hath sent mee an earnest inuiting, which many my neere occasions did vrge mee to put off: but he hath coniur'd mee beyond them, and I must needs appeare

2 In like manner was I in debt to my importunat businesse, but he would not heare my excuse. I am sorrie, when he sent to borrow of mee, that my Prouision was out

1 I am sicke of that greefe too, as I vnderstand how all things go

2 Euery man heares so: what would hee haue borrowed of you? 1 A thousand Peeces

2 A thousand Peeces? 1 What of you? 2 He sent to me sir- Heere he comes. Enter Timon and Attendants.

Tim. With all my heart Gentlemen both; and how fare you? 1 Euer at the best, hearing well of your Lordship

2 The Swallow followes not Summer more willing, then we your Lordship

Tim. Nor more willingly leaues Winter, such Summer Birds are men. Gentlemen, our dinner will not recompence this long stay: Feast your eares with the Musicke awhile: If they will fare so harshly o'th' Trumpets sound: we shall too't presently

1 I hope it remaines not vnkindely with your Lordship, that I return'd you an empty Messenger

Tim. O sir, let it not trouble you

2 My Noble Lord

Tim. Ah my good Friend, what cheere?

The Banket brought in.

2 My most Honorable Lord, I am e'ne sick of shame, that when your Lordship this other day sent to me, I was so vnfortunate a Beggar

Tim. Thinke not on't, sir

2 If you had sent but two houres before

Tim. Let it not cumber your better remembrance. Come bring in all together

2 All couer'd Dishes

1 Royall Cheare, I warrant you

3 Doubt not that, if money and the season can yeild it 1 How do you? What's the newes? 3 Alcibiades is banish'd: heare you of it? Both. Alcibiades banish'd? 3 'Tis so, be sure of it

1 How? How? 2 I pray you vpon what? Tim. My worthy Friends, will you draw neere? 3 Ile tell you more anon. Here's a Noble feast toward 2 This is the old man still

3 Wilt hold? Wilt hold? 2 It do's: but time will, and so

3 I do conceyue

Tim. Each man to his stoole, with that spurre as hee would to the lip of his Mistris: your dyet shall bee in all places alike. Make not a Citie Feast of it, to let the meat coole, ere we can agree vpon the first place. Sit, sit. The Gods require our Thankes. You great Benefactors, sprinkle our Society with Thankefulnesse. For your owne guifts, make your selues prais'd: But reserue still to giue, least your Deities be despised. Lend to each man enough, that one neede not lend to another. For were your Godheads to borrow of men, men would forsake the Gods. Make the Meate be beloued, more then the Man that giues it. Let no Assembly of Twenty, be without a score of Villaines. If there sit twelue Women at the Table, let a dozen of them bee as they are. The rest of your Fees, O Gods, the Senators of Athens, together with the common legge of People, what is amisse in them, you Gods, make suteable for destruction. For these my present Friends, as they are to mee nothing, so in nothing blesse them, and to nothing are they welcome. Vncouer Dogges, and lap

Some speake. What do's his Lordship meane? Some other. I know not

Timon. May you a better Feast neuer behold You knot of Mouth-Friends: Smoke, & lukewarm water Is your perfection. This is Timons last, Who stucke and spangled you with Flatteries, Washes it off and sprinkles in your faces Your reeking villany. Liue loath'd, and long Most smiling, smooth, detested Parasites, Curteous Destroyers, affable Wolues, meeke Beares: You Fooles of Fortune, Trencher-friends, Times Flyes, Cap and knee-Slaues, vapours, and Minute Iackes. Of Man and Beast, the infinite Maladie Crust you quite o're. What do'st thou go? Soft, take thy Physicke first; thou too, and thou: Stay I will lend thee money, borrow none. What? All in Motion? Henceforth be no Feast, Whereat a Villaine's not a welcome Guest. Burne house, sinke Athens, henceforth hated be Of Timon Man, and all Humanity.

Exit

Enter the Senators, with other Lords.

1 How now, my Lords? 2 Know you the quality of Lord Timons fury? 3 Push, did you see my Cap? 4 I haue lost my Gowne

1 He's but a mad Lord, & nought but humors swaies him. He gaue me a Iewell th' other day, and now hee has beate it out of my hat. Did you see my Iewell? 2 Did you see my Cap

3 Heere 'tis

4 Heere lyes my Gowne

1 Let's make no stay

2 Lord Timons mad

3 I feel't vpon my bones

4 One day he giues vs Diamonds, next day stones.

Exeunt. the Senators.

Enter Timon.

Tim. Let me looke backe vpon thee. O thou Wall That girdles in those Wolues, diue in the earth, And fence not Athens. Matrons, turne incontinent, Obedience fayle in Children: Slaues and Fooles Plucke the graue wrinkled Senate from the Bench, And minister in their steeds, to generall Filthes. Conuert o'th' Instant greene Virginity, Doo't in your Parents eyes. Bankrupts, hold fast Rather then render backe; out with your Kniues, And cut your Trusters throates. Bound Seruants, steale, Large-handed Robbers your graue Masters are, And pill by Law. Maide, to thy Masters bed, Thy Mistris is o'th' Brothell. Some of sixteen, Plucke the lyn'd Crutch from thy old limping Sire, With it, beate out his Braines. Piety, and Feare, Religion to the Gods, Peace, Iustice, Truth, Domesticke awe, Night-rest, and Neighbourhood, Instruction, Manners, Mysteries, and Trades, Degrees, Obseruances, Customes, and Lawes, Decline to your confounding contraries. And yet Confusion liue: Plagues incident to men, Your potent and infectious Feauors, heape On Athens ripe for stroke. Thou cold Sciatica, Cripple our Senators, that their limbes may halt As lamely as their Manners. Lust, and Libertie Creepe in the Mindes and Marrowes of our youth, That 'gainst the streame of Vertue they may striue, And drowne themselues in Riot. Itches, Blaines, So we all th' Athenian bosomes, and their crop Be generall Leprosie: Breath, infect breath, That their Society (as their Friendship) may Be meerely poyson. Nothing Ile beare from thee But nakednesse, thou detestable Towne, Take thou that too, with multiplying Bannes: Timon will to the Woods, where he shall finde Th' vnkindest Beast, more kinder then Mankinde. The Gods confound (heare me you good Gods all) Th' Athenians both within and out that Wall: And graunt as Timon growes, his hate may grow To the whole race of Mankinde, high and low. Amen. Enter.

Enter Steward with two or three Seruants.

1 Heare you M[aster]. Steward, where's our Master? Are we vndone, cast off, nothing remaining? Stew. Alack my Fellowes, what should I say to you? Let me be recorded by the righteous Gods, I am as poore as you

1 Such a House broke? So Noble a Master falne, all gone, and not One Friend to take his Fortune by the arme, And go along with him

2 As we do turne our backes From our Companion, throwne into his graue, So his Familiars to his buried Fortunes Slinke all away, leaue their false vowes with him Like empty purses pickt; and his poore selfe A dedicated Beggar to the Ayre, With his disease, of all shunn'd pouerty, Walkes like contempt alone. More of our Fellowes. Enter other Seruants.

Stew. All broken Implements of a ruin'd house

3 Yet do our hearts weare Timons Liuery, That see I by our Faces: we are Fellowes still, Seruing alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our Barke, And we poore Mates, stand on the dying Decke, Hearing the Surges threat: we must all part Into this Sea of Ayre

Stew. Good Fellowes all, The latest of my wealth Ile share among'st you. Where euer we shall meete, for Timons sake, Let's yet be Fellowes. Let's shake our heads, and say As 'twere a Knell vnto our Masters Fortunes, We haue seene better dayes. Let each take some: Nay put out all your hands: Not one word more, Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poore.

Embrace and part seuerall wayes.

Oh the fierce wretchednesse that Glory brings vs! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, Since Riches point to Misery and Contempt? Who would be so mock'd with Glory, or to liue But in a Dreame of Friendship, To haue his pompe, and all what state compounds, But onely painted like his varnisht Friends: Poore honest Lord, brought lowe by his owne heart, Vndone by Goodnesse: Strange vnvsuall blood, When mans worst sinne is, He do's too much Good. Who then dares to be halfe so kinde agen? For Bounty that makes Gods, do still marre Men. My deerest Lord, blest to be most accurst, Rich onely to be wretched; thy great Fortunes Are made thy cheefe Afflictions. Alas (kinde Lord) Hee's flung in Rage from this ingratefull Seate Of monstrous Friends: Nor ha's he with him to supply his life, Or that which can command it: Ile follow and enquire him out. Ile euer serue his minde, with my best will, Whilst I haue Gold, Ile be his Steward still. Enter.

Enter Timon in the woods.

Tim. O blessed breeding Sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity: below thy Sisters Orbe Infect the ayre. Twin'd Brothers of one wombe, Whose procreation, residence, and birth, Scarse is diuidant; touch them with seuerall fortunes, The greater scornes the lesser. Not Nature (To whom all sores lay siege) can beare great Fortune But by contempt of Nature. Raise me this Begger, and deny't that Lord, The Senators shall beare contempt Hereditary, The Begger Natiue Honor. It is the Pastour Lards, the Brothers sides, The want that makes him leaue: who dares? who dares In puritie of Manhood stand vpright And say, this mans a Flatterer. If one be, So are they all: for euerie grize of Fortune Is smooth'd by that below. The Learned pate Duckes to the Golden Foole. All's obliquie: There's nothing leuell in our cursed Natures But direct villanie. Therefore be abhorr'd, All Feasts, Societies, and Throngs of men. His semblable, yea himselfe Timon disdaines, Destruction phang mankinde; Earth yeeld me Rootes, Who seekes for better of thee, sawce his pallate With thy most operant Poyson. What is heere? Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious Gold? No Gods, I am no idle Votarist, Roots you cleere Heauens. Thus much of this will make Blacke, white; fowle, faire; wrong, right; Base, Noble; Old, young; Coward, valiant. Ha you Gods! why this? what this, you Gods? why this Will lugge your Priests and Seruants from your sides: Plucke stout mens pillowes from below their heads. This yellow Slaue, Will knit and breake Religions, blesse th' accurst, Make the hoare Leprosie ador'd, place Theeues, And giue them Title, knee, and approbation With Senators on the Bench: This is it That makes the wappen'd Widdow wed againe; Shee, whom the Spittle-house, and vlcerous sores, Would cast the gorge at. This Embalmes and Spices To'th' Aprill day againe. Come damn'd Earth, Thou common whore of Mankinde, that puttes oddes Among the rout of Nations, I will make thee Do thy right Nature.

March afarre off.

Ha? A Drumme? Th'art quicke, But yet Ile bury thee: Thou't go (strong Theefe) When Gowty keepers of thee cannot stand: Nay stay thou out for earnest. Enter Alcibiades with Drumme and Fife in warlike manner, and Phrynia and Timandra.

Alc. What art thou there? speake

Tim. A Beast as thou art. The Canker gnaw thy hart For shewing me againe the eyes of Man

Alc. What is thy name? Is man so hatefull to thee, That art thy selfe a Man? Tim. I am Misantropos, and hate Mankinde. For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dogge, That I might loue thee something

Alc. I know thee well: But in thy Fortunes am vnlearn'd, and strange

Tim. I know thee too, and more then that I know thee I not desire to know. Follow thy Drumme, With mans blood paint the ground Gules, Gules: Religious Cannons, ciuill Lawes are cruell, Then what should warre be? This fell whore of thine, Hath in her more destruction then thy Sword, For all her Cherubin looke

Phrin. Thy lips rot off

Tim. I will not kisse thee, then the rot returnes To thine owne lippes againe

Alc. How came the Noble Timon to this change? Tim. As the Moone do's, by wanting light to giue: But then renew I could not like the Moone, There were no Sunnes to borrow of

Alc. Noble Timon, what friendship may I do thee? Tim. None, but to maintaine my opinion

Alc. What is it Timon? Tim. Promise me Friendship, but performe none. If thou wilt not promise, the Gods plague thee, for thou art a man: if thou do'st performe, confound thee, for thou art a man

Alc. I haue heard in some sort of thy Miseries

Tim. Thou saw'st them when I had prosperitie

Alc. I see them now, then was a blessed time

Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of Harlots

Timan. Is this th' Athenian Minion, whom the world Voic'd so regardfully? Tim. Art thou Timandra? Timan. Yes

Tim. Be a whore still, they loue thee not that vse thee, giue them diseases, leauing with thee their Lust. Make vse of thy salt houres, season the slaues for Tubbes and Bathes, bring downe Rose-cheekt youth to the Fubfast, and the Diet

Timan. Hang thee Monster

Alc. Pardon him sweet Timandra, for his wits Are drown'd and lost in his Calamities. I haue but little Gold of late, braue Timon, The want whereof, doth dayly make reuolt In my penurious Band. I haue heard and greeu'd How cursed Athens, mindelesse of thy worth, Forgetting thy great deeds, when Neighbour states But for thy Sword and Fortune trod vpon them

Tim. I prythee beate thy Drum, and get thee gone

Alc. I am thy Friend, and pitty thee deere Timon

Tim. How doest thou pitty him whom y dost troble, I had rather be alone

Alc. Why fare thee well: Heere is some Gold for thee

Tim. Keepe it, I cannot eate it

Alc. When I haue laid proud Athens on a heape

Tim. Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens

Alc. I Timon, and haue cause

Tim. The Gods confound them all in thy Conquest, And thee after, when thou hast Conquer'd

Alc. Why me, Timon? Tim. That by killing of Villaines Thou was't borne to conquer my Country. Put vp thy Gold. Go on, heeres Gold, go on; Be as a Plannetary plague, when Ioue Will o're some high-Vic'd City, hang his poyson In the sicke ayre: let not thy sword skip one: Pitty not honour'd Age for his white Beard, He is an Vsurer. Strike me the counterfet Matron, It is her habite onely, that is honest, Her selfe's a Bawd. Let not the Virgins cheeke Make soft thy trenchant Sword: for those Milke pappes That through the window Barne bore at mens eyes, Are not within the Leafe of pitty writ, But set them down horrible Traitors. Spare not the Babe Whose dimpled smiles from Fooles exhaust their mercy; Thinke it a Bastard, whom the Oracle Hath doubtfully pronounced, the throat shall cut, And mince it sans remorse. Sweare against Obiects, Put Armour on thine eares, and on thine eyes, Whose proofe, nor yels of Mothers, Maides, nor Babes, Nor sight of Priests in holy Vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a iot. There's Gold to pay thy Souldiers, Make large confusion: and thy fury spent, Confounded be thy selfe. Speake not, be gone

Alc. Hast thou Gold yet, Ile take the Gold thou giuest me, not all thy Counsell

Tim. Dost thou or dost thou not, Heauens curse vpon thee

Both. Giue vs some Gold good Timon, hast y more? Tim. Enough to make a Whore forsweare her Trade, And to make Whores, a Bawd. Hold vp you Sluts Your Aprons mountant; you are not Othable, Although I know you'l sweare, terribly sweare Into strong shudders, and to heauenly Agues Th' immortall Gods that heare you. Spare your Oathes: Ile trust to your Conditions, be whores still. And he whose pious breath seekes to conuert you, Be strong in Whore, allure him, burne him vp, Let your close fire predominate his smoke, And be no turne-coats: yet may your paines six months Be quite contrary, And Thatch Your poore thin Roofes with burthens of the dead, (Some that were hang'd) no matter: Weare them, betray with them; Whore still, Paint till a horse may myre vpon your face: A pox of wrinkles

Both. Well, more Gold, what then? Beleeue't that wee'l do any thing for Gold

Tim. Consumptions sowe In hollow bones of man, strike their sharpe shinnes, And marre mens spurring. Cracke the Lawyers voyce, That he may neuer more false Title pleade, Nor sound his Quillets shrilly: Hoare the Flamen, That scold'st against the quality of flesh, And not beleeues himselfe. Downe with the Nose, Downe with it flat, take the Bridge quite away Of him, that his particular to foresee Smels from the generall weale. Make curl'd pate Ruffians bald And let the vnscarr'd Braggerts of the Warre Deriue some paine from you. Plague all, That your Actiuity may defeate and quell The sourse of all Erection. There's more Gold. Do you damne others, and let this damne you, And ditches graue you all

Both. More counsell with more Money, bounteous Timon

Tim. More whore, more Mischeefe first, I haue giuen you earnest

Alc. Strike vp the Drum towardes Athens, farewell Timon: if I thriue well, Ile visit thee againe

Tim. If I hope well, Ile neuer see thee more

Alc. I neuer did thee harme

Tim. Yes, thou spok'st well of me

Alc. Call'st thou that harme? Tim. Men dayly finde it. Get thee away, And take thy Beagles with thee

Alc. We but offend him, strike.

Exeunt.

Tim. That Nature being sicke of mans vnkindnesse Should yet be hungry: Common Mother, thou Whose wombe vnmeasureable, and infinite brest Teemes and feeds all: whose selfesame Mettle Whereof thy proud Childe (arrogant man) is puft, Engenders the blacke Toad, and Adder blew, The gilded Newt, and eyelesse venom'd Worme, With all th' abhorred Births below Crispe Heauen, Whereon Hyperions quickning fire doth shine: Yeeld him, who all the humane Sonnes do hate, From foorth thy plenteous bosome, one poore roote: Enseare thy Fertile and Conceptious wombe, Let it no more bring out ingratefull man. Goe great with Tygers, Dragons, Wolues, and Beares, Teeme with new Monsters, whom thy vpward face Hath to the Marbled Mansion all aboue Neuer presented. O, a Root, deare thankes: Dry vp thy Marrowes, Vines, and Plough-torne Leas, Whereof ingratefull man with Licourish draughts And Morsels Vnctious, greases his pure minde, That from it all Consideration slippes- Enter Apemantus.

More man? Plague, plague

Ape. I was directed hither. Men report, Thou dost affect my Manners, and dost vse them

Tim. 'Tis then, because thou dost not keepe a dogge Whom I would imitate. Consumption catch thee

Ape. This is in thee a Nature but infected, A poore vnmanly Melancholly sprung From change of future. Why this Spade? this place? This Slaue-like Habit, and these lookes of Care? Thy Flatterers yet weare Silke, drinke Wine, lye soft, Hugge their diseas'd Perfumes, and haue forgot That euer Timon was. Shame not these Woods, By putting on the cunning of a Carper. Be thou a Flatterer now, and seeke to thriue By that which ha's vndone thee; hindge thy knee, And let his very breath whom thou'lt obserue Blow off thy Cap: praise his most vicious straine, And call it excellent: thou wast told thus: Thou gau'st thine eares (like Tapsters, that bad welcom) To Knaues, and all approachers: 'Tis most iust That thou turne Rascall, had'st thou wealth againe, Rascals should haue't. Do not assume my likenesse

Tim. Were I like thee, I'de throw away my selfe

Ape. Thou hast cast away thy selfe, being like thy self A Madman so long, now a Foole: what think'st That the bleake ayre, thy boysterous Chamberlaine Will put thy shirt on warme? Will these moyst Trees, That haue out-liu'd the Eagle, page thy heeles And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brooke Candied with Ice, Cawdle thy Morning taste To cure thy o're-nights surfet? Call the Creatures, Whose naked Natures liue in all the spight Of wrekefull Heauen, whose bare vnhoused Trunkes, To the conflicting Elements expos'd Answer meere Nature: bid them flatter thee. O thou shalt finde

Tim. A Foole of thee: depart

Ape. I loue thee better now, then ere I did

Tim. I hate thee worse

Ape. Why? Tim. Thou flatter'st misery

Ape. I flatter not, but say thou art a Caytiffe

Tim. Why do'st thou seeke me out? Ape. To vex thee

Tim. Alwayes a Villaines Office, or a Fooles. Dost please thy selfe in't? Ape. I

Tim. What, a Knaue too? Ape. If thou did'st put this sowre cold habit on To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou Dost it enforcedly: Thou'dst Courtier be againe Wert thou not Beggar: willing misery Out-liues: incertaine pompe, is crown'd before: The one is filling still, neuer compleat: The other, at high wish: best state Contentlesse, Hath a distracted and most wretched being, Worse then the worst, Content. Thou should'st desire to dye, being miserable

Tim. Not by his breath, that is more miserable. Thou art a Slaue, whom Fortunes tender arme With fauour neuer claspt: but bred a Dogge. Had'st thou like vs from our first swath proceeded, The sweet degrees that this breefe world affords, To such as may the passiue drugges of it Freely command'st: thou would'st haue plung'd thy self In generall Riot, melted downe thy youth In different beds of Lust, and neuer learn'd The Icie precepts of respect, but followed The Sugred game before thee. But my selfe, Who had the world as my Confectionarie, The mouthes, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men, At duty more then I could frame employment; That numberlesse vpon me stucke, as leaues Do on the Oake, haue with one Winters brush Fell from their boughes, and left me open, bare, For euery storme that blowes. I to beare this, That neuer knew but better, is some burthen: Thy Nature, did commence in sufferance, Time Hath made thee hard in't. Why should'st y hate Men? They neuer flatter'd thee. What hast thou giuen? If thou wilt curse; thy Father (that poore ragge) Must be thy subiect; who in spight put stuffe To some shee-Begger, and compounded thee Poore Rogue, hereditary. Hence, be gone, If thou hadst not bene borne the worst of men, Thou hadst bene a Knaue and Flatterer

Ape. Art thou proud yet? Tim. I, that I am not thee

Ape. I, that I was no Prodigall

Tim. I, that I am one now. Were all the wealth I haue shut vp in thee, I'ld giue thee leaue to hang it. Get thee gone: That the whole life of Athens were in this, Thus would I eate it

Ape. Heere, I will mend thy Feast

Tim. First mend thy company, take away thy selfe

Ape. So I shall mend mine owne, by'th' lacke of thine Tim. 'Tis not well mended so, it is but botcht; If not, I would it were

Ape. What would'st thou haue to Athens? Tim. Thee thither in a whirlewind: if thou wilt, Tell them there I haue Gold, looke, so I haue

Ape. Heere is no vse for Gold

Tim. The best, and truest: For heere it sleepes, and do's no hyred harme

Ape. Where lyest a nights Timon? Tim. Vnder that's aboue me. Where feed'st thou a-dayes Apemantus? Ape. Where my stomacke findes meate, or rather where I eate it

Tim. Would poyson were obedient, & knew my mind Ape. Where would'st thou send it? Tim. To sawce thy dishes

Ape. The middle of Humanity thou neuer knewest, but the extremitie of both ends. When thou wast in thy Gilt, and thy Perfume, they mockt thee for too much Curiositie: in thy Ragges thou know'st none, but art despis'd for the contrary. There's a medler for thee, eate it

Tim. On what I hate, I feed not

Ape. Do'st hate a Medler? Tim. I, though it looke like thee

Ape. And th'hadst hated Medlers sooner, y should'st haue loued thy selfe better now. What man didd'st thou euer know vnthrift, that was beloued after his meanes! Tim. Who without those meanes thou talk'st of, didst thou euer know belou'd? Ape. My selfe

Tim. I vnderstand thee: thou had'st some meanes to keepe a Dogge

Apem. What things in the world canst thou neerest compare to thy Flatterers? Tim. Women neerest, but men: men are the things themselues. What would'st thou do with the world Apemantus, if it lay in thy power? Ape. Giue it the Beasts, to be rid of the men

Tim. Would'st thou haue thy selfe fall in the confusion of men, and remaine a Beast with the Beasts

Ape. I Timon

Tim. A beastly Ambition, which the Goddes graunt thee t' attaine to. If thou wert the Lyon, the Fox would beguile thee. if thou wert the Lambe, the Foxe would eate thee: if thou wert the Fox, the Lion would suspect thee, when peraduenture thou wert accus'd by the Asse: If thou wert the Asse, thy dulnesse would torment thee; and still thou liu'dst but as a Breakefast to the Wolfe. If thou wert the Wolfe, thy greedinesse would afflict thee, & oft thou should'st hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wert thou the Vnicorne, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine owne selfe the conquest of thy fury. Wert thou a Beare, thou would'st be kill'd by the Horse: wert thou a Horse, thou would'st be seaz'd by the Leopard: wert thou a Leopard, thou wert Germane to the Lion, and the spottes of thy Kindred, were Iurors on thy life. All thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence. What Beast could'st thou bee, that were not subiect to a Beast: and what a Beast art thou already, that seest not thy losse in transformation

Ape. If thou could'st please me With speaking to me, thou might'st Haue hit vpon it heere. The Commonwealth of Athens, is become A Forrest of Beasts

Tim. How ha's the Asse broke the wall, that thou art out of the Citie

Ape. Yonder comes a Poet and a Painter: The plague of Company light vpon thee: I will feare to catch it, and giue way. When I know not what else to do, Ile see thee againe

Tim. When there is nothing liuing but thee, Thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a Beggers Dogge, Then Apemantus

Ape. Thou art the Cap Of all the Fooles aliue

Tim. Would thou wert cleane enough To spit vpon

Ape. A plague on thee, Thou art too bad to curse

Tim. All Villaines That do stand by thee, are pure

Ape. There is no Leprosie, But what thou speak'st

Tim. If I name thee, Ile beate thee; But I should infect my hands

Ape. I would my tongue Could rot them off

Tim. Away thou issue of a mangie dogge, Choller does kill me, That thou art aliue, I swoond to see thee

Ape. Would thou would'st burst

Tim. Away thou tedious Rogue, I am sorry I shall lose a stone by thee

Ape. Beast

Tim. Slaue

Ape. Toad

Tim. Rogue, Rogue, Rogue. I am sicke of this false world, and will loue nought But euen the meere necessities vpon't: Then Timon presently prepare thy graue: Lye where the light Fome of the Sea may beate Thy graue stone dayly, make thine Epitaph, That death in me, at others liues may laugh. O thou sweete King-killer, and deare diuorce Twixt naturall Sunne and fire: thou bright defiler Of Himens purest bed, thou valiant Mars, Thou euer, yong, fresh, loued, and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thawe the consecrated Snow That lyes on Dians lap. Thou visible God, That souldrest close Impossibilities, And mak'st them kisse; that speak'st with euerie Tongue To euerie purpose: O thou touch of hearts, Thinke thy slaue-man rebels, and by thy vertue Set them into confounding oddes, that Beasts May haue the world in Empire

Ape. Would 'twere so, But not till I am dead. Ile say th'hast Gold: Thou wilt be throng'd too shortly

Tim. Throng'd too? Ape. I

Tim. Thy backe I prythee

Ape. Liue, and loue thy misery

Tim. Long liue so, and so dye. I am quit

Ape. Mo things like men, Eate Timon, and abhorre then.

Exit Apeman[tus].

Enter the Bandetti.

1 Where should he haue this Gold? It is some poore Fragment, some slender Ort of his remainder: the meere want of Gold, and the falling from of his Friendes, droue him into this Melancholly

2 It is nois'd He hath a masse of Treasure

3 Let vs make the assay vpon him, if he care not for't, he will supply vs easily: if he couetously reserue it, how shall's get it? 2 True: for he beares it not about him: 'Tis hid

1 Is not this hee? All. Where? 2 'Tis his description

3 He? I know him

All. Saue thee Timon

Tim. Now Theeues

All. Soldiers, not Theeues

Tim. Both too, and womens Sonnes

All. We are not Theeues, but men That much do want

Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of meat: Why should you want? Behold, the Earth hath Rootes: Within this Mile breake forth a hundred Springs: The Oakes beare Mast, the Briars Scarlet Heps, The bounteous Huswife Nature, on each bush, Layes her full Messe before you. Want? why Want? 1 We cannot liue on Grasse, on Berries, Water, As Beasts, and Birds, and Fishes

Ti. Nor on the Beasts themselues, the Birds & Fishes, You must eate men. Yet thankes I must you con, That you are Theeues profest: that you worke not In holier shapes: For there is boundlesse Theft In limited Professions. Rascall Theeues Heere's Gold. Go, sucke the subtle blood o'th' Grape, Till the high Feauor seeth your blood to froth, And so scape hanging. Trust not the Physitian, His Antidotes are poyson, and he slayes Moe then you Rob: Take wealth, and liues together, Do Villaine do, since you protest to doo't. Like Workemen, Ile example you with Theeuery: The Sunnes a Theefe, and with his great attraction Robbes the vaste Sea. The Moones an arrant Theefe, And her pale fire, she snatches from the Sunne. The Seas a Theefe, whose liquid Surge, resolues The Moone into Salt teares. The Earth's a Theefe, That feeds and breeds by a composture stolne From gen'rall excrement: each thing's a Theefe. The Lawes, your curbe and whip, in their rough power Ha's vncheck'd Theft. Loue not your selues, away, Rob one another, there's more Gold, cut throates, All that you meete are Theeues: to Athens go, Breake open shoppes, nothing can you steale But Theeues do loose it: steale lesse, for this I giue you, And Gold confound you howsoere: Amen

3 Has almost charm'd me from my Profession, by perswading me to it

1 'Tis in the malice of mankinde, that he thus aduises vs not to haue vs thriue in our mystery

2 Ile beleeue him as an Enemy, And giue ouer my Trade

1 Let vs first see peace in Athens, there is no time so miserable, but a man may be true.

Exit Theeues.

Enter the Steward to Timon.

Stew. Oh you Gods! Is yon'd despis'd and ruinous man my Lord? Full of decay and fayling? Oh Monument And wonder of good deeds, euilly bestow'd! What an alteration of Honor has desp'rate want made? What vilder thing vpon the earth, then Friends, Who can bring Noblest mindes, to basest ends. How rarely does it meete with this times guise, When man was wisht to loue his Enemies: Grant I may euer loue, and rather woo Those that would mischeefe me, then those that doo. Has caught me in his eye, I will present my honest griefe vnto him; and as my Lord, still serue him with my life. My deerest Master

Tim. Away: what art thou? Stew. Haue you forgot me, Sir? Tim. Why dost aske that? I haue forgot all men. Then, if thou grunt'st, th'art a man. I haue forgot thee

Stew. An honest poore seruant of yours

Tim. Then I know thee not: I neuer had honest man about me, I all I kept were Knaues, to serue in meate to Villaines

Stew. The Gods are witnesse, Neu'r did poore Steward weare a truer greefe For his vndone Lord, then mine eyes for you

Tim. What, dost thou weepe? Come neerer, then I loue thee Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st Flinty mankinde: whose eyes do neuer giue, But thorow Lust and Laughter: pittie's sleeping: Strange times y weepe with laughing, not with weeping

Stew. I begge of you to know me, good my Lord, T' accept my greefe, and whil'st this poore wealth lasts, To entertaine me as your Steward still

Tim. Had I a Steward So true, so iust, and now so comfortable? It almost turnes my dangerous Nature wilde. Let me behold thy face: Surely, this man Was borne of woman. Forgiue my generall, and exceptlesse rashnesse You perpetuall sober Gods. I do proclaime One honest man: Mistake me not, but one: No more I pray, and hee's a Steward. How faine would I haue hated all mankinde, And thou redeem'st thy selfe. But all saue thee, I fell with Curses. Me thinkes thou art more honest now, then wise: For, by oppressing and betraying mee, Thou might'st haue sooner got another Seruice: For many so arriue at second Masters, Vpon their first Lords necke. But tell me true, (For I must euer doubt, though ne're so sure) Is not thy kindnesse subtle, couetous, If not a Vsuring kindnesse, and as rich men deale Guifts, Expecting in returne twenty for one? Stew. No my most worthy Master, in whose brest Doubt, and suspect (alas) are plac'd too late: You should haue fear'd false times, when you did Feast. Suspect still comes, where an estate is least. That which I shew, Heauen knowes, is meerely Loue, Dutie, and Zeale, to your vnmatched minde; Care of your Food and Liuing, and beleeue it, My most Honour'd Lord, For any benefit that points to mee, Either in hope, or present, I'de exchange For this one wish, that you had power and wealth To requite me, by making rich your selfe

Tim. Looke thee, 'tis so: thou singly honest man, Heere take: the Gods out of my miserie Ha's sent thee Treasure. Go, liue rich and happy, But thus condition'd: Thou shalt build from men: Hate all, curse all, shew Charity to none, But let the famisht flesh slide from the Bone, Ere thou releeue the Begger. Giue to dogges What thou denyest to men. Let Prisons swallow 'em, Debts wither 'em to nothing, be men like blasted woods And may Diseases licke vp their false bloods, And so farewell, and thriue

Stew. O let me stay, and comfort you, my Master

Tim. If thou hat'st Curses Stay not: flye, whil'st thou art blest and free: Ne're see thou man, and let me ne're see thee.

Exit

Enter Poet, and Painter.

Pain. As I tooke note of the place, it cannot be farre where he abides

Poet. What's to be thought of him? Does the Rumor hold for true, That hee's so full of Gold? Painter. Certaine. Alcibiades reports it: Phrinica and Timandylo Had Gold of him. He likewise enrich'd Poore stragling Souldiers, with great quantity. 'Tis saide, he gaue vnto his Steward A mighty summe

Poet. Then this breaking of his, Ha's beene but a Try for his Friends? Painter. Nothing else: You shall see him a Palme in Athens againe, And flourish with the highest: Therefore, 'tis not amisse, we tender our loues To him, in this suppos'd distresse of his: It will shew honestly in vs, And is very likely, to loade our purposes With what they trauaile for, If it be a iust and true report, that goes Of his hauing

Poet. What haue you now To present vnto him? Painter. Nothing at this time But my Visitation: onely I will promise him An excellent Peece

Poet. I must serue him so too; Tell him of an intent that's comming toward him

Painter. Good as the best. Promising, is the verie Ayre o'th' Time; It opens the eyes of Expectation. Performance, is euer the duller for his acte, And but in the plainer and simpler kinde of people, The deede of Saying is quite out of vse. To Promise, is most Courtly and fashionable; Performance, is a kinde of Will or Testament Which argues a great sicknesse in his iudgement That makes it. Enter Timon from his Caue.

Timon. Excellent Workeman, Thou canst not paint a man so badde As is thy selfe

Poet. I am thinking What I shall say I haue prouided for him: It must be a personating of himselfe: A Satyre against the softnesse of Prosperity, With a Discouerie of the infinite Flatteries That follow youth and opulencie

Timon. Must thou needes Stand for a Villaine in thine owne Worke? Wilt thou whip thine owne faults in other men? Do so, I haue Gold for thee

Poet. Nay let's seeke him. Then do we sinne against our owne estate, When we may profit meete, and come too late

Painter. True: When the day serues before blacke-corner'd night; Finde what thou want'st, by free and offer'd light. Come

Tim. Ile meete you at the turne: What a Gods Gold, that he is worshipt In a baser Temple, then where Swine feede? 'Tis thou that rigg'st the Barke, and plow'st the Fome, Setlest admired reuerence in a Slaue, To thee be worshipt, and thy Saints for aye: Be crown'd with Plagues, that thee alone obay. Fit I meet them

Poet. Haile worthy Timon

Pain. Our late Noble Master

Timon. Haue I once liu'd To see two honest men? Poet. Sir: Hauing often of your open Bounty tasted, Hearing you were retyr'd, your Friends falne off, Whose thankelesse Natures (O abhorred Spirits) Not all the Whippes of Heauen, are large enough. What, to you, Whose Starre-like Noblenesse gaue life and influence To their whole being? I am rapt, and cannot couet The monstrous bulke of this Ingratitude With any size of words

Timon. Let it go, Naked men may see't the better: You that are honest, by being what you are, Make them best seene, and knowne

Pain. He, and my selfe Haue trauail'd in the great showre of your guifts, And sweetly felt it

Timon. I, you are honest man

Painter. We are hither come To offer you our seruice

Timon. Most honest men: Why how shall I requite you? Can you eate Roots, and drinke cold water, no? Both. What we can do, Wee'l do to do you seruice

Tim. Y'are honest men, Y'haue heard that I haue Gold, I am sure you haue, speake truth, y'are honest men

Pain. So it is said my Noble Lord, but therefore Came not my Friend, nor I

Timon. Good honest men: Thou draw'st a counterfet Best in all Athens, th'art indeed the best, Thou counterfet'st most liuely

Pain. So, so, my Lord

Tim. E'ne so sir as I say. And for thy fiction, Why thy Verse swels with stuffe so fine and smooth, That thou art euen Naturall in thine Art. But for all this (my honest Natur'd friends) I must needs say you haue a little fault, Marry 'tis not monstrous in you, neither wish I You take much paines to mend

Both. Beseech your Honour To make it knowne to vs

Tim. You'l take it ill

Both. Most thankefully, my Lord

Timon. Will you indeed? Both. Doubt it not worthy Lord

Tim. There's neuer a one of you but trusts a Knaue, That mightily deceiues you

Both. Do we, my Lord? Tim. I, and you heare him cogge, See him dissemble, Know his grosse patchery, loue him, feede him, Keepe in your bosome, yet remaine assur'd That he's a made-vp-Villaine

Pain. I know none such, my Lord

Poet. Nor I

Timon. Looke you, I loue you well, Ile giue you Gold Rid me these Villaines from your companies; Hang them, or stab them, drowne them in a draught, Confound them by some course, and come to me, Ile giue you Gold enough

Both. Name them my Lord, let's know them

Tim. You that way, and you this: But two in Company: Each man a part, all single, and alone, Yet an arch Villaine keepes him company: If where thou art, two Villaines shall not be, Come not neere him. If thou would'st not recide But where one Villaine is, then him abandon. Hence, packe, there's Gold, you came for Gold ye slaues: You haue worke for me; there's payment, hence, You are an Alcumist, make Gold of that: Out Rascall dogges.

Exeunt.

Enter Steward, and two Senators.

Stew. It is vaine that you would speake with Timon: For he is set so onely to himselfe, That nothing but himselfe, which lookes like man, Is friendly with him

1.Sen. Bring vs to his Caue. It is our part and promise to th' Athenians To speake with Timon

2.Sen. At all times alike Men are not still the same: 'twas Time and Greefes That fram'd him thus. Time with his fairer hand, Offering the Fortunes of his former dayes, The former man may make him: bring vs to him And chanc'd it as it may

Stew. Heere is his Caue: Peace and content be heere. Lord Timon, Timon, Looke out, and speake to Friends: Th' Athenians By two of their most reuerend Senate greet thee: Speake to them Noble Timon. Enter Timon out of his Caue.

Tim. Thou Sunne that comforts burne, Speake and be hang'd: For each true word, a blister, and each false Be as a Cantherizing to the root o'th' Tongue, Consuming it with speaking

1 Worthy Timon

Tim. Of none but such as you, And you of Timon

1 The Senators of Athens, greet thee Timon

Tim. I thanke them, And would send them backe the plague, Could I but catch it for them

1 O forget What we are sorry for our selues in thee: The Senators, with one consent of loue, Intreate thee backe to Athens, who haue thought On speciall Dignities, which vacant lye For thy best vse and wearing

2 They confesse Toward thee, forgetfulnesse too generall grosse; Which now the publike Body, which doth sildome Play the recanter, feeling in it selfe A lacke of Timons ayde, hath since withall Of it owne fall, restraining ayde to Timon, And send forth vs, to make their sorrowed render, Together, with a recompence more fruitfull Then their offence can weigh downe by the Dramme, I euen such heapes and summes of Loue and Wealth, As shall to thee blot out, what wrongs were theirs, And write in thee the figures of their loue, Euer to read them thine

Tim. You witch me in it; Surprize me to the very brinke of teares; Lend me a Fooles heart, and a womans eyes, And Ile beweepe these comforts, worthy Senators

1 Therefore so please thee to returne with vs, And of our Athens, thine and ours to take The Captainship, thou shalt be met with thankes, Allowed with absolute power, and thy good name Liue with Authoritie: so soone we shall driue backe Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild, Who like a Bore too sauage, doth root vp His Countries peace

2 And shakes his threatning Sword Against the walles of Athens

1 Therefore Timon

Tim. Well sir, I will: therefore I will sir thus: If Alcibiades kill my Countrymen, Let Alcibiades know this of Timon, That Timon cares not. But if he sacke faire Athens, And take our goodly aged men by'th' Beards, Giuing our holy Virgins to the staine Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd warre: Then let him know, and tell him Timon speakes it, In pitty of our aged, and our youth, I cannot choose but tell him that I care not, And let him tak't at worst: For their Kniues care not, While you haue throats to answer. For my selfe, There's not a whittle, in th' vnruly Campe, But I do prize it at my loue, before The reuerends Throat in Athens. So I leaue you To the protection of the prosperous Gods, As Theeues to Keepers

Stew. Stay not, all's in vaine

Tim. Why I was writing of my Epitaph, It will be seene to morrow. My long sicknesse Of Health, and Liuing, now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things. Go, liue still, Be Alcibiades your plague; you his, And last so long enough

1 We speake in vaine

Tim. But yet I loue my Country, and am not One that reioyces in the common wracke, As common bruite doth put it

1 That's well spoke

Tim. Commend me to my louing Countreymen

1 These words become your lippes as they passe thorow them

2 And enter in our eares, like great Triumphers In their applauding gates

Tim. Commend me to them, And tell them, that to ease them of their greefes, Their feares of Hostile strokes, their Aches losses, Their pangs of Loue, with other incident throwes That Natures fragile Vessell doth sustaine In lifes vncertaine voyage, I will some kindnes do them, Ile teach them to preuent wilde Alcibiades wrath

1 I like this well, he will returne againe

Tim. I haue a Tree which growes heere in my Close, That mine owne vse inuites me to cut downe, And shortly must I fell it. Tell my Friends, Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree, From high to low throughout, that who so please To stop Affliction, let him take his haste; Come hither ere my Tree hath felt the Axe, And hang himselfe. I pray you do my greeting

Stew. Trouble him no further, thus you still shall Finde him

Tim. Come not to me againe, but say to Athens, Timon hath made his euerlasting Mansion Vpon the Beached Verge of the salt Flood, Who once a day with his embossed Froth The turbulent Surge shall couer; thither come, And let my graue-stone be your Oracle: Lippes, let foure words go by, and Language end: What is amisse, Plague and Infection mend. Graues onely be mens workes, and Death their gaine; Sunne, hide thy Beames, Timon hath done his Raigne.

Exit Timon.

1 His discontents are vnremoueably coupled to Nature

2 Our hope in him is dead: let vs returne, And straine what other meanes is left vnto vs In our deere perill

1 It requires swift foot.

Exeunt.

Enter two other Senators, with a Messenger.

1 Thou hast painfully discouer'd: are his Files As full as thy report? Mes. I haue spoke the least. Besides his expedition promises present approach

2 We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon

Mes. I met a Currier, one mine ancient Friend, Whom though in generall part we were oppos'd, Yet our old loue made a particular force, And made vs speake like Friends. This man was riding From Alcibiades to Timons Caue, With Letters of intreaty, which imported His Fellowship i'th' cause against your City, In part for his sake mou'd. Enter the other Senators.

1 Heere come our Brothers

3 No talke of Timon, nothing of him expect, The Enemies Drumme is heard, and fearefull scouring Doth choake the ayre with dust: In, and prepare, Ours is the fall I feare, our Foes the Snare.

Exeunt.

Enter a Souldier in the Woods, seeking Timon.

Sol. By all description this should be the place. Whose heere? Speake hoa. No answer? What is this? Tymon is dead, who hath out-stretcht his span, Some Beast reade this; There do's not liue a Man. Dead sure, and this his Graue, what's on this Tomb, I cannot read: the Charracter Ile take with wax, Our Captaine hath in euery Figure skill; An ag'd Interpreter, though yong in dayes: Before proud Athens hee's set downe by this, Whose fall the marke of his Ambition is. Enter.

Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades with his Powers before Athens.

Alc. Sound to this Coward, and lasciuious Towne, Our terrible approach.

Sounds a Parly.

The Senators appeare vpon the wals.

Till now you haue gone on, and fill'd the time With all Licentious measure, making your willes The scope of Iustice. Till now, my selfe and such As slept within the shadow of your power Haue wander'd with our trauerst Armes, and breath'd Our sufferance vainly: Now the time is flush, When crouching Marrow in the bearer strong Cries (of it selfe) no more: Now breathlesse wrong, Shall sit and pant in your great Chaires of ease, And pursie Insolence shall breake his winde With feare and horrid flight

1.Sen. Noble, and young; When thy first greefes were but a meere conceit, Ere thou had'st power, or we had cause of feare, We sent to thee, to giue thy rages Balme, To wipe out our Ingratitude, with Loues Aboue their quantitie

2 So did we wooe Transformed Timon, to our Citties loue By humble Message, and by promist meanes: We were not all vnkinde, nor all deserue The common stroke of warre

1 These walles of ours, Were not erected by their hands, from whom You haue receyu'd your greefe: Nor are they such, That these great Towres, Trophees, & Schools shold fall For priuate faults in them

2 Nor are they liuing Who were the motiues that you first went out, (Shame that they wanted, cunning in excesse) Hath broke their hearts. March, Noble Lord, Into our City with thy Banners spred, By decimation and a tythed death; If thy Reuenges hunger for that Food Which Nature loathes, take thou the destin'd tenth, And by the hazard of the spotted dye, Let dye the spotted

1 All haue not offended: For those that were, it is not square to take On those that are, Reuenge: Crimes, like Lands Are not inherited, then deere Countryman, Bring in thy rankes, but leaue without thy rage, Spare thy Athenian Cradle, and those Kin Which in the bluster of thy wrath must fall With those that haue offended, like a Shepheard, Approach the Fold, and cull th' infected forth, But kill not altogether

2 What thou wilt, Thou rather shalt inforce it with thy smile, Then hew too't, with thy Sword

1 Set but thy foot Against our rampyr'd gates, and they shall ope: So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before, To say thou't enter Friendly

2 Throw thy Gloue, Or any Token of thine Honour else, That thou wilt vse the warres as thy redresse, And not as our Confusion: All thy Powers Shall make their harbour in our Towne, till wee Haue seal'd thy full desire

Alc. Then there's my Gloue, Defend and open your vncharged Ports, Those Enemies of Timons, and mine owne Whom you your selues shall set out for reproofe, Fall and no more; and to attone your feares With my more Noble meaning, not a man Shall passe his quarter, or offend the streame Of Regular Iustice in your Citties bounds, But shall be remedied to your publique Lawes At heauiest answer

Both. 'Tis most Nobly spoken

Alc. Descend, and keepe your words. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. My Noble Generall, Timon is dead, Entomb'd vpon the very hemme o'th' Sea, And on his Grauestone, this Insculpture which With wax I brought away: whose soft Impression Interprets for my poore ignorance.

Alcibiades reades the Epitaph.

Heere lies a wretched Coarse, of wretched Soule bereft, Seek not my name: A Plague consume you, wicked Caitifs left: Heere lye I Timon, who aliue, all liuing men did hate, Passe by, and curse thy fill, but passe and stay not here thy gate. These well expresse in thee thy latter spirits: Though thou abhorrd'st in vs our humane griefes, Scornd'st our Braines flow, and those our droplets, which From niggard Nature fall; yet Rich Conceit Taught thee to make vast Neptune weepe for aye On thy low Graue, on faults forgiuen. Dead Is Noble Timon, of whose Memorie Heereafter more. Bring me into your Citie, And I will vse the Oliue, with my Sword: Make war breed peace; make peace stint war, make each Prescribe to other, as each others Leach. Let our Drummes strike.

Exeunt.

FINIS.

THE ACTORS NAMES.

TYMON of Athens. Lucius, And Lucullus, two Flattering Lords. Appemantus, a Churlish Philosopher. Sempronius another flattering Lord. Alcibiades, an Athenian Captaine. Poet. Painter. Ieweller. Merchant. Certaine Theeues. Flaminius, one of Tymons Seruants. Seruilius, another. Caphis. Varro. Philo. Titus. Lucius. Hortensis Seuerall Seruants to Vsurers. Ventigius. one of Tymons false Friends. Cupid. Sempronius. With diuers other Seruants, And Attendants.

THE LIFE OF TYMON OF ATHENS.

The Tragedie of Julius Caesar

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Flauius, Murellus, and certaine Commoners ouer the Stage.

Flauius. Hence: home you idle Creatures, get you home: Is this a Holiday? What, know you not (Being Mechanicall) you ought not walke Vpon a labouring day, without the signe Of your Profession? Speake, what Trade art thou? Car. Why Sir, a Carpenter

Mur. Where is thy Leather Apron, and thy Rule? What dost thou with thy best Apparrell on? You sir, what Trade are you? Cobl. Truely Sir, in respect of a fine Workman, I am but as you would say, a Cobler

Mur. But what Trade art thou? Answer me directly

Cob. A Trade Sir, that I hope I may vse, with a safe Conscience, which is indeed Sir, a Mender of bad soules

Fla. What Trade thou knaue? Thou naughty knaue, what Trade? Cobl. Nay I beseech you Sir, be not out with me: yet if you be out Sir, I can mend you

Mur. What mean'st thou by that? Mend mee, thou sawcy Fellow? Cob. Why sir, Cobble you

Fla. Thou art a Cobler, art thou? Cob. Truly sir, all that I liue by, is with the Aule: I meddle with no Tradesmans matters, nor womens matters; but withal I am indeed Sir, a Surgeon to old shooes: when they are in great danger, I recouer them. As proper men as euer trod vpon Neats Leather, haue gone vpon my handy-worke

Fla. But wherefore art not in thy Shop to day? Why do'st thou leade these men about the streets? Cob. Truly sir, to weare out their shooes, to get my selfe into more worke. But indeede sir, we make Holyday to see Caesar, and to reioyce in his Triumph

Mur. Wherefore reioyce? What Conquest brings he home? What Tributaries follow him to Rome, To grace in Captiue bonds his Chariot Wheeles? You Blockes, you stones, you worse then senslesse things: O you hard hearts, you cruell men of Rome, Knew you not Pompey many a time and oft? Haue you climb'd vp to Walles and Battlements, To Towres and Windowes? Yea, to Chimney tops, Your Infants in your Armes, and there haue sate The liue-long day, with patient expectation, To see great Pompey passe the streets of Rome: And when you saw his Chariot but appeare, Haue you not made an Vniuersall shout, That Tyber trembled vnderneath her bankes To heare the replication of your sounds, Made in her Concaue Shores? And do you now put on your best attyre? And do you now cull out a Holyday? And do you now strew Flowers in his way, That comes in Triumph ouer Pompeyes blood? Be gone, Runne to your houses, fall vpon your knees, Pray to the Gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this Ingratitude

Fla. Go, go, good Countrymen, and for this fault Assemble all the poore men of your sort; Draw them to Tyber bankes, and weepe your teares Into the Channell, till the lowest streame Do kisse the most exalted Shores of all.

Exeunt. all the Commoners.

See where their basest mettle be not mou'd, They vanish tongue-tyed in their guiltinesse: Go you downe that way towards the Capitoll, This way will I: Disrobe the Images, If you do finde them deckt with Ceremonies

Mur. May we do so? You know it is the Feast of Lupercall

Fla. It is no matter, let no Images Be hung with Caesars Trophees: Ile about, And driue away the Vulgar from the streets; So do you too, where you perceiue them thicke. These growing Feathers, pluckt from Caesars wing, Will make him flye an ordinary pitch, Who else would soare aboue the view of men, And keepe vs all in seruile fearefulnesse.

Exeunt.

Enter Caesar, Antony for the Course, Calphurnia, Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutus, Cassius, Caska, a Soothsayer: after them Murellus and Flauius.

Caes. Calphurnia

Cask. Peace ho, Caesar speakes

Caes. Calphurnia

Calp. Heere my Lord

Caes. Stand you directly in Antonio's way, When he doth run his course. Antonio

Ant. Cæsar, my Lord

Caes. Forget not in your speed Antonio, To touch Calphurnia: for our Elders say, The Barren touched in this holy chace, Shake off their sterrile curse

Ant. I shall remember, When Caesar sayes, Do this; it is perform'd

Caes. Set on, and leaue no Ceremony out

Sooth. Caesar

Caes. Ha? Who calles? Cask. Bid euery noyse be still: peace yet againe

Caes. Who is it in the presse, that calles on me? I heare a Tongue shriller then all the Musicke Cry, Caesar: Speake, Caesar is turn'd to heare

Sooth. Beware the Ides of March

Caes. What man is that? Br. A Sooth-sayer bids you beware the Ides of March Caes. Set him before me, let me see his face

Cassi. Fellow, come from the throng, look vpon Caesar

Caes. What sayst thou to me now? Speak once againe, Sooth. Beware the Ides of March

Caes. He is a Dreamer, let vs leaue him: Passe.

Sennet

Exeunt. Manet Brut. & Cass.

Cassi. Will you go see the order of the course? Brut. Not I

Cassi. I pray you do

Brut. I am not Gamesom: I do lacke some part Of that quicke Spirit that is in Antony: Let me not hinder Cassius your desires; Ile leaue you

Cassi. Brutus, I do obserue you now of late: I haue not from your eyes, that gentlenesse And shew of Loue, as I was wont to haue: You beare too stubborne, and too strange a hand Ouer your Friend, that loues you

Bru. Cassius, Be not deceiu'd: If I haue veyl'd my looke, I turne the trouble of my Countenance Meerely vpon my selfe. Vexed I am Of late, with passions of some difference, Conceptions onely proper to my selfe, Which giue some soyle (perhaps) to my Behauiours: But let not therefore my good Friends be greeu'd (Among which number Cassius be you one) Nor construe any further my neglect, Then that poore Brutus with himselfe at warre, Forgets the shewes of Loue to other men

Cassi. Then Brutus, I haue much mistook your passion, By meanes whereof, this Brest of mine hath buried Thoughts of great value, worthy Cogitations. Tell me good Brutus, Can you see your face? Brutus. No Cassius: For the eye sees not it selfe but by reflection, By some other things

Cassius. 'Tis iust, And it is very much lamented Brutus, That you haue no such Mirrors, as will turne Your hidden worthinesse into your eye, That you might see your shadow: I haue heard, Where many of the best respect in Rome, (Except immortall Caesar) speaking of Brutus, And groaning vnderneath this Ages yoake, Haue wish'd, that Noble Brutus had his eyes

Bru. Into what dangers, would you Leade me Cassius? That you would haue me seeke into my selfe, For that which is not in me? Cas. Therefore good Brutus, be prepar'd to heare: And since you know, you cannot see your selfe So well as by Reflection; I your Glasse, Will modestly discouer to your selfe That of your selfe, which you yet know not of. And be not iealous on me, gentle Brutus: Were I a common Laughter, or did vse To stale with ordinary Oathes my loue To euery new Protester: if you know, That I do fawne on men, and hugge them hard, And after scandall them: Or if you know, That I professe my selfe in Banquetting To all the Rout, then hold me dangerous.

Flourish, and Shout.

Bru. What meanes this Showting? I do feare, the People choose Caesar For their King

Cassi. I, do you feare it? Then must I thinke you would not haue it so

Bru. I would not Cassius, yet I loue him well: But wherefore do you hold me heere so long? What is it, that you would impart to me? If it be ought toward the generall good, Set Honor in one eye, and Death i'th other, And I will looke on both indifferently: For let the Gods so speed mee, as I loue The name of Honor, more then I feare death

Cassi. I know that vertue to be in you Brutus, As well as I do know your outward fauour. Well, Honor is the subiect of my Story: I cannot tell, what you and other men Thinke of this life: But for my single selfe, I had as liefe not be, as liue to be In awe of such a Thing, as I my selfe. I was borne free as Caesar, so were you, We both haue fed as well, and we can both Endure the Winters cold, as well as hee. For once, vpon a Rawe and Gustie day, The troubled Tyber, chafing with her Shores, Caesar saide to me, Dar'st thou Cassius now Leape in with me into this angry Flood, And swim to yonder Point? Vpon the word, Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, And bad him follow: so indeed he did. The Torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it With lusty Sinewes, throwing it aside, And stemming it with hearts of Controuersie. But ere we could arriue the Point propos'd, Caesar cride, Helpe me Cassius, or I sinke. I (as Aeneas, our great Ancestor, Did from the Flames of Troy, vpon his shoulder The old Anchyses beare) so, from the waues of Tyber Did I the tyred Caesar: And this Man, Is now become a God, and Cassius is A wretched Creature, and must bend his body, If Caesar carelesly but nod on him. He had a Feauer when he was in Spaine, And when the Fit was on him, I did marke How he did shake: Tis true, this God did shake, His Coward lippes did from their colour flye, And that same Eye, whose bend doth awe the World, Did loose his Lustre: I did heare him grone: I, and that Tongue of his, that bad the Romans Marke him, and write his Speeches in their Bookes, Alas, it cried, Giue me some drinke Titinius, As a sicke Girle: Ye Gods, it doth amaze me, A man of such a feeble temper should So get the start of the Maiesticke world, And beare the Palme alone.

Shout. Flourish.

Bru. Another generall shout? I do beleeue, that these applauses are For some new Honors, that are heap'd on Caesar

Cassi. Why man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus, and we petty men Walke vnder his huge legges, and peepe about To finde our selues dishonourable Graues. Men at sometime, are Masters of their Fates. The fault (deere Brutus) is not in our Starres, But in our Selues, that we are vnderlings. Brutus and Caesar: What should be in that Caesar? Why should that name be sounded more then yours Write them together: Yours, is as faire a Name: Sound them, it doth become the mouth aswell: Weigh them, it is as heauy: Coniure with 'em, Brutus will start a Spirit as soone as Caesar. Now in the names of all the Gods at once, Vpon what meate doth this our Caesar feede, That he is growne so great? Age, thou art sham'd. Rome, thou hast lost the breed of Noble Bloods. When went there by an Age, since the great Flood, But it was fam'd with more then with one man? When could they say (till now) that talk'd of Rome, That her wide Walkes incompast but one man? Now is it Rome indeed, and Roome enough When there is in it but one onely man. O! you and I, haue heard our Fathers say, There was a Brutus once, that would haue brook'd Th' eternall Diuell to keepe his State in Rome, As easily as a King

Bru. That you do loue me, I am nothing iealous: What you would worke me too, I haue some ayme: How I haue thought of this, and of these times I shall recount heereafter. For this present, I would not so (with loue I might intreat you) Be any further moou'd: What you haue said, I will consider: what you haue to say I will with patience heare, and finde a time Both meete to heare, and answer such high things. Till then, my Noble Friend, chew vpon this: Brutus had rather be a Villager, Then to repute himselfe a Sonne of Rome Vnder these hard Conditions, as this time Is like to lay vpon vs

Cassi. I am glad that my weake words Haue strucke but thus much shew of fire from Brutus, Enter Caesar and his Traine.

Bru. The Games are done, And Caesar is returning

Cassi. As they passe by, Plucke Caska by the Sleeue, And he will (after his sowre fashion) tell you What hath proceeded worthy note to day

Bru. I will do so: but looke you Cassius, The angry spot doth glow on Caesars brow, And all the rest, looke like a chidden Traine; Calphurnia's Cheeke is pale, and Cicero Lookes with such Ferret, and such fiery eyes As we haue seene him in the Capitoll Being crost in Conference, by some Senators

Cassi. Caska will tell vs what the matter is

Caes Antonio

Ant. Caesar

Caes Let me haue men about me, that are fat, Sleeke-headed men, and such as sleepe a-nights: Yond Cassius has a leane and hungry looke, He thinkes too much: such men are dangerous

Ant. Feare him not Caesar, he's not dangerous, He is a Noble Roman, and well giuen

Caes Would he were fatter; But I feare him not: Yet if my name were lyable to feare, I do not know the man I should auoyd So soone as that spare Cassius. He reades much, He is a great Obseruer, and he lookes Quite through the Deeds of men. He loues no Playes, As thou dost Antony: he heares no Musicke; Seldome he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock'd himselfe, and scorn'd his spirit That could be mou'd to smile at any thing. Such men as he, be neuer at hearts ease, Whiles they behold a greater then themselues, And therefore are they very dangerous. I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd, Then what I feare: for alwayes I am Caesar. Come on my right hand, for this eare is deafe, And tell me truely, what thou think'st of him.

Sennit.

Exeunt. Caesar and his Traine.

Cask. You pul'd me by the cloake, would you speake with me? Bru. I Caska, tell vs what hath chanc'd to day That Caesar lookes so sad

Cask. Why you were with him, were you not? Bru. I should not then aske Caska what had chanc'd

Cask. Why there was a Crowne offer'd him; & being offer'd him, he put it by with the backe of his hand thus, and then the people fell a shouting

Bru. What was the second noyse for? Cask. Why for that too

Cassi. They shouted thrice: what was the last cry for? Cask. Why for that too

Bru. Was the Crowne offer'd him thrice? Cask. I marry was't, and hee put it by thrice, euerie time gentler then other; and at euery putting by, mine honest Neighbors showted

Cassi. Who offer'd him the Crowne? Cask. Why Antony

Bru. Tell vs the manner of it, gentle Caska

Caska. I can as well bee hang'd as tell the manner of it: It was meere Foolerie, I did not marke it. I sawe Marke Antony offer him a Crowne, yet 'twas not a Crowne neyther, 'twas one of these Coronets: and as I told you, hee put it by once: but for all that, to my thinking, he would faine haue had it. Then hee offered it to him againe: then hee put it by againe: but to my thinking, he was very loath to lay his fingers off it. And then he offered it the third time; hee put it the third time by, and still as hee refus'd it, the rabblement howted, and clapp'd their chopt hands, and threw vppe their sweatie Night-cappes, and vttered such a deale of stinking breath, because Caesar refus'd the Crowne, that it had (almost) choaked Caesar: for hee swoonded, and fell downe at it: And for mine owne part, I durst not laugh, for feare of opening my Lippes, and receyuing the bad Ayre

Cassi. But soft I pray you: what, did Caesar swound? Cask. He fell downe in the Market-place, and foam'd at mouth, and was speechlesse

Brut. 'Tis very like he hath the Falling sicknesse

Cassi. No, Caesar hath it not: but you, and I, And honest Caska, we haue the Falling sicknesse

Cask. I know not what you meane by that, but I am sure Caesar fell downe. If the tag-ragge people did not clap him, and hisse him, according as he pleas'd, and displeas'd them, as they vse to doe the Players in the Theatre, I am no true man

Brut. What said he, when he came vnto himselfe? Cask. Marry, before he fell downe, when he perceiu'd the common Heard was glad he refus'd the Crowne, he pluckt me ope his Doublet, and offer'd them his Throat to cut: and I had beene a man of any Occupation, if I would not haue taken him at a word, I would I might goe to Hell among the Rogues, and so hee fell. When he came to himselfe againe, hee said, If hee had done, or said any thing amisse, he desir'd their Worships to thinke it was his infirmitie. Three or foure Wenches where I stood, cryed, Alasse good Soule, and forgaue him with all their hearts: But there's no heed to be taken of them; if Caesar had stab'd their Mothers, they would haue done no lesse

Brut. And after that, he came thus sad away

Cask. I

Cassi. Did Cicero say any thing? Cask. I, he spoke Greeke

Cassi. To what effect? Cask. Nay, and I tell you that, Ile ne're looke you i'th' face againe. But those that vnderstood him, smil'd at one another, and shooke their heads: but for mine owne part, it was Greeke to me. I could tell you more newes too: Murrellus and Flauius, for pulling Scarffes off Caesars Images, are put to silence. Fare you well. There was more Foolerie yet, if I could remember it

Cassi. Will you suppe with me to Night, Caska? Cask. No, I am promis'd forth

Cassi. Will you Dine with me to morrow? Cask. I, if I be aliue, and your minde hold, and your Dinner worth the eating

Cassi. Good, I will expect you

Cask. Doe so: farewell both. Enter.

Brut. What a blunt fellow is this growne to be? He was quick Mettle, when he went to Schoole

Cassi. So is he now, in execution Of any bold, or Noble Enterprize, How-euer he puts on this tardie forme: This Rudenesse is a Sawce to his good Wit, Which giues men stomacke to disgest his words With better Appetite

Brut. And so it is: For this time I will leaue you: To morrow, if you please to speake with me, I will come home to you: or if you will, Come home to me, and I will wait for you

Cassi. I will doe so: till then, thinke of the World. Exit Brutus.

Well Brutus, thou art Noble: yet I see, Thy Honorable Mettle may be wrought From that it is dispos'd: therefore it is meet, That Noble mindes keepe euer with their likes: For who so firme, that cannot be seduc'd? Caesar doth beare me hard, but he loues Brutus. If I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius, He should not humor me. I will this Night, In seuerall Hands, in at his Windowes throw, As if they came from seuerall Citizens, Writings, all tending to the great opinion That Rome holds of his Name: wherein obscurely Caesars Ambition shall be glanced at. And after this, let Caesar seat him sure, For wee will shake him, or worse dayes endure. Enter.

Thunder, and Lightning. Enter Caska, and Cicero.

Cic. Good euen, Caska: brought you Caesar home? Why are you breathlesse, and why stare you so? Cask. Are not you mou'd, when all the sway of Earth Shakes, like a thing vnfirme? O Cicero, I haue seene Tempests, when the scolding Winds Haue riu'd the knottie Oakes, and I haue seene Th' ambitious Ocean swell, and rage, and foame, To be exalted with the threatning Clouds: But neuer till to Night, neuer till now, Did I goe through a Tempest-dropping-fire. Eyther there is a Ciuill strife in Heauen, Or else the World, too sawcie with the Gods, Incenses them to send destruction

Cic. Why, saw you any thing more wonderfull? Cask. A common slaue, you know him well by sight, Held vp his left Hand, which did flame and burne Like twentie Torches ioyn'd; and yet his Hand, Not sensible of fire, remain'd vnscorch'd. Besides, I ha' not since put vp my Sword, Against the Capitoll I met a Lyon, Who glaz'd vpon me, and went surly by, Without annoying me. And there were drawne Vpon a heape, a hundred gastly Women, Transformed with their feare, who swore, they saw Men, all in fire, walke vp and downe the streetes. And yesterday, the Bird of Night did sit, Euen at Noone-day, vpon the Market place, Howting, and shreeking. When these Prodigies Doe so conioyntly meet, let not men say, These are their Reasons, they are Naturall: For I beleeue, they are portentous things Vnto the Clymate, that they point vpon

Cic. Indeed, it is a strange disposed time: But men may construe things after their fashion, Cleane from the purpose of the things themselues. Comes Caesar to the Capitoll to morrow? Cask. He doth: for he did bid Antonio Send word to you, he would be there to morrow

Cic. Good-night then, Caska: This disturbed Skie is not to walke in

Cask. Farewell Cicero.

Exit Cicero.

Enter Cassius.

Cassi. Who's there? Cask. A Romane

Cassi. Caska, by your Voyce

Cask. Your Eare is good. Cassius, what Night is this? Cassi. A very pleasing Night to honest men

Cask. Who euer knew the Heauens menace so? Cassi. Those that haue knowne the Earth so full of faults. For my part, I haue walk'd about the streets, Submitting me vnto the perillous Night; And thus vnbraced, Caska, as you see, Haue bar'd my Bosome to the Thunder-stone: And when the crosse blew Lightning seem'd to open The Brest of Heauen, I did present my selfe Euen in the ayme, and very flash of it

Cask. But wherefore did you so much tempt the Heauens? It is the part of men, to feare and tremble, When the most mightie Gods, by tokens send Such dreadfull Heraulds, to astonish vs

Cassi. You are dull, Caska: And those sparkes of Life, that should be in a Roman, You doe want, or else you vse not. You looke pale, and gaze, and put on feare, And cast your selfe in wonder, To see the strange impatience of the Heauens: But if you would consider the true cause, Why all these Fires, why all these gliding Ghosts, Why Birds and Beasts, from qualitie and kinde, Why Old men, Fooles, and Children calculate, Why all these things change from their Ordinance, Their Natures, and pre-formed Faculties, To monstrous qualitie; why you shall finde, That Heauen hath infus'd them with these Spirits, To make them Instruments of feare, and warning, Vnto some monstrous State. Now could I (Caska) name to thee a man, Most like this dreadfull Night, That Thunders, Lightens, opens Graues, and roares, As doth the Lyon in the Capitoll: A man no mightier then thy selfe, or me, In personall action; yet prodigious growne, And fearefull, as these strange eruptions are

Cask. 'Tis Caesar that you meane: Is it not, Cassius? Cassi. Let it be who it is: for Romans now Haue Thewes, and Limbes, like to their Ancestors; But woe the while, our Fathers mindes are dead, And we are gouern'd with our Mothers spirits, Our yoake, and sufferance, shew vs Womanish

Cask. Indeed, they say, the Senators to morrow Meane to establish Caesar as a King: And he shall weare his Crowne by Sea, and Land, In euery place, saue here in Italy

Cassi. I know where I will weare this Dagger then; Cassius from Bondage will deliuer Cassius: Therein, yee Gods, you make the weake most strong; Therein, yee Gods, you Tyrants doe defeat. Nor Stonie Tower, nor Walls of beaten Brasse, Nor ayre-lesse Dungeon, nor strong Linkes of Iron, Can be retentiue to the strength of spirit: But Life being wearie of these worldly Barres, Neuer lacks power to dismisse it selfe. If I know this, know all the World besides, That part of Tyrannie that I doe beare, I can shake off at pleasure.

Thunder still.

Cask. So can I: So euery Bond-man in his owne hand beares The power to cancell his Captiuitie

Cassi. And why should Cæsar be a Tyrant then? Poore man, I know he would not be a Wolfe, But that he sees the Romans are but Sheepe: He were no Lyon, were not Romans Hindes. Those that with haste will make a mightie fire, Begin it with weake Strawes. What trash is Rome? What Rubbish, and what Offall? when it serues For the base matter, to illuminate So vile a thing as Caesar. But oh Griefe, Where hast thou led me? I (perhaps) speake this Before a willing Bond-man: then I know My answere must be made. But I am arm'd, And dangers are to me indifferent

Cask. You speake to Caska, and to such a man, That is no flearing Tell-tale. Hold, my Hand: Be factious for redresse of all these Griefes, And I will set this foot of mine as farre, As who goes farthest

Cassi. There's a Bargaine made. Now know you, Caska, I haue mou'd already Some certaine of the Noblest minded Romans To vnder-goe, with me, an Enterprize, Of Honorable dangerous consequence; And I doe know by this, they stay for me In Pompeyes Porch: for now this fearefull Night, There is no stirre, or walking in the streetes; And the Complexion of the Element Is Fauors, like the Worke we haue in hand, Most bloodie, fierie, and most terrible. Enter Cinna.

Caska. Stand close a while, for heere comes one in haste

Cassi. 'Tis Cinna, I doe know him by his Gate, He is a friend. Cinna, where haste you so? Cinna. To finde out you: Who's that, Metellus Cymber? Cassi. No, it is Caska, one incorporate To our Attempts. Am I not stay'd for, Cinna? Cinna. I am glad on't. What a fearefull Night is this? There's two or three of vs haue seene strange sights

Cassi. Am I not stay'd for? tell me

Cinna. Yes, you are. O Cassius, If you could but winne the Noble Brutus To our party- Cassi. Be you content. Good Cinna, take this Paper, And looke you lay it in the Pretors Chayre, Where Brutus may but finde it: and throw this In at his Window; set this vp with Waxe Vpon old Brutus Statue: all this done, Repaire to Pompeyes Porch, where you shall finde vs. Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? Cinna. All, but Metellus Cymber, and hee's gone To seeke you at your house. Well, I will hie, And so bestow these Papers as you bad me

Cassi. That done, repayre to Pompeyes Theater.

Exit Cinna.

Come Caska, you and I will yet, ere day, See Brutus at his house: three parts of him Is ours alreadie, and the man entire Vpon the next encounter, yeelds him ours

Cask. O, he sits high in all the Peoples hearts: And that which would appeare Offence in vs, His Countenance, like richest Alchymie, Will change to Vertue, and to Worthinesse

Cassi. Him, and his worth, and our great need of him, You haue right well conceited: let vs goe, For it is after Mid-night, and ere day, We will awake him, and be sure of him.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Brutus in his Orchard.

Brut. What Lucius, hoe? I cannot, by the progresse of the Starres, Giue guesse how neere to day- Lucius, I say? I would it were my fault to sleepe so soundly. When Lucius, when? awake, I say: what Lucius? Enter Lucius.

Luc. Call'd you, my Lord? Brut. Get me a Tapor in my Study, Lucius: When it is lighted, come and call me here

Luc. I will, my Lord. Enter.

Brut. It must be by his death: and for my part, I know no personall cause, to spurne at him, But for the generall. He would be crown'd: How that might change his nature, there's the question? It is the bright day, that brings forth the Adder, And that craues warie walking: Crowne him that, And then I graunt we put a Sting in him, That at his will he may doe danger with. Th' abuse of Greatnesse, is, when it dis-ioynes Remorse from Power: And to speake truth of Caesar, I haue not knowne, when his Affections sway'd More then his Reason. But 'tis a common proofe, That Lowlynesse is young Ambitions Ladder, Whereto the Climber vpward turnes his Face: But when he once attaines the vpmost Round, He then vnto the Ladder turnes his Backe, Lookes in the Clouds, scorning the base degrees By which he did ascend: so Caesar may; Then least he may, preuent. And since the Quarrell Will beare no colour, for the thing he is, Fashion it thus; that what he is, augmented, Would runne to these, and these extremities: And therefore thinke him as a Serpents egge, Which hatch'd, would as his kinde grow mischieuous; And kill him in the shell. Enter Lucius.

Luc. The Taper burneth in your Closet, Sir: Searching the Window for a Flint, I found This Paper, thus seal'd vp, and I am sure It did not lye there when I went to Bed.

Giues him the Letter.

Brut. Get you to Bed againe, it is not day: Is not to morrow (Boy) the first of March? Luc. I know not, Sir

Brut. Looke in the Calender, and bring me word

Luc. I will, Sir. Enter.

Brut. The exhalations, whizzing in the ayre, Giue so much light, that I may reade by them.

Opens the Letter, and reades.

Brutus thou sleep'st; awake, and see thy selfe: Shall Rome, &c. speake, strike, redresse. Brutus, thou sleep'st: awake. Such instigations haue beene often dropt, Where I haue tooke them vp: Shall Rome, &c. Thus must I piece it out: Shall Rome stand vnder one mans awe? What Rome? My Ancestors did from the streetes of Rome The Tarquin driue, when he was call'd a King. Speake, strike, redresse. Am I entreated To speake, and strike? O Rome, I make thee promise, If the redresse will follow, thou receiuest Thy full Petition at the hand of Brutus. Enter Lucius.

Luc. Sir, March is wasted fifteene dayes.

Knocke within.

Brut. 'Tis good. Go to the Gate, some body knocks: Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar, I haue not slept. Betweene the acting of a dreadfull thing, And the first motion, all the Interim is Like a Phantasma, or a hideous Dreame: The Genius, and the mortall Instruments Are then in councell; and the state of a man, Like to a little Kingdome, suffers then The nature of an Insurrection. Enter Lucius.

Luc. Sir, 'tis your Brother Cassius at the Doore, Who doth desire to see you

Brut. Is he alone? Luc. No, Sir, there are moe with him

Brut. Doe you know them? Luc. No, Sir, their Hats are pluckt about their Eares, And halfe their Faces buried in their Cloakes, That by no meanes I may discouer them, By any marke of fauour

Brut. Let 'em enter: They are the Faction. O Conspiracie, Sham'st thou to shew thy dang'rous Brow by Night, When euills are most free? O then, by day Where wilt thou finde a Cauerne darke enough, To maske thy monstrous Visage? Seek none Conspiracie, Hide it in Smiles, and Affabilitie: For if thou path thy natiue semblance on, Not Erebus it selfe were dimme enough, To hide thee from preuention. Enter the Conspirators, Cassius, Caska, Decius, Cinna, Metellus, and Trebonius.

Cass. I thinke we are too bold vpon your Rest: Good morrow Brutus, doe we trouble you? Brut. I haue beene vp this howre, awake all Night: Know I these men, that come along with you? Cass. Yes, euery man of them; and no man here But honors you: and euery one doth wish, You had but that opinion of your selfe, Which euery Noble Roman beares of you. This is Trebonius

Brut. He is welcome hither

Cass. This, Decius Brutus

Brut. He is welcome too

Cass. This, Caska; this, Cinna; and this, Metellus Cymber

Brut. They are all welcome. What watchfull Cares doe interpose themselues Betwixt your Eyes, and Night? Cass. Shall I entreat a word?

They whisper.

Decius. Here lyes the East: doth not the Day breake heere? Cask. No

Cin. O pardon, Sir, it doth; and yon grey Lines, That fret the Clouds, are Messengers of Day

Cask. You shall confesse, that you are both deceiu'd: Heere, as I point my Sword, the Sunne arises, Which is a great way growing on the South, Weighing the youthfull Season of the yeare. Some two moneths hence, vp higher toward the North He first presents his fire, and the high East Stands as the Capitoll, directly heere

Bru. Giue me your hands all ouer, one by one

Cas. And let vs sweare our Resolution

Brut. No, not an Oath: if not the Face of men, The sufferance of our Soules, the times Abuse; If these be Motiues weake, breake off betimes, And euery man hence, to his idle bed: So let high-sighted-Tyranny range on, Till each man drop by Lottery. But if these (As I am sure they do) beare fire enough To kindle Cowards, and to steele with valour The melting Spirits of women. Then Countrymen, What neede we any spurre, but our owne cause To pricke vs to redresse? What other Bond, Then secret Romans, that haue spoke the word, And will not palter? And what other Oath, Then Honesty to Honesty ingag'd, That this shall be, or we will fall for it. Sweare Priests and Cowards, and men Cautelous Old feeble Carrions, and such suffering Soules That welcome wrongs: Vnto bad causes, sweare Such Creatures as men doubt; but do not staine The euen vertue of our Enterprize, Nor th' insuppressiue Mettle of our Spirits, To thinke, that or our Cause, or our Performance Did neede an Oath. When euery drop of blood That euery Roman beares, and Nobly beares Is guilty of a seuerall Bastardie, If he do breake the smallest Particle Of any promise that hath past from him

Cas. But what of Cicero? Shall we sound him? I thinke he will stand very strong with vs

Cask. Let vs not leaue him out

Cyn. No, by no meanes

Metel. O let vs haue him, for his Siluer haires Will purchase vs a good opinion: And buy mens voyces, to commend our deeds: It shall be sayd, his iudgement rul'd our hands, Our youths, and wildenesse, shall no whit appeare, But all be buried in his Grauity

Bru. O name him not; let vs not breake with him, For he will neuer follow any thing That other men begin

Cas. Then leaue him out

Cask. Indeed, he is not fit

Decius. Shall no man else be toucht, but onely Caesar? Cas. Decius well vrg'd: I thinke it is not meet, Marke Antony, so well belou'd of Caesar, Should out-liue Caesar, we shall finde of him A shrew'd Contriuer. And you know, his meanes If he improue them, may well stretch so farre As to annoy vs all: which to preuent, Let Antony and Caesar fall together

Bru. Our course will seeme too bloody, Caius Cassius, To cut the Head off, and then hacke the Limbes: Like Wrath in death, and Enuy afterwards: For Antony, is but a Limbe of Caesar. Let's be Sacrificers, but not Butchers Caius: We all stand vp against the spirit of Caesar, And in the Spirit of men, there is no blood: O that we then could come by Caesars Spirit, And not dismember Caesar! But (alas) Caesar must bleed for it. And gentle Friends, Let's kill him Boldly, but not Wrathfully: Let's carue him, as a Dish fit for the Gods, Not hew him as a Carkasse fit for Hounds: And let our Hearts, as subtle Masters do, Stirre vp their Seruants to an acte of Rage, And after seeme to chide 'em. This shall make Our purpose Necessary, and not Enuious. Which so appearing to the common eyes, We shall be call'd Purgers, not Murderers. And for Marke Antony, thinke not of him: For he can do no more then Caesars Arme, When Caesars head is off

Cas. Yet I feare him, For in the ingrafted loue he beares to Caesar

Bru. Alas, good Cassius, do not thinke of him: If he loue Caesar, all that he can do Is to himselfe; take thought, and dye for Caesar, And that were much he should: for he is giuen To sports, to wildenesse, and much company

Treb. There is no feare in him; let him not dye, For he will liue, and laugh at this heereafter.

Clocke strikes.

Bru. Peace, count the Clocke

Cas. The Clocke hath stricken three

Treb. 'Tis time to part

Cass. But it is doubtfull yet, Whether Caesar will come forth to day, or no: For he is Superstitious growne of late, Quite from the maine Opinion he held once, Of Fantasie, of Dreames, and Ceremonies: It may be, these apparant Prodigies, The vnaccustom'd Terror of this night, And the perswasion of his Augurers, May hold him from the Capitoll to day

Decius. Neuer feare that: If he be so resolu'd, I can ore-sway him: For he loues to heare, That Vnicornes may be betray'd with Trees, And Beares with Glasses, Elephants with Holes, Lyons with Toyles, and men with Flatterers. But, when I tell him, he hates Flatterers, He sayes, he does; being then most flattered. Let me worke: For I can giue his humour the true bent; And I will bring him to the Capitoll

Cas. Nay, we will all of vs, be there to fetch him

Bru. By the eight houre, is that the vttermost? Cin. Be that the vttermost, and faile not then

Met. Caius Ligarius doth beare Caesar hard, Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey; I wonder none of you haue thought of him

Bru. Now good Metellus go along by him: He loues me well, and I haue giuen him Reasons, Send him but hither, and Ile fashion him

Cas. The morning comes vpon's: Wee'l leaue you Brutus, And Friends disperse your selues; but all remember What you haue said, and shew your selues true Romans

Bru. Good Gentlemen, looke fresh and merrily, Let not our lookes put on our purposes, But beare it as our Roman Actors do, With vntyr'd Spirits, and formall Constancie, And so good morrow to you euery one.

Exeunt.

Manet Brutus.

Boy: Lucius: Fast asleepe? It is no matter, Enioy the hony-heauy-Dew of Slumber: Thou hast no Figures, nor no Fantasies, Which busie care drawes, in the braines of men; Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. Enter Portia.

Por. Brutus, my Lord

Bru. Portia: What meane you? wherfore rise you now? It is not for your health, thus to commit Your weake condition, to the raw cold morning

Por. Nor for yours neither. Y'haue vngently Brutus Stole from my bed: and yesternight at Supper You sodainly arose, and walk'd about, Musing, and sighing, with your armes acrosse And when I ask'd you what the matter was, You star'd vpon me, with vngentle lookes. I vrg'd you further, then you scratch'd your head, And too impatiently stampt with your foote: Yet I insisted, yet you answer'd not, But with an angry wafter of your hand Gaue signe for me to leaue you: So I did, Fearing to strengthen that impatience Which seem'd too much inkindled; and withall, Hoping it was but an effect of Humor, Which sometime hath his houre with euery man. It will not let you eate, nor talke, nor sleepe; And could it worke so much vpon your shape, As it hath much preuayl'd on your Condition, I should not know you Brutus. Deare my Lord, Make me acquainted with your cause of greefe

Bru. I am not well in health, and that is all

Por. Brutus is wise, and were he not in health, He would embrace the meanes to come by it

Bru. Why so I do: good Portia go to bed

Por. Is Brutus sicke? And is it Physicall To walke vnbraced, and sucke vp the humours Of the danke Morning? What, is Brutus sicke? And will he steale out of his wholsome bed To dare the vile contagion of the Night? And tempt the Rhewmy, and vnpurged Ayre, To adde vnto his sicknesse? No my Brutus, You haue some sicke Offence within your minde, Which by the Right and Vertue of my place I ought to know of: And vpon my knees, I charme you, by my once commended Beauty, By all your vowes of Loue, and that great Vow Which did incorporate and make vs one, That you vnfold to me, your selfe; your halfe Why you are heauy: and what men to night Haue had resort to you: for heere haue beene Some sixe or seuen, who did hide their faces Euen from darknesse

Bru. Kneele not gentle Portia

Por. I should not neede, if you were gentle Brutus. Within the Bond of Marriage, tell me Brutus, Is it excepted, I should know no Secrets That appertaine to you? Am I your Selfe, But as it were in sort, or limitation? To keepe with you at Meales, comfort your Bed, And talke to you sometimes? Dwell I but in the Suburbs Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, Portia is Brutus Harlot, not his Wife

Bru. You are my true and honourable Wife, As deere to me, as are the ruddy droppes That visit my sad heart

Por. If this were true, then should I know this secret. I graunt I am a Woman; but withall, A Woman that Lord Brutus tooke to Wife: I graunt I am a Woman; but withall, A Woman well reputed: Cato's Daughter. Thinke you, I am no stronger then my Sex Being so Father'd, and so Husbanded? Tell me your Counsels, I will not disclose 'em: I haue made strong proofe of my Constancie, Giuing my selfe a voluntary wound Heere, in the Thigh: Can I beare that with patience, And not my Husbands Secrets? Bru. O ye Gods! Render me worthy of this Noble Wife.

Knocke.

Harke, harke, one knockes: Portia go in a while, And by and by thy bosome shall partake The secrets of my Heart. All my engagements, I will construe to thee, All the Charractery of my sad browes: Leaue me with hast.

Exit Portia.

Enter Lucius and Ligarius.

Lucius, who's that knockes

Luc. Heere is a sicke man that would speak with you

Bru. Caius Ligarius, that Metellus spake of. Boy, stand aside. Caius Ligarius, how? Cai. Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble tongue

Bru. O what a time haue you chose out braue Caius To weare a Kerchiefe? Would you were not sicke

Cai. I am not sicke, if Brutus haue in hand Any exploit worthy the name of Honor

Bru. Such an exploit haue I in hand Ligarius, Had you a healthfull eare to heare of it

Cai. By all the Gods that Romans bow before, I heere discard my sicknesse. Soule of Rome, Braue Sonne, deriu'd from Honourable Loines, Thou like an Exorcist, hast coniur'd vp My mortified Spirit. Now bid me runne, And I will striue with things impossible, Yea get the better of them. What's to do? Bru. A peece of worke, That will make sicke men whole

Cai. But are not some whole, that we must make sicke? Bru. That must we also. What it is my Caius, I shall vnfold to thee, as we are going, To whom it must be done

Cai. Set on your foote, And with a heart new-fir'd, I follow you, To do I know not what: but it sufficeth That Brutus leads me on.

Thunder

Bru. Follow me then.

Exeunt.

Thunder & Lightning

Enter Iulius Caesar in his Night-gowne.

Caesar. Nor Heauen, nor Earth, Haue beene at peace to night: Thrice hath Calphurnia, in her sleepe cryed out, Helpe, ho: They murther Caesar. Who's within? Enter a Seruant.

Ser. My Lord

Caes Go bid the Priests do present Sacrifice, And bring me their opinions of Successe

Ser. I will my Lord.

Exit

Enter Calphurnia.

Cal. What mean you Caesar? Think you to walk forth? You shall not stirre out of your house to day

Caes Caesar shall forth; the things that threaten'd me, Ne're look'd but on my backe: When they shall see The face of Caesar, they are vanished

Calp. Caesar, I neuer stood on Ceremonies, Yet now they fright me: There is one within, Besides the things that we haue heard and seene, Recounts most horrid sights seene by the Watch. A Lionnesse hath whelped in the streets, And Graues haue yawn'd, and yeelded vp their dead; Fierce fiery Warriours fight vpon the Clouds In Rankes and Squadrons, and right forme of Warre Which drizel'd blood vpon the Capitoll: The noise of Battell hurtled in the Ayre: Horsses do neigh, and dying men did grone, And Ghosts did shrieke and squeale about the streets. O Caesar, these things are beyond all vse, And I do feare them

Caes What can be auoyded Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty Gods? Yet Caesar shall go forth: for these Predictions Are to the world in generall, as to Caesar

Calp. When Beggers dye, there are no Comets seen, The Heauens themselues blaze forth the death of Princes Caes Cowards dye many times before their deaths, The valiant neuer taste of death but once: Of all the Wonders that I yet haue heard, It seemes to me most strange that men should feare, Seeing that death, a necessary end Will come, when it will come. Enter a Seruant.

What say the Augurers? Ser. They would not haue you to stirre forth to day. Plucking the intrailes of an Offering forth, They could not finde a heart within the beast

Caes The Gods do this in shame of Cowardice: Caesar should be a Beast without a heart If he should stay at home to day for feare: No Caesar shall not; Danger knowes full well That Caesar is more dangerous then he. We heare two Lyons litter'd in one day, And I the elder and more terrible, And Caesar shall go foorth

Calp. Alas my Lord, Your wisedome is consum'd in confidence: Do not go forth to day: Call it my feare, That keepes you in the house, and not your owne. Wee'l send Mark Antony to the Senate house, And he shall say, you are not well to day: Let me vpon my knee, preuaile in this

Caes Mark Antony shall say I am not well, And for thy humor, I will stay at home. Enter Decius.

Heere's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so

Deci. Caesar, all haile: Good morrow worthy Caesar, I come to fetch you to the Senate house

Caes And you are come in very happy time, To beare my greeting to the Senators, And tell them that I will not come to day: Cannot, is false: and that I dare not, falser: I will not come to day, tell them so Decius

Calp. Say he is sicke

Caes Shall Caesar send a Lye? Haue I in Conquest stretcht mine Arme so farre, To be afear'd to tell Gray-beards the truth: Decius, go tell them, Caesar will not come

Deci. Most mighty Caesar, let me know some cause, Lest I be laught at when I tell them so

Caes The cause is in my Will, I will not come, That is enough to satisfie the Senate. But for your priuate satisfaction, Because I loue you, I will let you know. Calphurnia heere my wife, stayes me at home: She dreampt to night, she saw my Statue, Which like a Fountaine, with an hundred spouts Did run pure blood: and many lusty Romans Came smiling, & did bathe their hands in it: And these does she apply, for warnings and portents, And euils imminent; and on her knee Hath begg'd, that I will stay at home to day

Deci. This Dreame is all amisse interpreted, It was a vision, faire and fortunate: Your Statue spouting blood in many pipes, In which so many smiling Romans bath'd, Signifies, that from you great Rome shall sucke Reuiuing blood, and that great men shall presse For Tinctures, Staines, Reliques, and Cognisance. This by Calphurnia's Dreame is signified

Caes And this way haue you well expounded it

Deci. I haue, when you haue heard what I can say: And know it now, the Senate haue concluded To giue this day, a Crowne to mighty Caesar. If you shall send them word you will not come, Their mindes may change. Besides, it were a mocke Apt to be render'd, for some one to say, Breake vp the Senate, till another time: When Caesars wife shall meete with better Dreames. If Caesar hide himselfe, shall they not whisper Loe Caesar is affraid? Pardon me Caesar, for my deere deere loue To your proceeding, bids me tell you this: And reason to my loue is liable

Caes How foolish do your fears seeme now Calphurnia? I am ashamed I did yeeld to them. Giue me my Robe, for I will go. Enter Brutus, Ligarius, Metellus, Caska, Trebonius, Cynna, and Publius.

And looke where Publius is come to fetch me

Pub. Good morrow Caesar

Caes Welcome Publius. What Brutus, are you stirr'd so earely too? Good morrow Caska: Caius Ligarius, Caesar was ne're so much your enemy, As that same Ague which hath made you leane. What is't a Clocke? Bru. Caesar, 'tis strucken eight

Caes I thanke you for your paines and curtesie. Enter Antony.

See, Antony that Reuels long a-nights Is notwithstanding vp. Good morrow Antony

Ant. So to most Noble Caesar

Caes Bid them prepare within: I am too blame to be thus waited for. Now Cynna, now Metellus: what Trebonius, I haue an houres talke in store for you: Remember that you call on me to day: Be neere me, that I may remember you

Treb. Caesar I will: and so neere will I be, That your best Friends shall wish I had beene further

Caes Good Friends go in, and taste some wine with me. And we (like Friends) will straight way go together

Bru. That euery like is not the same, O Caesar, The heart of Brutus earnes to thinke vpon.

Exeunt.

Enter Artemidorus.

Caesar, beware of Brutus, take heede of Cassius; come not neere Caska, haue an eye to Cynna, trust not Trebonius, marke well Metellus Cymber, Decius Brutus loues thee not: Thou hast wrong'd Caius Ligarius. There is but one minde in all these men, and it is bent against Caesar: If thou beest not Immortall, looke about you: Security giues way to Conspiracie. The mighty Gods defend thee. Thy Louer, Artemidorus. Heere will I stand, till Caesar passe along, And as a Sutor will I giue him this: My heart laments, that Vertue cannot liue Out of the teeth of Emulation. If thou reade this, O Caesar, thou mayest liue; If not, the Fates with Traitors do contriue. Enter.

Enter Portia and Lucius.

Por. I prythee Boy, run to the Senate-house, Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone. Why doest thou stay? Luc. To know my errand Madam

Por. I would haue had thee there and heere agen Ere I can tell thee what thou should'st do there: O Constancie, be strong vpon my side, Set a huge Mountaine 'tweene my Heart and Tongue: I haue a mans minde, but a womans might: How hard it is for women to keepe counsell. Art thou heere yet? Luc. Madam, what should I do? Run to the Capitoll, and nothing else? And so returne to you, and nothing else? Por. Yes, bring me word Boy, if thy Lord look well, For he went sickly forth: and take good note What Caesar doth, what Sutors presse to him. Hearke Boy, what noyse is that? Luc. I heare none Madam

Por. Prythee listen well: I heard a bussling Rumor like a Fray, And the winde brings it from the Capitoll

Luc. Sooth Madam, I heare nothing. Enter the Soothsayer.

Por. Come hither Fellow, which way hast thou bin? Sooth. At mine owne house, good Lady

Por. What is't a clocke? Sooth. About the ninth houre Lady

Por. Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitoll? Sooth. Madam not yet, I go to take my stand, To see him passe on to the Capitoll

Por. Thou hast some suite to Caesar, hast thou not? Sooth. That I haue Lady, if it will please Caesar To be so good to Caesar, as to heare me: I shall beseech him to befriend himselfe

Por. Why know'st thou any harme's intended towards him? Sooth. None that I know will be, Much that I feare may chance: Good morrow to you: heere the street is narrow: The throng that followes Caesar at the heeles, Of Senators, of Praetors, common Sutors, Will crowd a feeble man (almost) to death: Ile get me to a place more voyd, and there Speake to great Caesar as he comes along.

Exit

Por. I must go in: Aye me! How weake a thing The heart of woman is? O Brutus, The Heauens speede thee in thine enterprize. Sure the Boy heard me: Brutus hath a suite That Caesar will not grant. O, I grow faint: Run Lucius, and commend me to my Lord, Say I am merry; Come to me againe, And bring me word what he doth say to thee.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

Flourish

Enter Caesar, Brutus, Cassius, Caska, Decius, Metellus, Trebonius, Cynna, Antony, Lepidus, Artimedorus, Publius, and the Soothsayer.

Caes The Ides of March are come

Sooth. I Caesar, but not gone

Art. Haile Caesar: Read this Scedule

Deci. Trebonius doth desire you to ore-read (At your best leysure) this his humble suite

Art. O Caesar, reade mine first: for mine's a suite That touches Caesar neerer. Read it great Caesar

Caes What touches vs our selfe, shall be last seru'd

Art. Delay not Caesar, read it instantly

Caes What, is the fellow mad? Pub. Sirra, giue place

Cassi. What, vrge you your Petitions in the street? Come to the Capitoll

Popil. I wish your enterprize to day may thriue

Cassi. What enterprize Popillius? Popil. Fare you well

Bru. What said Popillius Lena? Cassi. He wisht to day our enterprize might thriue: I feare our purpose is discouered

Bru. Looke how he makes to Caesar: marke him

Cassi. Caska be sodaine, for we feare preuention. Brutus what shall be done? If this be knowne, Cassius or Caesar neuer shall turne backe, For I will slay my selfe

Bru. Cassius be constant: Popillius Lena speakes not of our purposes, For looke he smiles, and Caesar doth not change

Cassi. Trebonius knowes his time: for look you Brutus He drawes Mark Antony out of the way

Deci. Where is Metellus Cimber, let him go, And presently preferre his suite to Caesar

Bru. He is addrest: presse neere, and second him

Cin. Caska, you are the first that reares your hand

Caes Are we all ready? What is now amisse, That Caesar and his Senate must redresse? Metel. Most high, most mighty, and most puisant Caesar Metellus Cymber throwes before thy Seate An humble heart

Caes I must preuent thee Cymber: These couchings, and these lowly courtesies Might fire the blood of ordinary men, And turne pre-Ordinance, and first Decree Into the lane of Children. Be not fond, To thinke that Caesar beares such Rebell blood That will be thaw'd from the true quality With that which melteth Fooles, I meane sweet words, Low-crooked-curtsies, and base Spaniell fawning: Thy Brother by decree is banished: If thou doest bend, and pray, and fawne for him, I spurne thee like a Curre out of my way: Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause Will he be satisfied

Metel. Is there no voyce more worthy then my owne, To sound more sweetly in great Caesars eare, For the repealing of my banish'd Brother? Bru. I kisse thy hand, but not in flattery Caesar: Desiring thee, that Publius Cymber may Haue an immediate freedome of repeale

Caes What Brutus? Cassi. Pardon Caesar: Caesar pardon: As lowe as to thy foote doth Cassius fall, To begge infranchisement for Publius Cymber

Caes I could be well mou'd, if I were as you, If I could pray to mooue, Prayers would mooue me: But I am constant as the Northerne Starre, Of whose true fixt, and resting quality, There is no fellow in the Firmament. The Skies are painted with vnnumbred sparkes, They are all Fire, and euery one doth shine: But, there's but one in all doth hold his place. So, in the World; 'Tis furnish'd well with Men, And Men are Flesh and Blood, and apprehensiue; Yet in the number, I do know but One That vnassayleable holds on his Ranke, Vnshak'd of Motion: and that I am he, Let me a little shew it, euen in this: That I was constant Cymber should be banish'd, And constant do remaine to keepe him so

Cinna. O Caesar

Caes Hence: Wilt thou lift vp Olympus? Decius. Great Caesar

Caes Doth not Brutus bootlesse kneele? Cask. Speake hands for me.

They stab Caesar.

Caes Et Tu Brute? - Then fall Caesar.

Dyes

Cin. Liberty, Freedome; Tyranny is dead, Run hence, proclaime, cry it about the Streets

Cassi. Some to the common Pulpits, and cry out Liberty, Freedome, and Enfranchisement

Bru. People and Senators, be not affrighted: Fly not, stand still: Ambitions debt is paid

Cask. Go to the Pulpit Brutus

Dec. And Cassius too

Bru. Where's Publius? Cin. Heere, quite confounded with this mutiny

Met. Stand fast together, least some Friend of Caesars Should chance- Bru. Talke not of standing. Publius good cheere, There is no harme intended to your person, Nor to no Roman else: so tell them Publius

Cassi. And leaue vs Publius, least that the people Rushing on vs, should do your Age some mischiefe

Bru. Do so, and let no man abide this deede, But we the Doers. Enter Trebonius

Cassi. Where is Antony? Treb. Fled to his House amaz'd: Men, Wiues, and Children, stare, cry out, and run, As it were Doomesday

Bru. Fates, we will know your pleasures: That we shall dye we know, 'tis but the time And drawing dayes out, that men stand vpon

Cask. Why he that cuts off twenty yeares of life, Cuts off so many yeares of fearing death

Bru. Grant that, and then is Death a Benefit: So are we Caesars Friends, that haue abridg'd His time of fearing death. Stoope Romans, stoope, And let vs bathe our hands in Caesars blood Vp to the Elbowes, and besmeare our Swords: Then walke we forth, euen to the Market place, And wauing our red Weapons o're our heads, Let's all cry Peace, Freedome, and Liberty

Cassi. Stoop then, and wash. How many Ages hence Shall this our lofty Scene be acted ouer, In State vnborne, and Accents yet vnknowne? Bru. How many times shall Caesar bleed in sport, That now on Pompeyes Basis lye along, No worthier then the dust? Cassi. So oft as that shall be, So often shall the knot of vs be call'd, The Men that gaue their Country liberty

Dec. What, shall we forth? Cassi. I, euery man away. Brutus shall leade, and we will grace his heeles With the most boldest, and best hearts of Rome. Enter a Seruant.

Bru. Soft, who comes heere? A friend of Antonies

Ser. Thus Brutus did my Master bid me kneele; Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall downe, And being prostrate, thus he bad me say: Brutus is Noble, Wise, Valiant, and Honest; Caesar was Mighty, Bold, Royall, and Louing: Say, I loue Brutus, and I honour him; Say, I fear'd Caesar, honour'd him, and lou'd him. If Brutus will vouchsafe, that Antony May safely come to him, and be resolu'd How Caesar hath deseru'd to lye in death, Mark Antony, shall not loue Caesar dead So well as Brutus liuing; but will follow The Fortunes and Affayres of Noble Brutus, Thorough the hazards of this vntrod State, With all true Faith. So sayes my Master Antony

Bru. Thy Master is a Wise and Valiant Romane, I neuer thought him worse: Tell him, so please him come vnto this place He shall be satisfied: and by my Honor Depart vntouch'd

Ser. Ile fetch him presently.

Exit Seruant.

Bru. I know that we shall haue him well to Friend

Cassi. I wish we may: But yet haue I a minde That feares him much: and my misgiuing still Falles shrewdly to the purpose. Enter Antony.

Bru. But heere comes Antony: Welcome Mark Antony

Ant. O mighty Caesar! Dost thou lye so lowe? Are all thy Conquests, Glories, Triumphes, Spoiles, Shrunke to this little Measure? Fare thee well. I know not Gentlemen what you intend, Who else must be let blood, who else is ranke: If I my selfe, there is no houre so fit As Caesars deaths houre; nor no Instrument Of halfe that worth, as those your Swords; made rich With the most Noble blood of all this World. I do beseech yee, if you beare me hard, Now, whil'st your purpled hands do reeke and smoake, Fulfill your pleasure. Liue a thousand yeeres, I shall not finde my selfe so apt to dye. No place will please me so, no meane of death, As heere by Caesar, and by you cut off, The Choice and Master Spirits of this Age

Bru. O Antony! Begge not your death of vs: Though now we must appeare bloody and cruell, As by our hands, and this our present Acte You see we do: Yet see you but our hands, And this, the bleeding businesse they haue done: Our hearts you see not, they are pittifull: And pitty to the generall wrong of Rome, As fire driues out fire, so pitty, pitty Hath done this deed on Caesar. For your part, To you, our Swords haue leaden points Marke Antony: Our Armes in strength of malice, and our Hearts Of Brothers temper, do receiue you in, With all kinde loue, good thoughts, and reuerence

Cassi. Your voyce shall be as strong as any mans, In the disposing of new Dignities

Bru. Onely be patient, till we haue appeas'd The Multitude, beside themselues with feare, And then, we will deliuer you the cause, Why I, that did loue Caesar when I strooke him, Haue thus proceeded

Ant. I doubt not of your Wisedome: Let each man render me his bloody hand. First Marcus Brutus will I shake with you; Next Caius Cassius do I take your hand; Now Decius Brutus yours; now yours Metellus; Yours Cinna; and my valiant Caska, yours; Though last, not least in loue, yours good Trebonius. Gentlemen all: Alas, what shall I say, My credit now stands on such slippery ground, That one of two bad wayes you must conceit me, Either a Coward, or a Flatterer. That I did loue thee Caesar, O 'tis true: If then thy Spirit looke vpon vs now, Shall it not greeue thee deerer then thy death, To see thy Antony making his peace, Shaking the bloody fingers of thy Foes? Most Noble, in the presence of thy Coarse, Had I as many eyes, as thou hast wounds, Weeping as fast as they streame forth thy blood, It would become me better, then to close In tearmes of Friendship with thine enemies. Pardon me Iulius, heere was't thou bay'd braue Hart, Heere did'st thou fall, and heere thy Hunters stand Sign'd in thy Spoyle, and Crimson'd in thy Lethee. O World! thou wast the Forrest to this Hart, And this indeed, O World, the Hart of thee. How like a Deere, stroken by many Princes, Dost thou heere lye? Cassi. Mark Antony

Ant. Pardon me Caius Cassius: The Enemies of Caesar, shall say this: Then, in a Friend, it is cold Modestie

Cassi. I blame you not for praising Caesar so. But what compact meane you to haue with vs? Will you be prick'd in number of our Friends, Or shall we on, and not depend on you? Ant. Therefore I tooke your hands, but was indeed Sway'd from the point, by looking downe on Caesar. Friends am I with you all, and loue you all, Vpon this hope, that you shall giue me Reasons, Why, and wherein, Caesar was dangerous

Bru. Or else were this a sauage Spectacle: Our Reasons are so full of good regard, That were you Antony, the Sonne of Caesar, You should be satisfied

Ant. That's all I seeke, And am moreouer sutor, that I may Produce his body to the Market-place, And in the Pulpit as becomes a Friend, Speake in the Order of his Funerall

Bru. You shall Marke Antony

Cassi. Brutus, a word with you: You know not what you do; Do not consent That Antony speake in his Funerall: Know you how much the people may be mou'd By that which he will vtter

Bru. By your pardon: I will my selfe into the Pulpit first, And shew the reason of our Caesars death. What Antony shall speake, I will protest He speakes by leaue, and by permission: And that we are contented Caesar shall Haue all true Rites, and lawfull Ceremonies, It shall aduantage more, then do vs wrong

Cassi. I know not what may fall, I like it not

Bru. Mark Antony, heere take you Caesars body: You shall not in your Funerall speech blame vs, But speake all good you can deuise of Caesar, And say you doo't by our permission: Else shall you not haue any hand at all About his Funerall. And you shall speake In the same Pulpit whereto I am going, After my speech is ended

Ant. Be it so: I do desire no more

Bru. Prepare the body then, and follow vs.

Exeunt.

Manet Antony.

O pardon me, thou bleeding peece of Earth: That I am meeke and gentle with these Butchers. Thou art the Ruines of the Noblest man That euer liued in the Tide of Times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly Blood. Ouer thy wounds, now do I Prophesie, (Which like dumbe mouthes do ope their Ruby lips, To begge the voyce and vtterance of my Tongue) A Curse shall light vpon the limbes of men; Domesticke Fury, and fierce Ciuill strife, Shall cumber all the parts of Italy: Blood and destruction shall be so in vse, And dreadfull Obiects so familiar, That Mothers shall but smile, when they behold Their Infants quartered with the hands of Warre: All pitty choak'd with custome of fell deeds, And Caesars Spirit ranging for Reuenge, With Ate by his side, come hot from Hell, Shall in these Confines, with a Monarkes voyce, Cry hauocke, and let slip the Dogges of Warre, That this foule deede, shall smell aboue the earth With Carrion men, groaning for Buriall. Enter Octauio's Seruant.

You serue Octauius Caesar, do you not? Ser. I do Marke Antony

Ant. Caesar did write for him to come to Rome

Ser. He did receiue his Letters, and is comming, And bid me say to you by word of mouth- O Caesar! Ant. Thy heart is bigge: get thee a-part and weepe: Passion I see is catching from mine eyes, Seeing those Beads of sorrow stand in thine, Began to water. Is thy Master comming? Ser. He lies to night within seuen Leagues of Rome

Ant. Post backe with speede, And tell him what hath chanc'd: Heere is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, No Rome of safety for Octauius yet, Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet stay a-while, Thou shalt not backe, till I haue borne this course Into the Market place: There shall I try In my Oration, how the People take The cruell issue of these bloody men, According to the which, thou shalt discourse To yong Octauius, of the state of things. Lend me your hand.

Exeunt.

Enter Brutus and goes into the Pulpit, and Cassius, with the Plebeians.

Ple. We will be satisfied: let vs be satisfied

Bru. Then follow me, and giue me Audience friends. Cassius go you into the other streete, And part the Numbers: Those that will heare me speake, let 'em stay heere; Those that will follow Cassius, go with him, And publike Reasons shall be rendred Of Caesars death

1.Ple. I will heare Brutus speake

2. I will heare Cassius, and compare their Reasons, When seuerally we heare them rendred

3. The Noble Brutus is ascended: Silence

Bru. Be patient till the last. Romans, Countrey-men, and Louers, heare mee for my cause, and be silent, that you may heare. Beleeue me for mine Honor, and haue respect to mine Honor, that you may beleeue. Censure me in your Wisedom, and awake your Senses, that you may the better Iudge. If there bee any in this Assembly, any deere Friend of Caesars, to him I say, that Brutus loue to Caesar, was no lesse then his. If then, that Friend demand, why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer: Not that I lou'd Caesar lesse, but that I lou'd Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were liuing, and dye all Slaues; then that Caesar were dead, to liue all Free-men? As Caesar lou'd mee, I weepe for him; as he was Fortunate, I reioyce at it; as he was Valiant, I honour him: But, as he was Ambitious, I slew him. There is Teares, for his Loue: Ioy, for his Fortune: Honor, for his Valour: and Death, for his Ambition. Who is heere so base, that would be a Bondman? If any, speak, for him haue I offended. Who is heere so rude, that would not be a Roman? If any, speak, for him haue I offended. Who is heere so vile, that will not loue his Countrey? If any, speake, for him haue I offended. I pause for a Reply

All. None Brutus, none

Brutus. Then none haue I offended. I haue done no more to Caesar, then you shall do to Brutus. The Question of his death, is inroll'd in the Capitoll: his Glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforc'd, for which he suffered death. Enter Mark Antony, with Caesars body.

Heere comes his Body, mourn'd by Marke Antony, who though he had no hand in his death, shall receiue the benefit of his dying, a place in the Co[m]monwealth, as which of you shall not. With this I depart, that as I slewe my best Louer for the good of Rome, I haue the same Dagger for my selfe, when it shall please my Country to need my death

All. Liue Brutus, liue, liue

1. Bring him with Triumph home vnto his house

2. Giue him a Statue with his Ancestors

3. Let him be Caesar

4. Caesars better parts, Shall be Crown'd in Brutus

1. Wee'l bring him to his House, With Showts and Clamors

Bru. My Country-men

2. Peace, silence, Brutus speakes

1. Peace ho

Bru. Good Countrymen, let me depart alone, And (for my sake) stay heere with Antony: Do grace to Caesars Corpes, and grace his Speech Tending to Caesars Glories, which Marke Antony (By our permission) is allow'd to make. I do intreat you, not a man depart, Saue I alone, till Antony haue spoke.

Exit

1 Stay ho, and let vs heare Mark Antony

3 Let him go vp into the publike Chaire, Wee'l heare him: Noble Antony go vp

Ant. For Brutus sake, I am beholding to you

4 What does he say of Brutus? 3 He sayes, for Brutus sake He findes himselfe beholding to vs all

4 'Twere best he speake no harme of Brutus heere? 1 This Caesar was a Tyrant

3 Nay that's certaine: We are blest that Rome is rid of him

2 Peace, let vs heare what Antony can say

Ant. You gentle Romans

All. Peace hoe, let vs heare him

An. Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears: I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him: The euill that men do, liues after them, The good is oft enterred with their bones, So let it be with Caesar. The Noble Brutus, Hath told you Caesar was Ambitious: If it were so, it was a greeuous Fault, And greeuously hath Caesar answer'd it. Heere, vnder leaue of Brutus, and the rest (For Brutus is an Honourable man, So are they all; all Honourable men) Come I to speake in Caesars Funerall. He was my Friend, faithfull, and iust to me; But Brutus sayes, he was Ambitious, And Brutus is an Honourable man. He hath brought many Captiues home to Rome, Whose Ransomes, did the generall Coffers fill: Did this in Caesar seeme Ambitious? When that the poore haue cry'de, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuffe, Yet Brutus sayes, he was Ambitious: And Brutus is an Honourable man. You all did see, that on the Lupercall, I thrice presented him a Kingly Crowne, Which he did thrice refuse. Was this Ambition? Yet Brutus sayes, he was Ambitious: And sure he is an Honourable man. I speake not to disprooue what Brutus spoke, But heere I am, to speake what I do know; You all did loue him once, not without cause, What cause with-holds you then, to mourne for him? O Iudgement! thou are fled to brutish Beasts, And Men haue lost their Reason. Beare with me, My heart is in the Coffin there with Caesar, And I must pawse, till it come backe to me

1 Me thinkes there is much reason in his sayings

2 If thou consider rightly of the matter, Caesar ha's had great wrong

3 Ha's hee Masters? I feare there will a worse come in his place

4. Mark'd ye his words? he would not take y Crown, Therefore 'tis certaine, he was not Ambitious

1. If it be found so, some will deere abide it

2. Poore soule, his eyes are red as fire with weeping

3. There's not a Nobler man in Rome then Antony

4. Now marke him, he begins againe to speake

Ant. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might Haue stood against the World: Now lies he there, And none so poore to do him reuerence. O Maisters! If I were dispos'd to stirre Your hearts and mindes to Mutiny and Rage, I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong: Who (you all know) are Honourable men. I will not do them wrong: I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong my selfe and you, Then I will wrong such Honourable men. But heere's a Parchment, with the Seale of Caesar, I found it in his Closset, 'tis his Will: Let but the Commons heare this Testament: (Which pardon me) I do not meane to reade, And they would go and kisse dead Caesars wounds, And dip their Napkins in his Sacred Blood; Yea, begge a haire of him for Memory, And dying, mention it within their Willes, Bequeathing it as a rich Legacie Vnto their issue

4 Wee'l heare the Will, reade it Marke Antony

All. The Will, the Will; we will heare Caesars Will

Ant. Haue patience gentle Friends, I must not read it. It is not meete you know how Caesar lou'd you: You are not Wood, you are not Stones, but men: And being men, hearing the Will of Caesar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad: 'Tis good you know not that you are his Heires, For if you should, O what would come of it? 4 Read the Will, wee'l heare it Antony: You shall reade vs the Will, Caesars Will

Ant. Will you be Patient? Will you stay a-while? I haue o're-shot my selfe to tell you of it, I feare I wrong the Honourable men, Whose Daggers haue stabb'd Caesar: I do feare it

4 They were Traitors: Honourable men? All. The Will, the Testament

2 They were Villaines, Murderers: the Will, read the Will

Ant. You will compell me then to read the Will: Then make a Ring about the Corpes of Caesar, And let me shew you him that made the Will: Shall I descend? And will you giue me leaue? All. Come downe

2 Descend

3 You shall haue leaue

4 A Ring, stand round

1 Stand from the Hearse, stand from the Body

2 Roome for Antony, most Noble Antony

Ant. Nay presse not so vpon me, stand farre off

All. Stand backe: roome, beare backe

Ant. If you haue teares, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this Mantle, I remember The first time euer Caesar put it on, 'Twas on a Summers Euening in his Tent, That day he ouercame the Neruij. Looke, in this place ran Cassius Dagger through: See what a rent the enuious Caska made: Through this, the wel-beloued Brutus stabb'd, And as he pluck'd his cursed Steele away: Marke how the blood of Caesar followed it, As rushing out of doores, to be resolu'd If Brutus so vnkindely knock'd, or no: For Brutus, as you know, was Caesars Angel. Iudge, O you Gods, how deerely Caesar lou'd him: This was the most vnkindest cut of all. For when the Noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong then Traitors armes, Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his Mighty heart, And in his Mantle, muffling vp his face, Euen at the Base of Pompeyes Statue (Which all the while ran blood) great Caesar fell. O what a fall was there, my Countrymen? Then I, and you, and all of vs fell downe, Whil'st bloody Treason flourish'd ouer vs. O now you weepe, and I perceiue you feele The dint of pitty: These are gracious droppes. Kinde Soules, what weepe you, when you but behold Our Caesars Vesture wounded? Looke you heere, Heere is Himselfe, marr'd as you see with Traitors

1. O pitteous spectacle! 2. O Noble Caesar! 3. O wofull day! 4. O Traitors, Villaines! 1. O most bloody sight! 2. We will be reueng'd: Reuenge About, seeke, burne, fire, kill, slay, Let not a Traitor liue

Ant. Stay Country-men

1. Peace there, heare the Noble Antony

2. Wee'l heare him, wee'l follow him, wee'l dy with him

Ant. Good Friends, sweet Friends, let me not stirre you vp To such a sodaine Flood of Mutiny: They that haue done this Deede, are honourable. What priuate greefes they haue, alas I know not, That made them do it: They are Wise, and Honourable, And will no doubt with Reasons answer you. I come not (Friends) to steale away your hearts, I am no Orator, as Brutus is: But (as you know me all) a plaine blunt man That loue my Friend, and that they know full well, That gaue me publike leaue to speake of him: For I haue neyther writ nor words, nor worth,

## Action, nor Vtterance, nor the power of Speech,

To stirre mens Blood. I onely speake right on: I tell you that, which you your selues do know, Shew you sweet Caesars wounds, poor poor dum mouths And bid them speake for me: But were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle vp your Spirits, and put a Tongue In euery Wound of Caesar, that should moue The stones of Rome, to rise and Mutiny

All. Wee'l Mutiny

1 Wee'l burne the house of Brutus

3 Away then, come, seeke the Conspirators

Ant. Yet heare me Countrymen, yet heare me speake All. Peace hoe, heare Antony, most Noble Antony

Ant. Why Friends, you go to do you know not what: Wherein hath Caesar thus deseru'd your loues? Alas you know not, I must tell you then: You haue forgot the Will I told you of

All. Most true, the Will, let's stay and heare the Wil

Ant. Heere is the Will, and vnder Caesars Seale: To euery Roman Citizen he giues, To euery seuerall man, seuenty fiue Drachmaes

2 Ple. Most Noble Caesar, wee'l reuenge his death

3 Ple. O Royall Caesar

Ant. Heare me with patience

All. Peace hoe Ant. Moreouer, he hath left you all his Walkes, His priuate Arbors, and new-planted Orchards, On this side Tyber, he hath left them you, And to your heyres for euer: common pleasures To walke abroad, and recreate your selues. Heere was a Caesar: when comes such another? 1.Ple. Neuer, neuer: come, away, away: Wee'l burne his body in the holy place, And with the Brands fire the Traitors houses. Take vp the body

2.Ple. Go fetch fire

3.Ple. Plucke downe Benches

4.Ple. Plucke downe Formes, Windowes, any thing.

Exit Plebeians.

Ant. Now let it worke: Mischeefe thou art a-foot, Take thou what course thou wilt. How now Fellow? Enter Seruant.

Ser. Sir, Octauius is already come to Rome

Ant. Where is hee? Ser. He and Lepidus are at Caesars house

Ant. And thither will I straight, to visit him: He comes vpon a wish. Fortune is merry, And in this mood will giue vs any thing

Ser. I heard him say, Brutus and Cassius Are rid like Madmen through the Gates of Rome

Ant. Belike they had some notice of the people How I had moued them. Bring me to Octauius.

Exeunt.

Enter Cinna the Poet, and after him the Plebeians.

Cinna. I dreamt to night, that I did feast with Caesar, And things vnluckily charge my Fantasie: I haue no will to wander foorth of doores, Yet something leads me foorth

1. What is your name? 2. Whether are you going? 3. Where do you dwell? 4. Are you a married man, or a Batchellor? 2. Answer euery man directly

1. I, and breefely

4. I, and wisely

3. I, and truly, you were best

Cin. What is my name? Whether am I going? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man, or a Batchellour? Then to answer euery man, directly and breefely, wisely and truly: wisely I say, I am a Batchellor

2 That's as much as to say, they are fooles that marrie: you'l beare me a bang for that I feare: proceede directly

Cinna. Directly I am going to Caesars Funerall

1. As a Friend, or an Enemy? Cinna. As a friend

2. That matter is answered directly

4. For your dwelling: breefely

Cinna. Breefely, I dwell by the Capitoll

3. Your name sir, truly

Cinna. Truly, my name is Cinna

1. Teare him to peeces, hee's a Conspirator

Cinna. I am Cinna the Poet, I am Cinna the Poet

4. Teare him for his bad verses, teare him for his bad Verses

Cin. I am not Cinna the Conspirator

4. It is no matter, his name's Cinna, plucke but his name out of his heart, and turne him going

3. Teare him, tear him; Come Brands hoe, Firebrands: to Brutus, to Cassius, burne all. Some to Decius House, and some to Caska's; some to Ligarius: Away, go.

Exeunt. all the Plebeians.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Antony, Octauius, and Lepidus.

Ant. These many then shall die, their names are prickt Octa. Your Brother too must dye: consent you Lepidus? Lep. I do consent

Octa. Pricke him downe Antony

Lep. Vpon condition Publius shall not liue, Who is your Sisters sonne, Marke Antony

Ant. He shall not liue; looke, with a spot I dam him. But Lepidus, go you to Caesars house: Fetch the Will hither, and we shall determine How to cut off some charge in Legacies

Lep. What? shall I finde you heere? Octa. Or heere, or at the Capitoll.

Exit Lepidus

Ant. This is a slight vnmeritable man, Meet to be sent on Errands: is it fit The three-fold World diuided, he should stand One of the three to share it? Octa. So you thought him, And tooke his voyce who should be prickt to dye In our blacke Sentence and Proscription

Ant. Octauius, I haue seene more dayes then you, And though we lay these Honours on this man, To ease our selues of diuers sland'rous loads, He shall but beare them, as the Asse beares Gold, To groane and swet vnder the Businesse, Either led or driuen, as we point the way: And hauing brought our Treasure, where we will, Then take we downe his Load, and turne him off (Like to the empty Asse) to shake his eares, And graze in Commons

Octa. You may do your will: But hee's a tried, and valiant Souldier

Ant. So is my Horse Octauius, and for that I do appoint him store of Prouender. It is a Creature that I teach to fight, To winde, to stop, to run directly on: His corporall Motion, gouern'd by my Spirit, And in some taste, is Lepidus but so: He must be taught, and train'd, and bid go forth: A barren spirited Fellow; one that feeds On Obiects, Arts, and Imitations. Which out of vse, and stal'de by other men Begin his fashion. Do not talke of him, But as a property: and now Octauius, Listen great things. Brutus and Cassius Are leuying Powers; We must straight make head: Therefore let our Alliance be combin'd, Our best Friends made, our meanes stretcht, And let vs presently go sit in Councell, How couert matters may be best disclos'd, And open Perils surest answered

Octa. Let vs do so: for we are at the stake, And bayed about with many Enemies, And some that smile haue in their hearts I feare Millions of Mischeefes.

Exeunt.

Drum. Enter Brutus, Lucillius, and the Army. Titinius and Pindarus meete them.

Bru. Stand ho

Lucil. Giue the word ho, and Stand

Bru. What now Lucillius, is Cassius neere? Lucil. He is at hand, and Pindarus is come To do you salutation from his Master

Bru. He greets me well. Your Master Pindarus In his owne change, or by ill Officers, Hath giuen me some worthy cause to wish Things done, vndone: But if he be at hand I shall be satisfied

Pin. I do not doubt But that my Noble Master will appeare Such as he is, full of regard, and Honour

Bru. He is not doubted. A word Lucillius How he receiu'd you: let me be resolu'd

Lucil. With courtesie, and with respect enough, But not with such familiar instances, Nor with such free and friendly Conference As he hath vs'd of old

Bru. Thou hast describ'd A hot Friend, cooling: Euer note Lucillius, When Loue begins to sicken and decay It vseth an enforced Ceremony. There are no trickes, in plaine and simple Faith: But hollow men, like Horses hot at hand, Make gallant shew, and promise of their Mettle:

Low March within.

But when they should endure the bloody Spurre, They fall their Crests, and like deceitfull Iades Sinke in the Triall. Comes his Army on? Lucil. They meane this night in Sardis to be quarter'd: The greater part, the Horse in generall Are come with Cassius. Enter Cassius and his Powers.

Bru. Hearke, he is arriu'd: March gently on to meete him

Cassi. Stand ho

Bru. Stand ho, speake the word along. Stand. Stand. Stand

Cassi. Most Noble Brother, you haue done me wrong

Bru. Iudge me you Gods; wrong I mine Enemies? And if not so, how should I wrong a Brother

Cassi. Brutus, this sober forme of yours, hides wrongs, And when you do them- Brut. Cassius, be content, Speake your greefes softly, I do know you well. Before the eyes of both our Armies heere (Which should perceiue nothing but Loue from vs) Let vs not wrangle. Bid them moue away: Then in my Tent Cassius enlarge your Greefes, And I will giue you Audience

Cassi. Pindarus, Bid our Commanders leade their Charges off A little from this ground

Bru. Lucillius, do you the like, and let no man Come to our Tent, till we haue done our Conference. Let Lucius and Titinius guard our doore.

Exeunt.

Manet Brutus and Cassius.

Cassi. That you haue wrong'd me, doth appear in this: You haue condemn'd, and noted Lucius Pella For taking Bribes heere of the Sardians; Wherein my Letters, praying on his side, Because I knew the man was slighted off

Bru. You wrong'd your selfe to write in such a case

Cassi. In such a time as this, it is not meet That euery nice offence should beare his Comment

Bru. Let me tell you Cassius, you your selfe Are much condemn'd to haue an itching Palme, To sell, and Mart your Offices for Gold To Vndeseruers

Cassi. I, an itching Palme? You know that you are Brutus that speakes this, Or by the Gods, this speech were else your last

Bru. The name of Cassius Honors this corruption, And Chasticement doth therefore hide his head

Cassi. Chasticement? Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March reme[m]ber: Did not great Iulius bleede for Iustice sake? What Villaine touch'd his body, that did stab, And not for Iustice? What? Shall one of Vs, That strucke the Formost man of all this World, But for supporting Robbers: shall we now, Contaminate our fingers, with base Bribes? And sell the mighty space of our large Honors For so much trash, as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a Dogge, and bay the Moone, Then such a Roman

Cassi. Brutus, baite not me, Ile not indure it: you forget your selfe To hedge me in. I am a Souldier, I, Older in practice, Abler then your selfe To make Conditions

Bru. Go too: you are not Cassius

Cassi. I am

Bru. I say, you are not

Cassi. Vrge me no more, I shall forget my selfe: Haue minde vpon your health: Tempt me no farther

Bru. Away slight man

Cassi. Is't possible? Bru. Heare me, for I will speake. Must I giue way, and roome to your rash Choller? Shall I be frighted, when a Madman stares? Cassi. O ye Gods, ye Gods, Must I endure all this? Bru. All this? I more: Fret till your proud hart break. Go shew your Slaues how Chollericke you are, And make your Bondmen tremble. Must I bouge? Must I obserue you? Must I stand and crouch Vnder your Testie Humour? By the Gods, You shall digest the Venom of your Spleene Though it do Split you. For, from this day forth, Ile vse you for my Mirth, yea for my Laughter When you are Waspish

Cassi. Is it come to this? Bru. You say, you are a better Souldier: Let it appeare so; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well. For mine owne part, I shall be glad to learne of Noble men

Cass. You wrong me euery way: You wrong me Brutus: I saide, an Elder Souldier, not a Better. Did I say Better? Bru. If you did, I care not

Cass. When Caesar liu'd, he durst not thus haue mou'd me

Brut. Peace, peace, you durst not so haue tempted him

Cassi. I durst not

Bru. No

Cassi. What? durst not tempt him? Bru. For your life you durst not

Cassi. Do not presume too much vpon my Loue, I may do that I shall be sorry for

Bru. You haue done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror Cassius in your threats: For I am Arm'd so strong in Honesty, That they passe by me, as the idle winde, Which I respect not. I did send to you For certaine summes of Gold, which you deny'd me, For I can raise no money by vile meanes: By Heauen, I had rather Coine my Heart, And drop my blood for Drachmaes, then to wring From the hard hands of Peazants, their vile trash By any indirection. I did send To you for Gold to pay my Legions, Which you deny'd me: was that done like Cassius? Should I haue answer'd Caius Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus growes so Couetous, To locke such Rascall Counters from his Friends, Be ready Gods with all your Thunder-bolts, Dash him to peeces

Cassi. I deny'd you not

Bru. You did

Cassi. I did not. He was but a Foole That brought my answer back. Brutus hath riu'd my hart: A Friend should beare his Friends infirmities; But Brutus makes mine greater then they are

Bru. I do not, till you practice them on me

Cassi. You loue me not

Bru. I do not like your faults

Cassi. A friendly eye could neuer see such faults

Bru. A Flatterers would not, though they do appeare As huge as high Olympus

Cassi. Come Antony, and yong Octauius come, Reuenge your selues alone on Cassius, For Cassius is a-weary of the World: Hated by one he loues, brau'd by his Brother, Check'd like a bondman, all his faults obseru'd, Set in a Note-booke, learn'd, and con'd by roate To cast into my Teeth. O I could weepe My Spirit from mine eyes. There is my Dagger, And heere my naked Breast: Within, a Heart Deerer then Pluto's Mine, Richer then Gold: If that thou bee'st a Roman, take it foorth. I that deny'd thee Gold, will giue my Heart: Strike as thou did'st at Caesar: For I know, When thou did'st hate him worst, y loued'st him better Then euer thou loued'st Cassius

Bru. Sheath your Dagger: Be angry when you will, it shall haue scope: Do what you will, Dishonor, shall be Humour. O Cassius, you are yoaked with a Lambe That carries Anger, as the Flint beares fire, Who much inforced, shewes a hastie Sparke, And straite is cold agen

Cassi. Hath Cassius liu'd To be but Mirth and Laughter to his Brutus, When greefe and blood ill temper'd, vexeth him? Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill temper'd too

Cassi. Do you confesse so much? Giue me your hand

Bru. And my heart too

Cassi. O Brutus! Bru. What's the matter? Cassi. Haue not you loue enough to beare with me, When that rash humour which my Mother gaue me Makes me forgetfull

Bru. Yes Cassius, and from henceforth When you are ouer-earnest with your Brutus, Hee'l thinke your Mother chides, and leaue you so. Enter a Poet.

Poet. Let me go in to see the Generals, There is some grudge betweene 'em, 'tis not meete They be alone

Lucil. You shall not come to them

Poet. Nothing but death shall stay me

Cas. How now? What's the matter? Poet. For shame you Generals; what do you meane? Loue, and be Friends, as two such men should bee, For I haue seene more yeeres I'me sure then yee

Cas. Ha, ha, how vildely doth this Cynicke rime? Bru. Get you hence sirra: Sawcy Fellow, hence

Cas. Beare with him Brutus, 'tis his fashion

Brut. Ile know his humor, when he knowes his time: What should the Warres do with these Iigging Fooles? Companion, hence

Cas. Away, away be gone.

Exit Poet

Bru. Lucillius and Titinius bid the Commanders Prepare to lodge their Companies to night

Cas. And come your selues, & bring Messala with you Immediately to vs

Bru. Lucius, a bowle of Wine

Cas. I did not thinke you could haue bin so angry

Bru. O Cassius, I am sicke of many greefes

Cas. Of your Philosophy you make no vse, If you giue place to accidentall euils

Bru. No man beares sorrow better. Portia is dead

Cas. Ha? Portia? Bru. She is dead

Cas. How scap'd I killing, when I crost you so? O insupportable, and touching losse! Vpon what sicknesse? Bru. Impatient of my absence, And greefe, that yong Octauius with Mark Antony Haue made themselues so strong: For with her death That tydings came. With this she fell distract, And (her Attendants absent) swallow'd fire

Cas. And dy'd so? Bru. Euen so

Cas. O ye immortall Gods! Enter Boy with Wine, and Tapers.

Bru. Speak no more of her: Giue me a bowl of wine, In this I bury all vnkindnesse Cassius.

Drinkes

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that Noble pledge. Fill Lucius, till the Wine ore-swell the Cup: I cannot drinke too much of Brutus loue. Enter Titinius and Messala.

Brutus. Come in Titinius: Welcome good Messala: Now sit we close about this Taper heere, And call in question our necessities

Cass. Portia, art thou gone? Bru. No more I pray you. Messala, I haue heere receiued Letters, That yong Octauius, and Marke Antony Come downe vpon vs with a mighty power, Bending their Expedition toward Philippi

Mess. My selfe haue Letters of the selfe-same Tenure

Bru. With what Addition

Mess. That by proscription, and billes of Outlarie, Octauius, Antony, and Lepidus, Haue put to death, an hundred Senators

Bru. Therein our Letters do not well agree: Mine speake of seuenty Senators, that dy'de By their proscriptions, Cicero being one

Cassi. Cicero one? Messa. Cicero is dead, and by that order of proscription Had you your Letters from your wife, my Lord? Bru. No Messala

Messa. Nor nothing in your Letters writ of her? Bru. Nothing Messala

Messa. That me thinkes is strange

Bru. Why aske you? Heare you ought of her, in yours? Messa. No my Lord

Bru. Now as you are a Roman tell me true

Messa. Then like a Roman, beare the truth I tell, For certaine she is dead, and by strange manner

Bru. Why farewell Portia: We must die Messala: With meditating that she must dye once, I haue the patience to endure it now

Messa. Euen so great men, great losses shold indure

Cassi. I haue as much of this in Art as you, But yet my Nature could not beare it so

Bru. Well, to our worke aliue. What do you thinke Of marching to Philippi presently

Cassi. I do not thinke it good

Bru. Your reason? Cassi. This it is: 'Tis better that the Enemie seeke vs, So shall he waste his meanes, weary his Souldiers, Doing himselfe offence, whil'st we lying still, Are full of rest, defence, and nimblenesse

Bru. Good reasons must of force giue place to better: The people 'twixt Philippi, and this ground Do stand but in a forc'd affection: For they haue grug'd vs Contribution. The Enemy, marching along by them, By them shall make a fuller number vp, Come on refresht, new added, and encourag'd: From which aduantage shall we cut him off. If at Philippi we do face him there, These people at our backe

Cassi. Heare me good Brother

Bru. Vnder your pardon. You must note beside, That we haue tride the vtmost of our Friends: Our Legions are brim full, our cause is ripe, The Enemy encreaseth euery day, We at the height, are readie to decline. There is a Tide in the affayres of men, Which taken at the Flood, leades on to Fortune: Omitted, all the voyage of their life, Is bound in Shallowes, and in Miseries. On such a full Sea are we now a-float, And we must take the current when it serues, Or loose our Ventures

Cassi. Then with your will go on: wee'l along Our selues, and meet them at Philippi

Bru. The deepe of night is crept vpon our talke, And Nature must obey Necessitie, Which we will niggard with a little rest: There is no more to say

Cassi. No more, good night, Early to morrow will we rise, and hence. Enter Lucius.

Bru. Lucius my Gowne: farewell good Messala, Good night Titinius: Noble, Noble Cassius, Good night, and good repose

Cassi. O my deere Brother: This was an ill beginning of the night: Neuer come such diuision 'tweene our soules: Let it not Brutus. Enter Lucius with the Gowne.

Bru. Euery thing is well

Cassi. Good night my Lord

Bru. Good night good Brother

Tit. Messa. Good night Lord Brutus

Bru. Farwell euery one.

Exeunt.

Giue me the Gowne. Where is thy Instrument? Luc. Heere in the Tent

Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily? Poore knaue I blame thee not, thou art ore-watch'd. Call Claudio, and some other of my men, Ile haue them sleepe on Cushions in my Tent

Luc. Varrus, and Claudio. Enter Varrus and Claudio.

Var. Cals my Lord? Bru. I pray you sirs, lye in my Tent and sleepe, It may be I shall raise you by and by On businesse to my Brother Cassius

Var. So please you, we will stand, And watch your pleasure

Bru. I will it not haue it so: Lye downe good sirs, It may be I shall otherwise bethinke me. Looke Lucius, heere's the booke I sought for so: I put it in the pocket of my Gowne

Luc. I was sure your Lordship did not giue it me

Bru. Beare with me good Boy, I am much forgetfull. Canst thou hold vp thy heauie eyes a-while, And touch thy Instrument a straine or two

Luc. I my Lord, an't please you

Bru. It does my Boy: I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing

Luc. It is my duty Sir

Brut. I should not vrge thy duty past thy might, I know yong bloods looke for a time of rest

Luc. I haue slept my Lord already

Bru. It was well done, and thou shalt sleepe againe: I will not hold thee long. If I do liue, I will be good to thee.

Musicke, and a Song.

This is a sleepy Tune: O Murd'rous slumber! Layest thou thy Leaden Mace vpon my Boy, That playes thee Musicke? Gentle knaue good night: I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee: If thou do'st nod, thou break'st thy Instrument, Ile take it from thee, and (good Boy) good night. Let me see, let me see; is not the Leafe turn'd downe Where I left reading? Heere it is I thinke. Enter the Ghost of Caesar.

How ill this Taper burnes. Ha! Who comes heere? I thinke it is the weakenesse of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous Apparition. It comes vpon me: Art thou any thing? Art thou some God, some Angell, or some Diuell, That mak'st my blood cold, and my haire to stare? Speake to me, what thou art

Ghost. Thy euill Spirit Brutus? Bru. Why com'st thou? Ghost. To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi

Brut. Well: then I shall see thee againe? Ghost. I, at Philippi

Brut. Why I will see thee at Philippi then: Now I haue taken heart, thou vanishest. Ill Spirit, I would hold more talke with thee. Boy, Lucius, Varrus, Claudio, Sirs: Awake: Claudio

Luc. The strings my Lord, are false

Bru. He thinkes he still is at his Instrument. Lucius, awake

Luc. My Lord

Bru. Did'st thou dreame Lucius, that thou so cryedst out? Luc. My Lord, I do not know that I did cry

Bru. Yes that thou did'st: Did'st thou see any thing? Luc. Nothing my Lord

Bru. Sleepe againe Lucius: Sirra Claudio, Fellow, Thou: Awake

Var. My Lord

Clau. My Lord

Bru. Why did you so cry out sirs, in your sleepe? Both. Did we my Lord? Bru. I: saw you any thing? Var. No my Lord, I saw nothing

Clau. Nor I my Lord

Bru. Go, and commend me to my Brother Cassius: Bid him set on his Powres betimes before, And we will follow

Both. It shall be done my Lord.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Octauius, Antony, and their Army.

Octa. Now Antony, our hopes are answered, You said the Enemy would not come downe, But keepe the Hilles and vpper Regions: It proues not so: their battailes are at hand, They meane to warne vs at Philippi heere: Answering before we do demand of them

Ant. Tut I am in their bosomes, and I know Wherefore they do it: They could be content To visit other places, and come downe With fearefull brauery: thinking by this face To fasten in our thoughts that they haue Courage; But 'tis not so. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Prepare you Generals, The Enemy comes on in gallant shew: Their bloody signe of Battell is hung out, And something to be done immediately

Ant. Octauius, leade your Battaile softly on Vpon the left hand of the euen Field

Octa. Vpon the right hand I, keepe thou the left

Ant. Why do you crosse me in this exigent

Octa. I do not crosse you: but I will do so.

March.

Drum. Enter Brutus, Cassius, & their Army.

Bru. They stand, and would haue parley

Cassi. Stand fast Titinius, we must out and talke

Octa. Mark Antony, shall we giue signe of Battaile? Ant. No Caesar, we will answer on their Charge. Make forth, the Generals would haue some words

Oct. Stirre not vntill the Signall

Bru. Words before blowes: is it so Countrymen? Octa. Not that we loue words better, as you do

Bru. Good words are better then bad strokes Octauius

An. In your bad strokes Brutus, you giue good words Witnesse the hole you made in Caesars heart, Crying long liue, Haile Caesar

Cassi. Antony, The posture of your blowes are yet vnknowne; But for your words, they rob the Hibla Bees, And leaue them Hony-lesse

Ant. Not stinglesse too

Bru. O yes, and soundlesse too: For you haue stolne their buzzing Antony, And very wisely threat before you sting

Ant. Villains: you did not so, when your vile daggers Hackt one another in the sides of Caesar: You shew'd your teethes like Apes, And fawn'd like Hounds, And bow'd like Bondmen, kissing Caesars feete; Whil'st damned Caska, like a Curre, behinde Strooke Caesar on the necke. O you Flatterers

Cassi. Flatterers? Now Brutus thanke your selfe, This tongue had not offended so to day. If Cassius might haue rul'd

Octa. Come, come, the cause. If arguing make vs swet, The proofe of it will turne to redder drops: Looke, I draw a Sword against Conspirators, When thinke you that the Sword goes vp againe? Neuer till Caesars three and thirtie wounds Be well aueng'd; or till another Caesar Haue added slaughter to the Sword of Traitors

Brut. Caesar, thou canst not dye by Traitors hands. Vnlesse thou bring'st them with thee

Octa. So I hope: I was not borne to dye on Brutus Sword

Bru. O if thou wer't the Noblest of thy Straine, Yong-man, thou could'st not dye more honourable

Cassi. A peeuish School-boy, worthles of such Honor Ioyn'd with a Masker, and a Reueller

Ant. Old Cassius still

Octa. Come Antony: away: Defiance Traitors, hurle we in your teeth. If you dare fight to day, come to the Field; If not, when you haue stomackes.

Exit Octauius, Antony, and Army

Cassi. Why now blow winde, swell Billow, And swimme Barke: The Storme is vp, and all is on the hazard

Bru. Ho Lucillius, hearke, a word with you.

Lucillius and Messala stand forth.

Luc. My Lord

Cassi. Messala

Messa. What sayes my Generall? Cassi. Messala, this is my Birth-day: at this very day Was Cassius borne. Giue me thy hand Messala: Be thou my witnesse, that against my will (As Pompey was) am I compell'd to set Vpon one Battell all our Liberties. You know, that I held Epicurus strong, And his Opinion: Now I change my minde, And partly credit things that do presage. Comming from Sardis, on our former Ensigne Two mighty Eagles fell, and there they pearch'd, Gorging and feeding from our Soldiers hands, Who to Philippi heere consorted vs: This Morning are they fled away, and gone, And in their steeds, do Rauens, Crowes, and Kites Fly ore our heads, and downward looke on vs As we were sickely prey; their shadowes seeme A Canopy most fatall, vnder which Our Army lies, ready to giue vp the Ghost

Messa. Beleeue not so

Cassi. I but beleeue it partly, For I am fresh of spirit, and resolu'd To meete all perils, very constantly

Bru. Euen so Lucillius

Cassi. Now most Noble Brutus, The Gods to day stand friendly, that we may Louers in peace, leade on our dayes to age. But since the affayres of men rests still incertaine, Let's reason with the worst that may befall. If we do lose this Battaile, then is this The very last time we shall speake together: What are you then determined to do? Bru. Euen by the rule of that Philosophy, By which I did blame Cato, for the death Which he did giue himselfe, I know not how: But I do finde it Cowardly, and vile, For feare of what might fall, so to preuent The time of life, arming my selfe with patience, To stay the prouidence of some high Powers, That gouerne vs below

Cassi. Then, if we loose this Battaile, You are contented to be led in Triumph Thorow the streets of Rome

Bru. No Cassius, no: Thinke not thou Noble Romane, That euer Brutus will go bound to Rome, He beares too great a minde. But this same day Must end that worke, the Ides of March begun. And whether we shall meete againe, I know not: Therefore our euerlasting farewell take: For euer, and for euer, farewell Cassius, If we do meete againe, why we shall smile; If not, why then this parting was well made

Cassi. For euer, and for euer, farewell Brutus: If we do meete againe, wee'l smile indeede; If not, 'tis true, this parting was well made

Bru. Why then leade on. O that a man might know The end of this dayes businesse, ere it come: But it sufficeth, that the day will end, And then the end is knowne. Come ho, away.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Brutus and Messala.

Bru. Ride, ride Messala, ride and giue these Billes Vnto the Legions, on the other side.

Lowd Alarum.

Let them set on at once: for I perceiue But cold demeanor in Octauio's wing: And sodaine push giues them the ouerthrow: Ride, ride Messala, let them all come downe.

Exeunt.

Alarums. Enter Cassius and Titinius.

Cassi. O looke Titinius, looke, the Villaines flye: My selfe haue to mine owne turn'd Enemy: This Ensigne heere of mine was turning backe, I slew the Coward, and did take it from him

Titin. O Cassius, Brutus gaue the word too early, Who hauing some aduantage on Octauius, Tooke it too eagerly: his Soldiers fell to spoyle, Whilst we by Antony are all inclos'd. Enter Pindarus.

Pind. Fly further off my Lord: flye further off, Mark Antony is in your Tents my Lord: Flye therefore Noble Cassius, flye farre off

Cassi. This Hill is farre enough. Looke, look Titinius Are those my Tents where I perceiue the fire? Tit. They are, my Lord

Cassi. Titinius, if thou louest me, Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurres in him, Till he haue brought thee vp to yonder Troopes And heere againe, that I may rest assur'd Whether yond Troopes, are Friend or Enemy

Tit. I will be heere againe, euen with a thought. Enter.

Cassi. Go Pindarus, get higher on that hill, My sight was euer thicke: regard Titinius, And tell me what thou not'st about the Field. This day I breathed first, Time is come round, And where I did begin, there shall I end, My life is run his compasse. Sirra, what newes? Pind. Aboue. O my Lord

Cassi. What newes? Pind. Titinius is enclosed round about With Horsemen, that make to him on the Spurre, Yet he spurres on. Now they are almost on him: Now Titinius. Now some light: O he lights too. Hee's tane.

Showt.

And hearke, they shout for ioy

Cassi. Come downe, behold no more: O Coward that I am, to liue so long, To see my best Friend tane before my face Enter Pindarus.

Come hither sirrah: In Parthia did I take thee Prisoner, And then I swore thee, sauing of thy life, That whatsoeuer I did bid thee do, Thou should'st attempt it. Come now, keepe thine oath, Now be a Free-man, and with this good Sword That ran through Caesars bowels, search this bosome. Stand not to answer: Heere, take thou the Hilts, And when my face is couer'd, as 'tis now, Guide thou the Sword- Caesar, thou art reueng'd, Euen with the Sword that kill'd thee

Pin. So, I am free, Yet would not so haue beene Durst I haue done my will. O Cassius, Farre from this Country Pindarus shall run, Where neuer Roman shall take note of him. Enter Titinius and Messala.

Messa. It is but change, Titinius: for Octauius Is ouerthrowne by Noble Brutus power, As Cassius Legions are by Antony

Titin. These tydings will well comfort Cassius

Messa. Where did you leaue him

Titin. All disconsolate, With Pindarus his Bondman, on this Hill

Messa. Is not that he that lyes vpon the ground? Titin. He lies not like the Liuing. O my heart! Messa. Is not that hee? Titin. No, this was he Messala, But Cassius is no more. O setting Sunne: As in thy red Rayes thou doest sinke to night; So in his red blood Cassius day is set. The Sunne of Rome is set. Our day is gone, Clowds, Dewes, and Dangers come; our deeds are done: Mistrust of my successe hath done this deed

Messa. Mistrust of good successe hath done this deed. O hatefull Error, Melancholies Childe: Why do'st thou shew to the apt thoughts of men The things that are not? O Error soone conceyu'd, Thou neuer com'st vnto a happy byrth, But kil'st the Mother that engendred thee

Tit. What Pindarus? Where art thou Pindarus? Messa. Seeke him Titinius, whilst I go to meet The Noble Brutus, thrusting this report Into his eares; I may say thrusting it: For piercing Steele, and Darts inuenomed, Shall be as welcome to the eares of Brutus, As tydings of this sight

Tit. Hye you Messala, And I will seeke for Pindarus the while: Why did'st thou send me forth braue Cassius? Did I not meet thy Friends, and did not they Put on my Browes this wreath of Victorie, And bid me giue it thee? Did'st thou not heare their showts? Alas, thou hast misconstrued euery thing. But hold thee, take this Garland on thy Brow, Thy Brutus bid me giue it thee, and I Will do his bidding. Brutus, come apace, And see how I regarded Caius Cassius: By your leaue Gods: This is a Romans part, Come Cassius Sword, and finde Titinius hart.

Dies

Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, yong Cato, Strato, Volumnius, and Lucillius.

Bru. Where, where Messala, doth his body lye? Messa. Loe yonder, and Titinius mourning it

Bru. Titinius face is vpward

Cato. He is slaine

Bru. O Iulius Caesar, thou art mighty yet, Thy Spirit walkes abroad, and turnes our Swords In our owne proper Entrailes. Low Alarums

Cato. Braue Titinius, Looke where he haue not crown'd dead Cassius

Bru. Are yet two Romans liuing such as these? The last of all the Romans, far thee well: It is impossible, that euer Rome Should breed thy fellow. Friends I owe mo teares To this dead man, then you shall see me pay. I shall finde time, Cassius: I shall finde time. Come therefore, and to Tharsus send his body, His Funerals shall not be in our Campe, Least it discomfort vs. Lucillius come, And come yong Cato, let vs to the Field, Labio and Flauio set our Battailes on: 'Tis three a clocke, and Romans yet ere night, We shall try Fortune in a second fight.

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Brutus, Messala, Cato, Lucillius, and Flauius.

Bru. Yet Country-men: O yet, hold vp your heads

Cato. What Bastard doth not? Who will go with me? I will proclaime my name about the Field. I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe. A Foe to Tyrants, and my Countries Friend. I am the Sonne of Marcus Cato, hoe. Enter Souldiers, and fight.

And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I, Brutus my Countries Friend: Know me for Brutus

Luc. O yong and Noble Cato, art thou downe? Why now thou dyest, as brauely as Titinius, And may'st be honour'd, being Cato's Sonne

Sold. Yeeld, or thou dyest

Luc. Onely I yeeld to dye: There is so much, that thou wilt kill me straight: Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death

Sold. We must not: a Noble Prisoner. Enter Antony.

2.Sold. Roome hoe: tell Antony, Brutus is tane

1.Sold. Ile tell thee newes. Heere comes the Generall, Brutus is tane, Brutus is tane my Lord

Ant. Where is hee? Luc. Safe Antony, Brutus is safe enough: I dare assure thee, that no Enemy Shall euer take aliue the Noble Brutus: The Gods defend him from so great a shame, When you do finde him, or aliue, or dead, He will be found like Brutus, like himselfe

Ant. This is not Brutus friend, but I assure you, A prize no lesse in worth; keepe this man safe, Giue him all kindnesse. I had rather haue Such men my Friends, then Enemies. Go on, And see where Brutus be aliue or dead, And bring vs word, vnto Octauius Tent: How euery thing is chanc'd.

Exeunt.

Enter Brutus, Dardanius, Clitus, Strato, and Volumnius.

Brut. Come poore remaines of friends, rest on this Rocke

Clit. Statillius shew'd the Torch-light, but my Lord He came not backe: he is or tane, or slaine

Brut. Sit thee downe, Clitus: slaying is the word, It is a deed in fashion. Hearke thee, Clitus

Clit. What I, my Lord? No, not for all the World

Brut. Peace then, no words

Clit. Ile rather kill my selfe

Brut. Hearke thee, Dardanius

Dard. Shall I doe such a deed? Clit. O Dardanius

Dard. O Clitus

Clit. What ill request did Brutus make to thee? Dard. To kill him, Clitus: looke he meditates

Clit. Now is that Noble Vessell full of griefe, That it runnes ouer euen at his eyes

Brut. Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word

Volum. What sayes my Lord? Brut. Why this, Volumnius: The Ghost of Caesar hath appear'd to me Two seuerall times by Night: at Sardis, once; And this last Night, here in Philippi fields: I know my houre is come

Volum. Not so, my Lord

Brut. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius. Thou seest the World, Volumnius, how it goes, Our Enemies haue beat vs to the Pit:

Low Alarums.

It is more worthy, to leape in our selues, Then tarry till they push vs. Good Volumnius, Thou know'st, that we two went to Schoole together: Euen for that our loue of old, I prethee Hold thou my Sword Hilts, whilest I runne on it

Vol. That's not an Office for a friend, my Lord.

Alarum still.

Cly. Fly, flye my Lord, there is no tarrying heere

Bru. Farewell to you, and you, and Volumnius. Strato, thou hast bin all this while asleepe: Farewell to thee, to Strato, Countrymen: My heart doth ioy, that yet in all my life, I found no man, but he was true to me. I shall haue glory by this loosing day More then Octauius, and Marke Antony, By this vile Conquest shall attaine vnto. So fare you well at once, for Brutus tongue Hath almost ended his liues History: Night hangs vpon mine eyes, my Bones would rest, That haue but labour'd, to attaine this houre.

Alarum. Cry within, Flye, flye, flye.

Cly. Fly my Lord, flye

Bru. Hence: I will follow: I prythee Strato, stay thou by thy Lord, Thou art a Fellow of a good respect: Thy life hath had some smatch of Honor in it, Hold then my Sword, and turne away thy face, While I do run vpon it. Wilt thou Strato? Stra. Giue me your hand first. Fare you wel my Lord

Bru. Farewell good Strato. - Caesar, now be still, I kill'd not thee with halfe so good a will. Dyes.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter Antony, Octauius, Messala, Lucillius, and the Army.

Octa. What man is that? Messa. My Masters man. Strato, where is thy Master? Stra. Free from the Bondage you are in Messala, The Conquerors can but make a fire of him: For Brutus onely ouercame himselfe, And no man else hath Honor by his death

Lucil. So Brutus should be found. I thank thee Brutus That thou hast prou'd Lucillius saying true, Octa. All that seru'd Brutus, I will entertaine them. Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? Stra. I, if Messala will preferre me to you

Octa. Do so, good Messala

Messa. How dyed my Master Strato? Stra. I held the Sword, and he did run on it

Messa. Octauius, then take him to follow thee, That did the latest seruice to my Master

Ant. This was the Noblest Roman of them all: All the Conspirators saue onely hee, Did that they did, in enuy of great Caesar: He, onely in a generall honest thought, And common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the Elements So mixt in him, that Nature might stand vp, And say to all the world; This was a man

Octa. According to his Vertue, let vs vse him Withall Respect, and Rites of Buriall. Within my Tent his bones to night shall ly, Most like a Souldier ordered Honourably: So call the Field to rest, and let's away, To part the glories of this happy day.

Exeunt. omnes.

FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF IVLIVS CaeSAR.

The Tragedie of Macbeth

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Thunder and Lightning. Enter three Witches.

1. When shall we three meet againe? In Thunder, Lightning, or in Raine? 2. When the Hurley-burley's done, When the Battaile's lost, and wonne

3. That will be ere the set of Sunne

1. Where the place? 2. Vpon the Heath

3. There to meet with Macbeth

1. I come, Gray-Malkin

All. Padock calls anon: faire is foule, and foule is faire, Houer through the fogge and filthie ayre.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Alarum within. Enter King Malcome, Donalbaine, Lenox, with attendants, meeting a bleeding Captaine.

King. What bloody man is that? he can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the Reuolt The newest state

Mal. This is the Serieant, Who like a good and hardie Souldier fought 'Gainst my Captiuitie: Haile braue friend; Say to the King, the knowledge of the Broyle, As thou didst leaue it

Cap. Doubtfull it stood, As two spent Swimmers, that doe cling together, And choake their Art: The mercilesse Macdonwald (Worthie to be a Rebell, for to that The multiplying Villanies of Nature Doe swarme vpon him) from the Westerne Isles Of Kernes and Gallowgrosses is supply'd, And Fortune on his damned Quarry smiling, Shew'd like a Rebells Whore: but all's too weake: For braue Macbeth (well hee deserues that Name) Disdayning Fortune, with his brandisht Steele, Which smoak'd with bloody execution (Like Valours Minion) caru'd out his passage, Till hee fac'd the Slaue: Which neu'r shooke hands, nor bad farwell to him, Till he vnseam'd him from the Naue toth' Chops, And fix'd his Head vpon our Battlements

King. O valiant Cousin, worthy Gentleman

Cap. As whence the Sunne 'gins his reflection, Shipwracking Stormes, and direfull Thunders: So from that Spring, whence comfort seem'd to come, Discomfort swells: Marke King of Scotland, marke, No sooner Iustice had, with Valour arm'd, Compell'd these skipping Kernes to trust their heeles, But the Norweyan Lord, surueying vantage, With furbusht Armes, and new supplyes of men, Began a fresh assault

King. Dismay'd not this our Captaines, Macbeth and Banquoh? Cap. Yes, as Sparrowes, Eagles; Or the Hare, the Lyon: If I say sooth, I must report they were As Cannons ouer-charg'd with double Cracks, So they doubly redoubled stroakes vpon the Foe: Except they meant to bathe in reeking Wounds, Or memorize another Golgotha, I cannot tell: but I am faint, My Gashes cry for helpe

King. So well thy words become thee, as thy wounds, They smack of Honor both: Goe get him Surgeons. Enter Rosse and Angus.

Who comes here? Mal. The worthy Thane of Rosse

Lenox. What a haste lookes through his eyes? So should he looke, that seemes to speake things strange

Rosse. God saue the King

King. Whence cam'st thou, worthy Thane? Rosse. From Fiffe, great King, Where the Norweyan Banners flowt the Skie, And fanne our people cold. Norway himselfe, with terrible numbers, Assisted by that most disloyall Traytor, The Thane of Cawdor, began a dismall Conflict, Till that Bellona's Bridegroome, lapt in proofe, Confronted him with selfe-comparisons, Point against Point, rebellious Arme 'gainst Arme, Curbing his lauish spirit: and to conclude, The Victorie fell on vs

King. Great happinesse

Rosse. That now Sweno, the Norwayes King, Craues composition: Nor would we deigne him buriall of his men, Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmes ynch, Ten thousand Dollars, to our generall vse

King. No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceiue Our Bosome interest: Goe pronounce his present death, And with his former Title greet Macbeth

Rosse. Ile see it done

King. What he hath lost, Noble Macbeth hath wonne.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1. Where hast thou beene, Sister? 2. Killing Swine

3. Sister, where thou? 1. A Saylors Wife had Chestnuts in her Lappe, And mouncht, & mouncht, and mouncht: Giue me, quoth I. Aroynt thee, Witch, the rumpe-fed Ronyon cryes. Her Husband's to Aleppo gone, Master o'th' Tiger: But in a Syue Ile thither sayle, And like a Rat without a tayle, Ile doe, Ile doe, and Ile doe

2. Ile giue thee a Winde

1. Th'art kinde

3. And I another

1. I my selfe haue all the other, And the very Ports they blow, All the Quarters that they know, I'th' Ship-mans Card. Ile dreyne him drie as Hay: Sleepe shall neyther Night nor Day Hang vpon his Pent-house Lid: He shall liue a man forbid: Wearie Seu'nights, nine times nine, Shall he dwindle, peake, and pine: Though his Barke cannot be lost, Yet it shall be Tempest-tost. Looke what I haue

2. Shew me, shew me

1. Here I haue a Pilots Thumbe, Wrackt, as homeward he did come.

Drum within.

3. A Drumme, a Drumme: Macbeth doth come

All. The weyward Sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the Sea and Land, Thus doe goe, about, about, Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, And thrice againe, to make vp nine. Peace, the Charme's wound vp. Enter Macbeth and Banquo.

Macb. So foule and faire a day I haue not seene

Banquo. How farre is't call'd to Soris? What are these, So wither'd, and so wilde in their attyre, That looke not like th' Inhabitants o'th' Earth, And yet are on't? Liue you, or are you aught That man may question? you seeme to vnderstand me, By each at once her choppie finger laying Vpon her skinnie Lips: you should be Women, And yet your Beards forbid me to interprete That you are so

Mac. Speake if you can: what are you? 1. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Glamis

2. All haile Macbeth, haile to thee Thane of Cawdor

3. All haile Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter

Banq. Good Sir, why doe you start, and seeme to feare Things that doe sound so faire? i'th' name of truth Are ye fantasticall, or that indeed Which outwardly ye shew? My Noble Partner You greet with present Grace, and great prediction Of Noble hauing, and of Royall hope, That he seemes wrapt withall: to me you speake not. If you can looke into the Seedes of Time, And say, which Graine will grow, and which will not, Speake then to me, who neyther begge, nor feare Your fauors, nor your hate

1. Hayle

2. Hayle

3. Hayle

1. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater

2. Not so happy, yet much happyer

3. Thou shalt get Kings, though thou be none: So all haile Macbeth, and Banquo

1. Banquo, and Macbeth, all haile

Macb. Stay you imperfect Speakers, tell me more: By Sinells death, I know I am Thane of Glamis, But how, of Cawdor? the Thane of Cawdor liues A prosperous Gentleman: And to be King, Stands not within the prospect of beleefe, No more then to be Cawdor. Say from whence You owe this strange Intelligence, or why Vpon this blasted Heath you stop our way With such Prophetique greeting? Speake, I charge you.

Witches vanish.

Banq. The Earth hath bubbles, as the Water ha's, And these are of them: whither are they vanish'd? Macb. Into the Ayre: and what seem'd corporall, Melted, as breath into the Winde. Would they had stay'd

Banq. Were such things here, as we doe speake about? Or haue we eaten on the insane Root, That takes the Reason Prisoner? Macb. Your Children shall be Kings

Banq. You shall be King

Macb. And Thane of Cawdor too: went it not so? Banq. Toth' selfe-same tune and words: who's here? Enter Rosse and Angus.

Rosse. The King hath happily receiu'd, Macbeth, The newes of thy successe: and when he reades Thy personall Venture in the Rebels sight, His Wonders and his Prayses doe contend, Which should be thine, or his: silenc'd with that, In viewing o're the rest o'th' selfe-same day, He findes thee in the stout Norweyan Rankes, Nothing afeard of what thy selfe didst make Strange Images of death, as thick as Tale Can post with post, and euery one did beare Thy prayses in his Kingdomes great defence, And powr'd them downe before him

Ang. Wee are sent, To giue thee from our Royall Master thanks, Onely to harrold thee into his sight, Not pay thee

Rosse. And for an earnest of a greater Honor, He bad me, from him, call thee Thane of Cawdor: In which addition, haile most worthy Thane, For it is thine

Banq. What, can the Deuill speake true? Macb. The Thane of Cawdor liues: Why doe you dresse me in borrowed Robes? Ang. Who was the Thane, liues yet, But vnder heauie Iudgement beares that Life, Which he deserues to loose. Whether he was combin'd with those of Norway, Or did lyne the Rebell with hidden helpe, And vantage; or that with both he labour'd In his Countreyes wracke, I know not: But Treasons Capitall, confess'd, and prou'd, Haue ouerthrowne him

Macb. Glamys, and Thane of Cawdor: The greatest is behinde. Thankes for your paines. Doe you not hope your Children shall be Kings, When those that gaue the Thane of Cawdor to me, Promis'd no lesse to them

Banq. That trusted home, Might yet enkindle you vnto the Crowne, Besides the Thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange: And oftentimes, to winne vs to our harme, The Instruments of Darknesse tell vs Truths, Winne vs with honest Trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence. Cousins, a word, I pray you

Macb. Two Truths are told, As happy Prologues to the swelling Act Of the Imperiall Theame. I thanke you Gentlemen: This supernaturall solliciting Cannot be ill; cannot be good. If ill? why hath it giuen me earnest of successe, Commencing in a Truth? I am Thane of Cawdor. If good? why doe I yeeld to that suggestion, Whose horrid Image doth vnfixe my Heire, And make my seated Heart knock at my Ribbes, Against the vse of Nature? Present Feares Are lesse then horrible Imaginings: My Thought, whose Murther yet is but fantasticall, Shakes so my single state of Man, That Function is smother'd in surmise, And nothing is, but what is not

Banq. Looke how our Partner's rapt

Macb. If Chance will haue me King, Why Chance may Crowne me, Without my stirre

Banq. New Honors come vpon him Like our strange Garments, cleaue not to their mould, But with the aid of vse

Macb. Come what come may, Time, and the Houre, runs through the roughest Day

Banq. Worthy Macbeth, wee stay vpon your leysure

Macb. Giue me your fauour: My dull Braine was wrought with things forgotten. Kinde Gentlemen, your paines are registred, Where euery day I turne the Leafe, To reade them. Let vs toward the King: thinke vpon What hath chanc'd: and at more time, The Interim hauing weigh'd it, let vs speake Our free Hearts each to other

Banq. Very gladly

Macb. Till then enough: Come friends.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Flourish. Enter King, Lenox, Malcolme, Donalbaine, and Attendants.

King. Is execution done on Cawdor? Or not those in Commission yet return'd? Mal. My Liege, they are not yet come back. But I haue spoke with one that saw him die: Who did report, that very frankly hee Confess'd his Treasons, implor'd your Highnesse Pardon, And set forth a deepe Repentance: Nothing in his Life became him, Like the leauing it. Hee dy'de, As one that had beene studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd, As 'twere a carelesse Trifle

King. There's no Art, To finde the Mindes construction in the Face. He was a Gentleman, on whom I built An absolute Trust. Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Rosse, and Angus.

O worthyest Cousin, The sinne of my Ingratitude euen now Was heauie on me. Thou art so farre before, That swiftest Wing of Recompence is slow, To ouertake thee. Would thou hadst lesse deseru'd, That the proportion both of thanks, and payment, Might haue beene mine: onely I haue left to say, More is thy due, then more then all can pay

Macb. The seruice, and the loyaltie I owe, In doing it, payes it selfe. Your Highnesse part, is to receiue our Duties: And our Duties are to your Throne, and State, Children, and Seruants; which doe but what they should, By doing euery thing safe toward your Loue And Honor

King. Welcome hither: I haue begun to plant thee, and will labour To make thee full of growing. Noble Banquo, That hast no lesse deseru'd, nor must be knowne No lesse to haue done so: Let me enfold thee, And hold thee to my Heart

Banq. There if I grow, The Haruest is your owne

King. My plenteous Ioyes, Wanton in fulnesse, seeke to hide themselues In drops of sorrow. Sonnes, Kinsmen, Thanes, And you whose places are the nearest, know, We will establish our Estate vpon Our eldest, Malcolme, whom we name hereafter, The Prince of Cumberland: which Honor must Not vnaccompanied, inuest him onely, But signes of Noblenesse, like Starres, shall shine On all deseruers. From hence to Envernes, And binde vs further to you

Macb. The Rest is Labor, which is not vs'd for you: Ile be my selfe the Herbenger, and make ioyfull The hearing of my Wife, with your approach: So humbly take my leaue

King. My worthy Cawdor

Macb. The Prince of Cumberland: that is a step, On which I must fall downe, or else o're-leape, For in my way it lyes. Starres hide your fires, Let not Light see my black and deepe desires: The Eye winke at the Hand: yet let that bee, Which the Eye feares, when it is done to see. Enter.

King. True worthy Banquo: he is full so valiant, And in his commendations, I am fed: It is a Banquet to me. Let's after him, Whose care is gone before, to bid vs welcome: It is a peerelesse Kinsman.

Flourish. Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Macbeths Wife alone with a Letter.

Lady. They met me in the day of successe: and I haue learn'd by the perfect'st report, they haue more in them, then mortall knowledge. When I burnt in desire to question them further, they made themselues Ayre, into which they vanish'd. Whiles I stood rapt in the wonder of it, came Missiues from the King, who all-hail'd me Thane of Cawdor, by which Title before, these weyward Sisters saluted me, and referr'd me to the comming on of time, with haile King that shalt be. This haue I thought good to deliuer thee (my dearest Partner of Greatnesse) that thou might'st not loose the dues of reioycing by being ignorant of what Greatnesse is promis'd thee. Lay it to thy heart and farewell. Glamys thou art, and Cawdor, and shalt be What thou art promis'd: yet doe I feare thy Nature, It is too full o'th' Milke of humane kindnesse, To catch the neerest way. Thou would'st be great, Art not without Ambition, but without The illnesse should attend it. What thou would'st highly, That would'st thou holily: would'st not play false, And yet would'st wrongly winne. Thould'st haue, great Glamys, that which cryes, Thus thou must doe, if thou haue it; And that which rather thou do'st feare to doe, Then wishest should be vndone. High thee hither, That I may powre my Spirits in thine Eare, And chastise with the valour of my Tongue All that impeides thee from the Golden Round, Which Fate and Metaphysicall ayde doth seeme To haue thee crown'd withall. Enter Messenger.

What is your tidings? Mess. The King comes here to Night

Lady. Thou'rt mad to say it. Is not thy Master with him? who, wer't so, Would haue inform'd for preparation

Mess. So please you, it is true: our Thane is comming: One of my fellowes had the speed of him; Who almost dead for breath, had scarcely more Then would make vp his Message

Lady. Giue him tending, He brings great newes,

Exit Messenger.

The Rauen himselfe is hoarse, That croakes the fatall entrance of Duncan Vnder my Battlements. Come you Spirits, That tend on mortall thoughts, vnsex me here, And fill me from the Crowne to the Toe, top-full Of direst Crueltie: make thick my blood, Stop vp th' accesse, and passage to Remorse, That no compunctious visitings of Nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keepe peace betweene Th' effect, and hit. Come to my Womans Brests, And take my Milke for Gall, you murth'ring Ministers, Where-euer, in your sightlesse substances, You wait on Natures Mischiefe. Come thick Night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoake of Hell, That my keene Knife see not the Wound it makes, Nor Heauen peepe through the Blanket of the darke, To cry, hold, hold. Enter Macbeth.

Great Glamys, worthy Cawdor, Greater then both, by the all-haile hereafter, Thy Letters haue transported me beyond This ignorant present, and I feele now The future in the instant

Macb. My dearest Loue, Duncan comes here to Night

Lady. And when goes hence? Macb. To morrow, as he purposes

Lady. O neuer, Shall Sunne that Morrow see. Your Face, my Thane, is as a Booke, where men May reade strange matters, to beguile the time. Looke like the time, beare welcome in your Eye, Your Hand, your Tongue: looke like th' innocent flower, But be the Serpent vnder't. He that's comming, Must be prouided for: and you shall put This Nights great Businesse into my dispatch, Which shall to all our Nights, and Dayes to come, Giue solely soueraigne sway, and Masterdome

Macb. We will speake further, Lady. Onely looke vp cleare: To alter fauor, euer is to feare: Leaue all the rest to me.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Hoboyes, and Torches. Enter King, Malcolme, Donalbaine, Banquo, Lenox, Macduff, Rosse, Angus, and Attendants.

King. This Castle hath a pleasant seat, The ayre nimbly and sweetly recommends it selfe Vnto our gentle sences

Banq. This Guest of Summer, The Temple-haunting Barlet does approue, By his loued Mansonry, that the Heauens breath Smells wooingly here: no Iutty frieze, Buttrice, nor Coigne of Vantage, but this Bird Hath made his pendant Bed, and procreant Cradle, Where they must breed, and haunt: I haue obseru'd The ayre is delicate. Enter Lady.

King. See, see our honor'd Hostesse: The Loue that followes vs, sometime is our trouble, Which still we thanke as Loue. Herein I teach you, How you shall bid God-eyld vs for your paines, And thanke vs for your trouble

Lady. All our seruice, In euery point twice done, and then done double, Were poore, and single Businesse, to contend Against those Honors deepe, and broad, Wherewith your Maiestie loades our House: For those of old, and the late Dignities, Heap'd vp to them, we rest your Ermites

King. Where's the Thane of Cawdor? We courst him at the heeles, and had a purpose To be his Purueyor: But he rides well, And his great Loue (sharpe as his Spurre) hath holp him To his home before vs: Faire and Noble Hostesse We are your guest to night

La. Your Seruants euer, Haue theirs, themselues, and what is theirs in compt, To make their Audit at your Highnesse pleasure, Still to returne your owne

King. Giue me your hand: Conduct me to mine Host we loue him highly, And shall continue, our Graces towards him. By your leaue Hostesse.

Exeunt.

Scena Septima.

Hoboyes. Torches. Enter a Sewer, and diuers Seruants with Dishes and Seruice ouer the Stage. Then enter Macbeth

Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twer well, It were done quickly: If th' Assassination Could trammell vp the Consequence, and catch With his surcease, Successe: that but this blow Might be the be all, and the end all. Heere, But heere, vpon this Banke and Schoole of time, Wee'ld iumpe the life to come. But in these Cases, We still haue iudgement heere, that we but teach Bloody Instructions, which being taught, returne To plague th' Inuenter, this euen-handed Iustice Commends th' Ingredience of our poyson'd Challice To our owne lips. Hee's heere in double trust; First, as I am his Kinsman, and his Subiect, Strong both against the Deed: Then, as his Host, Who should against his Murtherer shut the doore, Not beare the knife my selfe. Besides, this Duncane Hath borne his Faculties so meeke; hath bin So cleere in his great Office, that his Vertues Will pleade like Angels, Trumpet-tongu'd against The deepe damnation of his taking off: And Pitty, like a naked New-borne-Babe, Striding the blast, or Heauens Cherubin, hors'd Vpon the sightlesse Curriors of the Ayre, Shall blow the horrid deed in euery eye, That teares shall drowne the winde. I haue no Spurre To pricke the sides of my intent, but onely Vaulting Ambition, which ore-leapes it selfe, And falles on th' other. Enter Lady.

How now? What Newes? La. He has almost supt: why haue you left the chamber? Mac. Hath he ask'd for me? La. Know you not, he ha's? Mac. We will proceed no further in this Businesse: He hath Honour'd me of late, and I haue bought Golden Opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worne now in their newest glosse, Not cast aside so soone

La. Was the hope drunke, Wherein you drest your selfe? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now to looke so greene, and pale, At what it did so freely? From this time, Such I account thy loue. Art thou affear'd To be the same in thine owne Act, and Valour, As thou art in desire? Would'st thou haue that Which thou esteem'st the Ornament of Life, And liue a Coward in thine owne Esteeme? Letting I dare not, wait vpon I would, Like the poore Cat i'th' Addage

Macb. Prythee peace: I dare do all that may become a man, Who dares do more, is none

La. What Beast was't then That made you breake this enterprize to me? When you durst do it, then you were a man: And to be more then what you were, you would Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor place Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: They haue made themselues, and that their fitnesse now Do's vnmake you. I haue giuen Sucke, and know How tender 'tis to loue the Babe that milkes me, I would, while it was smyling in my Face, Haue pluckt my Nipple from his Bonelesse Gummes, And dasht the Braines out, had I so sworne As you haue done to this

Macb. If we should faile? Lady. We faile? But screw your courage to the sticking place, And wee'le not fayle: when Duncan is asleepe, (Whereto the rather shall his dayes hard Iourney Soundly inuite him) his two Chamberlaines Will I with Wine, and Wassell, so conuince, That Memorie, the Warder of the Braine, Shall be a Fume, and the Receit of Reason A Lymbeck onely: when in Swinish sleepe, Their drenched Natures lyes as in a Death, What cannot you and I performe vpon Th' vnguarded Duncan? What not put vpon His spungie Officers? who shall beare the guilt Of our great quell

Macb. Bring forth Men-Children onely: For thy vndaunted Mettle should compose Nothing but Males. Will it not be receiu'd, When we haue mark'd with blood those sleepie two Of his owne Chamber, and vs'd their very Daggers, That they haue don't? Lady. Who dares receiue it other, As we shall make our Griefes and Clamor rore, Vpon his Death? Macb. I am settled, and bend vp Each corporall Agent to this terrible Feat. Away, and mock the time with fairest show, False Face must hide what the false Heart doth know.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Banquo, and Fleance, with a Torch before him.

Banq. How goes the Night, Boy? Fleance. The Moone is downe: I haue not heard the Clock

Banq. And she goes downe at Twelue

Fleance. I take't, 'tis later, Sir

Banq. Hold, take my Sword: There's Husbandry in Heauen, Their Candles are all out: take thee that too. A heauie Summons lyes like Lead vpon me, And yet I would not sleepe: Mercifull Powers, restraine in me the cursed thoughts That Nature giues way to in repose. Enter Macbeth, and a Seruant with a Torch.

Giue me my Sword: who's there? Macb. A Friend

Banq. What Sir, not yet at rest? the King's a bed. He hath beene in vnusuall Pleasure, And sent forth great Largesse to your Offices. This Diamond he greetes your Wife withall, By the name of most kind Hostesse, And shut vp in measurelesse content

Mac. Being vnprepar'd, Our will became the seruant to defect, Which else should free haue wrought

Banq. All's well. I dreamt last Night of the three weyward Sisters: To you they haue shew'd some truth

Macb. I thinke not of them: Yet when we can entreat an houre to serue, We would spend it in some words vpon that Businesse, If you would graunt the time

Banq. At your kind'st leysure

Macb. If you shall cleaue to my consent, When 'tis, it shall make Honor for you

Banq. So I lose none, In seeking to augment it, but still keepe My Bosome franchis'd, and Allegeance cleare, I shall be counsail'd

Macb. Good repose the while

Banq. Thankes Sir: the like to you.

Exit Banquo.

Macb. Goe bid thy Mistresse, when my drinke is ready, She strike vpon the Bell. Get thee to bed. Enter.

Is this a Dagger, which I see before me, The Handle toward my Hand? Come, let me clutch thee: I haue thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not fatall Vision, sensible To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but A Dagger of the Minde, a false Creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed Braine? I see thee yet, in forme as palpable, As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going, And such an Instrument I was to vse. Mine Eyes are made the fooles o'th' other Sences, Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still; And on thy Blade, and Dudgeon, Gouts of Blood, Which was not so before. There's no such thing: It is the bloody Businesse, which informes Thus to mine Eyes. Now o're the one halfe World Nature seemes dead, and wicked Dreames abuse The Curtain'd sleepe: Witchcraft celebrates Pale Heccats Offrings: and wither'd Murther, Alarum'd by his Centinell, the Wolfe, Whose howle's his Watch, thus with his stealthy pace, With Tarquins rauishing sides, towards his designe Moues like a Ghost. Thou sowre and firme-set Earth Heare not my steps, which they may walke, for feare Thy very stones prate of my where-about, And take the present horror from the time, Which now sutes with it. Whiles I threat, he liues: Words to the heat of deedes too cold breath giues.

A Bell rings.

I goe, and it is done: the Bell inuites me. Heare it not, Duncan, for it is a Knell, That summons thee to Heauen, or to Hell. Enter.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Lady.

La. That which hath made the[m] drunk, hath made me bold: What hath quench'd them, hath giuen me fire. Hearke, peace: it was the Owle that shriek'd, The fatall Bell-man, which giues the stern'st good-night. He is about it, the Doores are open: And the surfeted Groomes doe mock their charge With Snores. I haue drugg'd their Possets, That Death and Nature doe contend about them, Whether they liue, or dye. Enter Macbeth.

Macb. Who's there? what hoa? Lady. Alack, I am afraid they haue awak'd, And 'tis not done: th' attempt, and not the deed, Confounds vs: hearke: I lay'd their Daggers ready, He could not misse 'em. Had he not resembled My Father as he slept, I had don't. My Husband? Macb. I haue done the deed: Didst thou not heare a noyse? Lady. I heard the Owle schreame, and the Crickets cry. Did not you speake? Macb. When? Lady. Now

Macb. As I descended? Lady. I

Macb. Hearke, who lyes i'th' second Chamber? Lady. Donalbaine

Mac. This is a sorry sight

Lady. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight

Macb. There's one did laugh in's sleepe, And one cry'd Murther, that they did wake each other: I stood, and heard them: But they did say their Prayers, And addrest them againe to sleepe

Lady. There are two lodg'd together

Macb. One cry'd God blesse vs, and Amen the other, As they had seene me with these Hangmans hands: Listning their feare, I could not say Amen, When they did say God blesse vs

Lady. Consider it not so deepely

Mac. But wherefore could not I pronounce Amen? I had most need of Blessing, and Amen stuck in my throat

Lady. These deeds must not be thought After these wayes: so, it will make vs mad

Macb. Me thought I heard a voyce cry, Sleep no more: Macbeth does murther Sleepe, the innocent Sleepe, Sleepe that knits vp the rauel'd Sleeue of Care, The death of each dayes Life, sore Labors Bath, Balme of hurt Mindes, great Natures second Course, Chiefe nourisher in Life's Feast

Lady. What doe you meane? Macb. Still it cry'd, Sleepe no more to all the House: Glamis hath murther'd Sleepe, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleepe no more: Macbeth shall sleepe no more

Lady. Who was it, that thus cry'd? why worthy Thane, You doe vnbend your Noble strength, to thinke So braine-sickly of things: Goe get some Water, And wash this filthie Witnesse from your Hand. Why did you bring these Daggers from the place? They must lye there: goe carry them, and smeare The sleepie Groomes with blood

Macb. Ile goe no more: I am afraid, to thinke what I haue done: Looke on't againe, I dare not

Lady. Infirme of purpose: Giue me the Daggers: the sleeping, and the dead, Are but as Pictures: 'tis the Eye of Childhood, That feares a painted Deuill. If he doe bleed, Ile guild the Faces of the Groomes withall, For it must seeme their Guilt. Enter.

Knocke within.

Macb. Whence is that knocking? How is't with me, when euery noyse appalls me? What Hands are here? hah: they pluck out mine Eyes. Will all great Neptunes Ocean wash this blood Cleane from my Hand? no: this my Hand will rather The multitudinous Seas incarnardine, Making the Greene one, Red. Enter Lady.

Lady. My Hands are of your colour: but I shame To weare a Heart so white.

Knocke.

I heare a knocking at the South entry: Retyre we to our Chamber: A little Water cleares vs of this deed. How easie is it then? your Constancie Hath left you vnattended.

Knocke.

Hearke, more knocking. Get on your Night-Gowne, least occasion call vs, And shew vs to be Watchers: be not lost So poorely in your thoughts

Macb. To know my deed,

Knocke.

'Twere best not know my selfe. Wake Duncan with thy knocking: I would thou could'st.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter a Porter. Knocking within.

Porter. Here's a knocking indeede: if a man were Porter of Hell Gate, hee should haue old turning the Key.

Knock.

Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there i'th' name of Belzebub? Here's a Farmer, that hang'd himselfe on th' expectation of Plentie: Come in time, haue Napkins enow about you, here you'le sweat for't.

Knock.

Knock, knock. Who's there in th' other Deuils Name? Faith here's an Equiuocator, that could sweare in both the Scales against eyther Scale, who committed Treason enough for Gods sake, yet could not equiuocate to Heauen: oh come in, Equiuocator.

Knock.

Knock, Knock, Knock. Who's there? 'Faith here's an English Taylor come hither, for stealing out of a French Hose: Come in Taylor, here you may rost your Goose. Knock.

Knock, Knock. Neuer at quiet: What are you? but this place is too cold for Hell. Ile Deuill-Porter it no further: I had thought to haue let in some of all Professions, that goe the Primrose way to th' euerlasting Bonfire.

Knock.

Anon, anon, I pray you remember the Porter. Enter Macduff, and Lenox.

Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went to Bed, That you doe lye so late? Port. Faith Sir, we were carowsing till the second Cock: And Drinke, Sir, is a great prouoker of three things

Macd. What three things does Drinke especially prouoke? Port. Marry, Sir, Nose-painting, Sleepe, and Vrine. Lecherie, Sir, it prouokes, and vnprouokes: it prouokes the desire, but it takes away the performance. Therefore much Drinke may be said to be an Equiuocator with Lecherie: it makes him, and it marres him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it perswades him, and dis-heartens him; makes him stand too, and not stand too: in conclusion, equiuocates him in a sleepe, and giuing him the Lye, leaues him

Macd. I beleeue, Drinke gaue thee the Lye last Night

Port. That it did, Sir, i'the very Throat on me: but I requited him for his Lye, and (I thinke) being too strong for him, though he tooke vp my Legges sometime, yet I made a Shift to cast him. Enter Macbeth.

Macd. Is thy Master stirring? Our knocking ha's awak'd him: here he comes

Lenox. Good morrow, Noble Sir

Macb. Good morrow both

Macd. Is the King stirring, worthy Thane? Macb. Not yet

Macd. He did command me to call timely on him, I haue almost slipt the houre

Macb. Ile bring you to him

Macd. I know this is a ioyfull trouble to you: But yet 'tis one

Macb. The labour we delight in, Physicks paine: This is the Doore

Macd. Ile make so bold to call, for 'tis my limitted seruice.

Exit Macduffe.

Lenox. Goes the King hence to day? Macb. He does: he did appoint so

Lenox. The Night ha's been vnruly: Where we lay, our Chimneys were blowne downe, And (as they say) lamentings heard i'th' Ayre; Strange Schreemes of Death, And Prophecying, with Accents terrible, Of dyre Combustion, and confus'd Euents, New hatch'd toth' wofull time. The obscure Bird clamor'd the liue-long Night. Some say, the Earth was Feuorous, And did shake

Macb. 'Twas a rough Night

Lenox. My young remembrance cannot paralell A fellow to it. Enter Macduff.

Macd. O horror, horror, horror, Tongue nor Heart cannot conceiue, nor name thee

Macb. and Lenox. What's the matter? Macd. Confusion now hath made his Master-peece: Most sacrilegious Murther hath broke ope The Lords anoynted Temple, and stole thence The Life o'th' Building

Macb. What is't you say, the Life? Lenox. Meane you his Maiestie? Macd. Approch the Chamber, and destroy your sight With a new Gorgon. Doe not bid me speake: See, and then speake your selues: awake, awake,

Exeunt. Macbeth and Lenox.

Ring the Alarum Bell: Murther, and Treason, Banquo, and Donalbaine: Malcolme awake, Shake off this Downey sleepe, Deaths counterfeit, And looke on Death it selfe: vp, vp, and see The great Doomes Image: Malcolme, Banquo, As from your Graues rise vp, and walke like Sprights, To countenance this horror. Ring the Bell.

Bell rings. Enter Lady.

Lady. What's the Businesse? That such a hideous Trumpet calls to parley The sleepers of the House? speake, speake

Macd. O gentle Lady, 'Tis not for you to heare what I can speake: The repetition in a Womans eare, Would murther as it fell. Enter Banquo.

O Banquo, Banquo, Our Royall Master's murther'd

Lady. Woe, alas: What, in our House? Ban. Too cruell, any where. Deare Duff, I prythee contradict thy selfe, And say, it is not so. Enter Macbeth, Lenox, and Rosse.

Macb. Had I but dy'd an houre before this chance, I had liu'd a blessed time: for from this instant, There's nothing serious in Mortalitie: All is but Toyes: Renowne and Grace is dead, The Wine of Life is drawne, and the meere Lees Is left this Vault, to brag of. Enter Malcolme and Donalbaine.

Donal. What is amisse? Macb. You are, and doe not know't: The Spring, the Head, the Fountaine of your Blood Is stopt, the very Source of it is stopt

Macd. Your Royall Father's murther'd

Mal. Oh, by whom? Lenox. Those of his Chamber, as it seem'd, had don't: Their Hands and Faces were all badg'd with blood, So were their Daggers, which vnwip'd, we found Vpon their Pillowes: they star'd, and were distracted, No mans Life was to be trusted with them

Macb. O, yet I doe repent me of my furie, That I did kill them

Macd. Wherefore did you so? Macb. Who can be wise, amaz'd, temp'rate, & furious, Loyall, and Neutrall, in a moment? No man: Th' expedition of my violent Loue Out-run the pawser, Reason. Here lay Duncan, His Siluer skinne, lac'd with His Golden Blood, And his gash'd Stabs, look'd like a Breach in Nature, For Ruines wastfull entrance: there the Murtherers, Steep'd in the Colours of their Trade; their Daggers Vnmannerly breech'd with gore: who could refraine, That had a heart to loue; and in that heart, Courage, to make's loue knowne? Lady. Helpe me hence, hoa

Macd. Looke to the Lady

Mal. Why doe we hold our tongues, That most may clayme this argument for ours? Donal. What should be spoken here, Where our Fate hid in an augure hole, May rush, and seize vs? Let's away, Our Teares are not yet brew'd

Mal. Nor our strong Sorrow Vpon the foot of Motion

Banq. Looke to the Lady: And when we haue our naked Frailties hid, That suffer in exposure; let vs meet, And question this most bloody piece of worke, To know it further. Feares and scruples shake vs: In the great Hand of God I stand, and thence, Against the vndivulg'd pretence, I fight Of Treasonous Mallice

Macd. And so doe I

All. So all

Macb. Let's briefely put on manly readinesse, And meet i'th' Hall together

All. Well contented.

Exeunt.

Malc. What will you doe? Let's not consort with them: To shew an vnfelt Sorrow, is an Office Which the false man do's easie. Ile to England

Don. To Ireland, I: Our seperated fortune shall keepe vs both the safer: Where we are, there's Daggers in mens smiles; The neere in blood, the neerer bloody

Malc. This murtherous Shaft that's shot, Hath not yet lighted: and our safest way, Is to auoid the ayme. Therefore to Horse, And let vs not be daintie of leaue-taking, But shift away: there's warrant in that Theft, Which steales it selfe, when there's no mercie left.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Rosse, with an Old man.

Old man. Threescore and ten I can remember well, Within the Volume of which Time, I haue seene Houres dreadfull, and things strange: but this sore Night Hath trifled former knowings

Rosse. Ha, good Father, Thou seest the Heauens, as troubled with mans Act, Threatens his bloody Stage: byth' Clock 'tis Day, And yet darke Night strangles the trauailing Lampe: Is't Nights predominance, or the Dayes shame, That Darknesse does the face of Earth intombe, When liuing Light should kisse it? Old man. 'Tis vnnaturall, Euen like the deed that's done: On Tuesday last, A Faulcon towring in her pride of place, Was by a Mowsing Owle hawkt at, and kill'd

Rosse. And Duncans Horses, (A thing most strange, and certaine) Beauteous, and swift, the Minions of their Race, Turn'd wilde in nature, broke their stalls, flong out, Contending 'gainst Obedience, as they would Make Warre with Mankinde

Old man. 'Tis said, they eate each other

Rosse. They did so: To th' amazement of mine eyes that look'd vpon't. Enter Macduffe.

Heere comes the good Macduffe. How goes the world Sir, now? Macd. Why see you not? Ross. Is't known who did this more then bloody deed? Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slaine

Ross. Alas the day, What good could they pretend? Macd. They were subborned, Malcolme, and Donalbaine the Kings two Sonnes Are stolne away and fled, which puts vpon them Suspition of the deed

Rosse. 'Gainst Nature still, Thriftlesse Ambition, that will rauen vp Thine owne liues meanes: Then 'tis most like, The Soueraignty will fall vpon Macbeth

Macd. He is already nam'd, and gone to Scone To be inuested

Rosse. Where is Duncans body? Macd. Carried to Colmekill, The Sacred Store-house of his Predecessors, And Guardian of their Bones

Rosse. Will you to Scone? Macd. No Cosin, Ile to Fife

Rosse. Well, I will thither

Macd. Well may you see things wel done there: Adieu Least our old Robes sit easier then our new

Rosse. Farewell, Father

Old M. Gods benyson go with you, and with those That would make good of bad, and Friends of Foes.

Exeunt. omnes

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Banquo.

Banq. Thou hast it now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all, As the weyard Women promis'd, and I feare Thou playd'st most fowly for't: yet it was saide It should not stand in thy Posterity, But that my selfe should be the Roote, and Father Of many Kings. If there come truth from them, As vpon thee Macbeth, their Speeches shine, Why by the verities on thee made good, May they not be my Oracles as well, And set me vp in hope. But hush, no more.

Senit sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Lenox, Rosse, Lords, and Attendants.

Macb. Heere's our chiefe Guest

La. If he had beene forgotten, It had bene as a gap in our great Feast, And all-thing vnbecomming

Macb. To night we hold a solemne Supper sir, And Ile request your presence

Banq. Let your Highnesse Command vpon me, to the which my duties Are with a most indissoluble tye For euer knit

Macb. Ride you this afternoone? Ban. I, my good Lord

Macb. We should haue else desir'd your good aduice (Which still hath been both graue, and prosperous) In this dayes Councell: but wee'le take to morrow. Is't farre you ride? Ban. As farre, my Lord, as will fill vp the time 'Twixt this, and Supper. Goe not my Horse the better, I must become a borrower of the Night, For a darke houre, or twaine

Macb. Faile not our Feast

Ban. My Lord, I will not

Macb. We heare our bloody Cozens are bestow'd In England, and in Ireland, not confessing Their cruell Parricide, filling their hearers With strange inuention. But of that to morrow, When therewithall, we shall haue cause of State, Crauing vs ioyntly. Hye you to Horse: Adieu, till you returne at Night. Goes Fleance with you? Ban. I, my good Lord: our time does call vpon's

Macb. I wish your Horses swift, and sure of foot: And so I doe commend you to their backs. Farwell.

Exit Banquo.

Let euery man be master of his time, Till seuen at Night, to make societie The sweeter welcome: We will keepe our selfe till Supper time alone: While then, God be with you.

Exeunt. Lords.

Sirrha, a word with you: Attend those men Our pleasure? Seruant. They are, my Lord, without the Pallace Gate

Macb. Bring them before vs.

Exit Seruant.

To be thus, is nothing, but to be safely thus Our feares in Banquo sticke deepe, And in his Royaltie of Nature reignes that Which would be fear'd. 'Tis much he dares, And to that dauntlesse temper of his Minde, He hath a Wisdome, that doth guide his Valour, To act in safetie. There is none but he, Whose being I doe feare: and vnder him, My Genius is rebuk'd, as it is said Mark Anthonies was by Caesar. He chid the Sisters, When first they put the Name of King vpon me, And bad them speake to him. Then Prophet-like, They hayl'd him Father to a Line of Kings. Vpon my Head they plac'd a fruitlesse Crowne, And put a barren Scepter in my Gripe, Thence to be wrencht with an vnlineall Hand, No Sonne of mine succeeding: if't be so, For Banquo's Issue haue I fil'd my Minde, For them, the gracious Duncan haue I murther'd, Put Rancours in the Vessell of my Peace Onely for them, and mine eternall Iewell Giuen to the common Enemie of Man, To make them Kings, the Seedes of Banquo Kings. Rather then so, come Fate into the Lyst, And champion me to th' vtterance. Who's there? Enter Seruant, and two Murtherers.

Now goe to the Doore, and stay there till we call.

Exit Seruant.

Was it not yesterday we spoke together? Murth. It was, so please your Highnesse

Macb. Well then, Now haue you consider'd of my speeches: Know, that it was he, in the times past, Which held you so vnder fortune, Which you thought had been our innocent selfe. This I made good to you, in our last conference, Past in probation with you: How you were borne in hand, how crost: The Instruments: who wrought with them: And all things else, that might To halfe a Soule, and to a Notion craz'd, Say, Thus did Banquo

1.Murth. You made it knowne to vs

Macb. I did so: And went further, which is now Our point of second meeting. Doe you finde your patience so predominant, In your nature, that you can let this goe? Are you so Gospell'd, to pray for this good man, And for his Issue, whose heauie hand Hath bow'd you to the Graue, and begger'd Yours for euer? 1.Murth. We are men, my Liege

Macb. I, in the Catalogue ye goe for men, As Hounds, and Greyhounds, Mungrels, Spaniels, Curres, Showghes, Water-Rugs, and Demy-Wolues are clipt All by the Name of Dogges: the valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The House-keeper, the Hunter, euery one According to the gift, which bounteous Nature Hath in him clos'd: whereby he does receiue

## Particular addition, from the Bill,

That writes them all alike: and so of men. Now, if you haue a station in the file, Not i'th' worst ranke of Manhood, say't, And I will put that Businesse in your Bosomes, Whose execution takes your Enemie off, Grapples you to the heart; and loue of vs, Who weare our Health but sickly in his Life, Which in his Death were perfect

2.Murth. I am one, my Liege, Whom the vile Blowes and Buffets of the World Hath so incens'd, that I am recklesse what I doe, To spight the World

1.Murth. And I another, So wearie with Disasters, tugg'd with Fortune, That I would set my Life on any Chance, To mend it, or be rid on't

Macb. Both of you know Banquo was your Enemie

Murth. True, my Lord

Macb. So is he mine: and in such bloody distance, That euery minute of his being, thrusts Against my neer'st of Life: and though I could With bare-fac'd power sweepe him from my sight, And bid my will auouch it; yet I must not, For certaine friends that are both his, and mine, Whose loues I may not drop, but wayle his fall, Who I my selfe struck downe: and thence it is, That I to your assistance doe make loue, Masking the Businesse from the common Eye, For sundry weightie Reasons

2.Murth. We shall, my Lord, Performe what you command vs

1.Murth. Though our Liues- Macb. Your Spirits shine through you. Within this houre, at most, I will aduise you where to plant your selues, Acquaint you with the perfect Spy o'th' time, The moment on't, for't must be done to Night, And something from the Pallace: alwayes thought, That I require a clearenesse; and with him, To leaue no Rubs nor Botches in the Worke: Fleans , his Sonne, that keepes him companie, Whose absence is no lesse materiall to me, Then is his Fathers, must embrace the fate Of that darke houre: resolue your selues apart, Ile come to you anon

Murth. We are resolu'd, my Lord

Macb. Ile call vpon you straight: abide within, It is concluded: Banquo, thy Soules flight, If it finde Heauen, must finde it out to Night.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Macbeths Lady, and a Seruant.

Lady. Is Banquo gone from Court? Seruant. I, Madame, but returnes againe to Night

Lady. Say to the King, I would attend his leysure, For a few words

Seruant. Madame, I will. Enter.

Lady. Nought's had, all's spent. Where our desire is got without content: 'Tis safer, to be that which we destroy, Then by destruction dwell in doubtfull ioy. Enter Macbeth.

How now, my Lord, why doe you keepe alone? Of sorryest Fancies your Companions making, Vsing those Thoughts, which should indeed haue dy'd With them they thinke on: things without all remedie Should be without regard: what's done, is done

Macb. We haue scorch'd the Snake, not kill'd it: Shee'le close, and be her selfe, whilest our poore Mallice Remaines in danger of her former Tooth. But let the frame of things dis-ioynt, Both the Worlds suffer, Ere we will eate our Meale in feare, and sleepe In the affliction of these terrible Dreames, That shake vs Nightly: Better be with the dead, Whom we, to gayne our peace, haue sent to peace, Then on the torture of the Minde to lye In restlesse extasie. Duncane is in his Graue: After Lifes fitfull Feuer, he sleepes well, Treason ha's done his worst: nor Steele, nor Poyson, Mallice domestique, forraine Leuie, nothing, Can touch him further

Lady. Come on: Gentle my Lord, sleeke o're your rugged Lookes, Be bright and Iouiall among your Guests to Night

Macb. So shall I Loue, and so I pray be you: Let your remembrance apply to Banquo, Present him Eminence, both with Eye and Tongue: Vnsafe the while, that wee must laue Our Honors in these flattering streames, And make our Faces Vizards to our Hearts, Disguising what they are

Lady. You must leaue this

Macb. O, full of Scorpions is my Minde, deare Wife: Thou know'st, that Banquo and his Fleans liues

Lady. But in them, Natures Coppie's not eterne

Macb. There's comfort yet, they are assaileable, Then be thou iocund: ere the Bat hath flowne His Cloyster'd flight, ere to black Heccats summons The shard-borne Beetle, with his drowsie hums, Hath rung Nights yawning Peale, There shall be done a deed of dreadfull note

Lady. What's to be done? Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck, Till thou applaud the deed: Come, seeling Night, Skarfe vp the tender Eye of pittifull Day, And with thy bloodie and inuisible Hand Cancell and teare to pieces that great Bond, Which keepes me pale. Light thickens, And the Crow makes Wing toth' Rookie Wood: Good things of Day begin to droope, and drowse, Whiles Nights black Agents to their Prey's doe rowse. Thou maruell'st at my words: but hold thee still, Things bad begun, make strong themselues by ill: So prythee goe with me.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter three Murtherers.

1. But who did bid thee ioyne with vs? 3. Macbeth

2. He needes not our mistrust, since he deliuers Our Offices, and what we haue to doe, To the direction iust

1. Then stand with vs: The West yet glimmers with some streakes of Day. Now spurres the lated Traueller apace, To gayne the timely Inne, and neere approches The subiect of our Watch

3. Hearke, I heare Horses

Banquo within. Giue vs a Light there, hoa

2. Then 'tis hee: The rest, that are within the note of expectation, Alreadie are i'th' Court

1. His Horses goe about

3. Almost a mile: but he does vsually, So all men doe, from hence toth' Pallace Gate Make it their Walke. Enter Banquo and Fleans, with a Torch.

2. A Light, a Light

3. 'Tis hee

1. Stand too't

Ban. It will be Rayne to Night

1. Let it come downe

Ban. O, Trecherie! Flye good Fleans, flye, flye, flye, Thou may'st reuenge. O Slaue! 3. Who did strike out the Light? 1. Was't not the way? 3. There's but one downe: the Sonne is fled

2. We haue lost Best halfe of our Affaire

1. Well, let's away, and say how much is done.

Exeunt.

Scaena Quarta.

Banquet prepar'd. Enter Macbeth, Lady, Rosse, Lenox, Lords, and Attendants.

Macb. You know your owne degrees, sit downe: At first and last, the hearty welcome

Lords. Thankes to your Maiesty

Macb. Our selfe will mingle with Society, And play the humble Host: Our Hostesse keepes her State, but in best time We will require her welcome

La. Pronounce it for me Sir, to all our Friends, For my heart speakes, they are welcome. Enter first Murtherer.

Macb. See they encounter thee with their harts thanks Both sides are euen: heere Ile sit i'th' mid'st, Be large in mirth, anon wee'l drinke a Measure The Table round. There's blood vpon thy face

Mur. 'Tis Banquo's then

Macb. 'Tis better thee without, then he within. Is he dispatch'd? Mur. My Lord his throat is cut, that I did for him

Mac. Thou art the best o'th' Cut-throats, Yet hee's good that did the like for Fleans: If thou did'st it, thou art the Non-pareill

Mur. Most Royall Sir Fleans is scap'd

Macb. Then comes my Fit againe: I had else beene perfect; Whole as the Marble, founded as the Rocke, As broad, and generall, as the casing Ayre: But now I am cabin'd, crib'd, confin'd, bound in To sawcy doubts, and feares. But Banquo's safe? Mur. I, my good Lord: safe in a ditch he bides, With twenty trenched gashes on his head; The least a Death to Nature

Macb. Thankes for that: There the growne Serpent lyes, the worme that's fled Hath Nature that in time will Venom breed, No teeth for th' present. Get thee gone, to morrow Wee'l heare our selues againe.

Exit Murderer.

Lady. My Royall Lord, You do not giue the Cheere, the Feast is sold That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making: 'Tis giuen, with welcome: to feede were best at home: From thence, the sawce to meate is Ceremony, Meeting were bare without it. Enter the Ghost of Banquo, and sits in Macbeths place.

Macb. Sweet Remembrancer: Now good digestion waite on Appetite, And health on both

Lenox. May't please your Highnesse sit

Macb. Here had we now our Countries Honor, roof'd, Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present: Who, may I rather challenge for vnkindnesse, Then pitty for Mischance

Rosse. His absence (Sir) Layes blame vpon his promise. Pleas't your Highnesse To grace vs with your Royall Company? Macb. The Table's full

Lenox. Heere is a place reseru'd Sir

Macb. Where? Lenox. Heere my good Lord. What is't that moues your Highnesse? Macb. Which of you haue done this? Lords. What, my good Lord? Macb. Thou canst not say I did it: neuer shake Thy goary lockes at me

Rosse. Gentlemen rise, his Highnesse is not well

Lady. Sit worthy Friends: my Lord is often thus, And hath beene from his youth. Pray you keepe Seat, The fit is momentary, vpon a thought He will againe be well. If much you note him You shall offend him, and extend his Passion, Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man? Macb. I, and a bold one, that dare looke on that Which might appall the Diuell

La. O proper stuffe: This is the very painting of your feare: This is the Ayre-drawne-Dagger which you said Led you to Duncan. O, these flawes and starts (Impostors to true feare) would well become A womans story, at a Winters fire Authoriz'd by her Grandam: shame it selfe, Why do you make such faces? When all's done You looke but on a stoole

Macb. Prythee see there: Behold, looke, loe, how say you: Why what care I, if thou canst nod, speake too. If Charnell houses, and our Graues must send Those that we bury, backe; our Monuments Shall be the Mawes of Kytes

La. What? quite vnmann'd in folly

Macb. If I stand heere, I saw him

La. Fie for shame

Macb. Blood hath bene shed ere now, i'th' olden time Ere humane Statute purg'd the gentle Weale: I, and since too, Murthers haue bene perform'd Too terrible for the eare. The times has bene, That when the Braines were out, the man would dye, And there an end: But now they rise againe With twenty mortall murthers on their crownes, And push vs from our stooles. This is more strange Then such a murther is

La. My worthy Lord Your Noble Friends do lacke you

Macb. I do forget: Do not muse at me my most worthy Friends, I haue a strange infirmity, which is nothing To those that know me. Come, loue and health to all, Then Ile sit downe: Giue me some Wine, fill full: Enter Ghost.

I drinke to th' generall ioy o'th' whole Table, And to our deere Friend Banquo, whom we misse: Would he were heere: to all, and him we thirst, And all to all

Lords. Our duties, and the pledge

Mac. Auant, & quit my sight, let the earth hide thee: Thy bones are marrowlesse, thy blood is cold: Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with

La. Thinke of this good Peeres But as a thing of Custome: 'Tis no other, Onely it spoyles the pleasure of the time

Macb. What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian Beare, The arm'd Rhinoceros, or th' Hircan Tiger, Take any shape but that, and my firme Nerues Shall neuer tremble. Or be aliue againe, And dare me to the Desart with thy Sword: If trembling I inhabit then, protest mee The Baby of a Girle. Hence horrible shadow, Vnreall mock'ry hence. Why so, being gone I am a man againe: pray you sit still

La. You haue displac'd the mirth, Broke the good meeting, with most admir'd disorder

Macb. Can such things be, And ouercome vs like a Summers Clowd, Without our speciall wonder? You make me strange Euen to the disposition that I owe, When now I thinke you can behold such sights, And keepe the naturall Rubie of your Cheekes, When mine is blanch'd with feare

Rosse. What sights, my Lord? La. I pray you speake not: he growes worse & worse Question enrages him: at once, goodnight. Stand not vpon the order of your going, But go at once

Len. Good night, and better health Attend his Maiesty

La. A kinde goodnight to all.

Exit Lords.

Macb. It will haue blood they say: Blood will haue Blood: Stones haue beene knowne to moue, & Trees to speake: Augures, and vnderstood Relations, haue By Maggot Pyes, & Choughes, & Rookes brought forth The secret'st man of Blood. What is the night? La. Almost at oddes with morning, which is which

Macb. How say'st thou that Macduff denies his person At our great bidding

La. Did you send to him Sir? Macb. I heare it by the way: But I will send: There's not a one of them but in his house I keepe a Seruant Feed. I will to morrow (And betimes I will) to the weyard Sisters. More shall they speake: for now I am bent to know By the worst meanes, the worst, for mine owne good, All causes shall giue way. I am in blood Stept in so farre, that should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go ore: Strange things I haue in head, that will to hand, Which must be acted, ere they may be scand

La. You lacke the season of all Natures, sleepe

Macb. Come, wee'l to sleepe: My strange & self-abuse Is the initiate feare, that wants hard vse: We are yet but yong indeed.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches, meeting Hecat.

1. Why how now Hecat, you looke angerly? Hec. Haue I not reason (Beldams) as you are? Sawcy, and ouer-bold, how did you dare To Trade, and Trafficke with Macbeth, In Riddles, and Affaires of death; And I the Mistris of your Charmes, The close contriuer of all harmes, Was neuer call'd to beare my part, Or shew the glory of our Art? And which is worse, all you haue done Hath bene but for a wayward Sonne, Spightfull, and wrathfull, who (as others do) Loues for his owne ends, not for you. But make amends now: Get you gon, And at the pit of Acheron Meete me i'th' Morning: thither he Will come, to know his Destinie. Your Vessels, and your Spels prouide, Your Charmes, and euery thing beside; I am for th' Ayre: This night Ile spend Vnto a dismall, and a Fatall end. Great businesse must be wrought ere Noone. Vpon the Corner of the Moone There hangs a vap'rous drop, profound, Ile catch it ere it come to ground; And that distill'd by Magicke slights, Shall raise such Artificiall Sprights, As by the strength of their illusion, Shall draw him on to his Confusion. He shall spurne Fate, scorne Death, and beare His hopes 'boue Wisedome, Grace, and Feare: And you all know, Security Is Mortals cheefest Enemie.

Musicke, and a Song.

Hearke, I am call'd: my little Spirit see Sits in Foggy cloud, and stayes for me.

Sing within. Come away, come away, &c.

1 Come, let's make hast, shee'l soone be Backe againe.

Exeunt.

Scaena Sexta.

Enter Lenox, and another Lord.

Lenox. My former Speeches, Haue but hit your Thoughts Which can interpret farther: Onely I say Things haue bin strangely borne. The gracious Duncan Was pittied of Macbeth: marry he was dead: And the right valiant Banquo walk'd too late, Whom you may say (if't please you) Fleans kill'd, For Fleans fled: Men must not walke too late. Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous It was for Malcolme, and for Donalbane To kill their gracious Father? Damned Fact, How it did greeue Macbeth? Did he not straight In pious rage, the two delinquents teare, That were the Slaues of drinke, and thralles of sleepe? Was not that Nobly done? I, and wisely too: For 'twould haue anger'd any heart aliue To heare the men deny't. So that I say, He ha's borne all things well, and I do thinke, That had he Duncans Sonnes vnder his Key, (As, and't please Heauen he shall not) they should finde What 'twere to kill a Father: So should Fleans. But peace; for from broad words, and cause he fayl'd His presence at the Tyrants Feast, I heare Macduffe liues in disgrace. Sir, can you tell Where he bestowes himselfe? Lord. The Sonnes of Duncane (From whom this Tyrant holds the due of Birth) Liues in the English Court, and is receyu'd Of the most Pious Edward, with such grace, That the maleuolence of Fortune, nothing Takes from his high respect. Thither Macduffe Is gone, to pray the Holy King, vpon his ayd To wake Northumberland, and warlike Seyward, That by the helpe of these (with him aboue) To ratifie the Worke) we may againe Giue to our Tables meate, sleepe to our Nights: Free from our Feasts, and Banquets bloody kniues; Do faithfull Homage, and receiue free Honors, All which we pine for now. And this report Hath so exasperate their King, that hee Prepares for some attempt of Warre

Len. Sent he to Macduffe? Lord. He did: and with an absolute Sir, not I The clowdy Messenger turnes me his backe, And hums; as who should say, you'l rue the time That clogges me with this Answer

Lenox. And that well might Aduise him to a Caution, t' hold what distance His wisedome can prouide. Some holy Angell Flye to the Court of England, and vnfold His Message ere he come, that a swift blessing May soone returne to this our suffering Country, Vnder a hand accurs'd

Lord. Ile send my Prayers with him.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches.

1 Thrice the brinded Cat hath mew'd

2 Thrice, and once the Hedge-Pigge whin'd

3 Harpier cries, 'tis time, 'tis time

1 Round about the Caldron go: In the poysond Entrailes throw Toad, that vnder cold stone, Dayes and Nights, ha's thirty one: Sweltred Venom sleeping got, Boyle thou first i'th' charmed pot

All. Double, double, toile and trouble; Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble

2 Fillet of a Fenny Snake, In the Cauldron boyle and bake: Eye of Newt, and Toe of Frogge, Wooll of Bat, and Tongue of Dogge: Adders Forke, and Blinde-wormes Sting, Lizards legge, and Howlets wing: For a Charme of powrefull trouble, Like a Hell-broth, boyle and bubble

All. Double, double, toyle and trouble, Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble

3 Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolfe, Witches Mummey, Maw, and Gulfe Of the rauin'd salt Sea sharke: Roote of Hemlocke, digg'd i'th' darke: Liuer of Blaspheming Iew, Gall of Goate, and Slippes of Yew, Sliuer'd in the Moones Ecclipse: Nose of Turke, and Tartars lips: Finger of Birth-strangled Babe, Ditch-deliuer'd by a Drab, Make the Grewell thicke, and slab. Adde thereto a Tigers Chawdron, For th' Ingredience of our Cawdron

All. Double, double, toyle and trouble, Fire burne, and Cauldron bubble

2 Coole it with a Baboones blood, Then the Charme is firme and good. Enter Hecat, and the other three Witches.

Hec. O well done: I commend your paines, And euery one shall share i'th' gaines: And now about the Cauldron sing Like Elues and Fairies in a Ring, Inchanting all that you put in.

Musicke and a Song. Blacke Spirits, &c.

2 By the pricking of my Thumbes, Something wicked this way comes: Open Lockes, who euer knockes. Enter Macbeth.

Macb. How now you secret, black, & midnight Hags? What is't you do? All. A deed without a name

Macb. I coniure you, by that which you Professe, (How ere you come to know it) answer me: Though you vntye the Windes, and let them fight Against the Churches: Though the yesty Waues Confound and swallow Nauigation vp: Though bladed Corne be lodg'd, & Trees blown downe, Though Castles topple on their Warders heads: Though Pallaces, and Pyramids do slope Their heads to their Foundations: Though the treasure Of Natures Germaine, tumble altogether, Euen till destruction sicken: Answer me To what I aske you

1 Speake

2 Demand

3 Wee'l answer

1 Say, if th'hadst rather heare it from our mouthes, Or from our Masters

Macb. Call 'em: let me see 'em

1 Powre in Sowes blood, that hath eaten Her nine Farrow: Greaze that's sweaten From the Murderers Gibbet, throw Into the Flame

All. Come high or low: Thy Selfe and Office deaftly show. Thunder. 1. Apparation, an Armed Head.

Macb. Tell me, thou vnknowne power

1 He knowes thy thought: Heare his speech, but say thou nought

1 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth: Beware Macduffe, Beware the Thane of Fife: dismisse me. Enough.

He Descends.

Macb. What ere thou art, for thy good caution, thanks Thou hast harp'd my feare aright. But one word more

1 He will not be commanded: heere's another More potent then the first.

Thunder. 2 Apparition, a Bloody Childe.

2 Appar. Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth

Macb. Had I three eares, Il'd heare thee

Appar. Be bloody, bold, & resolute: Laugh to scorne The powre of man: For none of woman borne Shall harme Macbeth.

Descends.

Mac. Then liue Macduffe: what need I feare of thee? But yet Ile make assurance: double sure, And take a Bond of Fate: thou shalt not liue, That I may tell pale-hearted Feare, it lies; And sleepe in spight of Thunder.

Thunder 3 Apparation, a Childe Crowned, with a Tree in his hand.

What is this, that rises like the issue of a King, And weares vpon his Baby-brow, the round And top of Soueraignty? All. Listen, but speake not too't

3 Appar. Be Lyon metled, proud, and take no care: Who chafes, who frets, or where Conspirers are: Macbeth shall neuer vanquish'd be, vntill Great Byrnam Wood, to high Dunsmane Hill Shall come against him.

Descend.

Macb. That will neuer bee: Who can impresse the Forrest, bid the Tree Vnfixe his earth-bound Root? Sweet boadments, good: Rebellious dead, rise neuer till the Wood Of Byrnan rise, and our high plac'd Macbeth Shall liue the Lease of Nature, pay his breath To time, and mortall Custome. Yet my Hart Throbs to know one thing: Tell me, if your Art Can tell so much: Shall Banquo's issue euer Reigne in this Kingdome? All. Seeke to know no more

Macb. I will be satisfied. Deny me this, And an eternall Curse fall on you: Let me know. Why sinkes that Caldron? & what noise is this?

Hoboyes

1 Shew

2 Shew

3 Shew

All. Shew his Eyes, and greeue his Hart, Come like shadowes, so depart.

A shew of eight Kings, and Banquo last, with a glasse in his hand.

Macb. Thou art too like the Spirit of Banquo: Down: Thy Crowne do's seare mine Eye-bals. And thy haire Thou other Gold-bound-brow, is like the first: A third, is like the former. Filthy Hagges, Why do you shew me this? - A fourth? Start eyes! What will the Line stretch out to'th' cracke of Doome? Another yet? A seauenth? Ile see no more: And yet the eighth appeares, who beares a glasse, Which shewes me many more: and some I see, That two-fold Balles, and trebble Scepters carry. Horrible sight: Now I see 'tis true, For the Blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles vpon me, And points at them for his. What? is this so? 1 I Sir, all this is so. But why Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? Come Sisters, cheere we vp his sprights, And shew the best of our delights. Ile Charme the Ayre to giue a sound, While you performe your Antique round: That this great King may kindly say, Our duties, did his welcome pay.

Musicke. The Witches Dance, and vanish.

Macb. Where are they? Gone? Let this pernitious houre, Stand aye accursed in the Kalender. Come in, without there. Enter Lenox.

Lenox. What's your Graces will

Macb. Saw you the Weyard Sisters? Lenox. No my Lord

Macb. Came they not by you? Lenox. No indeed my Lord

Macb. Infected be the Ayre whereon they ride, And damn'd all those that trust them. I did heare The gallopping of Horse. Who was't came by? Len. 'Tis two or three my Lord, that bring you word: Macduff is fled to England

Macb. Fled to England? Len. I, my good Lord

Macb. Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits: The flighty purpose neuer is o're-tooke Vnlesse the deed go with it. From this moment, The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And euen now To Crown my thoughts with Acts: be it thoght & done: The Castle of Macduff, I will surprize. Seize vpon Fife; giue to th' edge o'th' Sword His Wife, his Babes, and all vnfortunate Soules That trace him in his Line. No boasting like a Foole, This deed Ile do, before this purpose coole, But no more sights. Where are these Gentlemen? Come bring me where they are.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Macduffes Wife, her Son, and Rosse.

Wife. What had he done, to make him fly the Land? Rosse. You must haue patience Madam

Wife. He had none: His flight was madnesse: when our Actions do not, Our feares do make vs Traitors

Rosse. You know not Whether it was his wisedome, or his feare

Wife. Wisedom? to leaue his wife, to leaue his Babes, His Mansion, and his Titles, in a place From whence himselfe do's flye? He loues vs not, He wants the naturall touch. For the poore Wren (The most diminitiue of Birds) will fight, Her yong ones in her Nest, against the Owle: All is the Feare, and nothing is the Loue; As little is the Wisedome, where the flight So runnes against all reason

Rosse. My deerest Cooz, I pray you schoole your selfe. But for your Husband, He is Noble, Wise, Iudicious, and best knowes The fits o'th' Season. I dare not speake much further, But cruell are the times, when we are Traitors And do not know our selues: when we hold Rumor From what we feare, yet know not what we feare, But floate vpon a wilde and violent Sea Each way, and moue. I take my leaue of you: Shall not be long but Ile be heere againe: Things at the worst will cease, or else climbe vpward, To what they were before. My pretty Cosine, Blessing vpon you

Wife. Father'd he is, And yet hee's Father-lesse

Rosse. I am so much a Foole, should I stay longer It would be my disgrace, and your discomfort. I take my leaue at once.

Exit Rosse.

Wife. Sirra, your Fathers dead, And what will you do now? How will you liue? Son. As Birds do Mother

Wife. What with Wormes, and Flyes? Son. With what I get I meane, and so do they

Wife. Poore Bird, Thou'dst neuer Feare the Net, nor Lime, The Pitfall, nor the Gin

Son. Why should I Mother? Poore Birds they are not set for: My Father is not dead for all your saying

Wife. Yes, he is dead: How wilt thou do for a Father? Son. Nay how will you do for a Husband? Wife. Why I can buy me twenty at any Market

Son. Then you'l by 'em to sell againe

Wife. Thou speak'st withall thy wit, And yet I'faith with wit enough for thee

Son. Was my Father a Traitor, Mother? Wife. I, that he was

Son. What is a Traitor? Wife. Why one that sweares, and lyes

Son. And be all Traitors, that do so

Wife. Euery one that do's so, is a Traitor, And must be hang'd

Son. And must they all be hang'd, that swear and lye? Wife. Euery one

Son. Who must hang them? Wife. Why, the honest men

Son. Then the Liars and Swearers are Fools: for there are Lyars and Swearers enow, to beate the honest men, and hang vp them

Wife. Now God helpe thee, poore Monkie: But how wilt thou do for a Father? Son. If he were dead, youl'd weepe for him: if you would not, it were a good signe, that I should quickely haue a new Father

Wife. Poore pratler, how thou talk'st? Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Blesse you faire Dame: I am not to you known, Though in your state of Honor I am perfect; I doubt some danger do's approach you neerely. If you will take a homely mans aduice, Be not found heere: Hence with your little ones To fright you thus. Me thinkes I am too sauage: To do worse to you, were fell Cruelty, Which is too nie your person. Heauen preserue you, I dare abide no longer.

Exit Messenger

Wife. Whether should I flye? I haue done no harme. But I remember now I am in this earthly world: where to do harme Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly. Why then (alas) Do I put vp that womanly defence, To say I haue done no harme? What are these faces? Enter Murtherers.

Mur. Where is your Husband? Wife. I hope in no place so vnsanctified, Where such as thou may'st finde him

Mur. He's a Traitor

Son. Thou ly'st thou shagge-ear'd Villaine

Mur. What you Egge? Yong fry of Treachery? Son. He ha's kill'd me Mother, Run away I pray you.

Exit crying Murther.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Malcolme and Macduffe.

Mal. Let vs seeke out some desolate shade, & there Weepe our sad bosomes empty

Macd. Let vs rather Hold fast the mortall Sword: and like good men, Bestride our downfall Birthdome: each new Morne, New Widdowes howle, new Orphans cry, new sorowes Strike heauen on the face, that it resounds As if it felt with Scotland, and yell'd out Like Syllable of Dolour

Mal. What I beleeue, Ile waile; What know, beleeue; and what I can redresse, As I shall finde the time to friend: I wil. What you haue spoke, it may be so perchance. This Tyrant, whose sole name blisters our tongues, Was once thought honest: you haue lou'd him well, He hath not touch'd you yet. I am yong, but something You may discerne of him through me, and wisedome To offer vp a weake, poore innocent Lambe T' appease an angry God

Macd. I am not treacherous

Malc. But Macbeth is. A good and vertuous Nature may recoyle In an Imperiall charge. But I shall craue your pardon: That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose; Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foule, would wear the brows of grace Yet Grace must still looke so

Macd. I haue lost my Hopes

Malc. Perchance euen there Where I did finde my doubts. Why in that rawnesse left you Wife, and Childe? Those precious Motiues, those strong knots of Loue, Without leaue-taking. I pray you, Let not my Iealousies, be your Dishonors, But mine owne Safeties: you may be rightly iust, What euer I shall thinke

Macd. Bleed, bleed poore Country, Great Tyrrany, lay thou thy basis sure, For goodnesse dare not check thee: wear y thy wrongs, The Title, is affear'd. Far thee well Lord, I would not be the Villaine that thou think'st, For the whole Space that's in the Tyrants Graspe, And the rich East to boot

Mal. Be not offended: I speake not as in absolute feare of you: I thinke our Country sinkes beneath the yoake, It weepes, it bleeds, and each new day a gash Is added to her wounds. I thinke withall, There would be hands vplifted in my right: And heere from gracious England haue I offer Of goodly thousands. But for all this, When I shall treade vpon the Tyrants head, Or weare it on my Sword; yet my poore Country Shall haue more vices then it had before, More suffer, and more sundry wayes then euer, By him that shall succeede

Macd. What should he be? Mal. It is my selfe I meane: in whom I know All the particulars of Vice so grafted, That when they shall be open'd, blacke Macbeth Will seeme as pure as Snow, and the poore State Esteeme him as a Lambe, being compar'd With my confinelesse harmes

Macd. Not in the Legions Of horrid Hell, can come a Diuell more damn'd In euils, to top Macbeth

Mal. I grant him Bloody, Luxurious, Auaricious, False, Deceitfull, Sodaine, Malicious, smacking of euery sinne That ha's a name. But there's no bottome, none In my Voluptuousnesse: Your Wiues, your Daughters, Your Matrons, and your Maides, could not fill vp The Cesterne of my Lust, and my Desire All continent Impediments would ore-beare That did oppose my will. Better Macbeth, Then such an one to reigne

Macd. Boundlesse intemperance In Nature is a Tyranny: It hath beene Th' vntimely emptying of the happy Throne, And fall of many Kings. But feare not yet To take vpon you what is yours: you may Conuey your pleasures in a spacious plenty, And yet seeme cold. The time you may so hoodwinke: We haue willing Dames enough: there cannot be That Vulture in you, to deuoure so many As will to Greatnesse dedicate themselues, Finding it so inclinde

Mal. With this, there growes In my most ill-composd Affection, such A stanchlesse Auarice, that were I King, I should cut off the Nobles for their Lands, Desire his Iewels, and this others House, And my more-hauing, would be as a Sawce To make me hunger more, that I should forge Quarrels vniust against the Good and Loyall, Destroying them for wealth

Macd. This Auarice stickes deeper: growes with more pernicious roote Then Summer-seeming Lust: and it hath bin The Sword of our slaine Kings: yet do not feare, Scotland hath Foysons, to fill vp your will Of your meere Owne. All these are portable, With other Graces weigh'd

Mal. But I haue none. The King-becoming Graces, As Iustice, Verity, Temp'rance, Stablenesse, Bounty, Perseuerance, Mercy, Lowlinesse, Deuotion, Patience, Courage, Fortitude, I haue no rellish of them, but abound In the diuision of each seuerall Crime,

## Acting it many wayes. Nay, had I powre, I should

Poure the sweet Milke of Concord, into Hell, Vprore the vniuersall peace, confound All vnity on earth

Macd. O Scotland, Scotland

Mal. If such a one be fit to gouerne, speake: I am as I haue spoken

Mac. Fit to gouern? No not to liue. O Natio[n] miserable! With an vntitled Tyrant, bloody Sceptred, When shalt thou see thy wholsome dayes againe? Since that the truest Issue of thy Throne By his owne Interdiction stands accust, And do's blaspheme his breed? Thy Royall Father Was a most Sainted-King: the Queene that bore thee, Oftner vpon her knees, then on her feet, Dy'de euery day she liu'd. Fare thee well, These Euils thou repeat'st vpon thy selfe, Hath banish'd me from Scotland. O my Brest, Thy hope ends heere

Mal. Macduff, this Noble passion Childe of integrity, hath from my soule Wip'd the blacke Scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts To thy good Truth, and Honor. Diuellish Macbeth, By many of these traines, hath sought to win me Into his power: and modest Wisedome pluckes me From ouer-credulous hast: but God aboue Deale betweene thee and me; For euen now I put my selfe to thy Direction, and Vnspeake mine owne detraction. Heere abiure The taints, and blames I laide vpon my selfe, For strangers to my Nature. I am yet Vnknowne to Woman, neuer was forsworne, Scarsely haue coueted what was mine owne. At no time broke my Faith, would not betray The Deuill to his Fellow, and delight No lesse in truth then life. My first false speaking Was this vpon my selfe. What I am truly Is thine, and my poore Countries to command: Whither indeed, before they heere approach Old Seyward with ten thousand warlike men Already at a point, was setting foorth: Now wee'l together, and the chance of goodnesse Be like our warranted Quarrell. Why are you silent? Macd. Such welcome, and vnwelcom things at once 'Tis hard to reconcile. Enter a Doctor.

Mal. Well, more anon. Comes the King forth I pray you? Doct. I Sir: there are a crew of wretched Soules That stay his Cure: their malady conuinces The great assay of Art. But at his touch, Such sanctity hath Heauen giuen his hand, They presently amend. Enter.

Mal. I thanke you Doctor

Macd. What's the Disease he meanes? Mal. Tis call'd the Euill. A most myraculous worke in this good King, Which often since my heere remaine in England, I haue seene him do: How he solicites heauen Himselfe best knowes: but strangely visited people All swolne and Vlcerous, pittifull to the eye, The meere dispaire of Surgery, he cures, Hanging a golden stampe about their neckes, Put on with holy Prayers, and 'tis spoken To the succeeding Royalty he leaues The healing Benediction. With this strange vertue, He hath a heauenly guift of Prophesie, And sundry Blessings hang about his Throne, That speake him full of Grace. Enter Rosse.

Macd. See who comes heere

Malc. My Countryman: but yet I know him not

Macd. My euer gentle Cozen, welcome hither

Malc. I know him now. Good God betimes remoue The meanes that makes vs Strangers

Rosse. Sir, Amen

Macd. Stands Scotland where it did? Rosse. Alas poore Countrey, Almost affraid to know it selfe. It cannot Be call'd our Mother, but our Graue; where nothing But who knowes nothing, is once seene to smile: Where sighes, and groanes, and shrieks that rent the ayre Are made, not mark'd: Where violent sorrow seemes A Moderne extasie: The Deadmans knell, Is there scarse ask'd for who, and good mens liues Expire before the Flowers in their Caps, Dying, or ere they sicken

Macd. Oh Relation; too nice, and yet too true

Malc. What's the newest griefe? Rosse. That of an houres age, doth hisse the speaker, Each minute teemes a new one

Macd. How do's my Wife? Rosse. Why well

Macd. And all my Children? Rosse. Well too

Macd. The Tyrant ha's not batter'd at their peace? Rosse. No, they were wel at peace, when I did leaue 'em Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech: How gos't? Rosse. When I came hither to transport the Tydings Which I haue heauily borne, there ran a Rumour Of many worthy Fellowes, that were out, Which was to my beleefe witnest the rather, For that I saw the Tyrants Power a-foot. Now is the time of helpe: your eye in Scotland Would create Soldiours, make our women fight, To doffe their dire distresses

Malc. Bee't their comfort We are comming thither: Gracious England hath Lent vs good Seyward, and ten thousand men, An older, and a better Souldier, none That Christendome giues out

Rosse. Would I could answer This comfort with the like. But I haue words That would be howl'd out in the desert ayre, Where hearing should not latch them

Macd. What concerne they, The generall cause, or is it a Fee-griefe Due to some single brest? Rosse. No minde that's honest But in it shares some woe, though the maine part Pertaines to you alone

Macd. If it be mine Keepe it not from me, quickly let me haue it

Rosse. Let not your eares dispise my tongue for euer, Which shall possesse them with the heauiest sound that euer yet they heard

Macd. Humh: I guesse at it

Rosse. Your Castle is surpriz'd: your Wife, and Babes Sauagely slaughter'd: To relate the manner Were on the Quarry of these murther'd Deere To adde the death of you

Malc. Mercifull Heauen: What man, ne're pull your hat vpon your browes: Giue sorrow words; the griefe that do's not speake, Whispers the o're-fraught heart, and bids it breake

Macd. My Children too? Ro. Wife, Children, Seruants, all that could be found

Macd. And I must be from thence? My wife kil'd too? Rosse. I haue said

Malc. Be comforted. Let's make vs Med'cines of our great Reuenge, To cure this deadly greefe

Macd. He ha's no Children. All my pretty ones? Did you say All? Oh Hell-Kite! All? What, All my pretty Chickens, and their Damme At one fell swoope? Malc. Dispute it like a man

Macd. I shall do so: But I must also feele it as a man; I cannot but remember such things were That were most precious to me: Did heauen looke on, And would not take their part? Sinfull Macduff, They were all strooke for thee: Naught that I am, Not for their owne demerits, but for mine Fell slaughter on their soules: Heauen rest them now

Mal. Be this the Whetstone of your sword, let griefe Conuert to anger: blunt not the heart, enrage it

Macd. O I could play the woman with mine eyes, And Braggart with my tongue. But gentle Heauens, Cut short all intermission: Front to Front, Bring thou this Fiend of Scotland, and my selfe Within my Swords length set him, if he scape Heauen forgiue him too

Mal. This time goes manly: Come go we to the King, our Power is ready, Our lacke is nothing but our leaue. Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the Powres aboue Put on their Instruments: Receiue what cheere you may, The Night is long, that neuer findes the Day.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Doctor of Physicke, and a Wayting Gentlewoman.

Doct. I haue too Nights watch'd with you, but can perceiue no truth in your report. When was it shee last walk'd? Gent. Since his Maiesty went into the Field, I haue seene her rise from her bed, throw her Night-Gown vppon her, vnlocke her Closset, take foorth paper, folde it, write vpon't, read it, afterwards Seale it, and againe returne to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleepe

Doct. A great perturbation in Nature, to receyue at once the benefit of sleep, and do the effects of watching. In this slumbry agitation, besides her walking, and other actuall performances, what (at any time) haue you heard her say? Gent. That Sir, which I will not report after her

Doct. You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should

Gent. Neither to you, nor any one, hauing no witnesse to confirme my speech. Enter Lady, with a Taper.

Lo you, heere she comes: This is her very guise, and vpon my life fast asleepe: obserue her, stand close

Doct. How came she by that light? Gent. Why it stood by her: she ha's light by her continually, 'tis her command

Doct. You see her eyes are open

Gent. I, but their sense are shut

Doct. What is it she do's now? Looke how she rubbes her hands

Gent. It is an accustom'd action with her, to seeme thus washing her hands: I haue knowne her continue in this a quarter of an houre

Lad. Yet heere's a spot

Doct. Heark, she speaks, I will set downe what comes from her, to satisfie my remembrance the more strongly

La. Out damned spot: out I say. One: Two: Why then 'tis time to doo't: Hell is murky. Fye, my Lord, fie, a Souldier, and affear'd? what need we feare? who knowes it, when none can call our powre to accompt: yet who would haue thought the olde man to haue had so much blood in him

Doct. Do you marke that? Lad. The Thane of Fife, had a wife: where is she now? What will these hands ne're be cleane? No more o'that my Lord, no more o'that: you marre all with this starting

Doct. Go too, go too: You haue knowne what you should not

Gent. She ha's spoke what shee should not, I am sure of that: Heauen knowes what she ha's knowne

La. Heere's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh

Doct. What a sigh is there? The hart is sorely charg'd

Gent. I would not haue such a heart in my bosome, for the dignity of the whole body

Doct. Well, well, well

Gent. Pray God it be sir

Doct. This disease is beyond my practise: yet I haue knowne those which haue walkt in their sleep, who haue dyed holily in their beds

Lad. Wash your hands, put on your Night-Gowne, looke not so pale: I tell you yet againe Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on's graue

Doct. Euen so? Lady. To bed, to bed: there's knocking at the gate: Come, come, come, come, giue me your hand: What's done, cannot be vndone. To bed, to bed, to bed.

Exit Lady.

Doct. Will she go now to bed? Gent. Directly

Doct. Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaturall deeds Do breed vnnaturall troubles: infected mindes To their deafe pillowes will discharge their Secrets: More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian: God, God forgiue vs all. Looke after her, Remoue from her the meanes of all annoyance, And still keepe eyes vpon her: So goodnight, My minde she ha's mated, and amaz'd my sight. I thinke, but dare not speake

Gent. Good night good Doctor.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Drum and Colours. Enter Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, Lenox, Soldiers.

Ment. The English powre is neere, led on by Malcolm, His Vnkle Seyward, and the good Macduff. Reuenges burne in them: for their deere causes Would to the bleeding, and the grim Alarme Excite the mortified man

Ang. Neere Byrnan wood Shall we well meet them, that way are they comming

Cath. Who knowes if Donalbane be with his brother? Len. For certaine Sir, he is not: I haue a File Of all the Gentry; there is Seywards Sonne, And many vnruffe youths, that euen now Protest their first of Manhood

Ment. What do's the Tyrant

Cath. Great Dunsinane he strongly Fortifies: Some say hee's mad: Others, that lesser hate him, Do call it valiant Fury, but for certaine He cannot buckle his distemper'd cause Within the belt of Rule

Ang. Now do's he feele His secret Murthers sticking on his hands, Now minutely Reuolts vpbraid his Faith-breach: Those he commands, moue onely in command, Nothing in loue: Now do's he feele his Title Hang loose about him, like a Giants Robe Vpon a dwarfish Theefe

Ment. Who then shall blame His pester'd Senses to recoyle, and start, When all that is within him, do's condemne It selfe, for being there

Cath. Well, march we on, To giue Obedience, where 'tis truly ow'd: Meet we the Med'cine of the sickly Weale, And with him poure we in our Countries purge, Each drop of vs

Lenox. Or so much as it needes, To dew the Soueraigne Flower, and drowne the Weeds: Make we our March towards Birnan.

Exeunt. marching.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Macbeth, Doctor, and Attendants.

Macb. Bring me no more Reports, let them flye all: Till Byrnane wood remoue to Dunsinane, I cannot taint with Feare. What's the Boy Malcolme? Was he not borne of woman? The Spirits that know All mortall Consequences, haue pronounc'd me thus: Feare not Macbeth, no man that's borne of woman Shall ere haue power vpon thee. Then fly false Thanes, And mingle with the English Epicures, The minde I sway by, and the heart I beare, Shall neuer sagge with doubt, nor shake with feare. Enter Seruant.

The diuell damne thee blacke, thou cream-fac'd Loone: Where got'st thou that Goose-looke

Ser. There is ten thousand

Macb. Geese Villaine? Ser. Souldiers Sir

Macb. Go pricke thy face, and ouer-red thy feare Thou Lilly-liuer'd Boy. What Soldiers, Patch? Death of thy Soule, those Linnen cheekes of thine Are Counsailers to feare. What Soldiers Whay-face? Ser. The English Force, so please you

Macb. Take thy face hence. Seyton, I am sick at hart, When I behold: Seyton, I say, this push Will cheere me euer, or dis-eate me now. I haue liu'd long enough: my way of life Is falne into the Seare, the yellow Leafe, And that which should accompany Old-Age, As Honor, Loue, Obedience, Troopes of Friends, I must not looke to haue: but in their steed, Curses, not lowd but deepe, Mouth-honor, breath Which the poore heart would faine deny, and dare not. Seyton? Enter Seyton.

Sey. What's your gracious pleasure? Macb. What Newes more? Sey. All is confirm'd my Lord, which was reported

Macb. Ile fight, till from my bones, my flesh be hackt. Giue me my Armor

Seyt. 'Tis not needed yet

Macb. Ile put it on: Send out moe Horses, skirre the Country round, Hang those that talke of Feare. Giue me mine Armor: How do's your Patient, Doctor? Doct. Not so sicke my Lord, As she is troubled with thicke-comming Fancies That keepe her from her rest

Macb. Cure of that: Can'st thou not Minister to a minde diseas'd, Plucke from the Memory a rooted Sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the Braine, And with some sweet Obliuious Antidote Cleanse the stufft bosome, of that perillous stuffe Which weighes vpon the heart? Doct. Therein the Patient Must minister to himselfe

Macb. Throw Physicke to the Dogs, Ile none of it. Come, put mine Armour on: giue me my Staffe: Seyton, send out: Doctor, the Thanes flye from me: Come sir, dispatch. If thou could'st Doctor, cast The Water of my Land, finde her Disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine Health, I would applaud thee to the very Eccho, That should applaud againe. Pull't off I say, What Rubarb, Cyme, or what Purgatiue drugge Would scowre these English hence: hear'st y of them? Doct. I my good Lord: your Royall Preparation Makes vs heare something

Macb. Bring it after me: I will not be affraid of Death and Bane, Till Birnane Forrest come to Dunsinane

Doct. Were I from Dunsinane away, and cleere, Profit againe should hardly draw me heere.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Drum and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, Seywards Sonne, Menteth, Cathnes, Angus, and Soldiers Marching.

Malc. Cosins, I hope the dayes are neere at hand That Chambers will be safe

Ment. We doubt it nothing

Seyw. What wood is this before vs? Ment. The wood of Birnane

Malc. Let euery Souldier hew him downe a Bough, And bear't before him, thereby shall we shadow The numbers of our Hoast, and make discouery Erre in report of vs

Sold. It shall be done

Syw. We learne no other, but the confident Tyrant Keepes still in Dunsinane, and will indure Our setting downe befor't

Malc. 'Tis his maine hope: For where there is aduantage to be giuen, Both more and lesse haue giuen him the Reuolt, And none serue with him, but constrained things, Whose hearts are absent too

Macd. Let our iust Censures Attend the true euent, and put we on Industrious Souldiership

Sey. The time approaches, That will with due decision make vs know What we shall say we haue, and what we owe: Thoughts speculatiue, their vnsure hopes relate, But certaine issue, stroakes must arbitrate, Towards which, aduance the warre.

Exeunt. marching

Scena Quinta.

Enter Macbeth, Seyton, & Souldiers, with Drum and Colours.

Macb. Hang out our Banners on the outward walls, The Cry is still, they come: our Castles strength Will laugh a Siedge to scorne: Heere let them lye, Till Famine and the Ague eate them vp: Were they not forc'd with those that should be ours, We might haue met them darefull, beard to beard, And beate them backward home. What is that noyse?

A Cry within of Women.

Sey. It is the cry of women, my good Lord

Macb. I haue almost forgot the taste of Feares: The time ha's beene, my sences would haue cool'd To heare a Night-shrieke, and my Fell of haire Would at a dismall Treatise rowze, and stirre As life were in't. I haue supt full with horrors, Direnesse familiar to my slaughterous thoughts Cannot once start me. Wherefore was that cry? Sey. The Queene (my Lord) is dead

Macb. She should haue dy'de heereafter; There would haue beene a time for such a word: To morrow, and to morrow, and to morrow, Creepes in this petty pace from day to day, To the last Syllable of Recorded time: And all our yesterdayes, haue lighted Fooles The way to dusty death. Out, out, breefe Candle, Life's but a walking Shadow, a poore Player, That struts and frets his houre vpon the Stage, And then is heard no more. It is a Tale Told by an Ideot, full of sound and fury Signifying nothing. Enter a Messenger.

Thou com'st to vse thy Tongue: thy Story quickly

Mes. Gracious my Lord, I should report that which I say I saw, But know not how to doo't

Macb. Well, say sir

Mes. As I did stand my watch vpon the Hill I look'd toward Byrnane, and anon me thought The Wood began to moue

Macb. Lyar, and Slaue

Mes. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not so: Within this three Mile may you see it comming. I say, a mouing Groue

Macb. If thou speak'st false, Vpon the next Tree shall thou hang aliue Till Famine cling thee: If thy speech be sooth, I care not if thou dost for me as much. I pull in Resolution, and begin To doubt th' Equiuocation of the Fiend, That lies like truth. Feare not, till Byrnane Wood Do come to Dunsinane, and now a Wood Comes toward Dunsinane. Arme, Arme, and out, If this which he auouches, do's appeare, There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here. I 'ginne to be a-weary of the Sun, And wish th' estate o'th' world were now vndon. Ring the Alarum Bell, blow Winde, come wracke, At least wee'l dye with Harnesse on our backe.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Drumme and Colours. Enter Malcolme, Seyward, Macduffe, and their Army, with Boughes.

Mal. Now neere enough: Your leauy Skreenes throw downe, And shew like those you are: You (worthy Vnkle) Shall with my Cosin your right Noble Sonne Leade our first Battell. Worthy Macduffe, and wee Shall take vpon's what else remaines to do, According to our order

Sey. Fare you well: Do we but finde the Tyrants power to night, Let vs be beaten, if we cannot fight

Macd. Make all our Trumpets speak, giue the[m] all breath Those clamorous Harbingers of Blood, & Death.

Exeunt.

Alarums continued.

Scena Septima.

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. They haue tied me to a stake, I cannot flye, But Beare-like I must fight the course. What's he That was not borne of Woman? Such a one Am I to feare, or none. Enter young Seyward.

Y.Sey. What is thy name? Macb. Thou'lt be affraid to heare it

Y.Sey. No: though thou call'st thy selfe a hoter name Then any is in hell

Macb. My name's Macbeth

Y.Sey. The diuell himselfe could not pronounce a Title More hatefull to mine eare

Macb. No: nor more fearefull

Y.Sey. Thou lyest abhorred Tyrant, with my Sword Ile proue the lye thou speak'st.

Fight, and young Seyward slaine.

Macb. Thou was't borne of woman; But Swords I smile at, Weapons laugh to scorne, Brandish'd by man that's of a Woman borne. Enter.

Alarums. Enter Macduffe.

Macd. That way the noise is: Tyrant shew thy face, If thou beest slaine, and with no stroake of mine, My Wife and Childrens Ghosts will haunt me still: I cannot strike at wretched Kernes, whose armes Are hyr'd to beare their Staues; either thou Macbeth, Or else my Sword with an vnbattered edge I sheath againe vndeeded. There thou should'st be, By this great clatter, one of greatest note Seemes bruited. Let me finde him Fortune, And more I begge not.

Exit. Alarums.

Enter Malcolme and Seyward.

Sey. This way my Lord, the Castles gently rendred: The Tyrants people, on both sides do fight, The Noble Thanes do brauely in the Warre, The day almost it selfe professes yours, And little is to do

Malc. We haue met with Foes That strike beside vs

Sey. Enter Sir, the Castle.

Exeunt. Alarum

Enter Macbeth.

Macb. Why should I play the Roman Foole, and dye On mine owne sword? whiles I see liues, the gashes Do better vpon them. Enter Macduffe.

Macd. Turne Hell-hound, turne

Macb. Of all men else I haue auoyded thee: But get thee backe, my soule is too much charg'd With blood of thine already

Macd. I haue no words, My voice is in my Sword, thou bloodier Villaine Then tearmes can giue thee out.

Fight: Alarum

Macb. Thou loosest labour As easie may'st thou the intrenchant Ayre With thy keene Sword impresse, as make me bleed: Let fall thy blade on vulnerable Crests, I beare a charmed Life, which must not yeeld To one of woman borne

Macd. Dispaire thy Charme, And let the Angell whom thou still hast seru'd Tell thee, Macduffe was from his Mothers womb Vntimely ript

Macb. Accursed be that tongue that tels mee so; For it hath Cow'd my better part of man: And be these Iugling Fiends no more beleeu'd, That palter with vs in a double sence, That keepe the word of promise to our eare, And breake it to our hope. Ile not fight with thee

Macd. Then yeeld thee Coward, And liue to be the shew, and gaze o'th' time. Wee'l haue thee, as our rarer Monsters are Painted vpon a pole, and vnder-writ, Heere may you see the Tyrant

Macb. I will not yeeld To kisse the ground before young Malcolmes feet, And to be baited with the Rabbles curse. Though Byrnane wood be come to Dunsinane, And thou oppos'd, being of no woman borne, Yet I will try the last. Before my body, I throw my warlike Shield: Lay on Macduffe, And damn'd be him, that first cries hold, enough.

Exeunt. fighting. Alarums.

Enter Fighting, and Macbeth slaine.

Retreat, and Flourish. Enter with Drumme and Colours, Malcolm, Seyward, Rosse, Thanes, & Soldiers.

Mal. I would the Friends we misse, were safe arriu'd

Sey. Some must go off: and yet by these I see, So great a day as this is cheapely bought

Mal. Macduffe is missing, and your Noble Sonne

Rosse. Your son my Lord, ha's paid a souldiers debt, He onely liu'd but till he was a man, The which no sooner had his Prowesse confirm'd In the vnshrinking station where he fought, But like a man he dy'de

Sey. Then he is dead? Rosse. I, and brought off the field: your cause of sorrow Must not be measur'd by his worth, for then It hath no end

Sey. Had he his hurts before? Rosse. I, on the Front

Sey. Why then, Gods Soldier be he: Had I as many Sonnes, as I haue haires, I would not wish them to a fairer death: And so his Knell is knoll'd

Mal. Hee's worth more sorrow, and that Ile spend for him

Sey. He's worth no more, They say he parted well, and paid his score, And so God be with him. Here comes newer comfort. Enter Macduffe, with Macbeths head.

Macd. Haile King, for so thou art. Behold where stands Th' Vsurpers cursed head: the time is free: I see thee compast with thy Kingdomes Pearle, That speake my salutation in their minds: Whose voyces I desire alowd with mine. Haile King of Scotland

All. Haile King of Scotland.

Flourish.

Mal. We shall not spend a large expence of time, Before we reckon with your seuerall loues, And make vs euen with you. My Thanes and Kinsmen Henceforth be Earles, the first that euer Scotland In such an Honor nam'd: What's more to do, Which would be planted newly with the time, As calling home our exil'd Friends abroad, That fled the Snares of watchfull Tyranny, Producing forth the cruell Ministers Of this dead Butcher, and his Fiend-like Queene; Who (as 'tis thought) by selfe and violent hands, Tooke off her life. This, and what need full else That call's vpon vs, by the Grace of Grace, We will performe in measure, time, and place: So thankes to all at once, and to each one, Whom we inuite, to see vs Crown'd at Scone.

Flourish. Exeunt Omnes.

FINIS. THE TRAGEDIE OF MACBETH.

The Tragedie of Hamlet

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Barnardo and Francisco two Centinels.

Barnardo. Who's there? Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold your selfe

Bar. Long liue the King

Fran. Barnardo? Bar. He

Fran. You come most carefully vpon your houre

Bar. 'Tis now strook twelue, get thee to bed Francisco

Fran. For this releefe much thankes: 'Tis bitter cold, And I am sicke at heart

Barn. Haue you had quiet Guard? Fran. Not a Mouse stirring

Barn. Well, goodnight. If you do meet Horatio and Marcellus, the Riuals of my Watch, bid them make hast. Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Fran. I thinke I heare them. Stand: who's there? Hor. Friends to this ground

Mar. And Leige-men to the Dane

Fran. Giue you good night

Mar. O farwel honest Soldier, who hath relieu'd you? Fra. Barnardo ha's my place: giue you goodnight.

Exit Fran.

Mar. Holla Barnardo

Bar. Say, what is Horatio there? Hor. A peece of him

Bar. Welcome Horatio, welcome good Marcellus

Mar. What, ha's this thing appear'd againe to night

Bar. I haue seene nothing

Mar. Horatio saies, 'tis but our Fantasie, And will not let beleefe take hold of him Touching this dreaded sight, twice seene of vs, Therefore I haue intreated him along With vs, to watch the minutes of this Night, That if againe this Apparition come, He may approue our eyes, and speake to it

Hor. Tush, tush, 'twill not appeare

Bar. Sit downe a-while, And let vs once againe assaile your eares, That are so fortified against our Story, What we two Nights haue seene

Hor. Well, sit we downe, And let vs heare Barnardo speake of this

Barn. Last night of all, When yond same Starre that's Westward from the Pole Had made his course t' illume that part of Heauen Where now it burnes, Marcellus and my selfe, The Bell then beating one

Mar. Peace, breake thee of: Enter the Ghost.

Looke where it comes againe

Barn. In the same figure, like the King that's dead

Mar. Thou art a Scholler; speake to it Horatio

Barn. Lookes it not like the King? Marke it Horatio

Hora. Most like: It harrowes me with fear & wonder Barn. It would be spoke too

Mar. Question it Horatio

Hor. What art thou that vsurp'st this time of night, Together with that Faire and Warlike forme In which the Maiesty of buried Denmarke Did sometimes march: By Heauen I charge thee speake

Mar. It is offended

Barn. See, it stalkes away

Hor. Stay: speake; speake: I Charge thee, speake.

Exit the Ghost.

Mar. 'Tis gone, and will not answer

Barn. How now Horatio? You tremble & look pale: Is not this something more then Fantasie? What thinke you on't? Hor. Before my God, I might not this beleeue Without the sensible and true auouch Of mine owne eyes

Mar. Is it not like the King? Hor. As thou art to thy selfe, Such was the very Armour he had on, When th' Ambitious Norwey combatted: So frown'd he once, when in an angry parle He smot the sledded Pollax on the Ice. 'Tis strange

Mar. Thus twice before, and iust at this dead houre, With Martiall stalke, hath he gone by our Watch

Hor. In what particular thought to work, I know not: But in the grosse and scope of my Opinion, This boades some strange erruption to our State

Mar. Good now sit downe, & tell me he that knowes Why this same strict and most obseruant Watch, So nightly toyles the subiect of the Land, And why such dayly Cast of Brazon Cannon And Forraigne Mart for Implements of warre: Why such impresse of Ship-wrights, whose sore Taske Do's not diuide the Sunday from the weeke, What might be toward, that this sweaty hast Doth make the Night ioynt-Labourer with the day: Who is't that can informe me? Hor. That can I, At least the whisper goes so: Our last King, Whose Image euen but now appear'd to vs, Was (as you know) by Fortinbras of Norway, (Thereto prick'd on by a most emulate Pride) Dar'd to the Combate. In which, our Valiant Hamlet, (For so this side of our knowne world esteem'd him) Did slay this Fortinbras: who by a Seal'd Compact, Well ratified by Law, and Heraldrie, Did forfeite (with his life) all those his Lands Which he stood seiz'd on, to the Conqueror: Against the which, a Moity competent Was gaged by our King: which had return'd To the Inheritance of Fortinbras, Had he bin Vanquisher, as by the same Cou'nant And carriage of the Article designe, His fell to Hamlet. Now sir, young Fortinbras, Of vnimproued Mettle, hot and full, Hath in the skirts of Norway, heere and there, Shark'd vp a List of Landlesse Resolutes, For Foode and Diet, to some Enterprize That hath a stomacke in't: which is no other (And it doth well appeare vnto our State) But to recouer of vs by strong hand And termes Compulsatiue, those foresaid Lands So by his Father lost: and this (I take it) Is the maine Motiue of our Preparations, The Sourse of this our Watch, and the cheefe head Of this post-hast, and Romage in the Land. Enter Ghost againe.

But soft, behold: Loe, where it comes againe: Ile crosse it, though it blast me. Stay Illusion: If thou hast any sound, or vse of Voyce, Speake to me. If there be any good thing to be done, That may to thee do ease, and grace to me; speak to me. If thou art priuy to thy Countries Fate (Which happily foreknowing may auoyd) Oh speake. Or, if thou hast vp-hoorded in thy life Extorted Treasure in the wombe of Earth, (For which, they say, you Spirits oft walke in death) Speake of it. Stay, and speake. Stop it Marcellus

Mar. Shall I strike at it with my Partizan? Hor. Do, if it will not stand

Barn. 'Tis heere

Hor. 'Tis heere

Mar. 'Tis gone.

Exit Ghost.

We do it wrong, being so Maiesticall To offer it the shew of Violence, For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable, And our vaine blowes, malicious Mockery

Barn. It was about to speake, when the Cocke crew

Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing Vpon a fearfull Summons. I haue heard, The Cocke that is the Trumpet to the day, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding Throate Awake the God of Day: and at his warning, Whether in Sea, or Fire, in Earth, or Ayre, Th' extrauagant, and erring Spirit, hyes To his Confine. And of the truth heerein, This present Obiect made probation

Mar. It faded on the crowing of the Cocke. Some sayes, that euer 'gainst that Season comes Wherein our Sauiours Birch is celebrated, The Bird of Dawning singeth all night long: And then (they say) no Spirit can walke abroad, The nights are wholsome, then no Planets strike, No Faiery talkes, nor Witch hath power to Charme: So hallow'd, and so gracious is the time

Hor. So haue I heard, and do in part beleeue it. But looke, the Morne in Russet mantle clad, Walkes o're the dew of yon high Easterne Hill, Breake we our Watch vp, and by my aduice Let vs impart what we haue seene to night Vnto yong Hamlet. For vpon my life, This Spirit dumbe to vs, will speake to him: Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it, As needfull in our Loues, fitting our Duty? Mar. Let do't I pray, and I this morning know Where we shall finde him most conueniently.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Claudius King of Denmarke, Gertrude the Queene, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, and his Sister Ophelia, Lords Attendant.

King. Though yet of Hamlet our deere Brothers death The memory be greene: and that it vs befitted To beare our hearts in greefe, and our whole Kingdome To be contracted in one brow of woe: Yet so farre hath Discretion fought with Nature, That we with wisest sorrow thinke on him, Together with remembrance of our selues. Therefore our sometimes Sister, now our Queene, Th' imperiall Ioyntresse of this warlike State, Haue we, as 'twere, with a defeated ioy, With one Auspicious, and one Dropping eye, With mirth in Funerall, and with Dirge in Marriage, In equall Scale weighing Delight and Dole Taken to Wife; nor haue we heerein barr'd Your better Wisedomes, which haue freely gone With this affaire along, for all our Thankes. Now followes, that you know young Fortinbras, Holding a weake supposall of our worth; Or thinking by our late deere Brothers death, Our State to be disioynt, and out of Frame, Colleagued with the dreame of his Aduantage; He hath not fayl'd to pester vs with Message, Importing the surrender of those Lands Lost by his Father: with all Bonds of Law To our most valiant Brother. So much for him. Enter Voltemand and Cornelius.

Now for our selfe, and for this time of meeting Thus much the businesse is. We haue heere writ To Norway, Vncle of young Fortinbras, Who Impotent and Bedrid, scarsely heares Of this his Nephewes purpose, to suppresse His further gate heerein. In that the Leuies, The Lists, and full proportions are all made Out of his subiect: and we heere dispatch You good Cornelius, and you Voltemand, For bearing of this greeting to old Norway, Giuing to you no further personall power To businesse with the King, more then the scope Of these dilated Articles allow: Farewell, and let your hast commend your duty

Volt. In that, and all things, will we shew our duty

King. We doubt it nothing, heartily farewell.

Exit Voltemand and Cornelius.

And now Laertes, what's the newes with you? You told vs of some suite. What is't Laertes? You cannot speake of Reason to the Dane, And loose your voyce. What would'st thou beg Laertes, That shall not be my Offer, not thy Asking? The Head is not more Natiue to the Heart, The Hand more instrumentall to the Mouth, Then is the Throne of Denmarke to thy Father. What would'st thou haue Laertes? Laer. Dread my Lord, Your leaue and fauour to returne to France, From whence, though willingly I came to Denmarke To shew my duty in your Coronation, Yet now I must confesse, that duty done, My thoughts and wishes bend againe towards France, And bow them to your gracious leaue and pardon

King. Haue you your Fathers leaue? What sayes Pollonius? Pol. He hath my Lord: I do beseech you giue him leaue to go

King. Take thy faire houre Laertes, time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will: But now my Cosin Hamlet, and my Sonne? Ham. A little more then kin, and lesse then kinde

King. How is it that the Clouds still hang on you? Ham. Not so my Lord, I am too much i'th' Sun

Queen. Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off, And let thine eye looke like a Friend on Denmarke. Do not for euer with thy veyled lids Seeke for thy Noble Father in the dust; Thou know'st 'tis common, all that liues must dye, Passing through Nature, to Eternity

Ham. I Madam, it is common

Queen. If it be; Why seemes it so particular with thee

Ham. Seemes Madam? Nay, it is: I know not Seemes: 'Tis not alone my Inky Cloake (good Mother) Nor Customary suites of solemne Blacke, Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, No, nor the fruitfull Riuer in the Eye, Nor the deiected hauiour of the Visage, Together with all Formes, Moods, shewes of Griefe, That can denote me truly. These indeed Seeme, For they are actions that a man might play: But I haue that Within, which passeth show; These, but the Trappings, and the Suites of woe

King. 'Tis sweet and commendable In your Nature Hamlet, To giue these mourning duties to your Father: But you must know, your Father lost a Father, That Father lost, lost his, and the Suruiuer bound In filiall Obligation, for some terme To do obsequious Sorrow. But to perseuer In obstinate Condolement, is a course Of impious stubbornnesse. 'Tis vnmanly greefe, It shewes a will most incorrect to Heauen, A Heart vnfortified, a Minde impatient, An Vnderstanding simple, and vnschool'd: For, what we know must be, and is as common As any the most vulgar thing to sence, Why should we in our peeuish Opposition Take it to heart? Fye, 'tis a fault to Heauen, A fault against the Dead, a fault to Nature, To Reason most absurd, whose common Theame Is death of Fathers, and who still hath cried, From the first Coarse, till he that dyed to day, This must be so. We pray you throw to earth This vnpreuayling woe, and thinke of vs As of a Father; For let the world take note, You are the most immediate to our Throne, And with no lesse Nobility of Loue, Then that which deerest Father beares his Sonne, Do I impart towards you. For your intent In going backe to Schoole in Wittenberg, It is most retrograde to our desire: And we beseech you, bend you to remaine Heere in the cheere and comfort of our eye, Our cheefest Courtier Cosin, and our Sonne

Qu. Let not thy Mother lose her Prayers Hamlet: I prythee stay with vs, go not to Wittenberg

Ham. I shall in all my best Obey you Madam

King. Why 'tis a louing, and a faire Reply, Be as our selfe in Denmarke. Madam come, This gentle and vnforc'd accord of Hamlet Sits smiling to my heart; in grace whereof, No iocond health that Denmarke drinkes to day, But the great Cannon to the Clowds shall tell, And the Kings Rouce, the Heauens shall bruite againe, Respeaking earthly Thunder. Come away.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet.

Ham. Oh that this too too solid Flesh, would melt, Thaw, and resolue it selfe into a Dew: Or that the Euerlasting had not fixt His Cannon 'gainst Selfe-slaughter. O God, O God! How weary, stale, flat, and vnprofitable Seemes to me all the vses of this world? Fie on't? Oh fie, fie, 'tis an vnweeded Garden That growes to Seed: Things rank, and grosse in Nature Possesse it meerely. That it should come to this: But two months dead: Nay, not so much; not two, So excellent a King, that was to this Hiperion to a Satyre: so louing to my Mother, That he might not beteene the windes of heauen Visit her face too roughly. Heauen and Earth Must I remember: why she would hang on him, As if encrease of Appetite had growne By what is fed on; and yet within a month? Let me not thinke on't: Frailty, thy name is woman. A little Month, or ere those shooes were old, With which she followed my poore Fathers body Like Niobe, all teares. Why she, euen she. (O Heauen! A beast that wants discourse of Reason Would haue mourn'd longer) married with mine Vnkle, My Fathers Brother: but no more like my Father, Then I to Hercules. Within a Moneth? Ere yet the salt of most vnrighteous Teares Had left the flushing of her gauled eyes, She married. O most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to Incestuous sheets: It is not, nor it cannot come to good. But breake my heart, for I must hold my tongue. Enter Horatio, Barnardo, and Marcellus.

Hor. Haile to your Lordship

Ham. I am glad to see you well: Horatio, or I do forget my selfe

Hor. The same my Lord, And your poore Seruant euer

Ham. Sir my good friend, Ile change that name with you: And what make you from Wittenberg Horatio? Marcellus

Mar. My good Lord

Ham. I am very glad to see you: good euen Sir. But what in faith make you from Wittemberge? Hor. A truant disposition, good my Lord

Ham. I would not haue your Enemy say so; Nor shall you doe mine eare that violence, To make it truster of your owne report Against your selfe. I know you are no Truant: But what is your affaire in Elsenour? Wee'l teach you to drinke deepe, ere you depart

Hor. My Lord, I came to see your Fathers Funerall

Ham. I pray thee doe not mock me (fellow Student) I thinke it was to see my Mothers Wedding

Hor. Indeed my Lord, it followed hard vpon

Ham. Thrift thrift Horatio: the Funerall Bakt-meats Did coldly furnish forth the Marriage Tables; Would I had met my dearest foe in heauen, Ere I had euer seene that day Horatio. My father, me thinkes I see my father

Hor. Oh where my Lord? Ham. In my minds eye (Horatio) Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly King

Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all: I shall not look vpon his like againe

Hor. My Lord, I thinke I saw him yesternight

Ham. Saw? Who? Hor. My Lord, the King your Father

Ham. The King my Father? Hor. Season your admiration for a while With an attent eare; till I may deliuer Vpon the witnesse of these Gentlemen, This maruell to you

Ham. For Heauens loue let me heare

Hor. Two nights together, had these Gentlemen (Marcellus and Barnardo) on their Watch In the dead wast and middle of the night Beene thus encountred. A figure like your Father, Arm'd at all points exactly, Cap a Pe, Appeares before them, and with sollemne march Goes slow and stately: By them thrice he walkt, By their opprest and feare-surprized eyes, Within his Truncheons length; whilst they bestil'd Almost to Ielly with the Act of feare, Stand dumbe and speake not to him. This to me In dreadfull secrecie impart they did, And I with them the third Night kept the Watch, Whereas they had deliuer'd both in time, Forme of the thing; each word made true and good, The Apparition comes. I knew your Father: These hands are not more like

Ham. But where was this? Mar. My Lord vpon the platforme where we watcht

Ham. Did you not speake to it? Hor. My Lord, I did; But answere made it none: yet once me thought It lifted vp it head, and did addresse It selfe to motion, like as it would speake: But euen then, the Morning Cocke crew lowd; And at the sound it shrunke in hast away, And vanisht from our sight

Ham. Tis very strange

Hor. As I doe liue my honourd Lord 'tis true; And we did thinke it writ downe in our duty To let you know of it

Ham. Indeed, indeed Sirs; but this troubles me. Hold you the watch to Night? Both. We doe my Lord

Ham. Arm'd, say you? Both. Arm'd, my Lord

Ham. From top to toe? Both. My Lord, from head to foote

Ham. Then saw you not his face? Hor. O yes, my Lord, he wore his Beauer vp

Ham. What, lookt he frowningly? Hor. A countenance more in sorrow then in anger

Ham. Pale, or red? Hor. Nay very pale

Ham. And fixt his eyes vpon you? Hor. Most constantly

Ham. I would I had beene there

Hor. It would haue much amaz'd you

Ham. Very like, very like: staid it long? Hor. While one with moderate hast might tell a hundred

All. Longer, longer

Hor. Not when I saw't

Ham. His Beard was grisly? no

Hor. It was, as I haue seene it in his life, A Sable Siluer'd

Ham. Ile watch to Night; perchance 'twill wake againe

Hor. I warrant you it will

Ham. If it assume my noble Fathers person, Ile speake to it, though Hell it selfe should gape And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all, If you haue hitherto conceald this sight; Let it bee treble in your silence still: And whatsoeuer els shall hap to night, Giue it an vnderstanding but no tongue; I will requite your loues; so fare ye well: Vpon the Platforme twixt eleuen and twelue, Ile visit you

All. Our duty to your Honour.

Exeunt

Ham. Your loue, as mine to you: farewell. My Fathers Spirit in Armes? All is not well: I doubt some foule play: would the Night were come; Till then sit still my soule; foule deeds will rise, Though all the earth orewhelm them to mens eies. Enter.

Scena Tertia

Enter Laertes and Ophelia.

Laer. My necessaries are imbark't; Farewell: And Sister, as the Winds giue Benefit, And Conuoy is assistant; doe not sleepe, But let me heare from you

Ophel. Doe you doubt that? Laer. For Hamlet, and the trifling of his fauours, Hold it a fashion and a toy in Bloude; A Violet in the youth of Primy Nature; Froward, not permanent; sweet not lasting The suppliance of a minute? No more

Ophel. No more but so

Laer. Thinke it no more: For nature cressant does not grow alone, In thewes and Bulke: but as his Temple waxes, The inward seruice of the Minde and Soule Growes wide withall. Perhaps he loues you now, And now no soyle nor cautell doth besmerch The vertue of his feare: but you must feare His greatnesse weigh'd, his will is not his owne; For hee himselfe is subiect to his Birth: Hee may not, as vnuallued persons doe, Carue for himselfe; for, on his choyce depends The sanctity and health of the whole State. And therefore must his choyce be circumscrib'd Vnto the voyce and yeelding of that Body, Whereof he is the Head. Then if he sayes he loues you, It fits your wisedome so farre to beleeue it; As he in his peculiar Sect and force May giue his saying deed: which is no further, Then the maine voyce of Denmarke goes withall. Then weight what losse your Honour may sustaine, If with too credent eare you list his Songs; Or lose your Heart; or your chast Treasure open To his vnmastred importunity. Feare it Ophelia, feare it my deare Sister, And keepe within the reare of your Affection; Out of the shot and danger of Desire. The chariest Maid is Prodigall enough, If she vnmaske her beauty to the Moone: Vertue it selfe scapes not calumnious stroakes, The Canker Galls, the Infants of the Spring Too oft before the buttons be disclos'd, And in the Morne and liquid dew of Youth, Contagious blastments are most imminent. Be wary then, best safety lies in feare; Youth to it selfe rebels, though none else neere

Ophe. I shall th' effect of this good Lesson keepe, As watchmen to my heart: but good my Brother Doe not as some vngracious Pastors doe, Shew me the steepe and thorny way to Heauen; Whilst like a puft and recklesse Libertine Himselfe, the Primrose path of dalliance treads, And reaks not his owne reade

Laer. Oh, feare me not. Enter Polonius.

I stay too long; but here my Father comes: A double blessing is a double grace; Occasion smiles vpon a second leaue

Polon. Yet heere Laertes? Aboord, aboord for shame, The winde sits in the shoulder of your saile, And you are staid for there: my blessing with you; And these few Precepts in thy memory, See thou Character. Giue thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any vnproportion'd thoughts his Act: Be thou familiar; but by no meanes vulgar: The friends thou hast, and their adoption tride, Grapple them to thy Soule, with hoopes of Steele: But doe not dull thy palme, with entertainment Of each vnhatch't, vnfledg'd Comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrell: but being in Bear't that th' opposed may beware of thee. Giue euery man thine eare; but few thy voyce: Take each mans censure; but reserue thy iudgement: Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy; But not exprest in fancie; rich, not gawdie: For the Apparell oft proclaimes the man. And they in France of the best ranck and station, Are of a most select and generous cheff in that. Neither a borrower, nor a lender be; For lone oft loses both it selfe and friend: And borrowing duls the edge of Husbandry. This aboue all; to thine owne selfe be true: And it must follow, as the Night the Day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. Farewell: my Blessing season this in thee

Laer. Most humbly doe I take my leaue, my Lord

Polon. The time inuites you, goe, your seruants tend

Laer. Farewell Ophelia, and remember well What I haue said to you

Ophe. Tis in my memory lockt, And you your selfe shall keepe the key of it

Laer. Farewell.

Exit Laer.

Polon. What ist Ophelia he hath said to you? Ophe. So please you, somthing touching the L[ord]. Hamlet

Polon. Marry, well bethought: Tis told me he hath very oft of late Giuen priuate time to you; and you your selfe Haue of your audience beene most free and bounteous. If it be so, as so tis put on me; And that in way of caution: I must tell you, You doe not vnderstand your selfe so cleerely, As it behoues my Daughter, and your Honour. What is betweene you, giue me vp the truth? Ophe. He hath my Lord of late, made many tenders Of his affection to me

Polon. Affection, puh. You speake like a greene Girle, Vnsifted in such perillous Circumstance. Doe you beleeue his tenders, as you call them? Ophe. I do not know, my Lord, what I should thinke

Polon. Marry Ile teach you; thinke your selfe a Baby, That you haue tane his tenders for true pay, Which are not starling. Tender your selfe more dearly; Or not to crack the winde of the poore Phrase, Roaming it thus, you'l tender me a foole

Ophe. My Lord, he hath importun'd me with loue, In honourable fashion

Polon. I, fashion you may call it, go too, go too

Ophe. And hath giuen countenance to his speech, My Lord, with all the vowes of Heauen

Polon. I, Springes to catch Woodcocks. I doe know When the Bloud burnes, how Prodigall the Soule Giues the tongue vowes: these blazes, Daughter, Giuing more light then heate; extinct in both, Euen in their promise, as it is a making; You must not take for fire. For this time Daughter, Be somewhat scanter of your Maiden presence; Set your entreatments at a higher rate, Then a command to parley. For Lord Hamlet, Beleeue so much in him, that he is young, And with a larger tether may he walke, Then may be giuen you. In few, Ophelia, Doe not beleeue his vowes; for they are Broakers, Not of the eye, which their Inuestments show: But meere implorators of vnholy Sutes, Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds, The better to beguile. This is for all: I would not, in plaine tearmes, from this time forth, Haue you so slander any moment leisure, As to giue words or talke with the Lord Hamlet: Looke too't, I charge you; come your wayes

Ophe. I shall obey my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus.

Ham. The Ayre bites shrewdly: is it very cold? Hor. It is a nipping and an eager ayre

Ham. What hower now? Hor. I thinke it lacks of twelue

Mar. No, it is strooke

Hor. Indeed I heard it not: then it drawes neere the season, Wherein the Spirit held his wont to walke. What does this meane my Lord? Ham. The King doth wake to night, and takes his rouse, Keepes wassels and the swaggering vpspring reeles, And as he dreines his draughts of Renish downe, The kettle Drum and Trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his Pledge

Horat. Is it a custome? Ham. I marry ist; And to my mind, though I am natiue heere, And to the manner borne: It is a Custome More honour'd in the breach, then the obseruance. Enter Ghost.

Hor. Looke my Lord, it comes

Ham. Angels and Ministers of Grace defend vs: Be thou a Spirit of health, or Goblin damn'd, Bring with thee ayres from Heauen, or blasts from Hell, Be thy euents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape That I will speake to thee. Ile call thee Hamlet, King, Father, Royall Dane: Oh, oh, answer me, Let me not burst in Ignorance; but tell Why thy Canoniz'd bones Hearsed in death, Haue burst their cerments, why the Sepulcher Wherein we saw thee quietly enurn'd, Hath op'd his ponderous and Marble iawes, To cast thee vp againe? What may this meane? That thou dead Coarse againe in compleat steele, Reuisits thus the glimpses of the Moone, Making Night hidious? And we fooles of Nature, So horridly to shake our disposition, With thoughts beyond thee; reaches of our Soules, Say, why is this? wherefore? what should we doe?

Ghost beckens Hamlet.

Hor. It beckons you to goe away with it, As if it some impartment did desire To you alone

Mar. Looke with what courteous action It wafts you to a more remoued ground: But doe not goe with it

Hor. No, by no meanes

Ham. It will not speake: then will I follow it

Hor. Doe not my Lord

Ham. Why, what should be the feare? I doe not set my life at a pins fee; And for my Soule, what can it doe to that? Being a thing immortall as it selfe: It waues me forth againe; Ile follow it

Hor. What if it tempt you toward the Floud my Lord? Or to the dreadfull Sonnet of the Cliffe, That beetles o're his base into the Sea, And there assumes some other horrible forme, Which might depriue your Soueraignty of Reason, And draw you into madnesse thinke of it? Ham. It wafts me still: goe on, Ile follow thee

Mar. You shall not goe my Lord

Ham. Hold off your hand

Hor. Be rul'd, you shall not goe

Ham. My fate cries out, And makes each petty Artire in this body, As hardy as the Nemian Lions nerue: Still am I cal'd? Vnhand me Gentlemen: By Heau'n, Ile make a Ghost of him that lets me: I say away, goe on, Ile follow thee.

Exeunt. Ghost & Hamlet.

Hor. He waxes desperate with imagination

Mar. Let's follow; 'tis not fit thus to obey him

Hor. Haue after, to what issue will this come? Mar. Something is rotten in the State of Denmarke

Hor. Heauen will direct it

Mar. Nay, let's follow him.

Exeunt.

Enter Ghost and Hamlet.

Ham. Where wilt thou lead me? speak; Ile go no further

Gho. Marke me

Ham. I will

Gho. My hower is almost come, When I to sulphurous and tormenting Flames Must render vp my selfe

Ham. Alas poore Ghost

Gho. Pitty me not, but lend thy serious hearing To what I shall vnfold

Ham. Speake, I am bound to heare

Gho. So art thou to reuenge, when thou shalt heare

Ham. What? Gho. I am thy Fathers Spirit, Doom'd for a certaine terme to walke the night; And for the day confin'd to fast in Fiers, Till the foule crimes done in my dayes of Nature Are burnt and purg'd away? But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my Prison-House; I could a Tale vnfold, whose lightest word Would harrow vp thy soule, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like Starres, start from their Spheres, Thy knotty and combined lockes to part, And each particular haire to stand an end, Like Quilles vpon the fretfull Porpentine: But this eternall blason must not be To eares of flesh and bloud; list Hamlet, oh list, If thou didst euer thy deare Father loue

Ham. Oh Heauen! Gho. Reuenge his foule and most vnnaturall Murther

Ham. Murther? Ghost. Murther most foule, as in the best it is; But this most foule, strange, and vnnaturall

Ham. Hast, hast me to know it, That with wings as swift As meditation, or the thoughts of Loue, May sweepe to my Reuenge

Ghost. I finde thee apt, And duller should'st thou be then the fat weede That rots it selfe in ease, on Lethe Wharfe, Would'st thou not stirre in this. Now Hamlet heare: It's giuen out, that sleeping in mine Orchard, A Serpent stung me: so the whole eare of Denmarke, Is by a forged processe of my death Rankly abus'd: But know thou Noble youth, The Serpent that did sting thy Fathers life, Now weares his Crowne

Ham. O my Propheticke soule: mine Vncle? Ghost. I that incestuous, that adulterate Beast With witchcraft of his wits, hath Traitorous guifts. Oh wicked Wit, and Gifts, that haue the power So to seduce? Won to this shamefull Lust The will of my most seeming vertuous Queene: Oh Hamlet, what a falling off was there, From me, whose loue was of that dignity, That it went hand in hand, euen with the Vow I made to her in Marriage; and to decline Vpon a wretch, whose Naturall gifts were poore To those of mine. But Vertue, as it neuer wil be moued, Though Lewdnesse court it in a shape of Heauen: So Lust, though to a radiant Angell link'd, Will sate it selfe in a Celestiall bed, & prey on Garbage. But soft, me thinkes I sent the Mornings Ayre; Briefe let me be: Sleeping within mine Orchard, My custome alwayes in the afternoone; Vpon my secure hower thy Vncle stole With iuyce of cursed Hebenon in a Violl, And in the Porches of mine eares did poure The leaperous Distilment; whose effect Holds such an enmity with bloud of Man, That swift as Quick-siluer, it courses through The naturall Gates and Allies of the body; And with a sodaine vigour it doth posset And curd, like Aygre droppings into Milke, The thin and wholsome blood: so did it mine; And a most instant Tetter bak'd about, Most Lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust, All my smooth Body. Thus was I, sleeping, by a Brothers hand, Of Life, of Crowne, and Queene at once dispatcht; Cut off euen in the Blossomes of my Sinne, Vnhouzzled, disappointed, vnnaneld, No reckoning made, but sent to my account With all my imperfections on my head; Oh horrible Oh horrible, most horrible: If thou hast nature in thee beare it not; Let not the Royall Bed of Denmarke be A Couch for Luxury and damned Incest. But howsoeuer thou pursuest this Act, Taint not thy mind; nor let thy Soule contriue Against thy Mother ought; leaue her to heauen, And to those Thornes that in her bosome lodge, To pricke and sting her. Fare thee well at once; The Glow-worme showes the Matine to be neere, And gins to pale his vneffectuall Fire: Adue, adue, Hamlet: remember me. Enter.

Ham. Oh all you host of Heauen! Oh Earth; what els? And shall I couple Hell? Oh fie: hold my heart; And you my sinnewes, grow not instant Old; But beare me stiffely vp: Remember thee? I, thou poore Ghost, while memory holds a seate In this distracted Globe: Remember thee? Yea, from the Table of my Memory, Ile wipe away all triuiall fond Records, All sawes of Bookes, all formes, all presures past, That youth and obseruation coppied there; And thy Commandment all alone shall liue Within the Booke and Volume of my Braine, Vnmixt with baser matter; yes yes, by Heauen: Oh most pernicious woman! Oh Villaine, Villaine, smiling damned Villaine! My Tables, my Tables; meet it is I set it downe, That one may smile, and smile and be a Villaine; At least I'm sure it may be so in Denmarke; So Vnckle there you are: now to my word; It is; Adue, Adue, Remember me: I haue sworn't

Hor. & Mar. within. My Lord, my Lord. Enter Horatio and Marcellus.

Mar. Lord Hamlet

Hor. Heauen secure him

Mar. So be it

Hor. Illo, ho, ho, my Lord

Ham. Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come bird, come

Mar. How ist my Noble Lord? Hor. What newes, my Lord? Ham. Oh wonderfull! Hor. Good my Lord tell it

Ham. No you'l reueale it

Hor. Not I, my Lord, by Heauen

Mar. Nor I, my Lord

Ham. How say you then, would heart of man once think it? But you'l be secret? Both. I, by Heau'n, my Lord

Ham. There's nere a villaine dwelling in all Denmarke But hee's an arrant knaue

Hor. There needs no Ghost my Lord, come from the Graue, to tell vs this

Ham. Why right, you are i'th' right; And so, without more circumstance at all, I hold it fit that we shake hands, and part: You, as your busines and desires shall point you: For euery man ha's businesse and desire, Such as it is: and for mine owne poore part, Looke you, Ile goe pray

Hor. These are but wild and hurling words, my Lord

Ham. I'm sorry they offend you heartily: Yes faith, heartily

Hor. There's no offence my Lord

Ham. Yes, by Saint Patricke, but there is my Lord, And much offence too, touching this Vision heere: It is an honest Ghost, that let me tell you: For your desire to know what is betweene vs, O'remaster't as you may. And now good friends, As you are Friends, Schollers and Soldiers, Giue me one poore request

Hor. What is't my Lord? we will

Ham. Neuer make known what you haue seen to night

Both. My Lord, we will not

Ham. Nay, but swear't

Hor. Infaith my Lord, not I

Mar. Nor I my Lord: in faith

Ham. Vpon my sword

Marcell. We haue sworne my Lord already

Ham. Indeed, vpon my sword, Indeed

Gho. Sweare.

Ghost cries vnder the Stage.

Ham. Ah ha boy, sayest thou so. Art thou there truepenny? Come one you here this fellow in the selleredge Consent to sweare

Hor. Propose the Oath my Lord

Ham. Neuer to speake of this that you haue seene. Sweare by my sword

Gho. Sweare

Ham. Hic & vbique? Then wee'l shift for grownd, Come hither Gentlemen, And lay your hands againe vpon my sword, Neuer to speake of this that you haue heard: Sweare by my Sword

Gho. Sweare

Ham. Well said old Mole, can'st worke i'th' ground so fast? A worthy Pioner, once more remoue good friends

Hor. Oh day and night: but this is wondrous strange

Ham. And therefore as a stranger giue it welcome. There are more things in Heauen and Earth, Horatio, Then are dream't of in our Philosophy. But come, Here as before, neuer so helpe you mercy, How strange or odde so ere I beare my selfe; (As I perchance heereafter shall thinke meet To put an Anticke disposition on:) That you at such time seeing me, neuer shall With Armes encombred thus, or thus, head shake; Or by pronouncing of some doubtfull Phrase; As well, we know, or we could and if we would, Or if we list to speake; or there be and if there might, Or such ambiguous giuing out to note, That you know ought of me; this not to doe: So grace and mercy at your most neede helpe you: Sweare

Ghost. Sweare

Ham. Rest, rest perturbed Spirit: so Gentlemen, With all my loue I doe commend me to you; And what so poore a man as Hamlet is, May doe t' expresse his loue and friending to you, God willing shall not lacke: let vs goe in together, And still your fingers on your lippes I pray, The time is out of ioynt: Oh cursed spight, That euer I was borne to set it right. Nay, come let's goe together.

Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Polonius, and Reynoldo.

Polon. Giue him his money, and these notes Reynoldo

Reynol. I will my Lord

Polon. You shall doe maruels wisely: good Reynoldo, Before you visite him you make inquiry Of his behauiour

Reynol. My Lord, I did intend it

Polon. Marry, well said; Very well said. Looke you Sir, Enquire me first what Danskers are in Paris; And how, and who; what meanes; and where they keepe: What company, at what expence: and finding By this encompassement and drift of question, That they doe know my sonne: Come you more neerer Then your particular demands will touch it, Take you as 'twere some distant knowledge of him, And thus I know his father and his friends, And in part him. Doe you marke this Reynoldo? Reynol. I, very well my Lord

Polon. And in part him, but you may say not well; But if't be hee I meane, hees very wilde; Addicted so and so; and there put on him What forgeries you please; marry, none so ranke, As may dishonour him; take heed of that: But Sir, such wanton, wild, and vsuall slips, As are Companions noted and most knowne To youth and liberty

Reynol. As gaming my Lord

Polon. I, or drinking, fencing, swearing, Quarelling, drabbing. You may goe so farre

Reynol. My Lord that would dishonour him

Polon. Faith no, as you may season it in the charge; You must not put another scandall on him, That hee is open to Incontinencie; That's not my meaning: but breath his faults so quaintly, That they may seeme the taints of liberty; The flash and out-breake of a fiery minde, A sauagenes in vnreclaim'd bloud of generall assault

Reynol. But my good Lord

Polon. Wherefore should you doe this? Reynol. I my Lord, I would know that

Polon. Marry Sir, heere's my drift, And I belieue it is a fetch of warrant: You laying these slight sulleyes on my Sonne, As 'twere a thing a little soil'd i'th' working: Marke you your party in conuerse; him you would sound, Hauing euer seene. In the prenominate crimes, The youth you breath of guilty, be assur'd He closes with you in this consequence: Good sir, or so, or friend, or Gentleman. According to the Phrase and the Addition, Of man and Country

Reynol. Very good my Lord

Polon. And then Sir does he this? He does: what was I about to say? I was about say somthing: where did I leaue? Reynol. At closes in the consequence: At friend, or so, and Gentleman

Polon. At closes in the consequence, I marry, He closes with you thus. I know the Gentleman, I saw him yesterday, or tother day; Or then or then, with such and such; and as you say, There was he gaming, there o'retooke in's Rouse, There falling out at Tennis; or perchance, I saw him enter such a house of saile; Videlicet, a Brothell, or so forth. See you now; Your bait of falshood, takes this Cape of truth; And thus doe we of wisedome and of reach With windlesses, and with assaies of Bias, By indirections finde directions out: So by my former Lecture and aduice Shall you my Sonne; you haue me, haue you not? Reynol. My Lord I haue

Polon. God buy you; fare you well

Reynol. Good my Lord

Polon. Obserue his inclination in your selfe

Reynol. I shall my Lord

Polon. And let him plye his Musicke

Reynol. Well, my Lord. Enter.

Enter Ophelia.

Polon. Farewell: How now Ophelia, what's the matter? Ophe. Alas my Lord, I haue beene so affrighted

Polon. With what, in the name of Heauen? Ophe. My Lord, as I was sowing in my Chamber, Lord Hamlet with his doublet all vnbrac'd, No hat vpon his head, his stockings foul'd, Vngartred, and downe giued to his Anckle, Pale as his shirt, his knees knocking each other, And with a looke so pitious in purport, As if he had been loosed out of hell, To speake of horrors: he comes before me

Polon. Mad for thy Loue? Ophe. My Lord, I doe not know: but truly I do feare it

Polon. What said he? Ophe. He tooke me by the wrist, and held me hard; Then goes he to the length of all his arme; And with his other hand thus o're his brow, He fals to such perusall of my face, As he would draw it. Long staid he so, At last, a little shaking of mine Arme: And thrice his head thus wauing vp and downe; He rais'd a sigh, so pittious and profound, That it did seeme to shatter all his bulke, And end his being. That done, he lets me goe, And with his head ouer his shoulders turn'd, He seem'd to finde his way without his eyes, For out adores he went without their helpe; And to the last, bended their light on me

Polon. Goe with me, I will goe seeke the King, This is the very extasie of Loue, Whose violent property foredoes it selfe, And leads the will to desperate Vndertakings, As oft as any passion vnder Heauen, That does afflict our Natures. I am sorrie, What haue you giuen him any hard words of late? Ophe. No my good Lord: but as you did command, I did repell his Letters, and deny'de His accesse to me

Pol. That hath made him mad. I am sorrie that with better speed and iudgement I had not quoted him. I feare he did but trifle, And meant to wracke thee: but beshrew my iealousie: It seemes it is as proper to our Age, To cast beyond our selues in our Opinions, As it is common for the yonger sort To lacke discretion. Come, go we to the King, This must be knowne, being kept close might moue More greefe to hide, then hate to vtter loue.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter King, Queene, Rosincrane, and Guildensterne Cum alijs.

King. Welcome deere Rosincrance and Guildensterne. Moreouer, that we much did long to see you, The neede we haue to vse you, did prouoke Our hastie sending. Something haue you heard Of Hamlets transformation: so I call it, Since not th' exterior, nor the inward man Resembles that it was. What it should bee More then his Fathers death, that thus hath put him So much from th' vnderstanding of himselfe, I cannot deeme of. I intreat you both, That being of so young dayes brought vp with him: And since so Neighbour'd to his youth, and humour, That you vouchsafe your rest heere in our Court Some little time: so by your Companies To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather So much as from Occasions you may gleane, That open'd lies within our remedie

Qu. Good Gentlemen, he hath much talk'd of you, And sure I am, two men there are not liuing, To whom he more adheres. If it will please you To shew vs so much Gentrie, and good will, As to expend your time with vs a-while, For the supply and profit of our Hope, Your Visitation shall receiue such thankes As fits a Kings remembrance

Rosin. Both your Maiesties Might by the Soueraigne power you haue of vs, Put your dread pleasures, more into Command Then to Entreatie

Guil. We both obey, And here giue vp our selues, in the full bent, To lay our Seruices freely at your feete, To be commanded

King. Thankes Rosincrance, and gentle Guildensterne

Qu. Thankes Guildensterne and gentle Rosincrance. And I beseech you instantly to visit My too much changed Sonne. Go some of ye, And bring the Gentlemen where Hamlet is

Guil. Heauens make our presence and our practises Pleasant and helpfull to him. Enter.

Queene. Amen. Enter Polonius.

Pol. Th' Ambassadors from Norwey, my good Lord, Are ioyfully return'd

King. Thou still hast bin the father of good Newes

Pol. Haue I, my Lord? Assure you, my good Liege, I hold my dutie, as I hold my Soule, Both to my God, one to my gracious King: And I do thinke, or else this braine of mine Hunts not the traile of Policie, so sure As I haue vs'd to do: that I haue found The very cause of Hamlets Lunacie

King. Oh speake of that, that I do long to heare

Pol. Giue first admittance to th' Ambassadors, My Newes shall be the Newes to that great Feast

King. Thy selfe do grace to them, and bring them in. He tels me my sweet Queene, that he hath found The head and sourse of all your Sonnes distemper

Qu. I doubt it is no other, but the maine, His Fathers death, and our o're-hasty Marriage. Enter Polonius, Voltumand, and Cornelius.

King. Well, we shall sift him. Welcome good Frends: Say Voltumand, what from our Brother Norwey? Volt. Most faire returne of Greetings, and Desires. Vpon our first, he sent out to suppresse His Nephewes Leuies, which to him appear'd To be a preparation 'gainst the Poleak: But better look'd into, he truly found It was against your Highnesse, whereat greeued, That so his Sicknesse, Age, and Impotence Was falsely borne in hand, sends out Arrests On Fortinbras, which he (in breefe) obeyes, Receiues rebuke from Norwey: and in fine, Makes Vow before his Vnkle, neuer more To giue th' assay of Armes against your Maiestie. Whereon old Norwey, ouercome with ioy, Giues him three thousand Crownes in Annuall Fee, And his Commission to imploy those Soldiers So leuied as before, against the Poleak: With an intreaty heerein further shewne, That it might please you to giue quiet passe Through your Dominions, for his Enterprize, On such regards of safety and allowance, As therein are set downe

King. It likes vs well: And at our more consider'd time wee'l read, Answer, and thinke vpon this Businesse. Meane time we thanke you, for your well-tooke Labour. Go to your rest, at night wee'l Feast together. Most welcome home.

Exit Ambass.

Pol. This businesse is very well ended. My Liege, and Madam, to expostulate What Maiestie should be, what Dutie is, Why day is day; night, night; and time is time, Were nothing but to waste Night, Day, and Time. Therefore, since Breuitie is the Soule of Wit, And tediousnesse, the limbes and outward flourishes, I will be breefe. Your Noble Sonne is mad: Mad call I it; for to define true Madnesse, What is't, but to be nothing else but mad. But let that go

Qu. More matter, with lesse Art

Pol. Madam, I sweare I vse no Art at all: That he is mad, 'tis true: 'Tis true 'tis pittie, And pittie it is true: A foolish figure, But farewell it: for I will vse no Art. Mad let vs grant him then: and now remaines That we finde out the cause of this effect, Or rather say, the cause of this defect; For this effect defectiue, comes by cause, Thus it remaines, and the remainder thus. Perpend, I haue a daughter: haue, whil'st she is mine, Who in her Dutie and Obedience, marke, Hath giuen me this: now gather, and surmise.

The Letter.

To the Celestiall, and my Soules Idoll, the most beautifed Ophelia. That's an ill Phrase, a vilde Phrase, beautified is a vilde Phrase: but you shall heare these in her excellent white bosome, these

Qu. Came this from Hamlet to her

Pol. Good Madam stay awhile, I will be faithfull. Doubt thou, the Starres are fire, Doubt, that the Sunne doth moue: Doubt Truth to be a Lier, But neuer Doubt, I loue. O deere Ophelia, I am ill at these Numbers: I haue not Art to reckon my grones; but that I loue thee best, oh most Best beleeue it. Adieu. Thine euermore most deere Lady, whilst this Machine is to him, Hamlet. This in Obedience hath my daughter shew'd me: And more aboue hath his soliciting, As they fell out by Time, by Meanes, and Place, All giuen to mine eare

King. But how hath she receiu'd his Loue? Pol. What do you thinke of me? King. As of a man, faithfull and Honourable

Pol. I wold faine proue so. But what might you think? When I had seene this hot loue on the wing, As I perceiued it, I must tell you that Before my Daughter told me what might you Or my deere Maiestie your Queene heere, think, If I had playd the Deske or Table-booke, Or giuen my heart a winking, mute and dumbe, Or look'd vpon this Loue, with idle sight, What might you thinke? No, I went round to worke, And (my yong Mistris) thus I did bespeake Lord Hamlet is a Prince out of thy Starre, This must not be: and then, I Precepts gaue her, That she should locke her selfe from his Resort, Admit no Messengers, receiue no Tokens: Which done, she tooke the Fruites of my Aduice, And he repulsed. A short Tale to make, Fell into a Sadnesse, then into a Fast, Thence to a Watch, thence into a Weaknesse, Thence to a Lightnesse, and by this declension Into the Madnesse whereon now he raues, And all we waile for

King. Do you thinke 'tis this? Qu. It may be very likely

Pol. Hath there bene such a time, I'de fain know that, That I haue possitiuely said, 'tis so, When it prou'd otherwise? King. Not that I know

Pol. Take this from this; if this be otherwise, If Circumstances leade me, I will finde Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeede Within the Center

King. How may we try it further? Pol. You know sometimes He walkes foure houres together, heere In the Lobby

Qu. So he ha's indeed

Pol. At such a time Ile loose my Daughter to him, Be you and I behinde an Arras then, Marke the encounter: If he loue her not, And be not from his reason falne thereon; Let me be no Assistant for a State, And keepe a Farme and Carters

King. We will try it. Enter Hamlet reading on a Booke.

Qu. But looke where sadly the poore wretch Comes reading

Pol. Away I do beseech you, both away, Ile boord him presently.

Exit King & Queen.

Oh giue me leaue. How does my good Lord Hamlet? Ham. Well, God-a-mercy

Pol. Do you know me, my Lord? Ham. Excellent, excellent well: y'are a Fishmonger

Pol. Not I my Lord

Ham. Then I would you were so honest a man

Pol. Honest, my Lord? Ham. I sir, to be honest as this world goes, is to bee one man pick'd out of two thousand

Pol. That's very true, my Lord

Ham. For if the Sun breed Magots in a dead dogge, being a good kissing Carrion- Haue you a daughter? Pol. I haue my Lord

Ham. Let her not walke i'thSunne: Conception is a blessing, but not as your daughter may conceiue. Friend looke too't

Pol. How say you by that? Still harping on my daughter: yet he knew me not at first; he said I was a Fishmonger: he is farre gone, farre gone: and truly in my youth, I suffred much extreamity for loue: very neere this. Ile speake to him againe. What do you read my Lord? Ham. Words, words, words

Pol. What is the matter, my Lord? Ham. Betweene who? Pol. I meane the matter you meane, my Lord

Ham. Slanders Sir: for the Satyricall slaue saies here, that old men haue gray Beards; that their faces are wrinkled; their eyes purging thicke Amber, or Plum-Tree Gumme: and that they haue a plentifull locke of Wit, together with weake Hammes. All which Sir, though I most powerfully, and potently beleeue; yet I holde it not Honestie to haue it thus set downe: For you your selfe Sir, should be old as I am, if like a Crab you could go backward

Pol. Though this be madnesse, Yet there is Method in't: will you walke Out of the ayre my Lord? Ham. Into my Graue? Pol. Indeed that is out o'th' Ayre: How pregnant (sometimes) his Replies are? A happinesse, That often Madnesse hits on, Which Reason and Sanitie could not So prosperously be deliuer'd of. I will leaue him, And sodainely contriue the meanes of meeting Betweene him, and my daughter. My Honourable Lord, I will most humbly Take my leaue of you

Ham. You cannot Sir take from me any thing, that I will more willingly part withall, except my life, my life

Polon. Fare you well my Lord

Ham. These tedious old fooles

Polon. You goe to seeke my Lord Hamlet; there hee is. Enter Rosincran and Guildensterne.

Rosin. God saue you Sir

Guild. Mine honour'd Lord? Rosin. My most deare Lord? Ham. My excellent good friends? How do'st thou Guildensterne? Oh, Rosincrane; good Lads: How doe ye both? Rosin. As the indifferent Children of the earth

Guild. Happy, in that we are not ouer-happy: on Fortunes Cap, we are not the very Button

Ham. Nor the Soales of her Shoo? Rosin. Neither my Lord

Ham. Then you liue about her waste, or in the middle of her fauour? Guil. Faith, her priuates, we

Ham. In the secret parts of Fortune? Oh, most true: she is a Strumpet. What's the newes? Rosin. None my Lord; but that the World's growne honest

Ham. Then is Doomesday neere: But your newes is not true. Let me question more in particular: what haue you my good friends, deserued at the hands of Fortune, that she sends you to Prison hither? Guil. Prison, my Lord? Ham. Denmark's a Prison

Rosin. Then is the World one

Ham. A goodly one, in which there are many Confines, Wards, and Dungeons; Denmarke being one o'th' worst

Rosin. We thinke not so my Lord

Ham. Why then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison

Rosin. Why then your Ambition makes it one: 'tis too narrow for your minde

Ham. O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count my selfe a King of infinite space; were it not that I haue bad dreames

Guil. Which dreames indeed are Ambition: for the very substance of the Ambitious, is meerely the shadow of a Dreame

Ham. A dreame it selfe is but a shadow

Rosin. Truely, and I hold Ambition of so ayry and light a quality, that it is but a shadowes shadow

Ham. Then are our Beggers bodies; and our Monarchs and out-stretcht Heroes the Beggers Shadowes: shall wee to th' Court: for, by my fey I cannot reason? Both. Wee'l wait vpon you

Ham. No such matter. I will not sort you with the rest of my seruants: for to speake to you like an honest man: I am most dreadfully attended; but in the beaten way of friendship, What make you at Elsonower? Rosin. To visit you my Lord, no other occasion

Ham. Begger that I am, I am euen poore in thankes; but I thanke you: and sure deare friends my thanks are too deare a halfepeny; were you not sent for? Is it your owne inclining? Is it a free visitation? Come, deale iustly with me: come, come; nay speake

Guil. What should we say my Lord? Ham. Why any thing. But to the purpose; you were sent for; and there is a kinde confession in your lookes; which your modesties haue not craft enough to color, I know the good King & Queene haue sent for you

Rosin. To what end my Lord? Ham. That you must teach me: but let mee coniure you by the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of our youth, by the Obligation of our euer-preserued loue, and by what more deare, a better proposer could charge you withall; be euen and direct with me, whether you were sent for or no

Rosin. What say you? Ham. Nay then I haue an eye of you: if you loue me hold not off

Guil. My Lord, we were sent for

Ham. I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation preuent your discouery of your secricie to the King and Queene: moult no feather, I haue of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custome of exercise; and indeed, it goes so heauenly with my disposition; that this goodly frame the Earth, seemes to me a sterrill Promontory; this most excellent Canopy the Ayre, look you, this braue ore-hanging, this Maiesticall Roofe, fretted with golden fire: why, it appeares no other thing to mee, then a foule and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of worke is a man! how Noble in Reason? how infinite in faculty? in forme and mouing how expresse and admirable? in Action, how like an Angel? in apprehension, how like a God? the beauty of the world, the Parragon of Animals; and yet to me, what is this Quintessence of Dust? Man delights not me; no, nor Woman neither; though by your smiling you seeme to say so

Rosin. My Lord, there was no such stuffe in my thoughts

Ham. Why did you laugh, when I said, Man delights not me? Rosin. To thinke, my Lord, if you delight not in Man, what Lenton entertainment the Players shall receiue from you: wee coated them on the way, and hither are they comming to offer you Seruice

Ham. He that playes the King shall be welcome; his Maiesty shall haue Tribute of mee: the aduenturous Knight shal vse his Foyle and Target: the Louer shall not sigh gratis, the humorous man shall end his part in peace: the Clowne shall make those laugh whose lungs are tickled a'th' sere: and the Lady shall say her minde freely; or the blanke Verse shall halt for't: what Players are they? Rosin. Euen those you were wont to take delight in the Tragedians of the City

Ham. How chances it they trauaile? their residence both in reputation and profit was better both wayes

Rosin. I thinke their Inhibition comes by the meanes of the late Innouation? Ham. Doe they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the City? Are they so follow'd? Rosin. No indeed, they are not

Ham. How comes it? doe they grow rusty? Rosin. Nay, their indeauour keepes in the wonted pace; But there is Sir an ayrie of Children, little Yases, that crye out on the top of question; and are most tyrannically clap't for't: these are now the fashion, and so be-ratled the common Stages (so they call them) that many wearing Rapiers, are affraide of Goose-quils, and dare scarse come thither

Ham. What are they Children? Who maintains 'em? How are they escorted? Will they pursue the Quality no longer then they can sing? Will they not say afterwards if they should grow themselues to common Players (as it is most like if their meanes are not better) their Writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim against their owne Succession

Rosin. Faith there ha's bene much to do on both sides: and the Nation holds it no sinne, to tarre them to Controuersie. There was for a while, no mony bid for argument, vnlesse the Poet and the Player went to Cuffes in the Question

Ham. Is't possible? Guild. Oh there ha's beene much throwing about of Braines

Ham. Do the Boyes carry it away? Rosin. I that they do my Lord. Hercules & his load too

Ham. It is not strange: for mine Vnckle is King of Denmarke, and those that would make mowes at him while my Father liued; giue twenty, forty, an hundred Ducates a peece, for his picture in Little. There is something in this more then Naturall, if Philosophie could finde it out.

Flourish for the Players.

Guil. There are the Players

Ham. Gentlemen, you are welcom to Elsonower: your hands, come: The appurtenance of Welcome, is Fashion and Ceremony. Let me comply with you in the Garbe, lest my extent to the Players (which I tell you must shew fairely outward) should more appeare like entertainment then yours. You are welcome: but my Vnckle Father, and Aunt Mother are deceiu'd

Guil. In what my deere Lord? Ham. I am but mad North, North-West: when the Winde is Southerly, I know a Hawke from a Handsaw. Enter Polonius.

Pol. Well be with you Gentlemen

Ham. Hearke you Guildensterne, and you too: at each eare a hearer: that great Baby you see there, is not yet out of his swathing clouts

Rosin. Happily he's the second time come to them: for they say, an old man is twice a childe

Ham. I will Prophesie. Hee comes to tell me of the Players. Mark it, you say right Sir: for a Monday morning 'twas so indeed

Pol. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you

Ham. My Lord, I haue Newes to tell you. When Rossius an Actor in Rome- Pol. The Actors are come hither my Lord

Ham. Buzze, buzze

Pol. Vpon mine Honor

Ham. Then can each Actor on his Asse- Polon. The best Actors in the world, either for Tragedie, Comedie, Historie, Pastorall: Pastoricall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall: Tragicall-Historicall: Tragicall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall:

## Scene indiuidible: or Poem

vnlimited. Seneca cannot be too heauy, nor Plautus too light, for the law of Writ, and the Liberty. These are the onely men

Ham. O Iephta Iudge of Israel, what a Treasure had'st thou? Pol. What a Treasure had he, my Lord? Ham. Why one faire Daughter, and no more, The which he loued passing well

Pol. Still on my Daughter

Ham. Am I not i'th' right old Iephta? Polon. If you call me Iephta my Lord, I haue a daughter that I loue passing well

Ham. Nay that followes not

Polon. What followes then, my Lord? Ha. Why, As by lot, God wot: and then you know, It came to passe, as most like it was: The first rowe of the Pons Chanson will shew you more. For looke where my Abridgements come. Enter foure or fiue Players.

Y'are welcome Masters, welcome all. I am glad to see thee well: Welcome good Friends. Oh my olde Friend? Thy face is valiant since I saw thee last: Com'st thou to beard me in Denmarke? What, my yong Lady and Mistris? Byrlady your Ladiship is neerer Heauen then when I saw you last, by the altitude of a Choppine. Pray God your voice like a peece of vncurrant Gold be not crack'd within the ring. Masters, you are all welcome: wee'l e'ne to't like French Faulconers, flie at any thing we see: wee'l haue a Speech straight. Come giue vs a tast of your quality: come, a passionate speech

1.Play. What speech, my Lord? Ham. I heard thee speak me a speech once, but it was neuer Acted: or if it was, not aboue once, for the Play I remember pleas'd not the Million, 'twas Cauiarie to the Generall: but it was (as I receiu'd it, and others, whose iudgement in such matters, cried in the top of mine) an excellent Play; well digested in the Scoenes, set downe with as much modestie, as cunning. I remember one said, there was no Sallets in the lines, to make the matter sauory; nor no matter in the phrase, that might indite the Author of affectation, but cal'd it an honest method. One cheefe Speech in it, I cheefely lou'd, 'twas Aeneas Tale to Dido, and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priams slaughter. If it liue in your memory, begin at this Line, let me see, let me see: The rugged Pyrrhus like th'Hyrcanian Beast. It is not so: it begins with Pyrrhus The rugged Pyrrhus, he whose Sable Armes Blacke as his purpose, did the night resemble When he lay couched in the Ominous Horse, Hath now this dread and blacke Complexion smear'd With Heraldry more dismall: Head to foote Now is he to take Geulles, horridly Trick'd With blood of Fathers, Mothers, Daughters, Sonnes, Bak'd and impasted with the parching streets, That lend a tyrannous, and damned light To their vilde Murthers, roasted in wrath and fire, And thus o're-sized with coagulate gore, With eyes like Carbuncles, the hellish Pyrrhus Olde Grandsire Priam seekes

Pol. Fore God, my Lord, well spoken, with good accent, and good discretion

1.Player. Anon he findes him, Striking too short at Greekes. His anticke Sword, Rebellious to his Arme, lyes where it falles Repugnant to command: vnequall match, Pyrrhus at Priam driues, in Rage strikes wide: But with the whiffe and winde of his fell Sword, Th' vnnerued Father fals. Then senselesse Illium, Seeming to feele his blow, with flaming top Stoopes to his Bace, and with a hideous crash Takes Prisoner Pyrrhus eare. For loe, his Sword Which was declining on the Milkie head Of Reuerend Priam, seem'd i'th' Ayre to sticke: So as a painted Tyrant Pyrrhus stood, And like a Newtrall to his will and matter, did nothing. But as we often see against some storme, A silence in the Heauens, the Racke stand still, The bold windes speechlesse, and the Orbe below As hush as death: Anon the dreadfull Thunder Doth rend the Region. So after Pyrrhus pause, A rowsed Vengeance sets him new a-worke, And neuer did the Cyclops hammers fall On Mars his Armours, forg'd for proofe Eterne, With lesse remorse then Pyrrhus bleeding sword Now falles on Priam. Out, out, thou Strumpet-Fortune, all you Gods, In generall Synod take away her power: Breake all the Spokes and Fallies from her wheele, And boule the round Naue downe the hill of Heauen, As low as to the Fiends

Pol. This is too long

Ham. It shall to'th Barbars, with your beard. Prythee say on: He's for a Iigge, or a tale of Baudry, or hee sleepes. Say on; come to Hecuba

1.Play. But who, O who, had seen the inobled Queen

Ham. The inobled Queene? Pol. That's good: Inobled Queene is good

1.Play. Run bare-foot vp and downe, Threatning the flame With Bisson Rheume: A clout about that head, Where late the Diadem stood, and for a Robe About her lanke and all ore-teamed Loines, A blanket in th' Alarum of feare caught vp. Who this had seene, with tongue in Venome steep'd, 'Gainst Fortunes State, would Treason haue pronounc'd? But if the Gods themselues did see her then, When she saw Pyrrhus make malicious sport In mincing with his Sword her Husbands limbes, The instant Burst of Clamour that she made (Vnlesse things mortall moue them not at all) Would haue made milche the Burning eyes of Heauen, And passion in the Gods

Pol. Looke where he ha's not turn'd his colour, and ha's teares in's eyes. Pray you no more

Ham. 'Tis well, Ile haue thee speake out the rest, soone. Good my Lord, will you see the Players wel bestow'd. Do ye heare, let them be well vs'd: for they are the Abstracts and breefe Chronicles of the time. After your death, you were better haue a bad Epitaph, then their ill report while you liued

Pol. My Lord, I will vse them according to their desart

Ham. Gods bodykins man, better. Vse euerie man after his desart, and who should scape whipping: vse them after your own Honor and Dignity. The lesse they deserue, the more merit is in your bountie. Take them in

Pol. Come sirs.

Exit Polon.

Ham. Follow him Friends: wee'l heare a play to morrow. Dost thou heare me old Friend, can you play the murther of Gonzago? Play. I my Lord

Ham. Wee'l ha't to morrow night. You could for a need study a speech of some dosen or sixteene lines, which I would set downe, and insert in't? Could ye not? Play. I my Lord

Ham. Very well. Follow that Lord, and looke you mock him not. My good Friends, Ile leaue you til night you are welcome to Elsonower? Rosin. Good my Lord.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet.

Ham. I so, God buy'ye: Now I am alone. Oh what a Rogue and Pesant slaue am I? Is it not monstrous that this Player heere, But in a Fixion, in a dreame of Passion, Could force his soule so to his whole conceit, That from her working, all his visage warm'd; Teares in his eyes, distraction in's Aspect, A broken voyce, and his whole Function suiting With Formes, to his Conceit? And all for nothing? For Hecuba? What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weepe for her? What would he doe, Had he the Motiue and the Cue for passion That I haue? He would drowne the Stage with teares, And cleaue the generall eare with horrid speech: Make mad the guilty, and apale the free, Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed, The very faculty of Eyes and Eares. Yet I, A dull and muddy-metled Rascall, peake Like Iohn a-dreames, vnpregnant of my cause, And can say nothing: No, not for a King, Vpon whose property, and most deere life, A damn'd defeate was made. Am I a Coward? Who calles me Villaine? breakes my pate a-crosse? Pluckes off my Beard, and blowes it in my face? Tweakes me by'th' Nose? giues me the Lye i'th' Throate, As deepe as to the Lungs? Who does me this? Ha? Why I should take it: for it cannot be, But I am Pigeon-Liuer'd, and lacke Gall To make Oppression bitter, or ere this, I should haue fatted all the Region Kites With this Slaues Offall, bloudy: a Bawdy villaine, Remorselesse, Treacherous, Letcherous, kindles villaine! Oh Vengeance! Who? What an Asse am I? I sure, this is most braue, That I, the Sonne of the Deere murthered, Prompted to my Reuenge by Heauen, and Hell, Must (like a Whore) vnpacke my heart with words, And fall a Cursing like a very Drab. A Scullion? Fye vpon't: Foh. About my Braine. I haue heard, that guilty Creatures sitting at a Play, Haue by the very cunning of the Scoene, Bene strooke so to the soule, that presently They haue proclaim'd their Malefactions. For Murther, though it haue no tongue, will speake With most myraculous Organ. Ile haue these Players, Play something like the murder of my Father, Before mine Vnkle. Ile obserue his lookes, Ile rent him to the quicke: If he but blench I know my course. The Spirit that I haue seene May be the Diuell, and the Diuel hath power T' assume a pleasing shape, yea and perhaps Out of my Weaknesse, and my Melancholly, As he is very potent with such Spirits, Abuses me to damne me. Ile haue grounds More Relatiue then this: The Play's the thing, Wherein Ile catch the Conscience of the King.

Exit

Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance, Guildenstern, and Lords.

King. And can you by no drift of circumstance Get from him why he puts on this Confusion: Grating so harshly all his dayes of quiet With turbulent and dangerous Lunacy

Rosin. He does confesse he feeles himselfe distracted, But from what cause he will by no meanes speake

Guil. Nor do we finde him forward to be sounded, But with a crafty Madnesse keepes aloofe: When we would bring him on to some Confession Of his true state

Qu. Did he receiue you well? Rosin. Most like a Gentleman

Guild. But with much forcing of his disposition

Rosin. Niggard of question, but of our demands Most free in his reply

Qu. Did you assay him to any pastime? Rosin. Madam, it so fell out, that certaine Players We ore-wrought on the way: of these we told him, And there did seeme in him a kinde of ioy To heare of it: They are about the Court, And (as I thinke) they haue already order This night to play before him

Pol. 'Tis most true: And he beseech'd me to intreate your Maiesties To heare, and see the matter

King. With all my heart, and it doth much content me To heare him so inclin'd. Good Gentlemen, Giue him a further edge, and driue his purpose on To these delights

Rosin. We shall my Lord.

Exeunt.

King. Sweet Gertrude leaue vs too, For we haue closely sent for Hamlet hither, That he, as 'twere by accident, may there Affront Ophelia. Her Father, and my selfe (lawful espials) Will so bestow our selues, that seeing vnseene We may of their encounter frankely iudge, And gather by him, as he is behaued, If't be th' affliction of his loue, or no. That thus he suffers for

Qu. I shall obey you, And for your part Ophelia, I do wish That your good Beauties be the happy cause Of Hamlets wildenesse: so shall I hope your Vertues Will bring him to his wonted way againe, To both your Honors

Ophe. Madam, I wish it may

Pol. Ophelia, walke you heere. Gracious so please ye We will bestow our selues: Reade on this booke, That shew of such an exercise may colour Your lonelinesse. We are oft too blame in this, 'Tis too much prou'd, that with Deuotions visage, And pious Action, we do surge o're The diuell himselfe

King. Oh 'tis true: How smart a lash that speech doth giue my Conscience? The Harlots Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring Art Is not more vgly to the thing that helpes it, Then is my deede, to my most painted word. Oh heauie burthen! Pol. I heare him comming, let's withdraw my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the Question: Whether 'tis Nobler in the minde to suffer The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune, Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles, And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes That Flesh is heyre too? 'Tis a consummation Deuoutly to be wish'd. To dye to sleepe, To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there's the rub, For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come, When we haue shuffel'd off this mortall coile, Must giue vs pawse. There's the respect That makes Calamity of so long life: For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time, The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd Loue, the Lawes delay, The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes That patient merit of the vnworthy takes, When he himselfe might his Quietus make With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will, And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue, Then flye to others that we know not of. Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all, And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution Is sicklied o're, with the pale cast of Thought, And enterprizes of great pith and moment, With this regard their Currants turne away, And loose the name of Action. Soft you now, The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons Be all my sinnes remembred

Ophe. Good my Lord, How does your Honor for this many a day? Ham. I humbly thanke you: well, well, well

Ophe. My Lord, I haue Remembrances of yours, That I haue longed long to re-deliuer. I pray you now, receiue them

Ham. No, no, I neuer gaue you ought

Ophe. My honor'd Lord, I know right well you did, And with them words of so sweet breath compos'd, As made the things more rich, then perfume left: Take these againe, for to the Noble minde Rich gifts wax poore, when giuers proue vnkinde. There my Lord

Ham. Ha, ha: Are you honest? Ophe. My Lord

Ham. Are you faire? Ophe. What meanes your Lordship? Ham. That if you be honest and faire, your Honesty should admit no discourse to your Beautie

Ophe. Could Beautie my Lord, haue better Comerce then your Honestie? Ham. I trulie: for the power of Beautie, will sooner transforme Honestie from what is, to a Bawd, then the force of Honestie can translate Beautie into his likenesse. This was sometime a Paradox, but now the time giues it proofe. I did loue you once

Ophe. Indeed my Lord, you made me beleeue so

Ham. You should not haue beleeued me. For vertue cannot so innocculate our old stocke, but we shall rellish of it. I loued you not

Ophe. I was the more deceiued

Ham. Get thee to a Nunnerie. Why would'st thou be a breeder of Sinners? I am my selfe indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things, that it were better my Mother had not borne me. I am very prowd, reuengefull, Ambitious, with more offences at my becke, then I haue thoughts to put them in imagination, to giue them shape, or time to acte them in. What should such Fellowes as I do, crawling betweene Heauen and Earth. We are arrant Knaues all, beleeue none of vs. Goe thy wayes to a Nunnery. Where's your Father? Ophe. At home, my Lord

Ham. Let the doores be shut vpon him, that he may play the Foole no way, but in's owne house. Farewell

Ophe. O helpe him, you sweet Heauens

Ham. If thou doest Marry, Ile giue thee this Plague for thy Dowrie. Be thou as chast as Ice, as pure as Snow, thou shalt not escape Calumny. Get thee to a Nunnery. Go, Farewell. Or if thou wilt needs Marry, marry a fool: for Wise men know well enough, what monsters you make of them. To a Nunnery go, and quickly too. Farwell

Ophe. O heauenly Powers, restore him

Ham. I haue heard of your pratlings too wel enough. God has giuen you one pace, and you make your selfe another: you gidge, you amble, and you lispe, and nickname Gods creatures, and make your Wantonnesse, your Ignorance. Go too, Ile no more on't, it hath made me mad. I say, we will haue no more Marriages. Those that are married already, all but one shall liue, the rest shall keep as they are. To a Nunnery, go.

Exit Hamlet.

Ophe. O what a Noble minde is heere o're-throwne? The Courtiers, Soldiers, Schollers: Eye, tongue, sword, Th' expectansie and Rose of the faire State, The glasse of Fashion, and the mould of Forme, Th' obseru'd of all Obseruers, quite, quite downe. Haue I of Ladies most deiect and wretched, That suck'd the Honie of his Musicke Vowes: Now see that Noble, and most Soueraigne Reason, Like sweet Bels iangled out of tune, and harsh, That vnmatch'd Forme and Feature of blowne youth, Blasted with extasie. Oh woe is me, T'haue seene what I haue seene: see what I see. Enter King, and Polonius.

King. Loue? His affections do not that way tend, Nor what he spake, though it lack'd Forme a little, Was not like Madnesse. There's something in his soule? O're which his Melancholly sits on brood, And I do doubt the hatch, and the disclose Will be some danger, which to preuent I haue in quicke determination Thus set it downe. He shall with speed to England For the demand of our neglected Tribute: Haply the Seas and Countries different With variable Obiects, shall expell This something setled matter in his heart: Whereon his Braines still beating, puts him thus From fashion of himselfe. What thinke you on't? Pol. It shall do well. But yet do I beleeue The Origin and Commencement of this greefe Sprung from neglected loue. How now Ophelia? You neede not tell vs, what Lord Hamlet saide, We heard it all. My Lord, do as you please, But if you hold it fit after the Play, Let his Queene Mother all alone intreat him To shew his Greefes: let her be round with him, And Ile be plac'd so, please you in the eare Of all their Conference. If she finde him not, To England send him: Or confine him where Your wisedome best shall thinke

King. It shall be so: Madnesse in great Ones, must not vnwatch'd go.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet, and two or three of the Players.

Ham. Speake the Speech I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you trippingly on the Tongue: But if you mouth it, as many of your Players do, I had as liue the Town-Cryer had spoke my Lines: Nor do not saw the Ayre too much your hand thus, but vse all gently; for in the verie Torrent, Tempest, and (as I say) the Whirle-winde of Passion, you must acquire and beget a Temperance that may giue it Smoothnesse. O it offends mee to the Soule, to see a robustious Pery-wig-pated Fellow, teare a Passion to tatters, to verie ragges, to split the eares of the Groundlings: who (for the most part) are capeable of nothing, but inexplicable dumbe shewes, & noise: I could haue such a Fellow whipt for o're-doing Termagant: it outHerod's Herod. Pray you auoid it

Player. I warrant your Honor

Ham. Be not too tame neyther: but let your owne Discretion be your Tutor. Sute the Action to the Word, the Word to the Action, with this speciall obseruance: That you ore-stop not the modestie of Nature; for any thing so ouer-done, is fro[m] the purpose of Playing, whose end both at the first and now, was and is, to hold as 'twer the Mirrour vp to Nature; to shew Vertue her owne Feature, Scorne her owne Image, and the verie Age and Bodie of the Time, his forme and pressure. Now, this ouer-done, or come tardie off, though it make the vnskilfull laugh, cannot but make the Iudicious greeue; The censure of the which One, must in your allowance o'reway a whole Theater of Others. Oh, there bee Players that I haue seene Play, and heard others praise, and that highly (not to speake it prophanely) that neyther hauing the accent of Christians, nor the gate of Christian, Pagan, or Norman, haue so strutted and bellowed, that I haue thought some of Natures Iouerney-men had made men, and not made them well, they imitated Humanity so abhominably

Play. I hope we haue reform'd that indifferently with vs, Sir

Ham. O reforme it altogether. And let those that play your Clownes, speake no more then is set downe for them. For there be of them, that will themselues laugh, to set on some quantitie of barren Spectators to laugh too, though in the meane time, some necessary Question of the Play be then to be considered: that's Villanous, & shewes a most pittifull Ambition in the Foole that vses it. Go make you readie.

Exit Players.

Enter Polonius, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.

How now my Lord, Will the King heare this peece of Worke? Pol. And the Queene too, and that presently

Ham. Bid the Players make hast.

Exit Polonius.

Will you two helpe to hasten them? Both. We will my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Horatio.

Ham. What hoa, Horatio? Hora. Heere sweet Lord, at your Seruice

Ham. Horatio, thou art eene as iust a man As ere my Conuersation coap'd withall

Hora. O my deere Lord

Ham. Nay, do not thinke I flatter: For what aduancement may I hope from thee, That no Reuennew hast, but thy good spirits To feed & cloath thee. Why shold the poor be flatter'd? No, let the Candied tongue, like absurd pompe, And crooke the pregnant Hindges of the knee, Where thrift may follow faining? Dost thou heare, Since my deere Soule was Mistris of my choyse, And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seal'd thee for her selfe. For thou hast bene As one in suffering all, that suffers nothing. A man that Fortunes buffets, and Rewards Hath 'tane with equall Thankes. And blest are those, Whose Blood and Iudgement are so well co-mingled, That they are not a Pipe for Fortunes finger. To sound what stop she please. Giue me that man, That is not Passions Slaue, and I will weare him In my hearts Core. I, in my Heart of heart, As I do thee. Something too much of this. There is a Play to night to before the King. One Scoene of it comes neere the Circumstance Which I haue told thee, of my Fathers death. I prythee, when thou see'st that Acte a-foot, Euen with the verie Comment of my Soule Obserue mine Vnkle: If his occulted guilt, Do not it selfe vnkennell in one speech, It is a damned Ghost that we haue seene: And my Imaginations are as foule As Vulcans Stythe. Giue him needfull note, For I mine eyes will riuet to his Face: And after we will both our iudgements ioyne, To censure of his seeming

Hora. Well my Lord. If he steale ought the whil'st this Play is Playing, And scape detecting, I will pay the Theft. Enter King, Queene, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosincrance, Guildensterne, and other Lords attendant with his Guard carrying Torches. Danish March. Sound a Flourish.

Ham. They are comming to the Play: I must be idle. Get you a place

King. How fares our Cosin Hamlet? Ham. Excellent Ifaith, of the Camelions dish: I eate the Ayre promise-cramm'd, you cannot feed Capons so

King. I haue nothing with this answer Hamlet, these words are not mine

Ham. No, nor mine. Now my Lord, you plaid once i'th' Vniuersity, you say? Polon. That I did my Lord, and was accounted a good Actor

Ham. And what did you enact? Pol. I did enact Iulius Caesar, I was kill'd i'th' Capitol: Brutus kill'd me

Ham. It was a bruite part of him, to kill so Capitall a Calfe there. Be the Players ready? Rosin. I my Lord, they stay vpon your patience

Qu. Come hither my good Hamlet, sit by me

Ha. No good Mother, here's Mettle more attractiue

Pol. Oh ho, do you marke that? Ham. Ladie, shall I lye in your Lap? Ophe. No my Lord

Ham. I meane, my Head vpon your Lap? Ophe. I my Lord

Ham. Do you thinke I meant Country matters? Ophe. I thinke nothing, my Lord

Ham. That's a faire thought to ly betweene Maids legs Ophe. What is my Lord? Ham. Nothing

Ophe. You are merrie, my Lord? Ham. Who I? Ophe. I my Lord

Ham. Oh God, your onely Iigge-maker: what should a man do, but be merrie. For looke you how cheerefully my Mother lookes, and my Father dyed within's two Houres

Ophe. Nay, 'tis twice two moneths, my Lord

Ham. So long? Nay then let the Diuel weare blacke, for Ile haue a suite of Sables. Oh Heauens! dye two moneths ago, and not forgotten yet? Then there's hope, a great mans Memorie, may out-liue his life halfe a yeare: But byrlady he must builde Churches then: or else shall he suffer not thinking on, with the Hoby-horsse, whose Epitaph is, For o, For o, the Hoby-horse is forgot.

Hoboyes play. The dumbe shew enters.

Enter a King and Queene, very louingly; the Queene embracing him. She kneeles, and makes shew of Protestation vnto him. He takes her vp, and declines his head vpon her neck. Layes him downe vpon a Banke of Flowers. She seeing him a-sleepe, leaues him. Anon comes in a Fellow, takes off his Crowne, kisses it, and powres poyson in the Kings eares, and Exits. The Queene returnes, findes the King dead, and makes passionate

## Action. The

Poysoner, with some two or three Mutes comes in againe, seeming to lament with her. The dead body is carried away: The Poysoner Wooes the Queene with Gifts, she seemes loath and vnwilling awhile, but in the end, accepts his loue.

Exeunt.

Ophe. What meanes this, my Lord? Ham. Marry this is Miching Malicho, that meanes Mischeefe

Ophe. Belike this shew imports the Argument of the Play? Ham. We shall know by these Fellowes: the Players cannot keepe counsell, they'l tell all

Ophe. Will they tell vs what this shew meant? Ham. I, or any shew that you'l shew him. Bee not you asham'd to shew, hee'l not shame to tell you what it meanes

Ophe. You are naught, you are naught, Ile marke the Play. Enter Prologue.

For vs, and for our Tragedie, Heere stooping to your Clemencie: We begge your hearing Patientlie

Ham. Is this a Prologue, or the Poesie of a Ring? Ophe. 'Tis briefe my Lord

Ham. As Womans loue. Enter King and his Queene.

King. Full thirtie times hath Phoebus Cart gon round, Neptunes salt Wash, and Tellus Orbed ground: And thirtie dozen Moones with borrowed sheene, About the World haue times twelue thirties beene, Since loue our hearts, and Hymen did our hands Vnite comutuall, in most sacred Bands

Bap. So many iournies may the Sunne and Moone Make vs againe count o're, ere loue be done. But woe is me, you are so sicke of late, So farre from cheere, and from your former state, That I distrust you: yet though I distrust, Discomfort you (my Lord) it nothing must: For womens Feare and Loue, holds quantitie, In neither ought, or in extremity: Now what my loue is, proofe hath made you know, And as my Loue is siz'd, my Feare is so

King. Faith I must leaue thee Loue, and shortly too: My operant Powers my Functions leaue to do: And thou shalt liue in this faire world behinde, Honour'd, belou'd, and haply, one as kinde. For Husband shalt thou- Bap. Oh confound the rest: Such Loue, must needs be Treason in my brest: In second Husband, let me be accurst, None wed the second, but who kill'd the first

Ham. Wormwood, Wormwood

Bapt. The instances that second Marriage moue, Are base respects of Thrift, but none of Loue. A second time, I kill my Husband dead, When second Husband kisses me in Bed

King. I do beleeue you. Think what now you speak: But what we do determine, oft we breake: Purpose is but the slaue to Memorie, Of violent Birth, but poore validitie: Which now like Fruite vnripe stickes on the Tree, But fall vnshaken, when they mellow bee. Most necessary 'tis, that we forget To pay our selues, what to our selues is debt: What to our selues in passion we propose, The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. The violence of other Greefe or Ioy, Their owne ennactors with themselues destroy: Where Ioy most Reuels, Greefe doth most lament; Greefe ioyes, Ioy greeues on slender accident. This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange That euen our Loues should with our Fortunes change. For 'tis a question left vs yet to proue, Whether Loue lead Fortune, or else Fortune Loue. The great man downe, you marke his fauourites flies, The poore aduanc'd, makes Friends of Enemies: And hitherto doth Loue on Fortune tend, For who not needs, shall neuer lacke a Frend: And who in want a hollow Friend doth try, Directly seasons him his Enemie. But orderly to end, where I begun, Our Willes and Fates do so contrary run, That our Deuices still are ouerthrowne, Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our owne. So thinke thou wilt no second Husband wed. But die thy thoughts, when thy first Lord is dead

Bap. Nor Earth to giue me food, nor Heauen light, Sport and repose locke from me day and night: Each opposite that blankes the face of ioy, Meet what I would haue well, and it destroy: Both heere, and hence, pursue me lasting strife, If once a Widdow, euer I be Wife

Ham. If she should breake it now

King. 'Tis deepely sworne: Sweet, leaue me heere a while, My spirits grow dull, and faine I would beguile The tedious day with sleepe

Qu. Sleepe rocke thy Braine,

Sleepes

And neuer come mischance betweene vs twaine.

Exit

Ham. Madam, how like you this Play? Qu. The Lady protests to much me thinkes

Ham. Oh but shee'l keepe her word

King. Haue you heard the Argument, is there no Offence in't? Ham. No, no, they do but iest, poyson in iest, no Offence i'th' world

King. What do you call the Play? Ham. The Mouse-trap: Marry how? Tropically: This Play is the Image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is the Dukes name, his wife Baptista: you shall see anon: 'tis a knauish peece of worke: But what o'that? Your Maiestie, and wee that haue free soules, it touches vs not: let the gall'd iade winch: our withers are vnrung. Enter Lucianus.

This is one Lucianus nephew to the King

Ophe. You are a good Chorus, my Lord

Ham. I could interpret betweene you and your loue: if I could see the Puppets dallying

Ophe. You are keene my Lord, you are keene

Ham. It would cost you a groaning, to take off my edge

Ophe. Still better and worse

Ham. So you mistake Husbands. Begin Murderer. Pox, leaue thy damnable Faces, and begin. Come, the croaking Rauen doth bellow for Reuenge

Lucian. Thoughts blacke, hands apt, Drugges fit, and Time agreeing: Confederate season, else, no Creature seeing: Thou mixture ranke, of Midnight Weeds collected, With Hecats Ban, thrice blasted, thrice infected, Thy naturall Magicke, and dire propertie, On wholsome life, vsurpe immediately.

Powres the poyson in his eares.

Ham. He poysons him i'th' Garden for's estate: His name's Gonzago: the Story is extant and writ in choyce Italian. You shall see anon how the Murtherer gets the loue of Gonzago's wife

Ophe. The King rises

Ham. What, frighted with false fire

Qu. How fares my Lord? Pol. Giue o're the Play

King. Giue me some Light. Away

All. Lights, Lights, Lights.

Exeunt.

Manet Hamlet & Horatio.

Ham. Why let the strucken Deere go weepe, The Hart vngalled play: For some must watch, while some must sleepe; So runnes the world away. Would not this Sir, and a Forrest of Feathers, if the rest of my Fortunes turne Turke with me; with two Prouinciall Roses on my rac'd Shooes, get me a Fellowship in a crie of Players sir

Hor. Halfe a share

Ham. A whole one I, For thou dost know: Oh Damon deere, This Realme dismantled was of Ioue himselfe, And now reignes heere. A verie verie Paiocke

Hora. You might haue Rim'd

Ham. Oh good Horatio, Ile take the Ghosts word for a thousand pound. Did'st perceiue? Hora. Verie well my Lord

Ham. Vpon the talke of the poysoning? Hora. I did verie well note him. Enter Rosincrance and Guildensterne.

Ham. Oh, ha? Come some Musick. Come y Recorders: For if the King like not the Comedie, Why then belike he likes it not perdie. Come some Musicke

Guild. Good my Lord, vouchsafe me a word with you

Ham. Sir, a whole History

Guild. The King, sir

Ham. I sir, what of him? Guild. Is in his retyrement, maruellous distemper'd

Ham. With drinke Sir? Guild. No my Lord, rather with choller

Ham. Your wisedome should shew it selfe more richer, to signifie this to his Doctor: for for me to put him to his Purgation, would perhaps plundge him into farre more Choller

Guild. Good my Lord put your discourse into some frame, and start not so wildely from my affayre

Ham. I am tame Sir, pronounce

Guild. The Queene your Mother, in most great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you

Ham. You are welcome

Guild. Nay, good my Lord, this courtesie is not of the right breed. If it shall please you to make me a wholsome answer, I will doe your Mothers command'ment: if not, your pardon, and my returne shall bee the end of my Businesse

Ham. Sir, I cannot

Guild. What, my Lord? Ham. Make you a wholsome answere: my wits diseas'd. But sir, such answers as I can make, you shal command: or rather you say, my Mother: therfore no more but to the matter. My Mother you say

Rosin. Then thus she sayes: your behauior hath stroke her into amazement, and admiration

Ham. Oh wonderfull Sonne, that can so astonish a Mother. But is there no sequell at the heeles of this Mothers admiration? Rosin. She desires to speake with you in her Closset, ere you go to bed

Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times our Mother. Haue you any further Trade with vs? Rosin. My Lord, you once did loue me

Ham. So I do still, by these pickers and stealers

Rosin. Good my Lord, what is your cause of distemper? You do freely barre the doore of your owne Libertie, if you deny your greefes to your Friend

Ham. Sir I lacke Aduancement

Rosin. How can that be, when you haue the voyce of the King himselfe, for your Succession in Denmarke? Ham. I, but while the grasse growes, the Prouerbe is something musty. Enter one with a Recorder.

O the Recorder. Let me see, to withdraw with you, why do you go about to recouer the winde of mee, as if you would driue me into a toyle? Guild. O my Lord, if my Dutie be too bold, my loue is too vnmannerly

Ham. I do not well vnderstand that. Will you play vpon this Pipe? Guild. My Lord, I cannot

Ham. I pray you

Guild. Beleeue me, I cannot

Ham. I do beseech you

Guild. I know no touch of it, my Lord

Ham. 'Tis as easie as lying: gouerne these Ventiges with your finger and thumbe, giue it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most excellent Musicke. Looke you, these are the stoppes

Guild. But these cannot I command to any vtterance of hermony, I haue not the skill

Ham. Why looke you now, how vnworthy a thing you make of me: you would play vpon mee; you would seeme to know my stops: you would pluck out the heart of my Mysterie; you would sound mee from my lowest Note, to the top of my Compasse: and there is much Musicke, excellent Voice, in this little Organe, yet cannot you make it. Why do you thinke, that I am easier to bee plaid on, then a Pipe? Call me what Instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play vpon me. God blesse you Sir. Enter Polonius.

Polon. My Lord; the Queene would speak with you, and presently

Ham. Do you see that Clowd? that's almost in shape like a Camell

Polon. By'th' Masse, and it's like a Camell indeed

Ham. Me thinkes it is like a Weazell

Polon. It is back'd like a Weazell

Ham. Or like a Whale? Polon. Verie like a Whale

Ham. Then will I come to my Mother, by and by: They foole me to the top of my bent. I will come by and by

Polon. I will say so. Enter.

Ham. By and by, is easily said. Leaue me Friends: 'Tis now the verie witching time of night, When Churchyards yawne, and Hell it selfe breaths out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter businesse as the day Would quake to looke on. Soft now, to my Mother: Oh Heart, loose not thy Nature; let not euer The Soule of Nero, enter this firme bosome: Let me be cruell, not vnnaturall, I will speake Daggers to her, but vse none: My Tongue and Soule in this be Hypocrites. How in my words someuer she be shent, To giue them Seales, neuer my Soule consent. Enter King, Rosincrance, and Guildensterne.

King. I like him not, nor stands it safe with vs, To let his madnesse range. Therefore prepare you, I your Commission will forthwith dispatch, And he to England shall along with you: The termes of our estate, may not endure Hazard so dangerous as doth hourely grow Out of his Lunacies

Guild. We will our selues prouide: Most holie and Religious feare it is To keepe those many many bodies safe That liue and feede vpon your Maiestie

Rosin. The single And peculiar life is bound With all the strength and Armour of the minde, To keepe it selfe from noyance: but much more, That Spirit, vpon whose spirit depends and rests The liues of many, the cease of Maiestie Dies not alone; but like a Gulfe doth draw What's neere it, with it. It is a massie wheele Fixt on the Somnet of the highest Mount. To whose huge Spoakes, ten thousand lesser things Are mortiz'd and adioyn'd: which when it falles, Each small annexment, pettie consequence Attends the boystrous Ruine. Neuer alone Did the King sighe, but with a generall grone

King. Arme you, I pray you to this speedie Voyage; For we will Fetters put vpon this feare, Which now goes too free-footed

Both. We will haste vs.

Exeunt. Gent.

Enter Polonius.

Pol. My Lord, he's going to his Mothers Closset: Behinde the Arras Ile conuey my selfe To heare the Processe. Ile warrant shee'l tax him home, And as you said, and wisely was it said, 'Tis meete that some more audience then a Mother, Since Nature makes them partiall, should o're-heare The speech of vantage. Fare you well my Liege, Ile call vpon you ere you go to bed, And tell you what I know

King. Thankes deere my Lord. Oh my offence is ranke, it smels to heauen, It hath the primall eldest curse vpon't, A Brothers murther. Pray can I not, Though inclination be as sharpe as will: My stronger guilt, defeats my strong intent, And like a man to double businesse bound, I stand in pause where I shall first begin, And both neglect; what if this cursed hand Were thicker then it selfe with Brothers blood, Is there not Raine enough in the sweet Heauens To wash it white as Snow? Whereto serues mercy, But to confront the visage of Offence? And what's in Prayer, but this two-fold force, To be fore-stalled ere we come to fall, Or pardon'd being downe? Then Ile looke vp, My fault is past. But oh, what forme of Prayer Can serue my turne? Forgiue me my foule Murther: That cannot be, since I am still possest Of those effects for which I did the Murther. My Crowne, mine owne Ambition, and my Queene: May one be pardon'd, and retaine th' offence? In the corrupted currants of this world, Offences gilded hand may shoue by Iustice, And oft 'tis seene, the wicked prize it selfe Buyes out the Law; but 'tis not so aboue, There is no shuffling, there the Action lyes In his true Nature, and we our selues compell'd Euen to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To giue in euidence. What then? What rests? Try what Repentance can. What can it not? Yet what can it, when one cannot repent? Oh wretched state! Oh bosome, blacke as death! Oh limed soule, that strugling to be free, Art more ingag'd: Helpe Angels, make assay: Bow stubborne knees, and heart with strings of Steele, Be soft as sinewes of the new-borne Babe, All may be well. Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying, And now Ile doo't, and so he goes to Heauen, And so am I reueng'd: that would be scann'd, A Villaine killes my Father, and for that I his foule Sonne, do this same Villaine send To heauen. Oh this is hyre and Sallery, not Reuenge. He tooke my Father grossely, full of bread, With all his Crimes broad blowne, as fresh as May, And how his Audit stands, who knowes, saue Heauen: But in our circumstance and course of thought 'Tis heauie with him: and am I then reueng'd, To take him in the purging of his Soule, When he is fit and season'd for his passage? No. Vp Sword, and know thou a more horrid hent When he is drunke asleepe: or in his Rage, Or in th' incestuous pleasure of his bed, At gaming, swearing, or about some acte That ha's no rellish of Saluation in't, Then trip him, that his heeles may kicke at Heauen, And that his Soule may be as damn'd and blacke As Hell, whereto it goes. My Mother stayes, This Physicke but prolongs thy sickly dayes. Enter.

King. My words flye vp, my thoughts remain below, Words without thoughts, neuer to Heauen go. Enter.

Enter Queene and Polonius.

Pol. He will come straight: Looke you lay home to him, Tell him his prankes haue been too broad to beare with, And that your Grace hath screen'd, and stoode betweene Much heate, and him. Ile silence me e'ene heere: Pray you be round with him

Ham. within. Mother, mother, mother

Qu. Ile warrant you, feare me not. Withdraw, I heare him coming. Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Now Mother, what's the matter? Qu. Hamlet, thou hast thy Father much offended

Ham. Mother, you haue my Father much offended

Qu. Come, come, you answer with an idle tongue

Ham. Go, go, you question with an idle tongue

Qu. Why how now Hamlet? Ham. Whats the matter now? Qu. Haue you forgot me? Ham. No by the Rood, not so: You are the Queene, your Husbands Brothers wife, But would you were not so. You are my Mother

Qu. Nay, then Ile set those to you that can speake

Ham. Come, come, and sit you downe, you shall not boudge: You go not till I set you vp a glasse, Where you may see the inmost part of you? Qu. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not murther me? Helpe, helpe, hoa

Pol. What hoa, helpe, helpe, helpe

Ham. How now, a Rat? dead for a Ducate, dead

Pol. Oh I am slaine.

Killes Polonius

Qu. Oh me, what hast thou done? Ham. Nay I know not, is it the King? Qu. Oh what a rash, and bloody deed is this? Ham. A bloody deed, almost as bad good Mother, As kill a King, and marrie with his Brother

Qu. As kill a King? Ham. I Lady, 'twas my word. Thou wretched, rash, intruding foole farewell, I tooke thee for thy Betters, take thy Fortune, Thou find'st to be too busie, is some danger. Leaue wringing of your hands, peace, sit you downe, And let me wring your heart, for so I shall If it be made of penetrable stuffe; If damned Custome haue not braz'd it so, That it is proofe and bulwarke against Sense

Qu. What haue I done, that thou dar'st wag thy tong, In noise so rude against me? Ham. Such an Act That blurres the grace and blush of Modestie, Cals Vertue Hypocrite, takes off the Rose From the faire forehead of an innocent loue, And makes a blister there. Makes marriage vowes As false as Dicers Oathes. Oh such a deed, As from the body of Contraction pluckes The very soule, and sweete Religion makes A rapsidie of words. Heauens face doth glow, Yea this solidity and compound masse, With tristfull visage as against the doome, Is thought-sicke at the act

Qu. Aye me; what act, that roares so lowd, & thunders in the Index

Ham. Looke heere vpon this Picture, and on this, The counterfet presentment of two Brothers: See what a grace was seated on his Brow, Hyperions curles, the front of Ioue himselfe, An eye like Mars, to threaten or command A Station, like the Herald Mercurie New lighted on a heauen-kissing hill: A Combination, and a forme indeed, Where euery God did seeme to set his Seale, To giue the world assurance of a man. This was your Husband. Looke you now what followes. Heere is your Husband, like a Mildew'd eare Blasting his wholsom breath. Haue you eyes? Could you on this faire Mountaine leaue to feed, And batten on this Moore? Ha? Haue you eyes? You cannot call it Loue: For at your age, The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, And waites vpon the Iudgement: and what Iudgement Would step from this, to this? What diuell was't, That thus hath cousend you at hoodman-blinde? O Shame! where is thy Blush? Rebellious Hell, If thou canst mutine in a Matrons bones, To flaming youth, let Vertue be as waxe. And melt in her owne fire. Proclaime no shame, When the compulsiue Ardure giues the charge, Since Frost it selfe, as actiuely doth burne, As Reason panders Will

Qu. O Hamlet, speake no more. Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soule, And there I see such blacke and grained spots, As will not leaue their Tinct

Ham. Nay, but to liue In the ranke sweat of an enseamed bed, Stew'd in Corruption; honying and making loue Ouer the nasty Stye

Qu. Oh speake to me, no more, These words like Daggers enter in mine eares. No more sweet Hamlet

Ham. A Murderer, and a Villaine: A Slaue, that is not twentieth part the tythe Of your precedent Lord. A vice of Kings, A Cutpurse of the Empire and the Rule. That from a shelfe, the precious Diadem stole, And put it in his Pocket

Qu. No more. Enter Ghost.

Ham. A King of shreds and patches. Saue me; and houer o're me with your wings You heauenly Guards. What would your gracious figure? Qu. Alas he's mad

Ham. Do you not come your tardy Sonne to chide, That laps't in Time and Passion, lets go by Th' important acting of your dread command? Oh say

Ghost. Do not forget: this Visitation Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. But looke, Amazement on thy Mother sits; O step betweene her, and her fighting Soule, Conceit in weakest bodies, strongest workes. Speake to her Hamlet

Ham. How is it with you Lady? Qu. Alas, how is't with you? That you bend your eye on vacancie, And with their corporall ayre do hold discourse. Forth at your eyes, your spirits wildely peepe, And as the sleeping Soldiours in th' Alarme, Your bedded haire, like life in excrements, Start vp, and stand an end. Oh gentle Sonne, Vpon the heate and flame of thy distemper Sprinkle coole patience. Whereon do you looke? Ham. On him, on him: look you how pale he glares, His forme and cause conioyn'd, preaching to stones, Would make them capeable. Do not looke vpon me, Least with this pitteous action you conuert My sterne effects: then what I haue to do, Will want true colour; teares perchance for blood

Qu. To who do you speake this? Ham. Do you see nothing there? Qu. Nothing at all, yet all that is I see

Ham. Nor did you nothing heare? Qu. No, nothing but our selues

Ham. Why look you there: looke how it steals away: My Father in his habite, as he liued, Looke where he goes euen now out at the Portall. Enter.

Qu. This is the very coynage of your Braine, This bodilesse Creation extasie is very cunning in

Ham. Extasie? My Pulse as yours doth temperately keepe time, And makes as healthfull Musicke. It is not madnesse That I haue vttered; bring me to the Test And I the matter will re-word: which madnesse Would gamboll from. Mother, for loue of Grace, Lay not a flattering Vnction to your soule, That not your trespasse, but my madnesse speakes: It will but skin and filme the Vlcerous place, Whil'st ranke Corruption mining all within, Infects vnseene. Confesse your selfe to Heauen, Repent what's past, auoyd what is to come, And do not spred the Compost on the Weedes, To make them ranke. Forgiue me this my Vertue, For in the fatnesse of this pursie times, Vertue it selfe, of Vice must pardon begge, Yea courb, and woe, for leaue to do him good

Qu. Oh Hamlet, Thou hast cleft my heart in twaine

Ham. O throw away the worser part of it, And liue the purer with the other halfe. Good night, but go not to mine Vnkles bed, Assume a Vertue, if you haue it not, refraine to night, And that shall lend a kinde of easinesse To the next abstinence. Once more goodnight, And when you are desirous to be blest, Ile blessing begge of you. For this same Lord, I do repent: but heauen hath pleas'd it so, To punish me with this, and this with me, That I must be their Scourge and Minister. I will bestow him, and will answer well The death I gaue him: so againe, good night. I must be cruell, onely to be kinde; Thus bad begins and worse remaines behinde

Qu. What shall I do? Ham. Not this by no meanes that I bid you do: Let the blunt King tempt you againe to bed, Pinch Wanton on your cheeke, call you his Mouse, And let him for a paire of reechie kisses, Or padling in your necke with his damn'd Fingers, Make you to rauell all this matter out, That I essentially am not in madnesse, But made in craft. 'Twere good you let him know, For who that's but a Queene, faire, sober, wise, Would from a Paddocke, from a Bat, a Gibbe, Such deere concernings hide, Who would do so, No in despight of Sense and Secrecie, Vnpegge the Basket on the houses top: Let the Birds flye, and like the famous Ape To try Conclusions in the Basket, creepe And breake your owne necke downe

Qu. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath, And breath of life: I haue no life to breath What thou hast saide to me

Ham. I must to England, you know that? Qu. Alacke I had forgot: 'Tis so concluded on

Ham. This man shall set me packing: Ile lugge the Guts into the Neighbor roome, Mother goodnight. Indeede this Counsellor Is now most still, most secret, and most graue, Who was in life, a foolish prating Knaue. Come sir, to draw toward an end with you. Good night Mother. Exit Hamlet tugging in Polonius.

Enter King.

King. There's matters in these sighes. These profound heaues You must translate; Tis fit we vnderstand them. Where is your Sonne? Qu. Ah my good Lord, what haue I seene to night? King. What Gertrude? How do's Hamlet? Qu. Mad as the Seas, and winde, when both contend Which is the Mightier, in his lawlesse fit Behinde the Arras, hearing something stirre, He whips his Rapier out, and cries a Rat, a Rat, And in his brainish apprehension killes The vnseene good old man

King. Oh heauy deed: It had bin so with vs had we beene there: His Liberty is full of threats to all, To you your selfe, to vs, to euery one. Alas, how shall this bloody deede be answered? It will be laide to vs, whose prouidence Should haue kept short, restrain'd, and out of haunt, This mad yong man. But so much was our loue, We would not vnderstand what was most fit, But like the Owner of a foule disease, To keepe it from divulging, let's it feede Euen on the pith of life. Where is he gone? Qu. To draw apart the body he hath kild, O're whom his very madnesse like some Oare Among a Minerall of Mettels base Shewes it selfe pure. He weepes for what is done

King. Oh Gertrude, come away: The Sun no sooner shall the Mountaines touch, But we will ship him hence, and this vilde deed, We must with all our Maiesty and Skill Both countenance, and excuse. Enter Ros. & Guild.

Ho Guildenstern: Friends both go ioyne you with some further ayde: Hamlet in madnesse hath Polonius slaine, And from his Mother Clossets hath he drag'd him. Go seeke him out, speake faire, and bring the body Into the Chappell. I pray you hast in this. Exit Gent.

Come Gertrude, wee'l call vp our wisest friends, To let them know both what we meane to do, And what's vntimely done. Oh come away, My soule is full of discord and dismay.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet.

Ham. Safely stowed

Gentlemen within. Hamlet, Lord Hamlet

Ham. What noise? Who cals on Hamlet? Oh heere they come. Enter Ros. and Guildensterne.

Ro. What haue you done my Lord with the dead body? Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 'tis Kinne

Rosin. Tell vs where 'tis, that we may take it thence, And beare it to the Chappell

Ham. Do not beleeue it

Rosin. Beleeue what? Ham. That I can keepe your counsell, and not mine owne. Besides, to be demanded of a Spundge, what replication should be made by the Sonne of a King

Rosin. Take you me for a Spundge, my Lord? Ham. I sir, that sokes vp the Kings Countenance, his Rewards, his Authorities (but such Officers do the King best seruice in the end. He keepes them like an Ape in the corner of his iaw, first mouth'd to be last swallowed, when he needes what you haue glean'd, it is but squeezing you, and Spundge you shall be dry againe

Rosin. I vnderstand you not my Lord

Ham. I am glad of it: a knauish speech sleepes in a foolish eare

Rosin. My Lord, you must tell vs where the body is, and go with vs to the King

Ham. The body is with the King, but the King is not with the body. The King, is a thing- Guild. A thing my Lord? Ham. Of nothing: bring me to him, hide Fox, and all after.

Exeunt.

Enter King.

King. I haue sent to seeke him, and to find the bodie: How dangerous is it that this man goes loose: Yet must not we put the strong Law on him: Hee's loued of the distracted multitude, Who like not in their iudgement, but their eyes: And where 'tis so, th' Offenders scourge is weigh'd But neerer the offence: to beare all smooth, and euen, This sodaine sending him away, must seeme Deliberate pause, diseases desperate growne, By desperate appliance are releeued, Or not at all. Enter Rosincrane.

How now? What hath befalne? Rosin. Where the dead body is bestow'd my Lord, We cannot get from him

King. But where is he? Rosin. Without my Lord, guarded to know your pleasure

King. Bring him before vs

Rosin. Hoa, Guildensterne? Bring in my Lord. Enter Hamlet and Guildensterne.

King. Now Hamlet, where's Polonius? Ham. At Supper

King. At Supper? Where? Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is eaten, a certaine conuocation of wormes are e'ne at him. Your worm is your onely Emperor for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat vs, and we fat our selfe for Magots. Your fat King, and your leane Begger is but variable seruice to dishes, but to one Table that's the end

King. What dost thou meane by this? Ham. Nothing but to shew you how a King may go a Progresse through the guts of a Begger

King. Where is Polonius

Ham. In heauen, send thither to see. If your Messenger finde him not there, seeke him i'th other place your selfe: but indeed, if you finde him not this moneth, you shall nose him as you go vp the staires into the Lobby

King. Go seeke him there

Ham. He will stay till ye come

K. Hamlet, this deed of thine, for thine especial safety Which we do tender, as we deerely greeue For that which thou hast done, must send thee hence With fierie Quicknesse. Therefore prepare thy selfe, The Barke is readie, and the winde at helpe, Th' Associates tend, and euery thing at bent For England

Ham. For England? King. I Hamlet

Ham. Good

King. So is it, if thou knew'st our purposes

Ham. I see a Cherube that see's him: but come, for England. Farewell deere Mother

King. Thy louing Father Hamlet

Hamlet. My Mother: Father and Mother is man and wife: man & wife is one flesh, and so my mother. Come, for England.

Exit

King. Follow him at foote, Tempt him with speed aboord: Delay it not, Ile haue him hence to night. Away, for euery thing is Seal'd and done That else leanes on th' Affaire, pray you make hast. And England, if my loue thou holdst at ought, As my great power thereof may giue thee sense, Since yet thy Cicatrice lookes raw and red After the Danish Sword, and thy free awe Payes homage to vs; thou maist not coldly set Our Soueraigne Processe, which imports at full By Letters coniuring to that effect The present death of Hamlet. Do it England, For like the Hecticke in my blood he rages, And thou must cure me: Till I know 'tis done, How ere my happes, my ioyes were ne're begun.

Exit

Enter Fortinbras with an Armie.

For. Go Captaine, from me greet the Danish King, Tell him that by his license, Fortinbras Claimes the conueyance of a promis'd March Ouer his Kingdome. You know the Rendeuous: If that his Maiesty would ought with vs, We shall expresse our dutie in his eye, And let him know so

Cap. I will doo't, my Lord

For. Go safely on. Enter.

Enter Queene and Horatio.

Qu. I will not speake with her

Hor. She is importunate, indeed distract, her moode will needs be pittied

Qu. What would she haue? Hor. She speakes much of her Father; saies she heares There's trickes i'th' world, and hems, and beats her heart, Spurnes enuiously at Strawes, speakes things in doubt, That carry but halfe sense: Her speech is nothing, Yet the vnshaped vse of it doth moue The hearers to Collection; they ayme at it, And botch the words vp fit to their owne thoughts, Which as her winkes, and nods, and gestures yeeld them, Indeed would make one thinke there would be thought, Though nothing sure, yet much vnhappily

Qu. 'Twere good she were spoken with, For she may strew dangerous coniectures In ill breeding minds. Let her come in. To my sicke soule (as sinnes true Nature is) Each toy seemes Prologue, to some great amisse, So full of Artlesse iealousie is guilt, It spill's it selfe, in fearing to be spilt. Enter Ophelia distracted.

Ophe. Where is the beauteous Maiesty of Denmark

Qu. How now Ophelia? Ophe. How should I your true loue know from another one? By his Cockle hat and staffe, and his Sandal shoone

Qu. Alas sweet Lady: what imports this Song? Ophe. Say you? Nay pray you marke. He is dead and gone Lady, he is dead and gone, At his head a grasse-greene Turfe, at his heeles a stone. Enter King.

Qu. Nay but Ophelia

Ophe. Pray you marke. White his Shrow'd as the Mountaine Snow

Qu. Alas, looke heere my Lord

Ophe. Larded with sweet Flowers: Which bewept to the graue did not go, With true-loue showres

King. How do ye, pretty Lady? Ophe. Well, God dil'd you. They say the Owle was a Bakers daughter. Lord, wee know what we are, but know not what we may be. God be at your Table

King. Conceit vpon her Father

Ophe. Pray you let's haue no words of this: but when they aske you what it meanes, say you this: To morrow is S[aint]. Valentines day, all in the morning betime, And I a Maid at your Window, to be your Valentine. Then vp he rose, & don'd his clothes, & dupt the chamber dore, Let in the Maid, that out a Maid, neuer departed more

King. Pretty Ophelia

Ophe. Indeed la? without an oath Ile make an end ont. By gis, and by S[aint]. Charity, Alacke, and fie for shame: Yong men wil doo't, if they come too't, By Cocke they are too blame. Quoth she before you tumbled me, You promis'd me to Wed: So would I ha done by yonder Sunne, And thou hadst not come to my bed

King. How long hath she bin thus? Ophe. I hope all will be well. We must bee patient, but I cannot choose but weepe, to thinke they should lay him i'th' cold ground: My brother shall knowe of it, and so I thanke you for your good counsell. Come, my Coach: Goodnight Ladies: Goodnight sweet Ladies: Goodnight, goodnight. Enter.

King. Follow her close, Giue her good watch I pray you: Oh this is the poyson of deepe greefe, it springs All from her Fathers death. Oh Gertrude, Gertrude, When sorrowes comes, they come not single spies, But in Battalians. First, her Father slaine, Next your Sonne gone, and he most violent Author Of his owne iust remoue: the people muddied, Thicke and vnwholsome in their thoughts, and whispers For good Polonius death; and we haue done but greenly In hugger mugger to interre him. Poore Ophelia Diuided from her selfe, and her faire Iudgement, Without the which we are Pictures, or meere Beasts. Last, and as much containing as all these, Her Brother is in secret come from France, Keepes on his wonder, keepes himselfe in clouds, And wants not Buzzers to infect his eare With pestilent Speeches of his Fathers death, Where in necessitie of matter Beggard, Will nothing sticke our persons to Arraigne In eare and eare. O my deere Gertrude, this, Like to a murdering Peece in many places, Giues me superfluous death.

A Noise within.

Enter a Messenger.

Qu. Alacke, what noyse is this? King. Where are my Switzers? Let them guard the doore. What is the matter? Mes. Saue your selfe, my Lord. The Ocean (ouer-peering of his List) Eates not the Flats with more impittious haste Then young Laertes, in a Riotous head, Ore-beares your Officers, the rabble call him Lord, And as the world were now but to begin, Antiquity forgot, Custome not knowne, The Ratifiers and props of euery word, They cry choose we? Laertes shall be King, Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the clouds, Laertes shall be King, Laertes King

Qu. How cheerefully on the false Traile they cry, Oh this is Counter you false Danish Dogges.

Noise within. Enter Laertes.

King. The doores are broke

Laer. Where is the King, sirs? Stand you all without

All. No, let's come in

Laer. I pray you giue me leaue

Al. We will, we will

Laer. I thanke you: Keepe the doore. Oh thou vilde King, giue me my Father

Qu. Calmely good Laertes

Laer. That drop of blood, that calmes Proclaimes me Bastard: Cries Cuckold to my Father, brands the Harlot Euen heere betweene the chaste vnsmirched brow Of my true Mother

King. What is the cause Laertes, That thy Rebellion lookes so Gyant-like? Let him go Gertrude: Do not feare our person: There's such Diuinity doth hedge a King, That Treason can but peepe to what it would, Acts little of his will. Tell me Laertes, Why thou art thus Incenst? Let him go Gertrude. Speake man

Laer. Where's my Father? King. Dead

Qu. But not by him

King. Let him demand his fill

Laer. How came he dead? Ile not be Iuggel'd with. To hell Allegeance: Vowes, to the blackest diuell. Conscience and Grace, to the profoundest Pit. I dare Damnation: to this point I stand, That both the worlds I giue to negligence, Let come what comes: onely Ile be reueng'd Most throughly for my Father

King. Who shall stay you? Laer. My Will, not all the world, And for my meanes, Ile husband them so well, They shall go farre with little

King. Good Laertes: If you desire to know the certaintie Of your deere Fathers death, if writ in your reuenge, That Soop-stake you will draw both Friend and Foe, Winner and Looser

Laer. None but his Enemies

King. Will you know them then

La. To his good Friends, thus wide Ile ope my Armes: And like the kinde Life-rend'ring Politician, Repast them with my blood

King. Why now you speake Like a good Childe, and a true Gentleman. That I am guiltlesse of your Fathers death, And am most sensible in greefe for it, It shall as leuell to your Iudgement pierce As day do's to your eye.

A noise within. Let her come in.

Enter Ophelia.

Laer. How now? what noise is that? Oh heate drie vp my Braines, teares seuen times salt, Burne out the Sence and Vertue of mine eye. By Heauen, thy madnesse shall be payed by waight, Till our Scale turnes the beame. Oh Rose of May, Deere Maid, kinde Sister, sweet Ophelia: Oh Heauens, is't possible, a yong Maids wits, Should be as mortall as an old mans life? Nature is fine in Loue, and where 'tis fine, It sends some precious instance of it selfe After the thing it loues

Ophe. They bore him bare fac'd on the Beer, Hey non nony, nony, hey nony: And on his graue raines many a teare, Fare you well my Doue

Laer. Had'st thou thy wits, and did'st perswade Reuenge, it could not moue thus

Ophe. You must sing downe a-downe, and you call him a-downe-a. Oh, how the wheele becomes it? It is the false Steward that stole his masters daughter

Laer. This nothings more then matter

Ophe. There's Rosemary, that's for Remembraunce. Pray loue remember: and there is Paconcies, that's for Thoughts

Laer. A document in madnesse, thoughts & remembrance fitted

Ophe. There's Fennell for you, and Columbines: ther's Rew for you, and heere's some for me. Wee may call it Herbe-Grace a Sundaies: Oh you must weare your Rew with a difference. There's a Daysie, I would giue you some Violets, but they wither'd all when my Father dyed: They say, he made a good end; For bonny sweet Robin is all my ioy

Laer. Thought, and Affliction, Passion, Hell it selfe: She turnes to Fauour, and to prettinesse

Ophe. And will he not come againe, And will he not come againe: No, no, he is dead, go to thy Death-bed, He neuer wil come againe. His Beard as white as Snow, All Flaxen was his Pole: He is gone, he is gone, and we cast away mone, Gramercy on his Soule. And of all Christian Soules, I pray God. God buy ye.

Exeunt. Ophelia

Laer. Do you see this, you Gods? King. Laertes, I must common with your greefe, Or you deny me right: go but apart, Make choice of whom your wisest Friends you will, And they shall heare and iudge 'twixt you and me; If by direct or by Colaterall hand They finde vs touch'd, we will our Kingdome giue, Our Crowne, our Life, and all that we call Ours To you in satisfaction. But if not, Be you content to lend your patience to vs, And we shall ioyntly labour with your soule To giue it due content

Laer. Let this be so: His meanes of death, his obscure buriall; No Trophee, Sword, nor Hatchment o're his bones, No Noble rite, nor formall ostentation, Cry to be heard, as 'twere from Heauen to Earth, That I must call in question

King. So you shall: And where th' offence is, let the great Axe fall. I pray you go with me.

Exeunt.

Enter Horatio, with an Attendant.

Hora. What are they that would speake with me? Ser. Saylors sir, they say they haue Letters for you

Hor. Let them come in, I do not know from what part of the world I should be greeted, if not from Lord Hamlet. Enter Saylor.

Say. God blesse you Sir

Hor. Let him blesse thee too

Say. Hee shall Sir, and't please him. There's a Letter for you Sir: It comes from th' Ambassadours that was bound for England, if your name be Horatio, as I am let to know it is.

Reads the Letter.

Horatio, When thou shalt haue ouerlook'd this, giue these Fellowes some meanes to the King: They haue Letters for him. Ere we were two dayes old at Sea, a Pyrate of very Warlicke appointment gaue vs Chace. Finding our selues too slow of Saile, we put on a compelled Valour. In the Grapple, I boorded them: On the instant they got cleare of our Shippe, so I alone became their Prisoner. They haue dealt with mee, like Theeues of Mercy, but they knew what they did. I am to doe a good turne for them. Let the King haue the Letters I haue sent, and repaire thou to me with as much hast as thou wouldest flye death. I haue words to speake in your eare, will make thee dumbe, yet are they much too light for the bore of the Matter. These good Fellowes will bring thee where I am. Rosincrance and Guildensterne, hold their course for England. Of them I haue much to tell thee, Farewell. He that thou knowest thine, Hamlet. Come, I will giue you way for these your Letters, And do't the speedier, that you may direct me To him from whom you brought them. Enter.

Enter King and Laertes.

King. Now must your conscience my acquittance seal, And you must put me in your heart for Friend, Sith you haue heard, and with a knowing eare, That he which hath your Noble Father slaine, Pursued my life

Laer. It well appeares. But tell me, Why you proceeded not against these feates, So crimefull, and so Capitall in Nature, As by your Safety, Wisedome, all things else, You mainly were stirr'd vp? King. O for two speciall Reasons, Which may to you (perhaps) seeme much vnsinnowed, And yet to me they are strong. The Queen his Mother, Liues almost by his lookes: and for my selfe, My Vertue or my Plague, be it either which, She's so coniunctiue to my life, and soule; That as the Starre moues not but in his Sphere, I could not but by her. The other Motiue, Why to a publike count I might not go, Is the great loue the generall gender beare him, Who dipping all his Faults in their affection, Would like the Spring that turneth Wood to Stone, Conuert his Gyues to Graces. So that my Arrowes Too slightly timbred for so loud a Winde, Would haue reuerted to my Bow againe, And not where I had arm'd them

Laer. And so haue I a Noble Father lost, A Sister driuen into desperate tearmes, Who was (if praises may go backe againe) Stood Challenger on mount of all the Age For her perfections. But my reuenge will come

King. Breake not your sleepes for that, You must not thinke That we are made of stuffe, so flat, and dull, That we can let our Beard be shooke with danger, And thinke it pastime. You shortly shall heare more, I lou'd your Father, and we loue our Selfe, And that I hope will teach you to imagine- Enter a Messenger.

How now? What Newes? Mes. Letters my Lord from Hamlet, This to your Maiesty: this to the Queene

King. From Hamlet? Who brought them? Mes. Saylors my Lord they say, I saw them not: They were giuen me by Claudio, he receiu'd them

King. Laertes you shall heare them: Leaue vs.

Exit Messenger

High and Mighty, you shall know I am set naked on your Kingdome. To morrow shall I begge leaue to see your Kingly Eyes. When I shall (first asking your Pardon thereunto) recount th' Occasions of my sodaine, and more strange returne. Hamlet. What should this meane? Are all the rest come backe? Or is it some abuse? Or no such thing? Laer. Know you the hand? Kin. 'Tis Hamlets Character, naked and in a Postscript here he sayes alone: Can you aduise me? Laer. I'm lost in it my Lord; but let him come, It warmes the very sicknesse in my heart, That I shall liue and tell him to his teeth; Thus diddest thou

Kin. If it be so Laertes, as how should it be so: How otherwise will you be rul'd by me? Laer. If so you'l not o'rerule me to a peace

Kin. To thine owne peace: if he be now return'd, As checking at his Voyage, and that he meanes No more to vndertake it; I will worke him To an exployt now ripe in my Deuice, Vnder the which he shall not choose but fall; And for his death no winde of blame shall breath, But euen his Mother shall vncharge the practice, And call it accident: Some two Monthes hence Here was a Gentleman of Normandy, I'ue seene my selfe, and seru'd against the French, And they ran well on Horsebacke; but this Gallant Had witchcraft in't; he grew into his Seat, And to such wondrous doing brought his Horse, As had he beene encorps't and demy-Natur'd With the braue Beast, so farre he past my thought, That I in forgery of shapes and trickes, Come short of what he did

Laer. A Norman was't? Kin. A Norman

Laer. Vpon my life Lamound

Kin. The very same

Laer. I know him well, he is the Brooch indeed, And Iemme of all our Nation

Kin. Hee mad confession of you, And gaue you such a Masterly report, For Art and exercise in your defence; And for your Rapier most especiall, That he cryed out, t'would be a sight indeed, If one could match you Sir. This report of his Did Hamlet so envenom with his Enuy, That he could nothing doe but wish and begge, Your sodaine comming ore to play with him; Now out of this

Laer. Why out of this, my Lord? Kin. Laertes was your Father deare to you? Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, A face without a heart? Laer. Why aske you this? Kin. Not that I thinke you did not loue your Father, But that I know Loue is begun by Time: And that I see in passages of proofe, Time qualifies the sparke and fire of it: Hamlet comes backe: what would you vndertake, To show your selfe your Fathers sonne indeed, More then in words? Laer. To cut his throat i'th' Church

Kin. No place indeed should murder Sancturize; Reuenge should haue no bounds: but good Laertes Will you doe this, keepe close within your Chamber, Hamlet return'd, shall know you are come home: Wee'l put on those shall praise your excellence, And set a double varnish on the fame The Frenchman gaue you, bring you in fine together, And wager on your heads, he being remisse, Most generous, and free from all contriuing, Will not peruse the Foiles? So that with ease, Or with a little shuffling, you may choose A Sword vnbaited, and in a passe of practice, Requit him for your Father

Laer. I will doo't. And for that purpose Ile annoint my Sword: I bought an Vnction of a Mountebanke So mortall, I but dipt a knife in it, Where it drawes blood, no Cataplasme so rare, Collected from all Simples that haue Vertue Vnder the Moone, can saue the thing from death, That is but scratcht withall: Ile touch my point, With this contagion, that if I gall him slightly, It may be death

Kin. Let's further thinke of this, Weigh what conuenience both of time and meanes May fit vs to our shape, if this should faile; And that our drift looke through our bad performance, 'Twere better not assaid; therefore this Proiect Should haue a backe or second, that might hold, If this should blast in proofe: Soft, let me see Wee'l make a solemne wager on your commings, I ha't: when in your motion you are hot and dry, As make your bowts more violent to the end, And that he cals for drinke; Ile haue prepar'd him A Challice for the nonce; whereon but sipping, If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck, Our purpose may hold there; how sweet Queene. Enter Queene.

Queen. One woe doth tread vpon anothers heele, So fast they'l follow: your Sister's drown'd Laertes

Laer. Drown'd! O where? Queen. There is a Willow growes aslant a Brooke, That shewes his hore leaues in the glassie streame: There with fantasticke Garlands did she come, Of Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daysies, and long Purples, That liberall Shepheards giue a grosser name; But our cold Maids doe Dead Mens Fingers call them: There on the pendant boughes, her Coronet weeds Clambring to hang; an enuious sliuer broke, When downe the weedy Trophies, and her selfe, Fell in the weeping Brooke, her cloathes spred wide, And Mermaid-like, a while they bore her vp, Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes, As one incapable of her owne distresse, Or like a creature Natiue, and indued Vnto that Element: but long it could not be, Till that her garments, heauy with her drinke, Pul'd the poore wretch from her melodious buy, To muddy death

Laer. Alas then, is she drown'd? Queen. Drown'd, drown'd

Laer. Too much of water hast thou poore Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my teares: but yet It is our tricke, Nature her custome holds, Let shame say what it will; when these are gone The woman will be out: Adue my Lord, I haue a speech of fire, that faine would blaze, But that this folly doubts it. Enter.

Kin. Let's follow, Gertrude: How much I had to doe to calme his rage? Now feare I this will giue it start againe; Therefore let's follow.

Exeunt.

Enter two Clownes.

Clown. Is she to bee buried in Christian buriall, that wilfully seekes her owne saluation? Other. I tell thee she is, and therefore make her Graue straight, the Crowner hath sate on her, and finds it Christian buriall

Clo. How can that be, vnlesse she drowned her selfe in her owne defence? Other. Why 'tis found so

Clo. It must be Se offendendo, it cannot bee else: for heere lies the point; If I drowne my selfe wittingly, it argues an Act: and an Act hath three branches. It is an Act to doe and to performe; argall she drown'd her selfe wittingly

Other. Nay but heare you Goodman Deluer

Clown. Giue me leaue; heere lies the water; good: heere stands the man; good: If the man goe to this water and drowne himselfe; it is will he nill he, he goes; marke you that? But if the water come to him & drowne him; hee drownes not himselfe. Argall, hee that is not guilty of his owne death, shortens not his owne life

Other. But is this law? Clo. I marry is't, Crowners Quest Law

Other. Will you ha the truth on't: if this had not beene a Gentlewoman, shee should haue beene buried out of Christian Buriall

Clo. Why there thou say'st. And the more pitty that great folke should haue countenance in this world to drowne or hang themselues, more then their euen Christian. Come, my Spade; there is no ancient Gentlemen, but Gardiners, Ditchers and Graue-makers; they hold vp Adams Profession

Other. Was he a Gentleman? Clo. He was the first that euer bore Armes

Other. Why he had none

Clo. What, ar't a Heathen? how doth thou vnderstand the Scripture? the Scripture sayes Adam dig'd; could hee digge without Armes? Ile put another question to thee; if thou answerest me not to the purpose, confesse thy selfe- Other. Go too

Clo. What is he that builds stronger then either the Mason, the Shipwright, or the Carpenter? Other. The Gallowes maker; for that Frame outliues a thousand Tenants

Clo. I like thy wit well in good faith, the Gallowes does well; but how does it well? it does well to those that doe ill: now, thou dost ill to say the Gallowes is built stronger then the Church: Argall, the Gallowes may doe well to thee. Too't againe, Come

Other. Who builds stronger then a Mason, a Shipwright, or a Carpenter? Clo. I, tell me that, and vnyoake

Other. Marry, now I can tell

Clo. Too't

Other. Masse, I cannot tell. Enter Hamlet and Horatio a farre off.

Clo. Cudgell thy braines no more about it; for your dull Asse will not mend his pace with beating; and when you are ask't this question next, say a Graue-maker: the Houses that he makes, lasts till Doomesday: go, get thee to Yaughan, fetch me a stoupe of Liquor.

Sings.

In youth when I did loue, did loue, me thought it was very sweete: To contract O the time for a my behoue, O me thought there was nothing meete

Ham. Ha's this fellow no feeling of his businesse, that he sings at Graue-making? Hor. Custome hath made it in him a property of easinesse

Ham. 'Tis ee'n so; the hand of little Imployment hath the daintier sense

Clowne sings. But Age with his stealing steps hath caught me in his clutch: And hath shipped me intill the Land, as if I had neuer beene such

Ham. That Scull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: how the knaue iowles it to th' grownd, as if it were Caines Iaw-bone, that did the first murther: It might be the Pate of a Polititian which this Asse o're Offices: one that could circumuent God, might it not? Hor. It might, my Lord

Ham. Or of a Courtier, which could say, Good Morrow sweet Lord: how dost thou, good Lord? this might be my Lord such a one, that prais'd my Lord such a ones Horse, when he meant to begge it; might it not? Hor. I, my Lord

Ham. Why ee'n so: and now my Lady Wormes, Chaplesse, and knockt about the Mazard with a Sextons Spade; heere's fine Reuolution, if wee had the tricke to see't. Did these bones cost no more the breeding, but to play at Loggets with 'em? mine ake to thinke on't

Clowne sings. A Pickhaxe and a Spade, a Spade, for and a shrowding-Sheete: O a Pit of Clay for to be made, for such a Guest is meete

Ham. There's another: why might not that bee the Scull of a Lawyer? where be his Quiddits now? his Quillets? his Cases? his Tenures, and his Tricks? why doe's he suffer this rude knaue now to knocke him about the Sconce with a dirty Shouell, and will not tell him of his Action of Battery? hum. This fellow might be in's time a great buyer of Land, with his Statutes, his Recognizances, his Fines, his double Vouchers, his Recoueries: Is this the fine of his Fines, and the recouery of his Recoueries, to haue his fine Pate full of fine Dirt? will his Vouchers vouch him no more of his Purchases, and double ones too, then the length and breadth of a paire of Indentures? the very Conueyances of his Lands will hardly lye in this Boxe; and must the Inheritor himselfe haue no more? ha? Hor. Not a iot more, my Lord

Ham. Is not Parchment made of Sheep-skinnes? Hor. I my Lord, and of Calue-skinnes too

Ham. They are Sheepe and Calues that seek out assurance in that. I will speake to this fellow: whose Graue's this Sir? Clo. Mine Sir: O a Pit of Clay for to be made, for such a Guest is meete

Ham. I thinke it be thine indeed: for thou liest in't

Clo. You lye out on't Sir, and therefore it is not yours: for my part, I doe not lye in't; and yet it is mine

Ham. Thou dost lye in't, to be in't and say 'tis thine: 'tis for the dead, not for the quicke, therefore thou lyest

Clo. 'Tis a quicke lye Sir, 'twill away againe from me to you

Ham. What man dost thou digge it for? Clo. For no man Sir

Ham. What woman then? Clo. For none neither

Ham. Who is to be buried in't? Clo. One that was a woman Sir; but rest her Soule, shee's dead

Ham. How absolute the knaue is? wee must speake by the Carde, or equiuocation will vndoe vs: by the Lord Horatio, these three yeares I haue taken note of it, the Age is growne so picked, that the toe of the Pesant comes so neere the heeles of our Courtier, hee galls his Kibe. How long hast thou been a Graue-maker? Clo. Of all the dayes i'th' yeare, I came too't that day that our last King Hamlet o'recame Fortinbras

Ham. How long is that since? Clo. Cannot you tell that? euery foole can tell that: It was the very day, that young Hamlet was borne, hee that was mad, and sent into England

Ham. I marry, why was he sent into England? Clo. Why, because he was mad; hee shall recouer his wits there; or if he do not, it's no great matter there

Ham. Why? Clo. 'Twill not be seene in him, there the men are as mad as he

Ham. How came he mad? Clo. Very strangely they say

Ham. How strangely? Clo. Faith e'ene with loosing his wits

Ham. Vpon what ground? Clo. Why heere in Denmarke: I haue bin sixeteene heere, man and Boy thirty yeares

Ham. How long will a man lie i'th' earth ere he rot? Clo. Ifaith, if he be not rotten before he die (as we haue many pocky Coarses now adaies, that will scarce hold the laying in) he will last you some eight yeare, or nine yeare. A Tanner will last you nine yeare

Ham. Why he, more then another? Clo. Why sir, his hide is so tan'd with his Trade, that he will keepe out water a great while. And your water, is a sore Decayer of your horson dead body. Heres a Scull now: this Scul, has laine in the earth three & twenty years

Ham. Whose was it? Clo. A whoreson mad Fellowes it was; Whose doe you thinke it was? Ham. Nay, I know not

Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad Rogue, a pour'd a Flaggon of Renish on my head once. This same Scull Sir, this same Scull sir, was Yoricks Scull, the Kings Iester

Ham. This? Clo. E'ene that

Ham. Let me see. Alas poore Yorick, I knew him Horatio, a fellow of infinite Iest; of most excellent fancy, he hath borne me on his backe a thousand times: And how abhorred my Imagination is, my gorge rises at it. Heere hung those lipps, that I haue kist I know not how oft. Where be your Iibes now? Your Gambals? Your Songs? Your flashes of Merriment that were wont to set the Table on a Rore? No one now to mock your own Ieering? Quite chopfalne? Now get you to my Ladies Chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thicke, to this fauour she must come. Make her laugh at that: prythee Horatio tell me one thing

Hor. What's that my Lord? Ham. Dost thou thinke Alexander lookt o'this fashion i'th' earth? Hor. E'ene so

Ham. And smelt so? Puh

Hor. E'ene so, my Lord

Ham. To what base vses we may returne Horatio. Why may not Imagination trace the Noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bunghole

Hor. 'Twere to consider: to curiously to consider so

Ham. No faith, not a iot. But to follow him thether with modestie enough, & likeliehood to lead it; as thus. Alexander died: Alexander was buried: Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make Lome, and why of that Lome (whereto he was conuerted) might they not stopp a Beere-barrell? Imperiall Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keepe the winde away. Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a Wall, t' expell the winters flaw. But soft, but soft, aside; heere comes the King. Enter King, Queene, Laertes, and a Coffin, with Lords attendant.

The Queene, the Courtiers. Who is that they follow, And with such maimed rites? This doth betoken, The Coarse they follow, did with disperate hand, Fore do it owne life; 'twas some Estate. Couch we a while, and mark

Laer. What Cerimony else? Ham. That is Laertes, a very Noble youth: Marke

Laer. What Cerimony else? Priest. Her Obsequies haue bin as farre inlarg'd. As we haue warrantie, her death was doubtfull, And but that great Command, o're-swaies the order, She should in ground vnsanctified haue lodg'd, Till the last Trumpet. For charitable praier, Shardes, Flints, and Peebles, should be throwne on her: Yet heere she is allowed her Virgin Rites, Her Maiden strewments, and the bringing home Of Bell and Buriall

Laer. Must there no more be done ? Priest. No more be done: We should prophane the seruice of the dead, To sing sage Requiem, and such rest to her As to peace-parted Soules

Laer. Lay her i'th' earth, And from her faire and vnpolluted flesh, May Violets spring. I tell thee (churlish Priest) A Ministring Angell shall my Sister be, When thou liest howling? Ham. What, the faire Ophelia? Queene. Sweets, to the sweet farewell. I hop'd thou should'st haue bin my Hamlets wife: I thought thy Bride-bed to haue deckt (sweet Maid) And not t'haue strew'd thy Graue

Laer. Oh terrible woer, Fall ten times trebble, on that cursed head Whose wicked deed, thy most Ingenious sence Depriu'd thee of. Hold off the earth a while, Till I haue caught her once more in mine armes:

Leaps in the graue.

Now pile your dust, vpon the quicke, and dead, Till of this flat a Mountaine you haue made, To o're top old Pelion, or the skyish head Of blew Olympus

Ham. What is he, whose griefes Beares such an Emphasis? whose phrase of Sorrow Coniure the wandring Starres, and makes them stand Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I, Hamlet the Dane

Laer. The deuill take thy soule

Ham. Thou prai'st not well, I prythee take thy fingers from my throat; Sir though I am not Spleenatiue, and rash, Yet haue I something in me dangerous, Which let thy wisenesse feare. Away thy hand

King. Pluck them asunder

Qu. Hamlet, Hamlet

Gen. Good my Lord be quiet

Ham. Why I will fight with him vppon this Theme. Vntill my eielids will no longer wag

Qu. Oh my Sonne, what Theame? Ham. I lou'd Ophelia; fortie thousand Brothers Could not (with all there quantitie of Loue) Make vp my summe. What wilt thou do for her? King. Oh he is mad Laertes, Qu. For loue of God forbeare him

Ham. Come show me what thou'lt doe. Woo't weepe? Woo't fight? Woo't teare thy selfe? Woo't drinke vp Esile, eate a Crocodile? Ile doo't. Dost thou come heere to whine; To outface me with leaping in her Graue? Be buried quicke with her, and so will I. And if thou prate of Mountaines; let them throw Millions of Akers on vs; till our ground Sindging his pate against the burning Zone, Make Ossa like a wart. Nay, and thou'lt mouth, Ile rant as well as thou

Kin. This is meere Madnesse: And thus awhile the fit will worke on him: Anon as patient as the female Doue, When that her Golden Cuplet are disclos'd; His silence will sit drooping

Ham. Heare you Sir: What is the reason that you vse me thus? I lou'd you euer; but it is no matter: Let Hercules himselfe doe what he may, The Cat will Mew, and Dogge will haue his day. Enter.

Kin. I pray you good Horatio wait vpon him, Strengthen your patience in our last nights speech, Wee'l put the matter to the present push: Good Gertrude set some watch ouer your Sonne, This Graue shall haue a liuing Monument: An houre of quiet shortly shall we see; Till then, in patience our proceeding be.

Exeunt.

Enter Hamlet and Horatio

Ham. So much for this Sir; now let me see the other, You doe remember all the Circumstance

Hor. Remember it my Lord? Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kinde of fighting, That would not let me sleepe; me thought I lay Worse then the mutines in the Bilboes, rashly, (And praise be rashnesse for it) let vs know, Our indiscretion sometimes serues vs well, When our deare plots do paule, and that should teach vs, There's a Diuinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will

Hor. That is most certaine

Ham. Vp from my Cabin My sea-gowne scarft about me in the darke, Grop'd I to finde out them; had my desire, Finger'd their Packet, and in fine, withdrew To mine owne roome againe, making so bold, (My feares forgetting manners) to vnseale Their grand Commission, where I found Horatio, Oh royall knauery: An exact command, Larded with many seuerall sorts of reason; Importing Denmarks health, and Englands too, With hoo, such Bugges and Goblins in my life, That on the superuize no leasure bated, No not to stay the grinding of the Axe, My head should be struck off

Hor. Ist possible? Ham. Here's the Commission, read it at more leysure: But wilt thou heare me how I did proceed? Hor. I beseech you

Ham. Being thus benetted round with Villaines, Ere I could make a Prologue to my braines, They had begun the Play. I sate me downe, Deuis'd a new Commission, wrote it faire, I once did hold it as our Statists doe, A basenesse to write faire; and laboured much How to forget that learning: but Sir now, It did me Yeomans seriuce: wilt thou know The effects of what I wrote? Hor. I, good my Lord

Ham. An earnest Coniuration from the King, As England was his faithfull Tributary, As loue betweene them, as the Palme should flourish, As Peace should still her wheaten Garland weare, And stand a Comma 'tweene their amities, And many such like Assis of great charge, That on the view and know of these Contents, Without debatement further, more or lesse, He should the bearers put to sodaine death, Not shriuing time allowed

Hor. How was this seal'd? Ham. Why, euen in that was Heauen ordinate; I had my fathers Signet in my Purse, Which was the Modell of that Danish Seale: Folded the Writ vp in forme of the other, Subscrib'd it, gau't th' impression, plac't it safely, The changeling neuer knowne: Now, the next day Was our Sea Fight, and what to this was sement, Thou know'st already

Hor. So Guildensterne and Rosincrance, go too't

Ham. Why man, they did make loue to this imployment They are not neere my Conscience; their debate Doth by their owne insinuation grow: 'Tis dangerous, when the baser nature comes Betweene the passe, and fell incensed points Of mighty opposites

Hor. Why, what a King is this? Ham. Does it not, thinkst thee, stand me now vpon He that hath kil'd my King, and whor'd my Mother, Popt in betweene th' election and my hopes, Throwne out his Angle for my proper life, And with such coozenage; is't not perfect conscience, To quit him with this arme? And is't not to be damn'd To let this Canker of our nature come In further euill

Hor. It must be shortly knowne to him from England What is the issue of the businesse there

Ham. It will be short, The interim's mine, and a mans life's no more Then to say one: but I am very sorry good Horatio, That to Laertes I forgot my selfe; For by the image of my Cause, I see The Portraiture of his; Ile count his fauours: But sure the brauery of his griefe did put me Into a Towring passion

Hor. Peace, who comes heere? Enter young Osricke.

Osr. Your Lordship is right welcome back to Denmarke

Ham. I humbly thank you Sir, dost know this waterflie? Hor. No my good Lord

Ham. Thy state is the more gracious; for 'tis a vice to know him: he hath much Land, and fertile; let a Beast be Lord of Beasts, and his Crib shall stand at the Kings Messe; 'tis a Chowgh; but as I saw spacious in the possession of dirt

Osr. Sweet Lord, if your friendship were at leysure, I should impart a thing to you from his Maiesty

Ham. I will receiue it with all diligence of spirit; put your Bonet to his right vse, 'tis for the head

Osr. I thanke your Lordship, 'tis very hot

Ham. No, beleeue mee 'tis very cold, the winde is Northerly

Osr. It is indifferent cold my Lord indeed

Ham. Mee thinkes it is very soultry, and hot for my Complexion

Osr. Exceedingly, my Lord, it is very soultry, as 'twere I cannot tell how: but my Lord, his Maiesty bad me signifie to you, that he ha's laid a great wager on your head: Sir, this is the matter

Ham. I beseech you remember

Osr. Nay, in good faith, for mine ease in good faith: Sir, you are not ignorant of what excellence Laertes is at his weapon

Ham. What's his weapon? Osr. Rapier and dagger

Ham. That's two of his weapons; but well

Osr. The sir King ha's wag'd with him six Barbary horses, against the which he impon'd as I take it, sixe French Rapiers and Poniards, with their assignes, as Girdle, Hangers or so: three of the Carriages infaith are very deare to fancy, very responsiue to the hilts, most delicate carriages, and of very liberall conceit

Ham. What call you the Carriages? Osr. The Carriages Sir, are the hangers

Ham. The phrase would bee more Germaine to the matter: If we could carry Cannon by our sides; I would it might be Hangers till then; but on sixe Barbary Horses against sixe French Swords: their Assignes, and three liberall conceited Carriages, that's the French but against the Danish; why is this impon'd as you call it? Osr. The King Sir, hath laid that in a dozen passes betweene you and him, hee shall not exceed you three hits; He hath one twelue for mine, and that would come to imediate tryall, if your Lordship would vouchsafe the Answere

Ham. How if I answere no? Osr. I meane my Lord, the opposition of your person in tryall

Ham. Sir, I will walke heere in the Hall; if it please his Maiestie, 'tis the breathing time of day with me; let the Foyles bee brought, the Gentleman willing, and the King hold his purpose; I will win for him if I can: if not, Ile gaine nothing but my shame, and the odde hits

Osr. Shall I redeliuer you ee'n so? Ham. To this effect Sir, after what flourish your nature will

Osr. I commend my duty to your Lordship

Ham. Yours, yours; hee does well to commend it himselfe, there are no tongues else for's tongue

Hor. This Lapwing runs away with the shell on his head

Ham. He did Complie with his Dugge before hee suck't it: thus had he and mine more of the same Beauty that I know the drossie age dotes on; only got the tune of the time, and outward habite of encounter, a kinde of yesty collection, which carries them through & through the most fond and winnowed opinions; and doe but blow them to their tryalls: the Bubbles are out

Hor. You will lose this wager, my Lord

Ham. I doe not thinke so, since he went into France, I haue beene in continuall practice; I shall winne at the oddes: but thou wouldest not thinke how all heere about my heart: but it is no matter

Hor. Nay, good my Lord

Ham. It is but foolery; but it is such a kinde of gain-giuing as would perhaps trouble a woman

Hor. If your minde dislike any thing, obey. I will forestall their repaire hither, and say you are not fit

Ham. Not a whit, we defie Augury; there's a speciall Prouidence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come: if it bee not to come, it will bee now: if it be not now; yet it will come; the readinesse is all, since no man ha's ought of what he leaues. What is't to leaue betimes? Enter King, Queene, Laertes and Lords, with other Attendants with Foyles, and Gauntlets, a Table and Flagons of Wine on it.

Kin. Come Hamlet, come, and take this hand from me

Ham. Giue me your pardon Sir, I'ue done you wrong, But pardon't as you are a Gentleman. This presence knowes, And you must needs haue heard how I am punisht With sore distraction? What I haue done That might your nature honour, and exception Roughly awake, I heere proclaime was madnesse: Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes? Neuer Hamlet. If Hamlet from himselfe be tane away: And when he's not himselfe, do's wrong Laertes, Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it: Who does it then? His Madnesse? If't be so, Hamlet is of the Faction that is wrong'd, His madnesse is poore Hamlets Enemy. Sir, in this Audience, Let my disclaiming from a purpos'd euill, Free me so farre in your most generous thoughts, That I haue shot mine Arrow o're the house, And hurt my Mother

Laer. I am satisfied in Nature, Whose motiue in this case should stirre me most To my Reuenge. But in my termes of Honor I stand aloofe, and will no reconcilement, Till by some elder Masters of knowne Honor, I haue a voyce, and president of peace To keepe my name vngorg'd. But till that time, I do receiue your offer'd loue like loue, And wil not wrong it

Ham. I do embrace it freely, And will this Brothers wager frankely play. Giue vs the Foyles: Come on

Laer. Come one for me

Ham. Ile be your foile Laertes, in mine ignorance, Your Skill shall like a Starre i'th' darkest night, Sticke fiery off indeede

Laer. You mocke me Sir

Ham. No by this hand

King. Giue them the Foyles yong Osricke, Cousen Hamlet, you know the wager

Ham. Verie well my Lord, Your Grace hath laide the oddes a'th' weaker side

King. I do not feare it, I haue seene you both: But since he is better'd, we haue therefore oddes

Laer. This is too heauy, Let me see another

Ham. This likes me well, These Foyles haue all a length.

Prepare to play.

Osricke. I my good Lord

King. Set me the Stopes of wine vpon that Table: If Hamlet giue the first, or second hit, Or quit in answer of the third exchange, Let all the Battlements their Ordinance fire, The King shal drinke to Hamlets better breath, And in the Cup an vnion shal he throw Richer then that, which foure successiue Kings In Denmarkes Crowne haue worne. Giue me the Cups, And let the Kettle to the Trumpets speake, The Trumpet to the Cannoneer without, The Cannons to the Heauens, the Heauen to Earth, Now the King drinkes to Hamlet. Come, begin, And you the Iudges beare a wary eye

Ham. Come on sir

Laer. Come on sir.

They play.

Ham. One

Laer. No

Ham. Iudgement

Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit

Laer. Well: againe

King. Stay, giue me drinke. Hamlet, this Pearle is thine, Here's to thy health. Giue him the cup,

Trumpets sound, and shot goes off.

Ham. Ile play this bout first, set by a-while. Come: Another hit; what say you? Laer. A touch, a touch, I do confesse

King. Our Sonne shall win

Qu. He's fat, and scant of breath. Heere's a Napkin, rub thy browes, The Queene Carowses to thy fortune, Hamlet

Ham. Good Madam

King. Gertrude, do not drinke

Qu. I will my Lord; I pray you pardon me

King. It is the poyson'd Cup, it is too late

Ham. I dare not drinke yet Madam, By and by

Qu. Come, let me wipe thy face

Laer. My Lord, Ile hit him now

King. I do not thinke't

Laer. And yet 'tis almost 'gainst my conscience

Ham. Come for the third. Laertes, you but dally, I pray you passe with your best violence, I am affear'd you make a wanton of me

Laer. Say you so? Come on.

Play.

Osr. Nothing neither way

Laer. Haue at you now.

In scuffling they change Rapiers.

King. Part them, they are incens'd

Ham. Nay come, againe

Osr. Looke to the Queene there hoa

Hor. They bleed on both sides. How is't my Lord? Osr. How is't Laertes? Laer. Why as a Woodcocke To mine Sprindge, Osricke, I am iustly kill'd with mine owne Treacherie

Ham. How does the Queene? King. She sounds to see them bleede

Qu. No, no, the drinke, the drinke. Oh my deere Hamlet, the drinke, the drinke, I am poyson'd

Ham. Oh Villany! How? Let the doore be lock'd. Treacherie, seeke it out

Laer. It is heere Hamlet. Hamlet, thou art slaine, No Medicine in the world can do thee good. In thee, there is not halfe an houre of life; The Treacherous Instrument is in thy hand, Vnbated and envenom'd: the foule practise Hath turn'd it selfe on me. Loe, heere I lye, Neuer to rise againe: Thy Mothers poyson'd: I can no more, the King, the King's too blame

Ham. The point envenom'd too, Then venome to thy worke.

Hurts the King.

All. Treason, Treason

King. O yet defend me Friends, I am but hurt

Ham. Heere thou incestuous, murdrous, Damned Dane, Drinke off this Potion: Is thy Vnion heere? Follow my Mother.

King Dyes.

Laer. He is iustly seru'd. It is a poyson temp'red by himselfe: Exchange forgiuenesse with me, Noble Hamlet; Mine and my Fathers death come not vpon thee, Nor thine on me.

Dyes.

Ham. Heauen make thee free of it, I follow thee. I am dead Horatio, wretched Queene adiew, You that looke pale, and tremble at this chance, That are but Mutes or audience to this acte: Had I but time (as this fell Sergeant death Is strick'd in his Arrest) oh I could tell you. But let it be: Horatio, I am dead, Thou liu'st, report me and my causes right To the vnsatisfied

Hor. Neuer beleeue it. I am more an Antike Roman then a Dane: Heere's yet some Liquor left

Ham. As th'art a man, giue me the Cup. Let go, by Heauen Ile haue't. Oh good Horatio, what a wounded name, (Things standing thus vnknowne) shall liue behind me. If thou did'st euer hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicitie awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in paine, To tell my Storie.

March afarre off, and shout within.

What warlike noyse is this? Enter Osricke.

Osr. Yong Fortinbras, with conquest come fro[m] Poland To th' Ambassadors of England giues this warlike volly

Ham. O I dye Horatio: The potent poyson quite ore-crowes my spirit, I cannot liue to heare the Newes from England, But I do prophesie th' election lights On Fortinbras, he ha's my dying voyce, So tell him with the occurrents more and lesse, Which haue solicited. The rest is silence. O, o, o, o.

Dyes

Hora. Now cracke a Noble heart: Goodnight sweet Prince, And flights of Angels sing thee to thy rest, Why do's the Drumme come hither? Enter Fortinbras and English Ambassador, with Drumme, Colours, and Attendants.

Fortin. Where is this sight? Hor. What is it ye would see; If ought of woe, or wonder, cease your search

For. His quarry cries on hauocke. Oh proud death, What feast is toward in thine eternall Cell. That thou so many Princes, at a shoote, So bloodily hast strooke

Amb. The sight is dismall, And our affaires from England come too late, The eares are senselesse that should giue vs hearing, To tell him his command'ment is fulfill'd, That Rosincrance and Guildensterne are dead: Where should we haue our thankes? Hor. Not from his mouth, Had it th' abilitie of life to thanke you: He neuer gaue command'ment for their death. But since so iumpe vpon this bloodie question, You from the Polake warres, and you from England Are heere arriued. Giue order that these bodies High on a stage be placed to the view, And let me speake to th' yet vnknowing world, How these things came about. So shall you heare Of carnall, bloudie, and vnnaturall acts, Of accidentall iudgements, casuall slaughters Of death's put on by cunning, and forc'd cause, And in this vpshot, purposes mistooke, Falne on the Inuentors head. All this can I Truly deliuer

For. Let vs hast to heare it, And call the Noblest to the Audience. For me, with sorrow, I embrace my Fortune, I haue some Rites of memory in this Kingdome, Which are to claime, my vantage doth Inuite me, Hor. Of that I shall haue alwayes cause to speake, And from his mouth Whose voyce will draw on more: But let this same be presently perform'd, Euen whiles mens mindes are wilde, Lest more mischance On plots, and errors happen

For. Let foure Captaines Beare Hamlet like a Soldier to the Stage, For he was likely, had he beene put on To haue prou'd most royally: And for his passage, The Souldiours Musicke, and the rites of Warre Speake lowdly for him. Take vp the body; Such a sight as this Becomes the Field, but heere shewes much amis. Go, bid the Souldiers shoote.

Exeunt. Marching: after the which, a Peale of Ordenance are shot off.

FINIS. The tragedie of HAMLET, Prince of Denmarke.

The Tragedie of King Lear

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Kent, Gloucester, and Edmond.

Kent. I thought the King had more affected the Duke of Albany, then Cornwall

Glou. It did alwayes seeme so to vs: But now in the diuision of the Kingdome, it appeares not which of the Dukes hee valewes most, for qualities are so weigh'd, that curiosity in neither, can make choise of eithers moity

Kent. Is not this your Son, my Lord? Glou. His breeding Sir, hath bin at my charge. I haue so often blush'd to acknowledge him, that now I am braz'd too't

Kent. I cannot conceiue you

Glou. Sir, this yong Fellowes mother could; wherevpon she grew round womb'd, and had indeede (Sir) a Sonne for her Cradle, ere she had a husband for her bed. Do you smell a fault? Kent. I cannot wish the fault vndone, the issue of it, being so proper

Glou. But I haue a Sonne, Sir, by order of Law, some yeere elder then this; who, yet is no deerer in my account, though this Knaue came somthing sawcily to the world before he was sent for: yet was his Mother fayre, there was good sport at his making, and the horson must be acknowledged. Doe you know this Noble Gentleman, Edmond? Edm. No, my Lord

Glou. My Lord of Kent: Remember him heereafter, as my Honourable Friend

Edm. My seruices to your Lordship

Kent. I must loue you, and sue to know you better

Edm. Sir, I shall study deseruing

Glou. He hath bin out nine yeares, and away he shall againe. The King is comming.

Sennet. Enter King Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Gonerill, Regan, Cordelia, and attendants.

Lear. Attend the Lords of France & Burgundy, Gloster

Glou. I shall, my Lord. Enter.

Lear. Meane time we shal expresse our darker purpose. Giue me the Map there. Know, that we haue diuided In three our Kingdome: and 'tis our fast intent, To shake all Cares and Businesse from our Age, Conferring them on yonger strengths, while we Vnburthen'd crawle toward death. Our son of Cornwal, And you our no lesse louing Sonne of Albany, We haue this houre a constant will to publish Our daughters seuerall Dowers, that future strife May be preuented now. The Princes, France & Burgundy, Great Riuals in our yongest daughters loue, Long in our Court, haue made their amorous soiourne, And heere are to be answer'd. Tell me my daughters (Since now we will diuest vs both of Rule, Interest of Territory, Cares of State) Which of you shall we say doth loue vs most, That we, our largest bountie may extend Where Nature doth with merit challenge. Gonerill, Our eldest borne, speake first

Gon. Sir, I loue you more then word can weild y matter, Deerer then eye-sight, space, and libertie, Beyond what can be valewed, rich or rare, No lesse then life, with grace, health, beauty, honor: As much as Childe ere lou'd, or Father found. A loue that makes breath poore, and speech vnable, Beyond all manner of so much I loue you

Cor. What shall Cordelia speake? Loue, and be silent

Lear. Of all these bounds euen from this Line, to this, With shadowie Forrests, and with Champains rich'd With plenteous Riuers, and wide-skirted Meades We make thee Lady. To thine and Albanies issues Be this perpetuall. What sayes our second Daughter? Our deerest Regan, wife of Cornwall? Reg. I am made of that selfe-mettle as my Sister, And prize me at her worth. In my true heart, I finde she names my very deede of loue: Onely she comes too short, that I professe My selfe an enemy to all other ioyes, Which the most precious square of sense professes, And finde I am alone felicitate In your deere Highnesse loue

Cor. Then poore Cordelia, And yet not so, since I am sure my loue's More ponderous then my tongue

Lear. To thee, and thine hereditarie euer, Remaine this ample third of our faire Kingdome, No lesse in space, validitie, and pleasure Then that conferr'd on Gonerill. Now our Ioy, Although our last and least; to whose yong loue, The Vines of France, and Milke of Burgundie, Striue to be interest. What can you say, to draw A third, more opilent then your Sisters? speake

Cor. Nothing my Lord

Lear. Nothing? Cor. Nothing

Lear. Nothing will come of nothing, speake againe

Cor. Vnhappie that I am, I cannot heaue My heart into my mouth: I loue your Maiesty According to my bond, no more nor lesse

Lear. How, how Cordelia? Mend your speech a little, Least you may marre your Fortunes

Cor. Good my Lord, You haue begot me, bred me, lou'd me. I returne those duties backe as are right fit, Obey you, Loue you, and most Honour you. Why haue my Sisters Husbands, if they say They loue you all? Happily when I shall wed, That Lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall carry Halfe my loue with him, halfe my Care, and Dutie, Sure I shall neuer marry like my Sisters

Lear. But goes thy heart with this? Cor. I my good Lord

Lear. So young, and so vntender? Cor. So young my Lord, and true

Lear. Let it be so, thy truth then be thy dowre: For by the sacred radience of the Sunne, The misteries of Heccat and the night: By all the operation of the Orbes, From whom we do exist, and cease to be, Heere I disclaime all my Paternall care, Propinquity and property of blood, And as a stranger to my heart and me, Hold thee from this for euer. The barbarous Scythian, Or he that makes his generation messes To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosome Be as well neighbour'd, pittied, and releeu'd, As thou my sometime Daughter

Kent. Good my Liege

Lear. Peace Kent, Come not betweene the Dragon and his wrath, I lou'd her most, and thought to set my rest On her kind nursery. Hence and avoid my sight: So be my graue my peace, as here I giue Her Fathers heart from her; call France, who stirres? Call Burgundy, Cornwall, and Albanie, With my two Daughters Dowres, digest the third, Let pride, which she cals plainnesse, marry her: I doe inuest you ioyntly with my power, Preheminence, and all the large effects That troope with Maiesty. Our selfe by Monthly course, With reseruation of an hundred Knights, By you to be sustain'd, shall our abode Make with you by due turne, onely we shall retaine The name, and all th' addition to a King: the Sway, Reuennew, Execution of the rest, Beloued Sonnes be yours, which to confirme, This Coronet part betweene you

Kent. Royall Lear, Whom I haue euer honor'd as my King, Lou'd as my Father, as my Master follow'd, As my great Patron thought on in my praiers

Le. The bow is bent & drawne, make from the shaft

Kent. Let it fall rather, though the forke inuade The region of my heart, be Kent vnmannerly, When Lear is mad, what wouldest thou do old man? Think'st thou that dutie shall haue dread to speake, When power to flattery bowes? To plainnesse honour's bound, When Maiesty falls to folly, reserue thy state, And in thy best consideration checke This hideous rashnesse, answere my life, my iudgement: Thy yongest Daughter do's not loue thee least, Nor are those empty hearted, whose low sounds Reuerbe no hollownesse

Lear. Kent, on thy life no more

Kent. My life I neuer held but as pawne To wage against thine enemies, nere feare to loose it, Thy safety being motiue

Lear. Out of my sight

Kent. See better Lear, and let me still remaine The true blanke of thine eie

Lear. Now by Apollo, Kent. Now by Apollo, King Thou swear'st thy Gods in vaine

Lear. O Vassall! Miscreant

Alb. Cor. Deare Sir forbeare

Kent. Kill thy Physition, and thy fee bestow Vpon the foule disease, reuoke thy guift, Or whil'st I can vent clamour from my throate, Ile tell thee thou dost euill

Lea. Heare me recreant, on thine allegeance heare me; That thou hast sought to make vs breake our vowes, Which we durst neuer yet; and with strain'd pride, To come betwixt our sentences, and our power, Which, nor our nature, nor our place can beare; Our potencie made good, take thy reward. Fiue dayes we do allot thee for prouision, To shield thee from disasters of the world, And on the sixt to turne thy hated backe Vpon our kingdome: if on the tenth day following, Thy banisht trunke be found in our Dominions, The moment is thy death, away. By Iupiter, This shall not be reuok'd, Kent. Fare thee well King, sith thus thou wilt appeare, Freedome liues hence, and banishment is here; The Gods to their deere shelter take thee Maid, That iustly think'st, and hast most rightly said: And your large speeches, may your deeds approue, That good effects may spring from words of loue: Thus Kent, O Princes, bids you all adew, Hee'l shape his old course, in a Country new. Enter.

Flourish. Enter Gloster with France, and Burgundy, Attendants.

Cor. Heere's France and Burgundy, my Noble Lord

Lear. My Lord of Burgundie, We first addresse toward you, who with this King Hath riuald for our Daughter; what in the least Will you require in present Dower with her, Or cease your quest of Loue? Bur. Most Royall Maiesty, I craue no more then hath your Highnesse offer'd, Nor will you tender lesse? Lear. Right Noble Burgundy, When she was deare to vs, we did hold her so, But now her price is fallen: Sir, there she stands, If ought within that little seeming substance, Or all of it with our displeasure piec'd, And nothing more may fitly like your Grace, Shee's there, and she is yours

Bur. I know no answer

Lear. Will you with those infirmities she owes, Vnfriended, new adopted to our hate, Dow'rd with our curse, and stranger'd with our oath, Take her or, leaue her

Bur. Pardon me Royall Sir, Election makes not vp in such conditions

Le. Then leaue her sir, for by the powre that made me, I tell you all her wealth. For you great King, I would not from your loue make such a stray, To match you where I hate, therefore beseech you T' auert your liking a more worthier way, Then on a wretch whom Nature is asham'd Almost t' acknowledge hers

Fra. This is most strange, That she whom euen but now, was your obiect, The argument of your praise, balme of your age, The best, the deerest, should in this trice of time Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle So many folds of fauour: sure her offence Must be of such vnnaturall degree, That monsters it: Or your fore-voucht affection Fall into taint, which to beleeue of her Must be a faith that reason without miracle Should neuer plant in me

Cor. I yet beseech your Maiesty. If for I want that glib and oylie Art, To speake and purpose not, since what I will intend, Ile do't before I speake, that you make knowne It is no vicious blot, murther, or foulenesse, No vnchaste action or dishonoured step That hath depriu'd me of your Grace and fauour, But euen for want of that, for which I am richer, A still soliciting eye, and such a tongue, That I am glad I haue not, though not to haue it, Hath lost me in your liking

Lear. Better thou had'st Not beene borne, then not t'haue pleas'd me better

Fra. Is it but this? A tardinesse in nature, Which often leaues the history vnspoke That it intends to do: my Lord of Burgundy, What say you to the Lady? Loue's not loue When it is mingled with regards, that stands Aloofe from th' intire point, will you haue her? She is herselfe a Dowrie

Bur. Royall King, Giue but that portion which your selfe propos'd, And here I take Cordelia by the hand, Dutchesse of Burgundie

Lear. Nothing, I haue sworne, I am firme

Bur. I am sorry then you haue so lost a Father, That you must loose a husband

Cor. Peace be with Burgundie, Since that respect and Fortunes are his loue, I shall not be his wife

Fra. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poore, Most choise forsaken, and most lou'd despis'd, Thee and thy vertues here I seize vpon, Be it lawfull I take vp what's cast away. Gods, Gods! 'Tis strange, that from their cold'st neglect My Loue should kindle to enflam'd respect. Thy dowrelesse Daughter King, throwne to my chance, Is Queene of vs, of ours, and our faire France: Not all the Dukes of watrish Burgundy, Can buy this vnpriz'd precious Maid of me. Bid them farewell Cordelia, though vnkinde, Thou loosest here a better where to finde

Lear. Thou hast her France, let her be thine, for we Haue no such Daughter, nor shall euer see That face of hers againe, therfore be gone, Without our Grace, our Loue, our Benizon: Come Noble Burgundie.

Flourish. Exeunt.

Fra. Bid farwell to your Sisters

Cor. The Iewels of our Father, with wash'd eies Cordelia leaues you, I know you what you are, And like a Sister am most loth to call Your faults as they are named. Loue well our Father: To your professed bosomes I commit him, But yet alas, stood I within his Grace, I would prefer him to a better place, So farewell to you both

Regn. Prescribe not vs our dutie

Gon. Let your study Be to content your Lord, who hath receiu'd you At Fortunes almes, you haue obedience scanted, And well are worth the want that you haue wanted

Cor. Time shall vnfold what plighted cunning hides, Who couers faults, at last with shame derides: Well may you prosper

Fra. Come my faire Cordelia.

Exit France and Cor.

Gon. Sister, it is not little I haue to say, Of what most neerely appertaines to vs both, I thinke our Father will hence to night

Reg. That's most certaine, and with you: next moneth with vs

Gon. You see how full of changes his age is, the obseruation we haue made of it hath beene little; he alwaies lou'd our Sister most, and with what poore iudgement he hath now cast her off, appeares too grossely

Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age, yet he hath euer but slenderly knowne himselfe

Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath bin but rash, then must we looke from his age, to receiue not alone the imperfections of long ingraffed condition, but therewithall the vnruly way-wardnesse, that infirme and cholericke yeares bring with them

Reg. Such vnconstant starts are we like to haue from him, as this of Kents banishment

Gon. There is further complement of leaue-taking betweene France and him, pray you let vs sit together, if our Father carry authority with such disposition as he beares, this last surrender of his will but offend vs

Reg. We shall further thinke of it

Gon. We must do something, and i'th' heate.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Bastard.

Bast. Thou Nature art my Goddesse, to thy Law My seruices are bound, wherefore should I Stand in the plague of custome, and permit The curiosity of Nations, to depriue me? For that I am some twelue, or fourteene Moonshines Lag of a Brother? Why Bastard? Wherefore base? When my Dimensions are as well compact, My minde as generous, and my shape as true As honest Madams issue? Why brand they vs With Base? With basenes Bastardie? Base, Base? Who in the lustie stealth of Nature, take More composition, and fierce qualitie, Then doth within a dull stale tyred bed Goe to th' creating a whole tribe of Fops Got 'tweene a sleepe, and wake? Well then, Legitimate Edgar, I must haue your land, Our Fathers loue, is to the Bastard Edmond, As to th' legitimate: fine word: Legitimate. Well, my Legittimate, if this Letter speed, And my inuention thriue, Edmond the base Shall to'th' Legitimate: I grow, I prosper: Now Gods, stand vp for Bastards. Enter Gloucester.

Glo. Kent banish'd thus? and France in choller parted? And the King gone to night? Prescrib'd his powre, Confin'd to exhibition? All this done Vpon the gad? Edmond, how now? What newes? Bast. So please your Lordship, none

Glou. Why so earnestly seeke you to put vp y Letter? Bast. I know no newes, my Lord

Glou. What Paper were you reading? Bast. Nothing my Lord

Glou. No? what needed then that terrible dispatch of it into your Pocket? The quality of nothing, hath not such neede to hide it selfe. Let's see: come, if it bee nothing, I shall not neede Spectacles

Bast. I beseech you Sir, pardon mee; it is a Letter from my Brother, that I haue not all ore-read; and for so much as I haue perus'd, I finde it not fit for your ore-looking

Glou. Giue me the Letter, Sir

Bast. I shall offend, either to detaine, or giue it: The Contents, as in