As it hath bin sundrie times plaied about
the Citie of London
Printed for Cuthbert Burby.
THE RAIGNE OF K. EDWARD THE THIRD
|Edward the third, King of England.||Villiers, a French Lord.|
|Edward, Prince of Wales, his Son.||King of Bohemia and|
|Earl of Warwick.||A Polish Captain. (Aids to King John.)|
|Earl of Derby.||Six Citizens of Calais.|
|Earl of Salisbury.||A Captain, and|
|Lord Audley.||A poor Inhabitant, of the same.|
|Lord Percy.||Another Captain.|
|Lodowick, Edward's Confident.||A Mariner.|
|Sir William Mountague.||Three Heralds; and|
|Sir John Copland.||Four other Frenchmen.|
|Two Esquires, and a Herald, English.||David, King of Scotland.|
|Robert, stiling himself Earl, of Artois.||Earl Douglas; and|
|Earl of Montfort, and||Two Messengers, Scotch.|
|Gobin de Grey.|
|John, King of France.||Philippa, Edward's Queen.|
|Charles, and Philip, his Sons.||Countess of Salisbury.|
|Duke of Lorrain.||A French Woman.|
|Lords, and divers other Attendants;||Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, &c.|
Scene, dispers'd; in England, Flanders, and France.)
(ACT I. SCENE I. London. A Room of State in the Palace. Flourish. )
Enter King Edward, Derby, Prince Edward, Audely, and Artoys.
King. Robert of Artoys, banisht though thou be
From Fraunce, thy natiue Country, yet with vs
Thou shalt retayne as great a Seigniorie:
For we create thee Earle of Richmond heere.
And now goe forwards with our pedegree: 5
Who next succeeded Phillip le Bew?
Ar. Three sonnes of his, which all successefully
Did sit vpon their fathers regall Throne,
Yet dyed, and left no issue of their loynes. 9
King. But was my mother sister vnto those?
Ar. Shee was, my Lord; and onely Issabel
Was all the daughters that this Phillip had,
Whome afterward your father tooke to wife;
and from the fragrant garden of her wombe
Your gratious selfe, the flower of Europes hope, 15
Deriued is inheritor to Fraunce.
But note the rancor of rebellious mindes:
When thus the lynage of (le) Bew was out,
The French obscurd your mothers Priuiledge,
And, though she were the next of blood, proclaymed 20
Iohn, of the house of Valoys, now their kind:
The reason was, they say, the Realme of Fraunce,
Repleat with Princes of great parentage,
Ought not admit a gouernor to rule,
Except he be discended of the male; 25
And thats the speciall ground of their contempt,
Wherewith they study to exclude your grace:
But they shall finde that forged ground of theirs
To be but dusty heapes of brittile sande. 29
Perhaps it will be thought a heynous thing,
That I, a French man, should discouer this;
But heauen I call to recorde of my vowes:
It is not hate nor any priuat wronge,
But loue vnto my country and the right,
Prouokes my tongue, thus lauish in report. 35
You are the lyneal watchman of our peace,
And Iohn of Valoys indirectly climbes:
What then should subiects but imbrace their King?
Ah, where in may our duety more be seene,
Then stryuing to rebate a tyrants pride 40
And place the true shepheard of our comonwealth?
King. This counsayle, Artoyes, like to fruictfull shewers,
Hath added growth vnto my dignitye;
And, by the fiery vigor of thy words,
Hot courage is engendred in my brest, 45
Which heretofore was rakt in ignorance,
But nowe doth mount with golden winges of fame,
And will approue faire Issabells discent,
Able to yoak their subburne necks with steele,
That spurne against my souereignety in France. [ sounde a horne.
A messenger? - Lord Awdley, know from whence. 51
( Exit Audley, and returns .)
Aud. The Duke of Lorrayne, hauing crost the seas,
Intreates he may haue conference with your highnes.
King. Admit him, Lords, that we may heare the newes.
( Exeunt Lords. King takes his State.
Re-enter Lords; with Lorrain , attended.)
Say, Duke of Lorrayne, wherefore art thou come?
Lor. The most renowned prince, K(ing) Iohn of France,
Doth greete thee, Edward, and by me commandes,
That, for so much as by his liberall gift
The Guyen Dukedome is entayld to thee,
Thou do him lowly homage for the same. 60
And, for that purpose, here I somon thee,
Repaire to France within these forty daies,
That there, according as the coustome is,
Thou mayst be sworne true liegeman to our King;
Or else thy title in that prouince dyes, 65
And hee him self will repossesse the place.
K. Ed. See, how occasion laughes me in the face!
No sooner minded to prepare for France,
But straight I am inuited, - nay, with threats,
Vppon a penaltie, inioynd to come: 70
Twere but a childish part to say him nay.-
Lorrayne, returne this answere to thy Lord:
I meane to visit him as he requests;
But how? not seruilely disposd to bend,
But like a conquerer to make him bowe. 75
His lame vnpolisht shifts are come to light;
And trueth hath puld the visard from his face,
That sett a glosse vpon his arrogannce.
Dare he commaund a fealty in mee?
Tell him, the Crowne that hee vsurpes, is myne, 80
And where he sets his foote, he ought to knele.
Tis not a petty Dukedome that I claime,
But all the whole Dominions of the Realme;
Which if with grudging he refuse to yeld,
Ile take away those borrowed plumes of his, 85
And send him naked to the wildernes.
Lor. Then, Edward, here in spight of all thy Lords,
I doe pronounce defyaunce to thy face.
Pri. Defiance, French man? we rebound it backe,
Euen to the bottom of thy masters throat. 90
And, be it spoke with reuerence of the King,
My gratious fathre, and these other Lordes,
I hold thy message but as scurrylous,
And him that sent thee, like the lazy droane,
Crept vp by stelth vnto the Eagles nest; 95
From whence wele shake him with so rough a storme,
As others shalbe warned by his harme.
War. Byd him leaue of the Lyons case he weares,
Least, meeting with the Lyon in the feeld,
He chaunce to teare him peecemeale for his pride. 100
Art. The soundest counsell I can giue his grace,
Is to surrender ere he be constraynd.
A voluntarie mischiefe hath lesse scorne,
Then when reproch with violence is borne. 104
Lor. Degenerate Traytor, viper to the place
Where thou was fostred in thine infancy,
Bearest thou a part in this conspiracy?
[ He drawes his Sword.
K. Ed. Lorraine, behold the sharpnes of this steele:
( Drawing his. )
Feruent desire that sits against my heart, 109
Is farre more thornie pricking than this blade;
That, with the nightingale, I shall be scard,
As oft as I dispose my selfe to rest,
Vntill my collours be displaide in Fraunce:
This is thy finall Answere; so be gone. 114
Lor. It is not that, nor any English braue,
Afflicts me so, as doth his poysoned view,
That is most false, should most of all be true.
( Exeunt Lorrain, and Train .)
K. Ed. Now, Lord, our fleeting Barke is vnder sayle;
Our gage is throwne, and warre is soone begun,
But not so quickely brought vnto an end. 120
But wherefore comes Sir william Mountague?
How stands the league betweene the Scot and vs?
Mo. Crackt and disseuered, my renowned Lord.
The treacherous King no sooner was informde
Of your with drawing of your army backe, 125
But straight, forgetting of his former othe,
He made inuasion on the bordering Townes:
Barwicke is woon, Newcastle spoyld and lost,
And now the tyrant hath beguirt with seege
The Castle of Rocksborough, where inclosd 130
The Countes Salsbury is like to perish.
King. That is thy daughter, Warwicke, is it not?
Whose husband hath in Brittayne serud so long
About the planting of Lord Mouneford there?
War. It is, my Lord.
Ki. Ignoble Dauid! hast thou none to greeue
But silly Ladies with thy threatning armes?
But I will make you shrinke your snailie hornes!
First, therefore, Audley, this shalbe thy charge,
Go leuie footemen for our warres in Fraunce;
And, Ned, take muster of our men at armes:
In euery shire elect a seuerall band.
Let them be Souldiers of a lustie spirite,
Such as dread nothing but dishonors blot;
Be warie, therefore, since we do comence 145
A famous Warre, and with so mighty a nation.
Derby, be thou Embassador for vs
Vnto our Father in Law, the Earle of Henalt:
Make him acquainted with our enterprise,
And likewise will him, with our owne allies 150
That are in Flaunders, to solicite to
The Emperour of Almaigne in our name.
My selfe, whilst you are ioyntly thus employd,
Will, with these forces that I haue at hand,
March, and once more repulse the trayterous Scot.
But, Sirs, be resolute; we shal haue warres
On euery side; and, Ned, thou must begin
Now to forget thy study and thy bookes,
And vre thy shoulders to an Armors weight.
Pr. As cheereful sounding to my youthfull spleene 160
This tumult is of warres increasing broyles,
As, at the Coronation of a king,
The ioyfull clamours of the people are,
When Aue, Caesar! they pronounce alowd.
Within this schoole of honor I shal learne 165
Either to sacrifice my foes to death,
Or in a rightfull quarrel spend my breath.
Then cheerefully forward, ech a seuerall way;
In great affaires tis nough to vse delay.
Before the Castle. )
Enter the Countesse.
(Countesse.) Alas, how much in vaine my poore eyes gaze
For souccour that in my soueraigne should send!
Ah, cosin Mountague, I feare thou wants
The liuely spirit, sharpely to solicit
With vehement sute the king in my behalfe: 5
Thou dost not tell him, what a griefe it is
To be the scornefull captiue to a Scot,
Either to be wooed with broad vntuned othes,
Or forst by rough insulting barbarisme:
Thou doest not tell him, if he heere preuaile, 10
How much they will deride vs in the North,
And, in their vild, vnseuill, skipping giggs,
Bray foorth their Conquest and our ouerthrow
Euen in the barraine, bleake, and fruitlesse aire.
Enter Dauid and Douglas, Lorraine.
I must withdraw, the euerlasting foe 15
Comes to the wall; Ile closely step aside,
And list their babble, blunt and full of pride.
K. Da. My Lord of Lorrayne, to our brother of Fraunce
Commend vs, as the man in Christendome
That we most reuerence and intirely loue. 20
Touching your embassage, returne and say,
That we with England will not enter parlie,
Nor neuer make faire wether, or take truce;
But burne their neighbor townes, and so persist
With eager Rods beyond their Citie Yorke. 25
And neuer shall our bonny riders rest,
Nor rusting canker haue the time to eate
Their light borne snaffles nor their nimble spurres,
Nor lay aside their Iacks of Gymould mayle,
Nor hang their statues of grayned Scottish ash
In peacefull wise vpon their Citie wals, 31
Nor from their buttoned tawny leatherne belts
Dismisse their byting whinyards, till your King
Cry out: Enough, spare England now for pittie!
Farewell, and tell him that you leaue vs heare
Before this Castle; say, you came from vs, 36
Euen when we had that yeelded to our hands.
Lor. I take my leaue, and fayrely will returne
Your acceptable greeting to my king. [ Exit Lor.
K. D. Now, Duglas, to our former taske again, 40
For the deuision of this certayne spoyle.
Dou. My liege, I craue the Ladie, and no more.
King. Nay, soft ye, sir; first I must make my choyse,
And first I do bespeake her for my selfe.
Du. Why then, my liege, let me enjoy her iewels.
King. Those are her owne, still liable to her,
And who inherits her, hath those with all.
Enter a Scot in hast.
Mes. My liege, as we were pricking on the hils,
To fetch in booty, marching hitherward,
We might discry a mighty host of men; 50
The Sunne, reflicting on the armour, shewed
A field of plate, a wood of pickes aduanced.
Bethinke your highness speedely herein:
An easie march within foure howres will bring
The hindmost rancke vnto this place, my liege. 55
King. Dislodge, dislodge! it is the king of England.
Dug. Iemmy, my man, saddle my bonny blacke.
King. Meanst thou to fight, Duglas? we are to weake.
Du. I know it well, my liege, and therefore flie.
Cou. My Lords of Scotland, will ye staye and drinke?
King. She mocks at vs, Duglas; I cannot endure it.
Count. Say, good my Lord, which is he must haue the Ladie,
And which her iewels? I am sure, my Lords,
Ye will not hence, till you haue shard the spoyles.
King. Shee heard the messenger, and heard our talke; 65
And now that comfort makes her scorne at vs.
Mes. Arme, my good Lord! O, we are all surprisde!
( Count. ) After the French embassador, my liege,
And tell him, that you dare not ride to Yorke;
Excuse it that your bonnie horse is lame. 70
K. She heard that to; intollerable griefe!
Woman, farewell! Although I do not stay . . .
[ Ex(e)unt Scots.
Count. Tis not for feare, and yet you run away.-
O happie comfort, welcome to our house!
The confident and boystrous boasting Scot, 75
That swore before my walls they would not backe
For all the armed power of this land,
With facelesse feare that euer turnes his backe,
Turnd hence against the blasting North-east winde
Vpon the bare report and name of Armes. 80
O Sommers day! See where my Cosin comes!
Mo. How fares my Aunt? We are not Scots;
Why do you shut your gates against your friends?
Co. Well may I giue a welcome, Cosin, to thee,
For thou comst well to chase my foes from hence 85
Mo. The king himselfe is come in person hither;
Deare Aunt, discend, and gratulate his highnes.
Co. How may I entertayne his Maiestie,
To shew my duety and his dignitie?
( Exit, from above. )
Enter king Edward, Warwike, Artoyes, with others.
K. Ed. What, are the stealing Foxes fled and gone, 90
Before we could vncupple at their heeles?
War. They are, my liege; but, with a cheereful cry,
Hot hounds and hardie chase them at the heeles.
K. Ed. This is the Countesse, Warwike, is it not?
War. Euen shee, my liege; whose beauty tyrants feare, 95
As a May blossome with pernitious winds,
Hath sullied, withered, ouercast, and donne.
K. Ed. Hath she been fairer, Warwike, then she is?
War. My gratious King, faire is she not at all,
If that her selfe were by to staine her selfe, 100
As I haue seene her when she was her selfe.
K. Ed. What strange enchantment lurkt in those her eyes,
When they exceld this excellence they haue,
That now her dym declyne hath power to draw
My subiect eyes from persing maiestie, 105
To gaze on her with doting admiration?
Count. In duetie lower then the ground I kneele,
And for my dul knees bow my feeling heart,
To witnes my obedience to your highnes,
With many millions of a subiects thanks 110
For this your Royall presence, whose approch
Hath driuen war and danger from my gate.
K. Lady, stand vp; I come to bring thee peace,
How euer thereby I haue purchast war.
Co. No war to you, my liege; the Scots are gone, 115
And gallop home toward Scotland with their hate.
( King. ) Least, yeelding heere, I pyne in shamefull loue,
Come, wele persue the Scots; - Artoyes, away!
Co. A little while, my gratious soueraigne, stay,
And let the power of a mighty king 120
Honor our roofe; my husband in the warres,
When he shall heare it, will triumph for joy;
Then, deare my liege, now niggard not thy state:
Being at the wall, enter our homely gate.
King. Pardon me, countesse, I will come no neare; 125
I dreamde to night of treason, and I feare.
Co. Far from this place let vgly treason ly!
K. No farther off, then her conspyring eye,
Which shoots infected poyson in my heart,
Beyond repulse of wit or cure of Art. 130
Now, in the Sunne alone it doth not lye,
With light to take light from a mortall eye;
For here two day stars that myne eies would see
More then the Sunne steales myne owne light from mee.
Contemplatiue desire, desire to be 135
In contemplation, that may master thee!
Warwike, Artoys, to horse and lets away!
Co. What might I speake to make my soueraigne stay?
King. What needs a tongue to such a speaking eie,
That more perswads then winning Oratorie?
Co. Let not thy presence, like the Aprill sunne, 141
Flatter our earth and sodenly be done.
More happie do not make our outward wall
Then thou wilt grace our inner house withall.
Our house, my liege, is like a Country swaine,
Whose habit rude and manners blunt and playne 146
Presageth nought, yet inly beautified
With bounties, riches and faire hidden pride.
For where the golden Ore doth buried lie,
The ground, vndect with natures tapestrie, 150
Seemes barrayne, sere, vnfertill, fructles, dry:
And where the vpper turfe of earth doth boast
His pide perfumes and party colloured cost,
Delue there, and find this issue and their pride
To spring from ordure and corruptions side. 155
But, to make vp my all to long compare,
These ragged walles no testimonie are,
What is within; but, like a cloake, doth hide
From weathers Waste the vnder garnisht pride.
More gratious then my tearmes can let thee be, 160
Intreat thy selfe to stay a while with mee.
Kin. As wise, as faire; what fond fit can be heard,
When wisedome keepes the gate as beuties gard?-
Countesse, albeit my busines vrgeth me,
Yt shall attend, while I attend on thee: 165
Come on, my Lords; heere will I host to night.
[ Exeunt .
The Same. Gardens of the Castle.
Lod. I might perceiue his eye in her eye lost,
His eare to drinke her sweet tongues vtterance,
And changing passion, like inconstant clouds
That racke vpon the carriage of the windes,
Increase and die in his disturbed cheekes. 5
Loe, when shee blusht, euen then did he looke pale,
As if her cheekes by some inchaunted power
Attracted had the cherie blood from his:
Anone, with reuerent feare when she grew pale,
His cheekes put on their scarlet ornaments; 10
But no more like her oryentall red,
Then Bricke to Corrall or liue things to dead.
Why did he then thus counterfeit her lookes?
If she did blush, twas tender modest shame,
Being in the sacred presence of a King; 15
If he did blush, twas red immodest shame,
To vaile his eyes amisse, being a king:
If she lookt pale, twas silly womans feare,
To beare her selfe in presence of a king;
If he lookt pale, it was with guiltie feare, 20
To dote amisse, being a mighty king.
Then, Scottish warres, farewell; I feare twill prooue
A lingring English seege of peeuish loue.
Here comes his highnes, walking all alone.
Enter King Edward
King. Shee is growne more fairer far since I came hither, 25
Her voice more siluer euery word then other,
Her wit more fluent. What a strange discourse
Vnfolded she of Dauid and his Scots!
'Euen thus', quoth she, 'he spake', and then spoke broad,
With epithites and accents of the Scot, 30
But somewhat better then the Scot could speake:
'And thus', quoth she, and answered then her selfe -
For who could speake like her but she her selfe -
Breathes from the wall an Angels note from Heauen
Of sweete defiance to her barbarous foes. 35
When she would talke of peace, me thinkes, her tong
Commanded war to prison; when of war,
It wakened Caesar from his Romane graue,
To heare warre beautified by her discourse.
Wisedome is foolishnes but in her tongue, 40
Beauty a slander but in her faire face,
There is no summer but in her cheerefull lookes,
Nor frosty winter but in her disdayne.
I cannot blame the Scots that did besiege her,
For she is all the Treasure of our land; 45
But call them cowards, that they ran away,
Hauing so rich and faire a cause to stay.-
Art thou there, Lodwicke? Giue me incke and paper.
Lo. I will, my liege.
K. And bid the Lords hold on their play at Chesse,
For wee will walke and meditate alone.
Lo. I will, my soueraigne. ( Exit Lodowick.)
Ki. This fellow is well read in poetrie,
And hath a lustie and perswasiue spirite:
I will acquaint him with my passion, 55
Which he shall shadow with a vaile of lawne,
Through which the Queene of beauties Queene shall see
Her selfe the ground of my infirmitie.
Ki. Hast thou pen, inke, and paper ready, Lodowike?
Lo. Ready, my liege.
Ki. Then in the sommer arber sit by me,
Make it our counsel house or cabynet:
Since greene our thoughts, greene be the conuenticle,
Where we will ease vs by disburdning them.
Now, Lodwike, inuocate some golden Muse, 65
To bring thee hither an inchanted pen,
That may for sighes set downe true sighes indeed,
Talking of griefe, to make thee ready grone;
And when thou writest of teares, encouch the word
Before and after with such sweete laments, 70
That it may rayse drops in a Tarters eye,
And make a flynheart Synthian pytifull;
For so much moouing hath a Poets pen:
Then, if thou be a Poet, moue thou so,
And be enriched by thy soueraignes loue. 75
For, if the touch of sweet concordant strings
Could force attendance in the eares of hel,
How much more shall the straines of poets wit
Beguile and rauish soft and humane myndes?
Lod. To whome, my Lord, shal I direct my stile? 80
King. To one that shames the faire and sots the wise;
Whose bodie is an abstract or a breefe,
Containes ech generall vertue in the worlde.
Better then bewtifull thou must begin,
Deuise for faire a fairer word then faire, 85
And euery ornament that thou wouldest praise,
Fly it a pitch aboue the soare of praise.
For flattery feare thou not to be conuicted;
For, were thy admiration ten tymes more,
Ten tymes ten thousand more the worth exceeds 90
Of that thou art to praise, thy praises worth.
Beginne; I will to contemplat the while:
Forget not to set downe, how passionat,
How hart sicke, and how full of languishment,
Her beautie makes mee.
Lod. Write I to a woman? 95
King. What bewtie els could triumph ouer me,
Or who but women doe our loue layes greet?
What, thinkest thou I did bid thee praise a horse?
Lod. Of what condicion or estate she is,
Twere requisit that I should know, my Lord.
King. Of such estate, that hers is as a throane, 101
And my estate the footstoole where shee treads:
Then maist thou iudge what her condition is
By the proportion of her mightines.
Write on, while I peruse her in my thoughts.-
Her voice to musicke or the nightingale-
To musicke euery sommer leaping swaine 107
Compares his sunburnt louer when shee speakes;
And why should I speake of the nightingale?
The nightingale singes of adulterate wrong,
And that, compared, is to satyrical; 111
For sinne, though synne, would not be so esteemd,
But, rather, vertue sin, synne vertue deemd.
Her hair, far softor then the silke wormes twist,
Like to a flattering glas, doth make more faire
The yelow Amber: - like a flattering glas 116
Comes in to soone; for, writing of her eies,
Ile say that like a glas they catch the sunne,
And thence the hot reflection doth rebounde
Against my brest, and burnes my hart within.
Ah, what a world of descant makes my soule
Vpon this voluntarie ground of loue!- 122
Come, Lodwick, hast thou turnd thy inke to golde?
If not, write but in letters Capitall
My mistres name, and it wil guild thy paper:
Read, Lorde, reade; 126
Fill thou the emptie hollowes of mine eares
With the sweete hearing of thy poetrie.
Lo. I haue not to a period brought her praise.
King. Her praise is as my loue, both infinit,
Which apprehend such violent extremes, 131
That they disdaine an ending period.
Her bewtie hath no match but my affection;
Hers more then most, myne most and more then more:
Hers more to praise then tell the sea by drops,
Nay, more then drop the massie earth by sands,
And sand by sand print them in memorie:
Then wherefore talkest thou of a period
To that which craues vnended admiration?
Read, let vs heare. 140
Lo. 'More faire and chast then is the queen of shades,'-
King. That line hath two falts, grosse and palpable:
Comparest thou her to the pale queene of night,
Who, being set in darke, seemes therefore light?
What is she, when the sunne lifts vp his head,
But like a fading taper, dym and dead?
My loue shall braue the ey of heauen at noon,
And, being vnmaskt, outshine the golden sun.
Lo. What is the other faulte, my soueraigne Lord?
King. Reade ore the line againe.
Lo. 'More faire and chast'- 150
King. I did not bid thee talke of chastitie,
To ransack so the treasure of her minde;
For I had rather haue her chased then chast.
Out with the moone line, I wil none of it;
And let me haue hir likened to the sun: 155
Say shee hath thrice more splendour then the sun,
That her perfections emulats the sunne,
That shee breeds sweets as plenteous as the sunne,
That shee doth thaw cold winter like the sunne,
That shee doth cheere fresh sommer like the sunne, 160
That shee doth dazle gazers like the sunne;
And, in this application to the sunne,
Bid her be free and generall as the sunne,
Who smiles vpon the basest weed that growes
As louinglie as on the fragrant rose. 165
Lets see what followes that same moonelight line.
Lo. 'More faire and chast then is the queen of shades,
More bold in constancie'-
King. In contancie! then who?
Lo. 'Then Iudith was.'
King. O monstrous line! Put in the next a sword, 170
And I shall woo her to cut of my head.
Blot, blot, good Lodwicke! Let vs heare the next.
Lo. Theres all that yet is donne.
King. I thancke thee then; thou hast don litle ill,
But what is don, is passing, passing ill. 175
No, let the Captaine talke of boystrous warr,
The prisoner of emured darke constraint,
The sick man best sets downe the pangs of death,
The man that starues the sweetnes of a feast,
The frozen sould the benefite of fire, 180
And euery friefe his happie opposite:
Loue cannot sound well but in louers toungs;
Giue me the pen and paper, I will write.
But soft, here comes the treasurer of my spirit.-
Lodwick, thou knowst not how to drawe a battel;
These wings, these flankars, and these squadrons
Argue in thee defectiue discipline:
Thou shouldest haue placed this here, this other here.
Co. Pardon my boldnes, my thrice gracious Lords;
Let my intrusion here be cald my duetie, 190
That comes to see my soueraigne how he fares.
Kin. Go, draw the same, I tell thee in what forme.
Lod. I go. ( Exit Lodowick.)
Cou. Sorry I am to see my liege so sad:
What may thy subiect do to driue from thee 195
Thy gloomy consort, sullome melancholie?
King. Ah, Lady, I am blunt and cannot strawe
The flowers of solace in a ground of shame:-
Since I came hither, Countes, I am wronged.
Cont. Now God forbid that anie in my howse 200
Should thinck my soueraigne wrong! Thrice gentle King,
Acquaint me with your cause of discontent.
King. How neere then shall I be to remedie?
Cont. As nere, my Liege, as all my womans power
Can pawne it selfe to buy thy remedy. 205
King. Yf thou speakst true, then haue I my redresse:
Ingage thy power to redeeme my Ioyes,
And I am ioyfull, Countes; els I die.
Coun. I will, my Liege.
King. Sweare, Counties, that thou wilt.
Coun. By heauen, I will. 210
King. Then take thy selfe a litel waie a side,
And tell thy self, a King doth dote on thee:
Say that within thy power (it) doth lie
To make him happy, and that thou hast sworne
To giue him all the Ioy within thy power: 215
Do this, and tell me when I shall be happie.
Coun. All this is done, my thrice dread soueraigne:
That power of loue, that I haue power to giue,
Thou hast with all deuout obedience;
Imploy me how thou wilt in profe therof. 220
King. Thou hearst me saye that I do dote on thee.
Coun. Yf on my beauty, take yt if thou canst;
Though litle, I do prise it ten tymes lesse:
If on my vertue, take it if thou canst,
For vertues store by giuing doth augment: 225
Be it on what it will, that I can giue
And thou canst take awaie, inherit it.
King. It is thy beautie that I woulde enioy.
Count. O, were it painted, I would wipe it of
And dispossesse my selfe, to giue it thee. 230
But, souereigne, it is souldered to my life:
Take one and both; for, like an humble shaddow,
Yt hauntes the sunshine of my summers life.
( King.) But thou maist lend it me to sport with all.
Count. As easie may my intellectual soule
Be lent awaie, and yet my bodie liue, 236
As lend my bodie, pallace to my soule,
Awaie from her, and yet retaine my soule.
My bodie is her bower, her Court, her abey,
And shee an Angell, pure, deuine, vnspotted:
If I should leaue her house, my Lord, to thee,
I kill my poore soule and my poore soule me.
King. Didst thou not swere to giue me what I would?
Count. I did, my liege, so what you would I could.
King. I wish no more of thee then I thou maist giue:- 245
Nor beg I do not, but I rather buie-
That is, thy loue; and for that loue of thine
In rich exchaunge I tender to thee myne.
Count. But that your lippes were sacred, my Lord,
You would prophane the holie name of loue. 250
That loue you offer me you cannot giue,
For Caesar owes that tribut to his Queene;
That loue you beg of me I cannot giue,
For Sara owes that duetie to her Lord. 254
He that doth clip or counterfeit your stamp
Shall die, my Lord; and will your sacred selfe
Comit high treason against the King of heauen,
To stamp his Image in forbidden mettel,
Forgetting your alleageance and your othe?
In violating mariage sacred law, 260
You breake a greater honor then your selfe:
To be a King is of a yonger house
Then to be maried; your progenitour,
Sole ragning Adam on the vniuerse,
By God was honored for a married man, 265
But not by him annointed for a king.
It is a pennalty to breake your statutes,
Though not enacted with your highnes hand:
How much more, to infringe the holy act,
Made by the mouth of God, seald with his hand? 270
I know, my souereigne, in my husbands loue,
Who now doth loyall seruice in his warrs,
Doth but so try the wife of Salisbury,
Whither shee will heare a wantons tale or no,
Lest being theren giulty by my stay, 275
From that, not from my leige, I tourne awaie.
King. Whether is her bewtie by her words dyuine,
Or are her words sweet chaplaines to her bewtie?
Like as the wind doth beautifie a saile,
And as a saile becomes the vnseene winde, 280
So doe her words her bewties, bewties wordes.
O, that I were a honie gathering bee,
To beare the combe of vertue from this flower,
And not a poison sucking enuious spider,
To turne the iuce I take to deadlie venom! 285
Religion is austere and bewty gentle;
To strict a gardion for so faire a ward!
O, that shee were, as is the aire, to mee!
Why, so she is, for when I would embrace her,
This do I, and catch nothing but my selfe. 290
I must enjoy her; for I cannot beate
With reason and reproofe fond loue a waie.
Here comes her father: I will worke with him,
To beare my collours in this feild of loue.
War . How is it that my souereigne is so sad? 295
May I with pardon know your highnes griefe;
And that my old endeuor will remoue it,
It shall not comber long your maiestie.
King. A kind and voluntary gift thou proferest,
That I was forwarde to haue begd of thee. 300
But, O thou world, great nurse of flatterie,
Whie dost thou tip mens tongues with golden words,
And peise their deedes with weight of heauie leade,
That faire performance cannot follow promise?
O, that a man might hold the hartes close booke 305
And choke the lauish tongue, when it doth vtter
The breath of falshood not carectred there!
War. Far be it from the honor of my age,
That I should owe bright gould and render lead;
Age is a cynicke, not a flatterer. 310
I saye againe, that if I knew your griefe,
And that by me it may be lesned,
My proper harme should buy your highnes good.
Kin. These are the vulger tenders of false men,
That neuer pay the duetie of their words. 315
Thou wilt not sticke to sweare what thou hast said;
But, when thou knowest my greifes condition,
This rash disgorged vomit of thy word
Thou wilt eate vp againe, and leaue me helples.
War. By heauen, I will not, though your maiestie 320
Did byd me run vpon your sworde and die.
( Kin. ) Say that my greefe is no way medicinable
But by the losse and bruising of thine honour.
War. Yf nothing but that losse may vantage you,
I would accompt that losse my vauntage to. 325
King. Thinkst that thou canst unswere thy oth againe?
War. I cannot; nor I would not, if I could.
King. But, if thou dost, what shal I say to thee?
War. What may be said to anie periurd villane, 329
That breake(s) the sacred warrant of an oath.
King. What wilt thou say to one that breaks an othe?
War. That hee hath broke his faith with God and man,
And from them both standes excommunicat.
King. What office were it, to suggest a man
To breake a lawfull and religious vowe? 335
War. An office for the deuill, not for man.
Ki. That deuilles office must thou do for me,
Or break thy oth, or cancell all the bondes
Of loue and duetie twixt thy self and mee; 339
And therefore, Warwike, if thou art thy selfe,
The Lord and master of thy word and othe,
Go to thy daughter; and in my behalfe
Comaund her, woo her, win her anie waies,
To be my mustres and my secret loue.
I will not stand to heare thee make reply: 345
Thy oth breake hers, or let thy souereigne dye.
[ Exit .
War. O doting King! O detestable office!
Well may I tempt my self to wrong my self,
When he hath sworne me by the name of God
To breake a vowe made by the name of God.
What, if I sweare by this right hand of mine
To cut this right hande of? The better waie
Were to prophaine the Idoll then confound it:
But neither will I do; Ile keepe myne oath,
And to my daughter make a recantation 355
Of all the vertue I haue preacht to her:
Ile say, she must forget her husband Salisbury,
If she remember to embrace the king;
Ile say, an othe may easily be broken; 360
Ile say, it is true charitie to loue,
But not true loue to be so charitable;
Ile say, his greatnes may beare out the shame,
But not his kingdome can buy out the sinne;
Ile say, it is my duety to perswade, 365
But not her honestie to giue consent.
See where she comes; was neuer father had
Against his child an embassage so bad!
Co. My Lord and father, I haue sought for you:
My mother and the Peeres importune you 370
To keepe in presence of his maiestie,
And do your best to make his highnes merrie.
War. (Aside) How shall I enter in this gracelesse arrant?
I must not call her child, for wheres the father
That will in such a sute seduce his child? 375
Then, 'wife of Salisbury'; shall I so begin?
No, hees my friend, and where is found the friend
That will doe friendship such indammagement?
( To the Count. ) Neither my daughter nor my deare friends wife,
I am not Warwike, as thou thinkst I am, 380
But an atturnie from the Court of hell,
That thus haue housd my spirite in his forme,
To do a message to thee from the king.
The mighty kind of England dotes on thee:
He that hath power to take away thy life, 385
Hath power to take thy honor; then consent
to pawne thine honor rather then thy life:
Honor is often lost and got againe,
But life, once gon, hath no recouerie.
The Sunne, that withers heye, doth nourish grasse; 390
The king, that would distaine thee, will aduance thee.
The Poets write that great Achilles speare
Could heale the wound it made: the morrall is,
What mighty men misdoo, they can amend.
The Lyon doth become his bloody iawes, 395
And grance his forragement by being milde,
When vassel feare lies trembling at his feete.
The king will in his glory hide thy shame;
And those that gaze on him to finde out thee,
Will lose their eie-sight, looking in the Sunne.
What can one drop of poyson harme the Sea,
Whose hugie vastures can digest the ill
And make it loose his operation?
The kings great name will temper thy misdeeds,
And giue the bitter potion of reproch 405
A sugred, sweet and most delitious tast.
Besides, it is no harme to do the thing
Which without shame could not be left undone.
Thus haue I in hi maiesties behalfe
Apparaled sin in vertuous sentences, 410
And dwel vpon thy answere in his sute.
Cou. Vnnaturall beseege! woe me vnhappie,
To haue escapt the danger of my foes,
And to be ten times worse inuierd by friends!
Hath he no meanes to stayne my honest blood,
But to corrupt the author of my blood 416
To be his scandalous and vile soliciter?
No maruell though the braunches be then infected,
When poyson hath encompassed the roote:
No maruell though the leprous infant dye, 420
When the sterne dame inuennometh the Dug.
Why then, giue sinne a pasport to offend,
And youth the dangerous raigne of liberty:
Blot out the strict forbidding of the law,
And cancell euery cannon that prescribes 425
A shame for shame or pennance for offence.
No, let me die, if his too boystrous will
Will haue it so, before I will consent
To be an actor in his gracelesse lust.
Wa. Why, now thou speakst as I would haue thee speak 430
And marke how I vnsaie my words againe.
And honorable graue is more esteemd
Then the polluted closet of a king:
The greater man, the greater is the thing,
Be it good or bad, that he shall vndertake: 435
An vnreputed mote, flying in the Sunne,
Presents a greater substaunce then it is:
The freshest summers day doth soonest taint
The lothed carrion that it seemes to kisse:
Deepe are the blowes made with a mightie Axe: 440
That sinne doth ten times agreuate it selfe,
That is committed in a holie place:
An euill deed, done by authoritie,
Is sin and subbornation: Decke an Ape
In tissue, and the beautie of the robe 445
Adds but the greater scorne vnto the beast.
A spatious field of reasons could I vrge
Betweene his glorie, daughter, and thy shame:
That poyson shewes the worst in a golden cup;
Darke night seemes darker by the lightning flash; 450
Lillies that fester smel far worse then weeds;
And euery glory that inclynes to sin,
The shame is treble by the opposite.
So leaue I with my blessing in thy bosome,
Which then conuert to a most heauie curse, 455
When thou conuertest from honors golden name
To the blacke faction of bed blotting shame.
Coun. Ile follow thee; and when my minde turnes so,
My body sinke my soule in endles woo!
The Same. A Room in the Castle )
Enter at one doore Derby from Fraunce, At an
other doore Audley with a Drum.
Der. Thrice noble Audley, well incountred heere!
How is it with our souveraigne and his peeres?
Aud. Tis full a fortnight, since I saw his highnes,
What time he sent me forth to muster men;
Which I accordingly haue done, and bring them hither 5
In faire aray before his maiestie.
What newes, my Lord of Derby, from the Emperor?
Der. As good as we desire: the Emperor
Hath yeelded to his highnes friendly ayd,
And makes our king leiuetenant generall 10
In all his lands and large dominions:
Then via for the spatious bounds of Fraunce!
Aud. What, doth his highnes leap to heare these newes?
Der. I haue not yet found time to open them;
The king is in his closet, malcontent; 15
For what, I know not, but he gaue in charge,
Till after dinner none should interrupt him:
The Countesse Salisbury and her father Warwike,
Artoyes and all looke vnderneath the browes.
Aud. Vndoubtedly, then, some thing is a misse.
( Trumpet within. )
Dar. The Trumpets sound, the king is now abroad. 21
Enter the King.
Aud. Here comes his highnes.
Der. Befall my soueraigne all my soueraignes wish!
King. Ah, that thou wert a Witch to make it so!
Der. The Emperour greeteth you. 25
( presenting Letters. )
King. - Would it were the Countesse!
Der. And hath accorded to your highnes suite.
King. -Thou lyest, she hath not; but I would she had.
Au. All loue and duety to my Lord the King!
Kin. Well, all but one is none. -What newes with you? 30
Au. I haue, my liege, leuied those horse and foote
According to your charge, and brought them hither.
Kin. Then let those foote trudge hence vpon those horse
According too our discharge, and be goone.-
Darby, Ile looke vpon the Countesse minde anone. 35
Dar. The Countesse minde, my liege?
Kin. I meane the Emperour: -leaue me alone.
Au. What is his mind?
Dar. Lets leaue him to his humor.
[ Ex(e)unt .
Ki. Thus from the harts aboundance speakes the tongue;
Countesse for Emperour: and indeed, why not? 40
She is as imperator ouer me
And I to her
Am as a kneeling vassaile, that obserues
The pleasure or displeasure of her eye.
Ki. What saies the more then Cleopatras match 45
To Caesar now?
Lo. That yet, my liege, ere night
She will resolue your maiestie. (Drum within.)
Ki. What drum is this that thunders forth this march,
To start the tender Cupid in my bosome?
Poore shipskin, how it braules with him that beateth it! 50
Go, breake the thundring parchment bottome out,
And I will teach it to conduct sweete lynes
Vnto the bosome of a heauenly Nymph;
For I will vse it as my writing paper,
And so reduce him from a scoulding drum 55
To be the herald and deare counsaile bearer
Betwixt a goddesse and a mighty king.
Go, bid the drummer learne to touch the Lute,
Or hang him in the braces of his drum,
For now we thinke it an vnciuill thing, 60
To trouble heauen with such harsh resounds:
Away! [ Exit .
The quarrell that I haue requires no armes
But these of myne: and these shall meete my foe
In a deepe march of penytrable grones; 65
My eyes shall be my arrowes, and my sighes
Shall serue me as the vantage of the winde,
To wherle away my sweetest artyllerie.
Ah, but, alas, she winnes the sunne of me,
For that is she her selfe, and thence it comes 70
That Poets tearme the wanton warriour blinde;
But loue hath eyes as iudgement to his steps,
Till too much loued glory dazles them.-
Lo. My liege, the drum that stroke the lusty march, 75
Stands with Prince Edward, your thrice valiant sonne.
Enter Prince Edward
King. I see the boy; oh, how his mothers face,
Modeld in his, corrects my straid desire,
And rates my heart, and chides my theeuish eie,
Who, being rich ennough in seeing her, 80
Yet seekes elsewhere: and basest theft is that
Which cannot cloke it selfe on pouertie.-
Now, boy, what newes?
Pr. E. I haue assembled, my deare Lord and father,
The choysest buds of all our English blood 85
For our affairs in Fraunce; and heere we come
To take direction from your maiestie.
Kin. Still do I see in him deliniate
His mothers visage; those his eies are hers,
Who, looking wistely on me, make me blush:
For faults against themselues giue euidence;
Lust is a fire, and men like lanthornes show
Light lust within them selues, euen through them selues.
Away, loose silkes of wauering vanitie!
Shall the large limmit of faire Brittayné 95
By me be ouerthrowne, and shall I not
Master this little mansion of my selfe?
Giue me an Armor of eternall steele!
I go to conquer kings; and shall I not then
Subdue my selfe? and be my enimies friend?
It must not be. -Come, boy, forward, aduaunce!
Lets with our coullours sweete the Aire of Fraunce.
Lo. My liege, the Countesse with a smiling cheere
Desires accesse vnto your Maiestie.
King. Why, there it goes! That verie smile of hers 105
Hath ransomed captiue Fraunce, and set the King,
The Dolphin, and the Peeres at liberty.-
Goe, leaue me, Ned, and reuell with thy friends.
[ Exit Pr.
Thy mother is but blacke, and thou, like her,
Dost put it in my minde how foule she is.- 110
Goe, fetch the Countesse hether in thy hand,
And let her chase away these winter clouds,
For shee giues beautie both to heauen and earth.
[ Exit Lod.
The sin is more to hacke and hew poore men,
Then to embrace in an vnlawfull bed 115
The register of all rarieties
Since Letherne Adam till this youngest howre.
Enter Countesse (escorted by Lodwike )
King. Goe, Lodwike, put thy hand into my purse,
Play, spend, giue, ryot, wast, do what thou wilt,
So thou wilt hence awhile and leaue me heere.
( Exit Lodwick.)
Now, my soules plaiefellow, art thou come 121
To speake the more then heauenly word of yea
To my obiection in thy beautious loue?
Count. My father on his blessing hath commanded-
King. That thou shalt yeeld to me? 125
Count. I, deare my liege, your due.
King. And that, my dearest loue, can be no lesse
Then right for right and tender loue for loue.
Count. Then wrong for wrong and endles hate for hate.-
But, -sith I see your maiestie so bent, 130
That my vnwillingnes, my husbands loue,
Your high estate, nor no respect respected
Can be my helpe, but that your mightines
Will ouerbeare and awe these deare regards-
I bynd my discontent to my content, 135
And what I would not Ile compell I will,
Prouided that your selfe remoue those lets
That stand betweene your highnes loue and mine.
King. Name them, faire Countesse, and, by heauen, I will.
Co. It is their liues that stand betweene our loue,
That I would haue chokt vp, my soueraigne.
Ki. Whose liues, my Lady?
Co. My thrice louing liege,
Your Queene and Salisbury, my wedded husband,
Who liuing haue that tytle in our loue,
That we cannot bestow but by their death. 145
Ki. Thy opposition is beyond our Law.
Co. So is your desire: if the law
Can hinder you to execute the one,
Let it forbid you to attempt the other.
I Cannot thinke you loue me as you say, 150
Vnlesse you do make good what you haue sworne.
(King.) No more; thy husband and the Queene shall dye.
Fairer thou art by farre then Hero was,
Beardles Leander bot so strong as I:
He swome an easie curraunt for his loue, 155
But I will through a Hellespont of bloud,
To arryue at Cestus where my Hero lyes.
Co. Nay, youle do more; youle make the Ryuer to
With heir hart bloods that keepe our loue asunder,
Of which my husband and your wife are twayne.
Ki. Thy beauty makes them guilty of their death
And giues in euidence that they shall dye;
Vpon which verdict I, their Iudge, condemne them.
Co. (Aside.) O peiurde beautie, more corrupted Iudge!
When to the great Starre-chamber ore our heads 165
The vniuersell Sessions cals to count
This packing euill, we both shall tremble for it.
Ki. What saies my faire loue? is she resolute?
Co. Resolute to be dissolude; and, therefore, this:
Keepe but thy word, great king, and I am thine. 170
Stand where thou dost, ile part a little from thee,
And see how I will yeeld me to thy hands.
(turning suddenly upon him, and
shewing two Daggers.)
Here by my side doth hang my wedding knifes:
Take thou the one, and with it kill thy Queene,
And learne by me to finde her where she lies;
And with this other Ile dispatch my loue, 176
Which now lies fast a sleepe within my hart:
When they are gone, then Ile consent to loue.
Stir not, lasciuious king, to hinder me;
My resolution is more nimbler far, 180
Then thy preuention can be in my rescue,
And if thou stir, I strike; therefore, stand still,
And heare the choyce that I will put thee to;
Either sweare to leaue thy most vnholie sute
And neuer hence forth to solicit me; 185
Or else, by heauen, this sharpe poynted knyfe
Shall staine thy earth with that which thou would staine,
My poore chast blood. Sweare, Edward, sweare,
Or I will strike and die before thee heere.
King. Euen by that power I sweare, that giues me now 190
The power to be ashamed of my selfe,
I neuer meane to part my lips againe,
In any words that tend to such a sute.
Arise, true English Ladie, whom our Ile 194
May better boast of then euer Romaine might
Of her, whose ransackt treasurie hath taskt
The vaine indeuor of so many pens:
Arise; and be my fault thy honors fame,
Which after ages shall enrich thee with.
I am awaked from this idle dreame.- 200
Warwike, my Sonne, Darby, Artoys, and Audley!
Braue warriours all, where are you all this while?
Warwike, I make thee Warden of the North:
Thou, Prince of Wales, and Audley, straight to Sea;
Scoure to New-hauen; some there staie for me:
My selfe, Artoys, and Darby will through Flaunders, 206
To greete our friends there and to craue their aide.
This night will scarce suffice me to discouer
My follies seege against a faithfull louer;
For, ere the Sunne shal guilde the esterne skie,
Wele wake him with our Marshall harmonie.