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 trulyA worthy Friend. The King ha's made himMaster 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, herGentlemanVsher, 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 WolseyWas dead?Grif. Yes Madam: but I thinke your GraceOut 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 happilyFor my example
Grif. Well, the voyce goes Madam,For after the stout Earle NorthumberlandArrested him at Yorke, and brought him forwardAs a man sorely tainted, to his Answer,He fell sicke sodainly, and grew so illHe 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 AbbotWith 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 sicknessePursu'd him still, and three nights after this,About the houre of eight, which he himselfeForetold 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 manOf an vnbounded stomacke, euer rankingHimselfe with Princes. One that by suggestionTy'de all the Kingdome. Symonie, was faire play,His owne Opinion was his Law. I'th' presenceHe would say vntruths, and be euer doubleBoth 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 gaueThe Clergy ill example
Grif. Noble Madam:Mens euill manners, liue in Brasse, their VertuesWe write in Water. May it please your HighnesseTo heare me speake his good now?Kath. Yes good Griffith,I were malicious else
Grif. This Cardinall,Though from an humble Stocke, vndoubtedlyWas fashion'd to much Honor. From his CradleHe 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 himThose 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 AgeThen 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 meeWith 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 noteI nam'd my Knell; whil'st I sit meditatingOn 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 TroopeInuite me to a Banquet, whose bright facesCast thousand beames vpon me, like the Sun?They promis'd me eternall Happinesse,And brought me Garlands (Griffith) which I feeleI am not worthy yet to weare: I shall assuredly
Grif. I am most ioyfull Madam, such good dreamesPossesse your Fancy
Kath. Bid the Musicke leaue,They are harsh and heauy to me.
Musicke ceases.
Pati. Do you noteHow 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 GreatnesseTo vse so rude behauiour. Go too, kneele
Mes. I humbly do entreat your Highnesse pardon,My hast made me vnmannerly. There is stayingA Gentleman sent from the King, to see you
Kath. Admit him entrance Griffith. But this FellowLet 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 strangelyWith 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 nextThe Kings request, that I would visit you,Who greeues much for your weaknesse, and by meSends 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 nameBanish'd the Kingdome. Patience, is that LetterI caus'd you write, yet sent away?Pat. No Madam
Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliuerThis to my Lord the King
Cap. Most willing Madam
Kath. In which I haue commended to his goodnesseThe 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 littleTo 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 pittieVpon my wretched women, that so longHaue follow'd both my Fortunes, faithfully,Of which there is not one, I dare auow(And now I should not lye) but will deserueFor Vertue, and true Beautie of the Soule,For honestie, and decent CarriageA 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 lifeAnd 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 KingTo 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 meIn all humilitie vnto his Highnesse:Say his long trouble now is passingOut of this world. Tell him in death I blest him(For so I will) mine eyes grow dimme. FarewellMy 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 ouerWith Maiden Flowers, that all the world may knowI was a chaste Wife, to my Graue: Embalme me,Then lay me forth (although vnqueen'd) yet likeA 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 NatureWith comforting repose, and not for vsTo 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 PrimeroWith the Duke of Suffolke
Lou. I must to him tooBefore 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 beNo great offence belongs too't, giue your FriendSome touch of your late businesse: Affaires that walke(As they say Spirits do) at midnight, haueIn them a wilder Nature, then the businesseThat seekes dispatch by day
Lou. My Lord, I loue you;And durst commend a secret to your eareMuch waightier then this worke. The Queens in LaborThey say in great Extremity, and fear'dShee'l with the Labour, end
Gard. The fruite she goes withI pray for heartily, that it may findeGood time, and liue: but for the Stocke Sir Thomas,I wish it grubb'd vp now
Lou. Me thinkes I couldCry the Amen, and yet my Conscience sayesShee's a good Creature, and sweet-Ladie do'sDeserue our better wishes
Gard. But Sir, Sir,Heare me Sir Thomas, y'are a GentlemanOf 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 sheeSleepe in their Graues
Louell. Now Sir, you speake of twoThe most remark'd i'th' Kingdome: as for Cromwell,Beside that of the Iewell-House, is made MasterO'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' ArchbyshopIs the Kings hand, and tongue, and who dare speakOne syllable against him?Gard. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,There are that Dare, and I my selfe haue ventur'dTo speake my minde of him: and indeed this day,Sir (I may tell it you) I thinke I haueIncenst the Lords o'th' Councell, that he is(For so I know he is, they know he is)A most Arch-Heretique, a PestilenceThat does infect the Land: with which, they mouedHaue broken with the King, who hath so farreGiuen eare to our Complaint, of his great Grace,And Princely Care, fore-seeing those fell Mischiefes,Our Reasons layd before him, hath commandedTo morrow Morning to the Councell BoordHe be conuented. He's a ranke weed Sir Thomas,And we must root him out. From your AffairesI 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 herWhat you commanded me, but by her woman,I sent your Message, who return'd her thankesIn the great'st humblenesse, and desir'd your HighnesseMost 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 madeAlmost each pang, a death
King. Alas good Lady
Suf. God safely quit her of her Burthen, andWith gentle Trauaile, to the gladding ofYour Highnesse with an Heire
King. 'Tis midnight Charles,Prythee to bed, and in thy Prayres rememberTh' estate of my poore Queene. Leaue me alone,For I must thinke of that, which companyWould not be friendly too
Suf. I wish your HighnesseA quiet night, and my good Mistris willRemember 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 whereforeI sent for you
Cran. It is my dutieT' attend your Highnesse pleasure
King. Pray you ariseMy 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 lateHeard many greeuous, I do say my LordGreeuous complaints of you; which being consider'd,Haue mou'd Vs, and our Councell, that you shallThis Morning come before vs, where I knowYou cannot with such freedome purge your selfe,But that till further Triall, in those ChargesWhich will require your Answer, you must takeYour patience to you, and be well contentedTo make your house our Towre: you, a Brother of vsIt fits we thus proceed, or else no witnesseWould come against you
Cran. I humbly thanke your Highnesse,And am right glad to catch this good occasionMost throughly to be winnowed, where my ChaffeAnd Corne shall flye asunder. For I knowThere's none stands vnder more calumnious tongues,Then I my selfe, poore man
King. Stand vp, good Canterbury,Thy Truth, and thy Integrity is rootedIn 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'dYou would haue giuen me your Petition, thatI should haue tane some paines, to bring togetherYour selfe, and your Accusers, and to haue heard youWithout indurance further
Cran. Most dread Liege,The good I stand on, is my Truth and Honestie:If they shall faile, I with mine EnemiesWill triumph o're my person, which I waigh not,Being of those Vertues vacant. I feare nothingWhat can be said against me
King. Know you notHow your state stands i'th' world, with the whole world?Your Enemies are many, and not small; their practisesMust beare the same proportion, and not euerThe Iustice and the Truth o'th' question carriesThe dew o'th' Verdict with it; at what easeMight corrupt mindes procure, Knaues as corruptTo sweare against you: Such things haue bene done.You are Potently oppos'd, and with a MaliceOf 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'dVpon 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 MaiestyProtect mine innocence, or I fall intoThe 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 seeYou do appeare before them. If they shall chanceIn charging you with matters, to commit you:The best perswasions to the contraryFaile not to vse, and with what vehemencieTh' occasion shall instruct you. If intreatiesWill render you no remedy, this RingDeliuer them, and your Appeale to vsThere make before them. Looke, the goodman weeps:He's honest on mine Honor. Gods blest Mother,I sweare he is true-hearted, and a souleNone 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 bringWill make my boldnesse, manners. Now good AngelsFly o're thy Royall head, and shade thy personVnder their blessed wings
King. Now by thy lookesI 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 heauenBoth now, and euer blesse her: 'Tis a GyrlePromises Boyes heereafter. Sir, your QueenDesires your Visitation, and to beAcquainted 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? IleHaue 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 GentlemanThat was sent to me from the Councell, pray'd meTo 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 gladI came this way so happily. The KingShall vnderstand it presently.
Exit Buts
Cran. 'Tis Buts.The Kings Physitian, as he past alongHow earnestly he cast his eyes vpon me:Pray heauen he found not my disgrace: for certaineThis 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 meWait else at doore: a fellow Councellor'Mong Boyes, Groomes, and Lackeyes.But their pleasuresMust 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 thoughtThey had parted so much honesty among 'em,At least good manners; as not thus to sufferA man of his Place, and so neere our fauourTo 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 placedvnderthe State. Enter Lord Chancellour, places himselfe at the vpper endof theTable, on the left hand: A Seate being left void aboue him, as forCanterburies Seate. Duke of Suffolke, Duke of Norfolke, Surrey,LordChamberlaine, Gardiner, seat themselues in Order on each side.Cromwell atlower 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 sorryTo sit heere at this present, and beholdThat Chayre stand empty: But we all are menIn our owne natures fraile, and capableOf our flesh, few are Angels; out of which frailtyAnd 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 fillingThe 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 tooMy 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 sufferOut of our easinesse and childish pittyTo one mans Honour, this contagious sicknesse;Farewell all Physicke: and what followes then?Commotions, vprores, with a generall TaintOf 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 ProgresseBoth of my Life and Office, I haue labour'd,And with no little study, that my teachingAnd the strong course of my Authority,Might goe one way, and safely; and the endWas 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 heartWith lesse Allegeance in it. Men that makeEnuy, 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 pleasureAnd 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, LordBecome 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 discouersTo 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 respectFor what they haue beene: 'tis a cruelty,To load a falling man
Gard. Good M[aster]. Secretary,I cry your Honour mercie; you may worstOf all this Table say so
Crom. Why my Lord?Gard. Doe not I know you for a FauourerOf 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 agreedI take it, by all voyces: That forthwith,You be conuaid to th' Tower a Prisoner;There to remaine till the Kings further pleasureBe 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 causeOut of the gripes of cruell men, and giue itTo 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 LordsThe King will suffer but the little fingerOf 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 InformationsAgainst this man, whose honesty the DiuellAnd 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 ChurchThe cheefe ayme of his Honour, and to strengthenThat holy duty out of deare respect,His Royall selfe in Iudgement comes to heareThe cause betwixt her, and this great offender
Kin. You were euer good at sodaine Commendations,Bishop of Winchester. But know I come notTo heare such flattery now, and in my presenceThey 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 sureThou hast a cruell Nature and a bloody.Good man sit downe: Now let me see the proudestHee, 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-boyAt Chamber dore? and one, as great as you are?Why, what a shame was this? Did my CommissionBid ye so farre forget your selues? I gaue yePower, 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 farreMy most dread Soueraigne, may it like your Grace,To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'dConcerning 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 PrinceMay be beholding to a Subiect; IAm 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 CanterburyI 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 gloryIn 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 oldDuchesse of Norfolke, and Lady Marquesse Dorset? willthese please you?Once more my Lord of Winchester, I charge youEmbrace, and loue this man
Gard. With a true heart,And Brother; loue I doe it
Cran. And let HeauenWitnesse how deare, I hold this Confirmation
Kin. Good Man, those ioyfull teares shew thy true hearts,The common voyce I see is verifiedOf thee, which sayes thus: Doe my Lord of CanterburyA shrewd turne, and hee's your friend for euer:Come Lords, we trifle time away: I longTo 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-treestaues, 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 rudeRaskalls?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 sleepeOn 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 anyThat 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 theseYour faithfull friends o'th' Suburbs? We shall haueGreat 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 allBy th' heeles, and sodainly: and on your headsClap round Fines for neglect: y'are lazy knaues,And heere ye lye baiting of Bombards, whenYe should doe Seruice. Harke the Trumpets sound,Th'are come already from the Christening,Go breake among the preasse, and finde away outTo let the Troope passe fairely; or Ile findeA 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 ofSuffolke, twoNoblemen, bearing great standing Bowles for the ChristeningGuifts: Thenfoure Noblemen bearing a Canopy, vnder which the Dutchesse ofNorfolke,Godmother, bearing the Childe richly habited in a Mantle, &c.Traine borneby a Lady: Then followes the Marchionesse Dorset, the otherGodmother, andLadies. The Troope passe once about the Stage, and Garterspeakes.
Gart. HeauenFrom thy endlesse goodnesse, send prosperous life,Long, and euer happie, to the high and MightyPrincesse of England Elizabeth.
Flourish. Enter King and Guard.
Cran. And to your Royall Grace, & the good Queen,My Noble Partners, and my selfe thus prayAll 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 promisesVpon 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 neuerMore couetous of Wisedome, and faire VertueThen this pure Soule shall be. All Princely GracesThat 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 singThe 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 whenThe 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 HonourShall 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 ChildrenShall 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 passeTo th' ground, and all the World shall mourne her
Kin. O Lord ArchbishopThou hast made me now a man, neuer beforeThis 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 desireTo 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 pleaseAll that are heere: Some come to take their ease,And sleepe an Act or two; but those we feareW'haue frighted with our Trumpets: so 'tis cleare,They'l say tis naught. Others to heare the CityAbus'd extreamly, and to cry that's witty,Which wee haue not done neither; that I feareAll the expected good w'are like to heare.For this Play at this time, is onely inThe 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 thento 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 ownprice. Is't a Verdict?All. No more talking on't; Let it be done, away, away2.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 accounta Vice in him: You must in no way say he is couetous
1.Cit. If I must not, I neede not be barren of Accusationshe 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 matterSpeake 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 honestNeighbours, will you vndo your selues?2 Cit. We cannot Sir, we are vndone already
Men. I tell you Friends, most charitable careHaue the Patricians of you for your wants.Your suffering in this dearth, you may as wellStrike at the Heauen with your staues, as lift themAgainst the Roman State, whose course will onThe way it takes: cracking ten thousand CurbesOf more strong linke assunder, then can euerAppeare in your impediment. For the Dearth,The Gods, not the Patricians make it, andYour knees to them (not armes) must helpe. Alacke,You are transported by CalamityThether, where more attends you, and you slanderThe 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 mustConfesse your selues wondrous Malicious,Or be accus'd of Folly. I shall tell youA pretty Tale, it may be you haue heard it,But since it serues my purpose, I will ventureTo scale't a little more
2 Citizen. Well,Ile heare it Sir: yet you must not thinkeTo fobbe off our disgrace with a tale:But and't please you deliuer
Men. There was a time, when all the bodies membersRebell'd against the Belly; thus accus'd it:That onely like a Gulfe it did remaineI'th midd'st a th' body, idle and vnactiue,Still cubbording the Viand, neuer bearingLike labour with the rest, where th' other InstrumentsDid see, and heare, deuise, instruct, walke, feele,And mutually participate, did ministerVnto the appetite; and affection commonOf 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 replyedTo'th' discontented Members, the mutinous partsThat enuied his receite: euen so most fitly,As you maligne our Senators, for thatThey are not such as you
2.Cit. Your Bellies answer: WhatThe 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 helpesIn 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 firstWhich you do liue vpon: and fit it is,Because I am the Store-house, and the ShopOf the whole Body. But, if you do remember,I send it through the Riuers of your bloodEuen 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 VeinesFrom me receiue that naturall competencieWhereby 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, cannotSee what I do deliuer out to each,Yet I can make my Awdit vp, that allFrom 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 examineTheir Counsailes, and their Cares; disgest things rightly,Touching the Weale a'th Common, you shall findeNo publique benefit which you receiueBut 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, poorestOf 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 roguesThat 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 flatterBeneath 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 areA sickmans Appetite; who desires most thatWhich would encrease his euill. He that dependsVpon 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 elseWould feede on one another? What's their seeking?Men. For Corne at their owne rates, wherof they sayThe Citie is well stor'd
Mar. Hang 'em: They say?They'l sit by th' fire, and presume to knowWhat's done i'th Capitoll: Who's like to rise,Who thriues, & who declines: Side factions, & giue outConiecturall 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 QuarrieWith thousands of these quarter'd slaues, as highAs I could picke my Lance
Menen. Nay these are almost thoroughly perswaded:For though abundantly they lacke discretionYet 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 ProuerbesThat Hunger-broke stone wals: that dogges must eateThat meate was made for mouths. That the gods sent notCorne for the Richmen onely: With these shredsThey vented their Complainings, which being answer'dAnd a petition granted them, a strange one,To breake the heart of generosity,And make bold power looke pale, they threw their capsAs 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 wisdomsOf their owne choice. One's Iunius Brutus,Sicinius Velutus, and I know not. Sdeath,The rabble should haue first vnroo'st the CityEre so preuayl'd with me; it will in timeWin vpon power, and throw forth greater TheamesFor 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 ventOur mustie superfluity. See our best Elders.Enter Sicinius Velutus, Annius Brutus Cominius, Titus Lartius,with otherSenatours.
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, & hevpon my partie, I'de reuolt to makeOnely my warres with him. He is a LionThat 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, thouShalt 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 knowOur greatest Friends attend vs
Tit. Lead you on: Follow Cominius, we must followeyou, 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 growneToo proud to be so valiant
Sicin. Such a Nature, tickled with good successe, disdainesthe shadow which he treads on at noone, but I dowonder, his insolence can brooke to be commanded vnderCominius?Bru. Fame, at the which he aymes,In whom already he's well grac'd, cannotBetter be held, nor more attain'd then byA place below the first: for what miscarriesShall be the Generals fault, though he performeTo th' vtmost of a man, and giddy censureWill then cry out of Martius: Oh, if heHad borne the businesse
Sicin. Besides, if things go well,Opinion that so stickes on Martius, shallOf his demerits rob Cominius
Bru. Come: halfe all Cominius Honors are to MartiusThough Martius earn'd them not: and all his faultsTo Martius shall be Honors, though indeedIn ought he merit not
Sicin. Let's hence, and heareHow the dispatch is made, and in what fashionMore then his singularity, he goesVpon 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 StateThat could be brought to bodily act, ere RomeHad circumuention: 'tis not foure dayes goneSince I heard thence, these are the words, I thinkeI haue the Letter heere: yes, heere it is;They haue prest a Power, but it is not knowneWhether 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 PreparationWhether '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 whenThey needs must shew themselues, which in the hatchingIt seem'd appear'd to Rome. By the discouery,We shalbe shortned in our ayme, which wasTo take in many Townes, ere (almost) RomeShould know we were a-foot
2.Sen. Noble Auffidius,Take your Commission, hye you to your Bands,Let vs alone to guard CoriolesIf they set downe before's: for the remoueBring vp your Army: but (I thinke) you'l findeTh'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 strikeTill 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 feareThough you were borne in Rome; his bloody browWith his mail'd hand, then wiping, forth he goesLike to a Haruest man, that task'd to moweOr all, or loose his hyre
Virg. His bloody Brow? Oh Iupiter, no blood
Volum. Away you Foole; it more becomes a manThen gilt his Trophe. The brests of HecubaWhen she did suckle Hector, look'd not louelierThen Hectors forhead, when it spit forth bloodAt Grecian sword. Contenning, tell ValeriaWe 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 goodfaith. 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