ELIZABETH

We are not pleased with your intrusions Lords. Is your hast such, of your affairs so urgent, That suddenly, and at this time of night, You press on one, and will not stay till morn? And I my Lords not glad, My heart, o how it beats. My Inocence yet makes my heart as light, As my front's heavy: all that heaven sends is welcome Gentlemen divide these few crowns amongst you, I am now a prisoner; and shall want nothing, I have some friends about her majesty, That are providing for me all things; all things; I, even my graven; and being possessed of that, I shall needs nothing: weep not I pray, Rather you should rejoice: If I miscarry in this enterprise, and ask you why, A Virgin and a Martyr both I die. Whats my of offence? who be my accusers. What says the Queen unto my late petition. They shall be welcome; my God in whom I trust, Will help, deliver, save, defend the joust. My duty with my Fortune's do agree, And to the Queen in you I bend my knee. Know you your own gilded my good Lord Chancellor, That you accuse your self, I think not so, I am of this mind, no man is my foe. Submit my Lord of Winchester, 'tis fit That none but base offenders should submit, No no my Lord, I easily spy your drift, Having nothing whereon you can accuse me, Do seek to have my self, my self betray, So by my self my own blood should be spilled, Confess submission I confess a gilded. My reverent Lord I know it. O my good Lord he could not. My God be praised, this is news but of a minute old. Ask the unborn Infant, see what that will answer, For that and I, are both alike in gilded, Let not by rigor Innocent blood be spilled. Treason Lords, if it be treason to be the daughter To th'Eight Henry ; Sister to Edward, and the next of blood unto My gracious sovereign now the Queen I am a traitor: if not, I Spit at treason. In Henries reign this Law could not have stood, Oh God that we should suffer for our blood. My God does know, I can no note but truth, That with heavens King, One day in quires of Angels I shall sing. My life I will, but not as guilty, My Lords, let pale offenders pardon crave, If we offend, Laws rigor let us have. Thou power eternal, Innocents joust guide, That sways the Sceptre of all Monarchies, Protect the guiltless from these ravening Jaws, That hideous death presents, by Tyrants Laws, And as my heart is known to thee most pure, Grant me release, or patience to endure. Well, well, I thank my God, well, How can a cause go ill with Innocents, They that to whom wrongs in this world are done, Shall be rewarded in the world to come. The Tower, for what? O God my heart: A prisoner in the Tower, Speak to the Queen my Lords, that some other place May lodge her sister, that's too vild, too base. Then to our chamber comfortless and sad, To morrow to the tower that fatal place, Where I shall never behold the suns bright face. No matter where I tread, Would where I set my foot, there lay my head, Land Traitor Like; my foot's wet in the flood, So shall my heart ere long be drenched in blood. No let it a lone: See gentle men, The piteous heavens weeps tears into my bosom, On this cold stone I fit, rain in my face, But better here, than in a worse place Where this bade man will led me. Clarentia, reach my book, now lead me where you please From sighed of day; or in a dungeon; I shall see to pray. Welcome sweet boy, what hast thou brought me there. God a mercy boy, heeres to requite thy love. They keep even infants from us, they do well, My sighed they have too long barred, and now my smell, This tower hath made me fallen to huswiffry, I spend my labors to relieve the poor, Go Gage distribute these to those that need. It seems so by his charge, but tell me Gage, Is yet the scaffold standing on tower hill, Whereon young Gilford and the Lady Jane did suffer death. Lord Howard what is he. With all my heart, farewell, farewell, I am freed from Lymbo to be sent to hell. Exeunt omnes. What are these? Give them this Gold, and thank them for their loves. Alas poor men, help them thou God above, Thus men are forced to suffer for my love, What said my servants, those that stood aloof? Say to them tanquam Ovis. What fearful terror does assail my heart? Good Gage come hither and resolve me true In thy opinion; shall I out live this night, I pre thee speak. Then to be plain this night I look to die. My heart is fearful. To write a letter to the Queen my sister. Good Jailer urge not thy Commission. Then reach me pen and ink. Thus you have driven me of from time to time, Still urging me with your Commission. Good Jailer be not so severe. As often as you name your Commission, So often will I call you Jailer. I do not keep a servant so dishonest, That would deny me that. Gage leave me to my self, Thou ever living power, that givest all hearts, Give to my pen, a true persuasive style, That it may move my impatient sisters ears, And urge her to compassionate my woe. She writes. My heart is heavy and my heart does close, I am weary of writing, sleepy on the sudden, Clarentia, leave me, and command some music In the withdrawing chamber. she sleeps. Oh God, how pleasant was this sleep to me? Clarentia, sawest thou nothing? Nor heardest thou nothing? Should they submit that never wrought offence, The Law will always quit wronged Innocence: Gage, take my letter, to the Lords commend my humble duty. I wonder Gage that we have stayed so long, So near the Court, and yet have herd no news From our displeased sister, this more affrites me Then my former troubles, I fear this Hampton court Will be my graven. Welcome my good Lo: Howard what says the Queen, Will she admit my sighed? That God that raised you, stay you, and protect You from your foes, and clear me from suspect. Neither dread Queen, mine is a womanish tear, In partly compelled by joy, and partly by fear: Joy of your sighed, these brinish tears have bred, For fear of my Queens frown, to strike me dead. You were my sister, now you are my Queen. My life madam I will, but not as guilty, Should I confess Fault done by her, that never did transgress. Iioy to have a sister Queen so royal, I would it as much pleased your majesty, That you enjoy a sister that's so true: If I were guilty of the least offence, Madame, 'twould taint the blood even in your face, The treasons of the father being noble, Unnobles all your children, let your grace Exact all torture and imprisonment, What ere my greatest enemies can devise, And they all have done their worst, yet I Will your true subject and true sister die. Madame to death I will, but not to sin. I think I am not. I would your highness were. To think as I think that my soul is clear. I'll not say so. Then God hath kept his promise. To raise them friends that on his word rely. Oh God, my last nights dream I greatly fear, It does presage my death, good master Gage Look to the pathway that does come from the court, I look each minute for death's messenger. Would he were here now, so my soul were pure, That I with patience might the stroke endure. Oh God, what means this hast? Pray for my soul, my life cannot long last. This same is but as prologue to my death, My heart is guiltless though they take my breath. God save the Queen, so all good subjects say: I am her subject, and for her still pray. This news is sweet, my heart was soar afraid: Rise thou first Barron that we ever made. Thanks good Sir John, we will deserve your love. Lord Howard thanks you ever were our friend, I see your love continues to the end, But chiefly, thanks to you my Lord of Hunsdon. The very same; His tongue was first proclaimer of our name: And trusly Gage in token of our Grace, We give to you a captain Pensioners place. We will descend & meet them. We thank you all. Whilst we this Crown so long your place enjoy. Keep it my Lord, and with it be you hie admiral. Your love we know. We do as freely pardon as you truly serve, Only your staff of Office weel displace, In stead of that weel owe you greater Grace, What's he, my Jailer? Be not ashamed man, look me in the face, Who have you now to patronise your strictness on? For your kindness this I will bestow, When we have one we would have hardly used And cruelly dealt with, you shall be the man, This is a day for peace, not for vengeance fit, All your good deeds we'll quit, all wrongs remit. Where we left off, proceed. This Sword is ours, this staff is yours again. Possess them still my Lord, what Offices bear you? Some we intend to raise, none to displace; Lord Hunsdon, we will one day find a staff To poise your hand: you are our Cousin, And deserve to be employed nearer our person: But now to you from whom we take this staff, Since Cardinal Pool is now deceased and dead, To show all malice from our breast is worn, Before you let that Purse and Mace be born, And now to London Lords led on the way, Praising that King, that all Kings else obey. We thank you all: but first this book I kiss. Thou art the way to honour; thou to bliss, And English Bible, thanks my good Lord Mayor, You of our body and our soul have care, This is the Jewel that we still love best, This was our solace when we were distressed, This book that hath so long concealed it self, So long shut up, so long hid; now Lords see, We here unclasp, for ever it is free: Who looks for joy, let him this book adore, This is true food for rich men and for poor, Who drinks of this, is certain never to perish, This will the soul with heavenly virtue cherish, Lay hand upon this Anchor every soul, Your names shall be in and eternal scroll; Who builds on this, dwell's in a happy state, This is the fountain clear immaculate, That happy issue that shall us succeed, And in our populous Kingdom this book read: For them as for our own selves we humbly pray, They may live long and blessed; so led the way. At Westminster ? my Lords no soul more glad then I, To do my duty to her Majesty, But I am sorry at the heart, my heart, o good Doctor raise me: O my heart, I hope my Lords, considering my excremity and Weakness, you will dispense a little with your hast. Nor I my Lords to hear a message delivered with such strictness; well must I go. Why then it must be so. 'Tis many a more my feeble legs, Felt this my bodies weight: Oh I shall faint, And if I taste the rawness of the air, I am but dead, indeed I am but dead. 'Tis late, conduct these Lords unto their chambers, And cheer them well for they have iorneyd hard, while we prepare us for our morrows Journey. The Queen is , and we will strive with death To tender her our life, We are her subject, and obey her hest, Good night, we wish you what we want, Good rest. Exeunt omnes. Who is't will say so? men may much suspect, But yet my Lord, none can my life detect, I a confederate with those kentish rebels? If I ere saw or sent to them, let the Queen take my head, Hath not proud Wyat suffered for his offence, And in the purging both of soul and body for heaven, Did Wyat then accuse Elizabeth? Then on this stone, this cold stone I will fit, I needs must say you hardly me entreat, When for a chair, this hard stone is my seat. Hath he not think you a stretch conscience, And if my secret murder should be put into his hands, Hath he not heart think you to execute. Oh God, my fear hath been good physic, But the Queen's displeasure, that hath cured my bodies Imperfectio ̄ , Hath made me heart sick, brain sick, and sick even to death. What are you? We thank you, and am more indebted for your loves Than we have power: or virtue to requite, Alas I am all the Queens, yet nothing of my self, But God and Inocence, be you my Patrons and defend my cause Why weep you gentlemen? Whither my Lord, unto a grate of Iron, Where grief and care my poor heart shall environ, I am not well. It shall not needs the poor are loving, but the rich despise, And though you curb their tongue, spare them their eyes, Your love my smart always not but prolonges, Pray for me in your hearts, not with your tongues, See see my Lord, look I have styled them all, Not one amongst them, but debates my fallen. Madame, he was my foe, and not your friend That hath possessed you so, I am as true a Subject to your Grace, as any lives this day, Did you but see, My heart it bends, far lower than my knee. Didst not thou put this book into my hand? Then 'twas by inspiration, heaven I trust With his eternal hand, will guide the joust. What chapter's this? Who so putteth his trust in the Lord, Shall not be confounded: My saviour thanks, on thee my hope I built, Thou lovest poor Innocents, and art their shield. My honoured Lord farewell, unwilling I With grief and woe must continue, Help me to some ink and paper good Sir Harry. Is not my gentleman usher yet returned.