PRIOR

Why Doncaster? his kindness in our needs. But will you give it him? What hast thou done to them? Now by this gold I will. Well, he shall die, and in his jollity: And in my head I have a policy To make him die disgraced. I will, but not as now: Call the Friar within. Weel seek a place, the wods have many ears, And some me thinks are calling for the Friar. Why, what a servile slavish mind hast thou? Art thou a man, and canst be such a beast, Asslike to bear the burden of thy wrong? Warman, thou art a fool. I do confess, Were these good deeds done in sincerity, Pity of mind, thine or this knights distress, Without vain brags, it were true charity: But to relieve our fainting bodies wants, And grieve our souls with quips, and bitter braids, Is good turns ouerturnd: no thanks we owe To any, whatsoever helps us so. Is't not as much to say; Why, here he stands that once did me betray. Oh, I: there was a rare invention: A plague upon the fool. I hate him worse for that than all the rest. Cry to thy thoughts, let this thought never cease, I have be Justice of my Sovereigns peace, Lord of fair livings: men with cap and knee, In liveries waited hourly on me. Nay think withal A blessed hour: a fit time now to die: What, hast thou made him sure? Then let us thrust the dagger in his hand, And when the next comes, cry he killed himself. No, no, not any life. Three mortal wounds have let in piercing air, And at their gaps, his life is clean let out. Warman, good nephew, whom sir Doncaster & I Found freshly bleeding, as he now does lie. You were scarce gone, when he did stab himself. Good, all is good: this is as I desire. Now for a face of pure hypocrisy: Sweet murder, cloth thee in religious weeds, Reign in my bosom, that with help of thee, I may effect this Robins Tragedy. Truly I wonder at your virtuous mind: Oh God to one so kind, who'ud be unkind? Let go this grief, now must you put on joy, And for the many favours I have found, So much exceeding all conceit of mine, Unto your cheer, I'll add a precious drink, Of colour rich, and read, sent me from Room There's in it Moly, Syrian Balsamum, Golds rich Elixer: Oh 'tis precious! As yesterday, Sir Doncaster and I rid on our way, Thieves did beset us, bound us as you saw: And among other things, did take from me, This rich confection: but regardlessly, As common drink, they cast, into a bush, The bottle, which this day sir Doncaster Fetched, and hath left it in the inner lodging: I tell you cousin (I do love you well) A pint of this ransomde the Sophies son, When he was taken in Natoliam. I meant indeed to give it my liege Lord, In hope to have his favour: but to you I put my self, be my good friend, And, in your own restoring, me restore. It keeps fresh youth, restores diseased sighed, Helps nature's weakness, smothes the scars of wou ̄ ds, And cools the entrails with a balmy breath, When they by thirst or travel boil with heat. And when he drinks, be bold to say he drinks A richer draught than that dissolved pearl, Which Cleopatra drank to Antony. I warrant you, good Nephew. Would, would, would, I cannot choose but laugh, To see my cousin cosend in this sort. Fail him quoth you? nay hang me if I do. But Doncaster art sure the poisons are well mixed? Shall I be plain? Because if he were dead, I should be made the Earl of Huntington. Cut man, if that would fallen, I'll have a dispensation, and turn temporal. But tell me Doncaster, why dost thou hate him? But it shall be the woefullest day That ever chanced her, if I may. Thanks for your kindness, gentle maid. My cousin Robert us hath prayed, To help him in this business. Why, here I am. What wouldst thou Friar. Come, it is here; haste let us make Yes devil: hear thy fellow spirit speak, Who would repent; Oh feign he would repent. After this bodies bitter punishment, There is and everduring endless woe, A quenchless fire, and unconsuming pain, Which desperate souls and bodies must endure. High heavens show mercy to my many ils. Never had this be done, but Like a fiend, Thou temptedst me with ceaseless devilish thoughts. Therefore I curse, with bitterness of soul, The hour wherein I saw thy baleful eyes. My eyes I curse, for looking on those eyes. My ears I curse, for harkening to thy tongue. I curse thy tongue for tempting of mine ears. Each partly I curse, that we call thine or mine: Thine for enticing mine, mine following thine. Will no man curse me, giving so much cause? Then Doncaster, our selves our selves accurse, And let no good betide to thee or me. Keep in, keep in a little while thy soul, Till I have poured my soul forth at thy feet. Oh gentle Nephew, ah my brother's son, Thou dying glory of old Huntington, Wishest thou life to such a murderous foe? I will not live, sith thou must life for go. O happy Warman, blessed in thy end, Now too too late thy truth I do commend. Oh Nephew, Nephew, Doncaster and I Murdered poor Warman, for he did deny To join with us in this black tragedy. The Church therein does err: God does allow No Canon to preserve a murderers life. Richard, king Richard,, in thy Grandsires days, A law was made, the Clergy sworn thereto, That whatsoever Churchman did commit Treason, or murder, or false felony, Should Like a secular be punished. Treason we did, for sure we did intend King Richard's poisoning, Sovereign of this land. Murder we did in working Warmans end, And my deer Nephews, by this fatal hand. And theft we did, for we have robbed the king, The State, the Nobles, Commons, and his men, Of a true Peer, firm Pillar, liberal Lord. Fitzwater we have robbed of a kind son, And Marians love-joys we have quite undone. I ask but judgement for my foul transgression. Well said i'faith. Hark, hark, the king returns: To do this deed, my heart Like fuel burns.