ELIDURE

The same to you, and you, you are sad my Lords, your hearts I think are frosty, for your blood Seems crusted in your faces, Like the Due In a September morn, how fares the king, Have you yet bid good morrow to his highness. My dearest love, the essence of my soul, And you my honoured Lords, the suit you make, Though it be joust for many wrongs imposed, Yet unto me it seems and injury. What is my greatness by my brother's fallen, But Like a starved body nourished With the destruction of the other lymbes. Innumerable are the griefs that wait On horded treasures, then much more on Crowns: The middle path, the golden mean for me, Leave me obedience, take you Majesty. I had rather stay his leisure to amend. Carry me to my graven, not to a Throne. Never did any less desire to reign Then I, heaven knows this greatness is my pain. 'Tis sweeter to obey. Good brother grieve not, 'tis against my will, That I am made a King, pray take my place, I had rather be your subject then your Lord. Leave that to me? Not from his life I pray. And therein Lords effect my tragedy. Banish him rather, o sweet spare his life, He is my brother. O brother, if you roughly speak, I know There is no hope but your sure overthrown, Pray be not angry with me for my love: To banishment since it must needs be so, His life I give him whosoere says no. I hers and all. Alas my brother. Give them my Crown, o give them all I have, Thy Throne I reckon but a glorious graven. On to our funeral, 'tis no matter where, I sin I know in suffering pride so near. Hearded, go single him, or couple straight, He will not fallen to day, what fellows this. A banished man I think, My brother Archigallo, is't not so. 'Tis Archigallo man. Yet look upon his misery, his tears Argue repentance; think not honoured Lords The fear of dangers waiting on my Crown Makes me so willing to resign the same, For I am loved I know, but justice bids I make a resignation, 'tis his right, My calls but usurpation. Lord Martianus speak. Yet he are me, stay. Patience sweet wife, Thinkest thou I praise my Crown above thy life, No take it Lords, it hath my trouble been, And for this Crown, o give me back my Queen. I know not how I should deserve to die. My dooms severer then my small offence. Air be made purple with our reaking gore. A third time Lords, I do return your love, And wish it with my soul, so heaven were pleased, My ambitious Brother's had not died for this, But we have given them honourable graves. And mourned their most untimely funeral, My loved Queen, come seat thee by my side, Partner in all my sorrows and my joys, And you her reconciled Sister fit, By her in second place of majesty, It joys me that you have outworn your pride. My Lord of Cornwell, whose that whispers to you? Or whats the news? Weel fit in person on their controversies, Admit them Cornwell. 'Tis good you can acquit you, such abuses, Grow in the country, and unknown to us: nay then no marvel that so many poor, starve in the streets and beg from door, to door. Then sirrah purge you from this country blame, Or we will make thee the world's public shame. What have you there in nobodies pockets. Thou art Just we know, All great men's pockets should be lined so. Your words are dangerous, good honest subject Old reverent statesman, faithful servitor, Do not traduce the King, he's virtuous Or say he tread somewhat beside the line Of virtuous government, his regality Brooks not taxation, kings greatest royalties Are that their subjects must aplaud their deeds, As well as bear them their prerogatives. Are mural interponents betwixt the world, And their proceedings. O ambitious youths. And I may be a wretch: poor Archigallo, The sighed of thee that Wertenberg my Sovereign, In this estate, draws rivers from mine eyes. Will you be king again? if they agree I'll redeliver all my royalty, Save what a second brother and a subject Keeps in and humble bosom, for I swear The Crown is yours that Elidure does wear. Alas, if pity could procure your good, Instead of water, Idem weep tears of blood To express both love and pity: say deer brother I should uncrown my self, the angry Peers Will never let me reach the imperial wreathe To Archigalloes head. There's ancient Cornwell, Stout Martianus, Morgan, and bold Malgo, From whom you took the pleasant Southern I'll, Will never kneel to you: what should I say, Your tyranny was cause of your decay. Knowest him not Cornwell? Noble Cornwell speak More gently, or my piteous heart will break, Lord Martianus, Morgan, and the rest, I am a weary of my government, And willingly resign it to my brother. Alas good Prince, my honourable Lords, Be not flint-harted, pity Archigallo, I know his penitential words proceed From a remorseful spirit, I'll engage My life upon his righteous government. Good Cornwell, gentle Martianus, speak, Shall Archigallo be your king again? See my Lords, He's not ambitious, as thou lovest me Cornwell, As thou didst love our Father, let his son Be righted, give him back the government You took from him. Morgan and Malgo, all I have in Britain Shall be engaged to you, that Archigallo Will never more oppress you, nor impose Wrong on the meanest subject in the Land. Says Malgo so? What says Martianus? Then happy Elidurus, happy day That takes from me a kingdoms cares away. Once more our royal temples are ingirt With Britons golden wreathe, all seeing heaven Witness I not desire this sovereignty, But since this kingdoms good, and your Decrees, Have laid this heaven load of common care On Elidure, we shall discharge the same To your content, I hope, and this Lands fame: Our brother once interred, we will not stay, But then to Troynovant weel speed, away. What seek you Lords? What mean these loud Alarms, in the still silence of this hunnied night? Why Princely brother's is it not our own, That 'tis ours we plead the law of kings, The gift of heaven, and the antiquety on earth, Election from them both. Oh heaven, that men so much should covet care, Scepters are golden baits, the outsides fair: But he that swallows this sweet sugared pill, 'Twill make him sick with troubles that grow still: Alas you seek to ease me being wearied And lay my burden on your able loins, My unambitious thoughts have been long tird, With this great charge, and now they rest desired, And see the kind youths coveting my peace, Bring me of all these turmoils free release. Here take my Crown. Then what you please, Here take my trouble, and resign your ease. Against whom. Villains hear your doom, Thou that hast been the oppression of the poor, Shalt be more poor then penury it S life, All that thou hast is forfeit to the Law, For thy extortion I will have thee branded, Upon the forehead with the letter F. For Cheating whipped, for forging lose thine ears, Last for a basing of thy Sovereigns Coin, And traitorous impress of our kingly seal, Suffer the death of traitors. Bear him hence. now forward Lords, long may our glories stand, Three sundry times Crowned king of this fair land.