OLDCASTLE

Thou peevish froward man, what wouldst thou have? Yea, except thou have a crew of Silly knaves, And sturdy rogues, still feeding at my gate, There is no hospitality with thee. 'Tis long then of such hungry knaves as you, pointing to the beggars Yea sir, heres your retinue, your guests be come, They know their hours I warrant you. Now sir, here be your Alms knights. Now are you as safe as the Emperor. Comfort your self my lord, I warrant you. Peace you old fool, sirrah, convey this gentleman in the back way, and bring the other into the walk. I thought as much, that it would not be long before I herd of something from the King, about this matter. A deed of clemency, Your Highness pardon for Lord Powesse life, Which I did beg, and you my noble Lord, Of gracious favour did vouchsafe to grant. Not yet my Liege. one ready with pen and ink. Upon mine honour so, no otherwise. Prelate, thou liest, even in thy greasy maw, Or whosoever twits me with the name, Of either traitor, or of heretic. Last night my Lord. I humbly bid farewell unto my liege. Exit Farewell my noble lords: my noble lords? My noble villains, base conspirators, How can they look his Highness in the face, Whom they so closely study to betray? But isle not sleep until I make it known. This head shall not be burdened with such thoughts, Nor in this heart will I conceal a deed Of such impiety against my king. Madam, how now? Enter Harpoole and the rest. Long life and prosperous reign unto my Lord. Of treason mighty prince, your grace mistakes, I hope it is but in the way of mirth. Rebellion good my Lord, I know of none. Speak sirs, not one but all, I crave no favour, Have ever I been conversant with you, Or written letters to encourage you, Or kindled but the least or smallest partly, Of this your late unnatural rebellion? Speak for I dare the uttermost you can. Nay, nay, they know thee well enough, I think that all the beggars in this land are thy acquaintance, go bestow your alms, none will control you sir. If thou wilt give them nothing, send them hence, let them not stand here starving in the cold. Even the worst deed that ere my mother did, was in relieving such a fool as thou. Go you old fool, give the poor people some thing, go in poor men into the inner court, and take such alms as there is to be had. What fellow's yonder comes along the grove? Few passengers there be that know this way: Me thinks he stops as though he stayed for me, And meant to shroud himself amongst the bushes. I know the Clergy hate me to the death, And my religion gets me many foes: And this may be some desperate rogue, Subornd to work me mischief: As it Pleases God, if he come towards me, sure I'll stay his coming, be he but one man, What soere he be: The Lord Powis comes on. I have been well acquainted with that face. You are welcome sir, what ere you be, But of this sudden sir, I do not know you. My honourable lord, and worthy friend, What makes your lordship thus alone in Kenned, And thus disguised in this strange attire? I hope no man was violently slain. I am sorry, my good lord, of these ill news. Your lordship is most welcome unto Cobham, But I am very sorry, my good lord, My name was brought in question in this matter, Considering I have many enemies, That threaten malice, and do lie in wait To take advantage of the smallest thing. But you are welcome, and repose your lordship, And keep your self here secret in my house, Until we hear how the lord Herbert speeds: Here comes my man. Enter Harpoole. Sirrah, what news? My gracious Lord unto your Majesty, Next unto my God, I owe my life, And what is mine, either by nature's gift, Or Fortune's bounty, all is at your service, But for obedience to the Pope of Room, I owe him none, nor shall his shaveling priests That are in England, altar my belief. If out of holy Scripture they can prove, That I am in and error, I will yield, And gladly take instruction at their hands, But otherwise, I do beseech your grace, My conscience may not be incroacht upon. My liege, if any breathe, that dares come forth, And say, my life in any of these points Deserves th'attaindor of ignoble thoughts Here stand I, craving no remorse at all, But even the utmost rigor may be shown. All night or day it must be so, sweet wife, Urge me not why or what my business is, But get you in: Lord Powesse, bear with me, And madam, think your welcome never the worse: My house is at your use. Harpoo e, away. What will these Ostlers sleep all day? Good morrow, good morrow, Come wench, come, Saddle, saddle, now afore God too foord-dayes, would? What, will no body open the gates here? Come, lets int stable to look to our capons. God bless your honour, God save the good Lord Cobham, and all his house, Jesu defend me, Is't possible your cunning could so temper The princely disposition of his mind, To sign the damage of a royal subject? Well, the best is, it bears and ancedate, Procured by my absence, and your malice, But I, since that, have showed my self as true, As any churchman that dare challenge me, Let me be brought before his majesty, If he acquit me not, then do your worst. What mean you sir to trouble weary souls, And interrupt us of our quiet sleep? O give me patience to endure this scourge, Thou that art fountain of that virtuous stream, And though contempt, false witness, and reproach Hang on these iron gives, to press my life As low as earth, yet strengthen me with faith, That I may mount in spirit above the clouds. Here comes my lady, sorrow 'tis for her, Thy wound is grievous, else I scoff at thee. What and poor Harpoole! art thou ith briars too? What will that help us? being known, sweet love, We shall for heresy be put to death, For so they term the religion we profess. No, if it be ordained we must die, And at this instant, this our comfort be, That of the gilded imposed, our souls are free. No Cobham ̄ now, nor madam as you love us, But John of Lancashire, and Joan his wife. That we are free from murders very thought, And know not how the gentleman was slain. Journeying my lord from London from the term, Down into Lancashire where we do dwell, And what with age and travel being faint, We gladly sought a place where we might rest, Free from resort of other passengers, And so we strayed into that secret corner. 'Tis true my Lord, and God forgive him for it. welcome good master Butler. God bless his Highness, and confound his enne mies, I hope his Majesty is well. God long continue it: me thinks you look as though you were not well, what ails you sir? I am very sorry sir for your mischance, we will send our warrant forth, to stay such suspicious persons as shall be found, then master Butler, we will attend you. My lord of Cambridge? Your honour is most welcome into Kenned, And all the rest of this fair company. I am new come from London, gentle ordes: But will you not take Cowling for your host, And see what entertainment it affords? Business my lord? what business should you have But to be merry? we have no delicates, But this I'll promise you, a piece of venison, A cup of wine, and so forth: hunter's fare: And if you please, weel strike the stag our selves Shall fill our dishes with his wel-fed flesh. My lords, and you shall have your choice with me. 'Tis pity such a goodly beast should die. Faith Lords, I Like the pastime, where the place? Call you this hunting, my lords? Is this the stag You feign would chase, Harry our dread king? So we may make a banquet for the devil, And in the fleed of wholesome meat, prepare A dish of poison to confound our selves. Notorious treason! yet I will conceal aside My secret thought , to found the depth of it. My lord of Cambridge, I do see your claim, And what good may redound unto the land, By prosecuting of this enterprise. ut where are men? where's power and furniture To order such and Actium? we are weak, Harry, you know's a mighty potentate. Some likelihood, I must confess, to speed: ut how shall I believe this is plain truth? You are (my lords) such men as live in Court, And highly have been favoured of the king, Especially lord Scroop, whom oftentimes He m keth choice of for his bedfellow. And you lord Grey are of his privy council: Is not this a train to entrap my life? Nay you are noble men, and I imagine, As you a e honourable by birth and blood, So you will be in heart, in thought, in word. I crave no other testimony but this. That you wou worser all subscribe, and set your hands Unto this writing which you gave to me. Sir, let me crave, That you would likewise write your name with theirs, For confirmation of your masters word, The king of France. So now this Actium is well knit together, And I am for you: where`S our meeting, lords? In Kenned? agreed: now let us in to supper, I hope your honours will not away to night. Yet taste a cup of wine before you go. Madam, not so: there is your husbands pardon, Long may you live, each joy unto the other. et that alone: and madam stay me not, For I must back unto the court again With all the speed I can: Harpoole, my horse. Yea sir, your gelding, mount you presently exe. Let this my Lord, which I present your grace Speak for my loyalty, read these articles, And then give sentence of my life or death. There is the platform, and their hands, my lord, Each severally subscribed to the same. Harpoole, Harpoole, I hear a marvelous noise a bout the house, God warrant us, I fear we are pursued: what Harpoole. 'Tis I, dost thou not hear a noise about the house? Harpoole what business have we here in hand? What makes the Bishop and the Sheriff here, I fear my coming home is dangerous, I would I had not made such haste to Cobham. Treason M. Croomes? Harpoole I charge thee stir not, but be quiet still, Do you arrest me M. Shrieve for treason? Defiance in his face that calls me so, I am as true a loyal gentleman Unto his highness, as my proudest enemy, The King shall witness my late faithful service, For safety of his sacred majesty. Thither my God Lord, And if he do not clear me of all gilded, And all suspicion of conspiracy, Pawning his princely warrant for my truth: I ask no favour, but extremest torture. Bring me, or send me to him, good my Lord, Good my Lord Warden, M Shrieve, entreat. Come hither lady, nay, sweet wife forbear, To heap one sorrow on another's neck, 'Tis grief enough falsely to be accused, And not permitted to acquit my self, Do not thou with thy kind respective tears, Torment thy husbands heart that bleeds for thee, But be of comfort, God hath help in store, For those that put assured trust in him. Dear wife, if they commit me to the Tower, Come up to London to your sisters house: That being near me, you may comfort me. One solace find I settled in my soul, That I am free from treasons very thought, Only my conscience for the Gospels sake, Is cause of all the troubles I sustain. May it not be my Lord of Rochester? Wherein have I incurd your hate so far, That my appeal unto the King's denied? Your private malice more than public power, Strikes most at me, but with my life it ends. Come Madam, happily escaped, here let us fit, This place is far remote from any path, And here awhile our weary limbs may rest, To take refreshing, free from the pursuit Of envious Winchester. No matter love, Extremities admit no better choice, And were it not for thee, say froward time, Imposed a greater task, I would esteem it As lightly as the wind that blows upon us, But in thy sufferance I am doubly tasked, Thou wast not wont to have the earth thy stool, Nor the moist dewy grass thy pillow, nor Thy chamber to be the wide horrison, Pray God poor Harpoole come, If he should fallen into the Bishops hands, Or not remember where we bade him meet us, It were the thing of all things else, that now Could breed revolt in this new peace of mind. That power be still his guide hath guided us, My drowsy eyes wax heavy, early rising, Together with the travel we have had, Make me that I could gladly take a nap, Were I persuaded we might be secure. I shall deer wife, Be too much trouble to thee. Nothing but this, that you conceal our names, So gentle lady pass for being spied. My Lord Warden o'th cinque Ports, & my Lord of Rochester, you are joint Commissioners, favour me so much, On my expense to bring me to the king. Praise be to him whose plenty sends both this, And all things else our mortal bodies needs, Nor scorn we this poor feeding, nor the state We now are in, for what is it on earth, Nay under heaven, continues at a stay? Ebbs not the sea, when it hath overflown? Flows not darkness when the day is gone? And see we not sometime the eye of heaven, Dimmed with overflying clouds: the es not that work Of careful nature, or of cunning art, (How strong, how beauteous, or how rich it be) But falls in time to ruin: here gentle Madame, In this one draught I wash my sorrow down. drinks. God bless my soul from such cold charity, No more I say, peace lest he should suspect it. My lord of Rochester on good advise, I see my error, but yet understand me, I mean not error in the faith I hold, But error in submitting to your pleasure, Therefore your lordship without more to do. Must be a means to help me to escape. This is well begun, God send us happy speed, Hard shift you see men make in time of needs: Harpoole. The inner rooms be very hight and close, I do not Like this air here in the Tower. Fellow thou troublest me. Fellow, go back again unto thy Lord and counsel him. Villain away. As we are innocent, so may we speed. In faith sir, for my self I do not greatly pass, My wife is weary, and would be at rest, For we have traveled very far to day, We must be content with such as you have.