BASTARD

This Land of Germany yields valiant men, Haughty in heart as they in stature are: Ten thousand such had I be Leader of When the Black-prince, lately my greatest Foe, Opposed me at Mazieres, and won the day, I had be Lord of that most noble Field, And where and Hermit now tells over his Beads, Had sat a Soldier and a Conqueror. When imperial Sceptre fills my hand, And I have Caesars wreathe upon my brow, As had my Grandsire, and his royal Father, I'll make Iberia wreak with my foes blood, And force the Dotard to his Hermitage. How Saxon? Between our selves in private. I must. But being installed in the dignity, I'll altar what I swea e. I'll break thy heart first. To prison with them all. Give us our rights. Enough those Vives, take away my life, In the delicious wrapture of my soul, For theres no heaven me thinks Like royal thoughts, The Palsgraues Castles raste unto the ground, And peace established, we mean once again To try our Fortune for the Realm of Spain. The Palsgrave here, now we shall have Your voice to our Election, or for that your life. I dare take up your gage, and answer you. But that I should impair this days renown, By giving desperate men such means to die, Who for you know your Army weak, and few Would hazard that upon a single fight. Which in the Battle you are sure to lose, No Foxlike policy shall blind my sighed, But that I'll see the ruin of you all. This day ith Field, thine Palsgrave and the rest, He combats well rips up and Armies breast. This for and Oath, Th'art but the step by which I did ascend, And being up, rest there till I descend. Here, or elsewhere. Didst ever know a Caesar that could fear. In general, with our powers in the open ̄ field, But not betwixt the Generals privately. It shall be treason to my Fame to day, If I encounter any Foe ith-field, Till I have combated this drunken Saxon. Stand from about me, or I'll strike you dead Most willingly. Thanks for your pains, but yet we will be Foes. Away. If it take, We shall have cause to praise our happiness. All our foes. The Palsgrave is invincible I think. Receive the Crown, but as he wear the same may it crush out his brains. Are they so brave, so hight, & full of courage? So moves the Sun in glory through the sky, Having outpast the clouds that shadow him. We forbid it, that are your Emperor, both in style Bastard ! Are you in your Pulpits? Strikes the Bishops on their Targets, and fights with Saxon. What, the Palsgrave come? We fear you not. Am I your prisoner? We are Brother's. He floue me, would you have me suffer this? At their requests they have requested me To allay my spleen, and take thee into favour. So, now I will imagine that this ground Is all the Empire that my greatness swayles : And that the heads of many rebel Subjects Are placed on thee; that striking off thy head, I cut off half a Nation at a blow. Thou savedst my life, for that I'll set the free. Such be my conquests over those I love. If such a day come, 'twill be black to us: For of all Nations in the world, I hate To deal with Englishmen they conquer so. Thats the best: But shall we only built our Hope's on strength; I think it good to piece the Lyons skin Where it too short falls, with the Foxes skin, A couple of Protean villains I have eady, For any dangerous attempt in peace, And they can poison, stab, and lie in wait Like Serpents, to entrap and cease their prey, Mendoza and Vandome, those are the men: Let them be called in. That unto England presently you sail, And there consort you with the Earl of Artoyes, A Frenchman born, but one that loves us well; Let him and you send us intelligence Of the proceedings of the English King, With the haughty Palsgrave, give the Earl this Letter, By which ye may win credit in his trust: And er't be long I will devise a plot, Which you shall manage, for the general good. Be careful; as you do respect our love, And hope for gold in showers, mean time take this. See our Fleet ready: and ye swelling gales, That blow the good hours, fill our empty sails. Health to the Majesty and Seat of France. I thank King John. The storm has kept us overlong at Sea: But Mighty King of France, worse storms then these Have and will shake us, if you help us not: All things go Backwards, that should bode us good; And he that is Conqueror already, The haughty palsgrave, is to England sailed, To join with Edward in our overthrow. And constrain him & the Palsgrave to the Like disgrace. Not your Honour, because your spirit is rough and turbulent. When I send thither, it shall be in thunder: Yet as the French King order it proceed. There must be but one Emperor, thats our self, Therefore to prison with the counterfeit, Whence neither County Palatine, nor King, Shall with their Forces if they were continued joined, Have power to set thee free. I am Saxons till the Palsgrave die or fly.