KING

Not all the blood and treasure we have spent Like zealous prodigals in Palestine, Goes half so near our heart, as that proud France, Knowing our merit should bar us of our endue. Which is the fellow? Didst thou kill Wallace? How didst thou kill him? hand to hand? Art thou a Gentleman? We have fleshed them soundly. What turned Coward? A dog of so good mouth, and stand at bay? If in this heat of fight we break their ranks, Press through, and charge that devil, Bruce thy self. In how quick time Have we about you built a wall of brass? Had he whom here you call your General A Soldier been remarkable of great breeding, And now to be caught with lime-twigs? Away, why givest thou me a cushion? A soldiers coat shall never be so base To lie beneath my heel, th'art in this place My fellow, and companion, a health to all in England. Sirrah, where's your master? How shot, where? Two heads how? Why prithee? Sirrah, go seek your master, and bid him take or der for burying of the dead. How fought to day our English? How the Scots? Clifford, I'll pledge thee, give me my bowl. I did not, so this cup were Wallace Skull, I'de drink it full with blood, for it would save The lives of thousands. Percy, ten thousand Crowns should buy That traitors head, if I could hav't for money. Let that pass, Where's Bruce, our noble Earl of Carrack? Brave Armoury, a rampant Lion within a field all Gules, Where hast been Bruce? Give him some wine, art not thirsty? And idle jest, more wine for Bruce. Bruce would fain quarrel, Peace, what Trumpet's that? Go learn. So Sir, what of him? A Herald to the traitor. Go and thus speak, we bring whips of steel, To scourge Rebellion, not to stand the braves Of a base daring vassal, bid him ere that Sun Which he calls up be risen, pay it and save His Country and himself from ruin, charge him on his head, To make his quick submission; if he slow the minutes, We'll proclaim in thunder his and his Countries ruin, Go be gone, Arm. A Land that's sick at heart must take sharp pills, For dangerous physic best cures dangerous ils. A mutiny, what noise is't? What comest thou for? Where is he? Mentith hath won fame, And honour by this act, fetch in this devil. Exit Meant. Whats that? By whom? Clif. I have vowed, Neither to hear nor see him, drag him hence, Mine eye shall nor be so compassionate To view him, least I pity him: hang, draw, and quarter him. Drag him hence, and let that heart, those limbs, Which were the motives to rebellious war Be torn asunder, cast upon that ground, Which he with unkind steel so oft did wound, Away with him. Stop his throat. He shall have the trial of and Archtraitor, Percy and Clifford take hence Bruce. You hence sir, from this hour I swear, Never to see thee Earl of Huntingdon, Hark Clifford, and Northumberland, avua Your head shall feel our meaning, see it dispatched. Coming, I perceive It was reward, not love that acted it, But you shall have your endue, of that anon. A flourish. I told thee Bruce, that thou upon thy head, Shouldst feel our meaning, and that all the world, May know we valve honour above conquest, Having a power able to turn all Scotland Into a Chaos, here betwixt both our Armies, Give us thy oath of fealty, and wear Both Crown and title of thine Ancestors. Give him his oath of fealty, With him those Lords which are his Countrymen. What hath Bruce done? Yet he does. Grimsby you lean To hard upon our sufferance, and noble Percy. Our honoured second in all inward combats, Thou hast too many worthy parts of man, To throw thy self on this unequal would zard, Grimsby thou standest so much degreed below him, Both in descent and eminent quality, The many favours we have graced thee with, Blush to have been conferred upon a man No better tempered. The Crown of Scotland, Save other time, Grimsby th'ast raised A storm which showers of blood can hardly lay. We will not loose thee Grimsby, valiant Percy, If love in us, or loyalty in you, Have any power. Then join hands, Our Subject's both the native of two Lands. Th'art no Musician, Bruce, thou keepest false time, We strike a bloody lachrymae to France, And thou keepest time to a Scotch lig to arms. Let Christians be more honest then to Edward, In expedition of this holy war, When France in person was enjoined to march, To work his safety we engaged our own, Cashiered his fainting soldiers, and on promise, Of so much gold at our return, supplied The French designs our self, and is our love, And lose of blood, half which at least had dropped Out of French bosoms, quittant with owe none, Pillage and play the free-butter for more, The news. Shouldst have no head, did we but think it, Whose the chief? Some needy borderer. How is our bosom parted, is their power Of any strength? Bruce, leavy powers for France; If we but thought thee touched in't, warlike Percy, Beaumont and Sebastian fetch him in Or with a second and more fatal conquest Ruin that stubborn Nation. We conceit you, If any officer of ours transgress Our will, or go beyond his bounds prefixed We'll have his head, he our high worth depraves, That our free Subject's seek to make his slaves. See we find it not. Nor do we wish it Grimsby, should the fates But turn the wheel we might with them change states, Be Scotland's Subject's, let but Rebellion kneel, We'll wear soft mercy, and cast off rough steel. Let messengers be sent, To question the proud Rebel, and if Grimsby Fail in his plot, Northumberland and Clifford Shall second him in arms, so slight a foe Must not detain us from our French designs, Our Queen ha all our breast, and though we might Justly perhaps confine your liberty, Bruce, we enlarge it, giving you command In our French wars, observe him nearly Lords, I have read this maxim in state policy. Be sure to wear thy danger in thy eye, France lights a Comet, Scotland a blazing Star, Both seek for blood, we'll quench um both with war. Me thinks, thou shouldst not look him in the face. But if this Wallace, sirrah, be alive now, You and your hundred pounds shall both be hanged. The news brave Clifford. Throw defiance back down their throats, and of our Heralds Northumberland the honour shall be thine, tell'um We come to scourge their pride with whips of steel, Their City hath from Justice snatched her sword To strike their Sovereign, who ha turned the point Upon their own breasts, tell they this. Hang up that wiseacres, and the fool his man. A Kings word must be kept, hang they both. Stay, Bruce, what's yonder on the hill? If he should taste your bitterness, 'twere not well. What place? Give to sir Wiseacres Clark and hundred pounds. That jest hath saved your lives, let me see you fight to day. Why do they mangle thus their Armies limbs? Whats that so far off? Charge up strong, hark, brave, Let now our hands be warriors, not our tongues. We have sweated hard to day. Fit, some wine Away in the field all fellows, whose is this? This is your Kingdom Bruce.