BERTIE

Pray for the Duchess, friends. As whose, ant please your Lordship. My ear, my Lord, is servant to my heart. Your honour still shall find me the same man. As then a member of the self same Church. I do beseech your Lordship's to suspend And smother your opinions till a trial Blow up the embers to and open flame, Then censure as you find, and give's your doom. My credit sir be pawned. To escape your envies, if we cross the seas. But Madam, let your wisdom shut her up, Commit her not unto your state to guard, But humble your High spirit, sleike your speech, That envy may not stumble at mistrust, Or find a rub to start suspicion: Wear a smooth brow in presence of your foes, Be shaken with their threats, retreat your spirit, Till they insult upon your patience: The Conquest wone in your submission, They slake the eager pursu e of revenge, To give you time to purve for your escape; You know my leave of passage over the seas, And with what cunning I have colored it, To free my conscience from the gail of fear. I go to seek releasement of that care, Freely to spread the ensign of your Faith: A simple, rustic home of liberty, Is worth your honours in captivity. I'll lay a Bark at Leigh shall stay for you, To be transported to me at Midelborow. I go. We must, My bodies he e, thou hast my heart along with thee Make much of to prithee, till we m eat again, M body and my soul you both retain. Amen, amen, what shall I deliver to her from Will you ought else? O this does clog me more, ways down my sp Should bear our Fortune's to a soft repose, Not daring here to peep out of ou thoughts, Without the danger of the Vultures gripe, Whose watching eyes of inquisition Steals covertly upon our purposes, And yet you lag me with your load of griefs. I could toss woe for woe until to morrow, But then weed wake the wolf with bleating sorrow. With what unwillingness I partly from you Let that and these received. Adieu, adieu. 'Tis very certain M. Pericell, Now shall we hear some news, Here's Doctor Sands. Even to death's lean arms, Thy tragic news, hath slain me M. Sands, We are as one, and what be idem her person, I feel in a true essence of her grief. O M. Perecill, the worst of ills, Falls on her head, and can I hope the best, She's Like a Lamb, trapped with a herd of Wolves, A harmless Dove amongst a thousand Hawks, If she returned, what providence can save, A body doomed already to the graven. I am jealous of the safety of my wife, And to escape the better through the woods, I have clothed my self thus in and Outlaws shape, O, sighed of ruth, my fellow Cranwell slain: My wife grasped in the arms of ravishers, Then heaven instruct me with some present means, That I may find some aid to rescue them, I have it, a booty, a booty, a brave booty: But we want help, and aid to compass it, Four wealthy Merchant's, are come down this hill, Some little aid, and we shall share them all. Good heaven I thank thee, This your news deer friend, Is as a summons after death to life, the preservation Of his mother in travel, was wondrous strange, The place where he is born is strange, The loving hands, that did first entertain His presence to this pilgrimage of life, Are likewise strange, then as his birth hath been, So shall his name, weel call him Peregrine. As it please his stars, but soft, What Drum is this, some Gall I fear, To intermix our sweet, Some sorrow to confound this sudden jioy. Is Fox arrived, upon what cause, Is Fox arrived, upon what cause Is he passed over, do you know gentle sir. Do that, and Bertie is for ever thine. Attach me sir, I know no reason why, Nor to my knowledge am and enemy, Unto the Palsgrave, or the meanest man Within his confines, were are Travellers, And will immediately forsake the land. With pardon gracious Madam, Could Berties rude persuasion please your ears, I wish it clothed with Hymen's royalties: A husband, Like and Ammell, would enrich Your golden virtues. Durst my opinion venture, but to speak him, I could commend that merit to your heart, As I presume, your fancy would embrace. As much as observations greedy eye, Could well retain, keeps warm upon my tongue, Which to your noblest consideration was in honours womb, And from her sucked his Nutriment of life, His spirit Like and ensign does display The worthiness of his heroic birth, His more concealed virtues varnish that, To make his Comet (merit,) wondered at, Nature in moulding of his lineaments, Has shamed the cunning workmanship of Art, That he is Madam, as your wish would make, The richer in desert for your worths sake. If honourable Love live in a man, It guides the vert es of the Palatine. Could it assure him of your fancies choice. No more then his love offers your desert. Nay rather Madam Wedlock does inroule, The special essence of your rare deserts, Remembering your perfections. Madam survey your thoughts, Master your fears, and crown your happiness, You Queen my Hope's would see. If you mean me, I will not canvas With you for the voice of quaint opinion; Yowl way down the scales, Her honourable love, the gift of fate, Not endue of merit, does advance my state. She might. Should she be cold, my Lords, or set a frown Upon the alteration of her faith, Your Lordship's know the sums of money endue, From Charles the Emperor to her in the right, Of her departed husband, Suffolks Duke, Which if your honourable licence would Assign me a free passage to those parts To gather up your unexpected love, Would heat her good opinion with the zeal. Where now the strangeness makes her somewhat stagger. O pardon me one minute gentle Madam, If I delay your fair request a little, To take my fellow servants by the hand, Good M. Cranwell, the firm loyalty, You bear you Mistress, in her great extremes, Shall be recorded in a book of Brass. You are a Mirror, Nurse, so art thou, Thy noble carriage, thus I Kiss with joy, Alas poor Lady, thou, ere thou canst go, Art forced to leave thy country, thy return, Will make them smile, that now are forced to mourn, Thy infancy in Pilgrimage is spent, Yet thy abided hereafter shall be Kenned, And be and honoured Countess of that name, For so my true divining spirits do aim. 'Tis a Walloon Feris de Ryviers, alias Perecell. Madam you may not, Neither in this place may I challenge you, For I am noted, and your coming hither, Both promised, and expected by great men, Who to surprise you, have received reward, All Ports are laid, all passages are stopped, Search, and inquiry posts through every town. My body is divided in the amid, That way goes half my heart, and this way tother, Necessity thy stern deeds I beshrew, That thy rude hand, gives us the parting blow, At Santon I will meet you Madam, here I dare not know you, so adue my deer. I will, stir not from hence with her, Till we return. So ho, ho, I have lost a Jewel, And left it here behind, when I departed hence. More precious then thy soul, and this it is, Villain, think not to escape, your mates are far enough Thus, Villain, for the world, I would not stain my hands with thy base blood: But rascal, I will bind you to the peace, So now, let this ditch shelter you. Is M. Cranwell slain? O cross on cross, lets look about the wood Speak to me man, look up, some wound belike Is yet unstopped, from whence proceeds this large effusion, Its here, lend me some linen, so, so, he comes again, And see heavens bounty, he at once hath given, Your Servant, and your Child: look Madam, see, Thrown in a bush, and smiles, and laughs at ye. Both fled, but wherefore Madam look you pale. What shall we do, I am beyond my self. How fare you Madam. Here in this Church-porch, Madam pray remon Alas, alas, this is a homely place, To bring a Princess of such state to bed, A wide Church-porch, is made her bedchamber, And the cold stones her couch, here are no curtains, But the bleke Winds, could Clouds and storms of hay And they begirt her round, heaven for thy mercy, This poor distressed Princes shield and save, Whose cold head lies upon some dead men graven, Here comes the Sexton, I will speak to him, It may be, he may help us to relief. Uncivil fellow, what thou speakest, I know no But thy ill meaning by thy deeds, I guess: Take that to teach thee more civility. Still fortune is against us, this base fellow Will raise some tumult to betray our lives, Yet yonder comes & man of gravity, It may be he can speak the Latin tongue, In that I'll let him understanding and my grief: Optime & ornatissime vir, audi quaeso. Is this Erasmus born in Rotterdam, He that so highly loved Sir Thomas More? Within this town hath Perecell a house, There, by the credit of this learned man We have God harbour till the month expire, In which her heavy burden may be eased, Good heaven look down upon her misery, Comfort her in her grief, strengthen her weakness, Lay not our woes to wretched Bonners charge, Free her sweet heaven, by thy Almighty hand, That we may once revisit our own land. Good heaven, when I recount the Misery's We have already passed, me thinks the lottery Of cruel Fortune, should be quite exhaust, And yet when I record the name of Bonner, With his desire to become great by blood, The greater partly of woe seems still behind. I trust he will, Cranwell I prithee step, And listen from the women what good news. Welcome good Doctor Sands, What; in good health? How fares the Duchess. Gentle host resolve me. A Boy. O, were she safe, I cared not for my life. It will I hope prove currant. Just half our way, but we have lost our friends, Through the hight pursut of our enemies. Good heaven I pray once sort to happy end, This dangerous Pilgrimage, here undertook, Fit on this bank a while, and rest our limbs, Wearied with travail, as our minds with care. And a Villain too, if thou maintain these defa mations Term me a Thief, my wife a Concubine, My Children base born; by a soldiers faith, Wertenberg thou the greatest spirit the Palesgraue hath, I cannot brook this slavish insolence, That I am angry, witness this reply, I will defend mine honour though I die. If he be slain, require not heaven his blood, Of miserable Berty. Within. Help, help, help. I am so amazed I know not where to go, I'll take this way. That way they come. But I shall leave thee to thine enemies. Fear lend me wings, but o my griefs so great, It ways me down, and I must needs retreat. Cry within. Come away, come away, ho! come away. My friends what seek you, wherefore come amm'd You seem a Burgomaster, by your habit, And they that misinformed you were too blame, Know gentle sir, I am and Englishman, And on some special business bound this way, Towards Windam-Castle, till we were disturbed, By the oppression of the man that's slain. It seems these men are thirsty for my blood, And without law are set to take my life, Then it were madness for a man to yield, To abide a trial, and the judgement passed: Since I must die, I'll choose the death my self, And thats to stand on a defensive guard, Except you swear as you're a Christian, A Magistrate, and one that will do right, That I shall have endue process of the Law And be defended from the multitude. But will you take that oath. Then work the worst of fate, if right bear sway, He cannot speed amiss that does no wrong, O, innocence is bold, free, liberal, Fearless of any danger, that may fallen, I me sir, a Prisoner to the law, Justice is blind gaze not upon our persons, Although our birth be near so mean or base, But fix the eye of judgement on our case. My Children born away! o then I fear, It is some treason to abridge our lives, And that the Captain, that did wrong us thus, Did it to that intent. It ill beseems the noble duke of Brunswick, To be a persecutor of good men. And honour my good Lord Admiral, That I esteem, and yet desire it not, Oh be it not offensive to her Grace, That I have leave to lead a private life, After my painful travel in strange Lands. His greatness reflects beams into your shine. The king of Poland Madam. By the deer loyalty my thoughts do owe To this unmeasured grace you heap on me, And by the virtue of a Christian faith, The relish of this blessing is so strong, That when I leave to love, I live too long. No mighty Prince, And would to heaven it had not been so now: In this embrace I send a general love, To all my fellow servitors: I know some lowres upon my happiness, How undeserved, let my offices Of love to you, and duty to her grace, In their impartial verdict render up. Patience good sir. Madam, my promise of your penitence, Weighed with the puissance of your high birth, Wherein you are allied unto the Queen, Calmed the rough Menace of stout Gardener, And set a reverence on stern Bonners tongue, Humbly to wish your reformation. And as I told you sir, with that excuse, I grounded this my colorable passage, And sent a ship, which stays for her at Lee, Where by appointment she had promised meeting, But She is so watched, so guarded, and so barred, Of her true servants presence and access, That I despair of her arrival here. Madam. Escape, theres now no time to talk of escape, No, no, the secret providence of heaven, Hath so ordained, we should be Bonners thrall, And welcome wished death, the end of all. How can that be, The painful Duchess, lying now in Childbed. I am so used to misery, That it seems nothing, where the Nurse and Child? Patience, good Madam. Some refuge I confess, but the distressed Dutch In Childbed torment is a fresh alarm Of new sprung care, I cannot be at quiet, Until her safe delivery be passed.