CHARLES

England was wont to harbour malcontents, Blood thirsty, and seditious Catelynes, Spend thrifts, and such as gape for nothing else, But changing and alteration of the state, And is it possible, That they are now so loyal in them selves? Whom should they follow, aged impotent, But he that is their true born sovereign? I wonder Villiers, thou shouldst importune me For one that is our deadly enemy. Thy ransom man: why needest thou talk of that? Art thou not free? and are not all occasions, That happen for advantage of our foes, To be accepted of, and stood upon? Thine oath, why that does bind thee to abide: Hast thou not sworn obedience to thy Prince? Why is it lawful for a man to kill, And not to break a promise with his foe? Stay my Villeirs, thine honourable mind, Deserves to be eternally admire, Thy suit shall be no longer thus deferred: Give me the paper, I'll subscribe to it, And wheretofore I loved thee as Villeirs, Hereafter I'll embrace thee as my self, Stay and be still in favour with thy Lord. But will your highness fight to day. I have a prophecy my gracious Lord, Wherein is written what success is Like To happen us in this outrageous war, It was delivered me at Cresses field, By one that is and aged Hermyt there, when feathered soul shall make thine army tremble, and flint stones rise and break the battle ray: Then think on him that does not now dissemble For that shall be the hapless dreadful day, Yet in the end thy foot thou shalt advance, as far in England, as thy foe in France, Our men with open mouths and staring eyes, Look on each other, as they did attend Each others words, and yet no creature speaks, A tongue-tied fear hath made a midnight hour, and speeches sleep through all the waking regions. And it is currant, thou shalt freely pass. Oh that I were some other countryman, This day hath set derision on the French, and all the world wilt blurt and scorn at us. Villiers I will not, nor I cannot do it, Salisbury shall not have his will so much, To claim a passport how it pleases himself, Do so Villeirs, and Charles when he hath need, Be such his soldiers, howsoever he speed. Here comes my brother Philip. Villiers procured it for thee, did he not? What am I not a soldier in my word? Then arms adieu, and let them fight that list, Shall I not give my girdle from my wast, But with a gardion I shall be controlled, To say I may not give my things away, Upon my soul, had Edward prince of Wales Ingagde his word, writ down his noble hand, For all your knights to pass his father's land, The royal king to grace his warlike son, Would not alone safe conduct give to them But with all bounty seasted them and theirs. Then charge again, if heaven be not opposed We cannot lose the day.