Peele, George, 1556-1596 : : Edward I (1593) a machine-readable transcription of the 1593
edition
compiled byHugh Craig
Version 1
George Peele, 1556-1596 (1556-1596) The Famous Chronicle of king Edward the first,
sirnamed Edward Longshankes, with his returne from the holy land.
Also The Life Of Llevellen rebell in Wales. Lastly, the sinking of Queene Elinor,
who sunck at Charingcrosse, and rose againe at Pottershith, now named Queenehith
London
Printed by Abell Ieffes, and are to be solde by William Barley [etc. ] 1593

1593
Hugh Craig, Wollombi, 2006
STC 19535
The characters are identified by IDREF pointing to information in
the following declarations.
Helinor, the Queen Mother
Gilbert de Clare Earl of Gloucester
Mortimer Earl of March
Sir David of Brecknock
Edward I, Longshanks
Edmund Duke of Lancaster Crouchback
Earl of Sussex
Elinor of Castile Queen to Edward
Jone of Acon
Lluellen
Rice ap Meredith
Owen ap Rice
Hugh ap David, a Friar
Guenthian
Jack
Harper
Guenther, the Friar's wench
John Baliol King of Scotland
Mary Bearmber, Mayoress of London
Ellen (Elinor) wife of Lluellen
Versses
mantle baron of Wales
Farmer
Multiple speakers
Pedler
Bishop
Katherina, attendant on the Queen
Soldier
Potter's wife
John
messenger from Wales
Sir Thomas Spencer
Second Messenger
Messenger from Mortimer
The languages (other than English) which occur in the text are identified
by IDREF which point to the following.
Latin
French
Italian
THE Famous Chronicle of king Edward the first, sirnamed Edward Longshankes, with
his
returne from the holy land.
ALSO THE LIFE OF LLEVELLEN rebell in Wales.
Lastly, the sinking of Queene Elinor, who sunck at Charingcrosse, and rose againe at
Potters-hith, now named Queenehith.
Enter Gilbart de Clare Earle of Glocester, with the Earle of Sussex, Mortimer the
Earle of March, Dauid Lluellens brother, waiting on Helinor the Queene
mother.
The Queene Mother.
My L. lieutenant of Glocester, and L. Mortimer,
To do you honour in your Sovereigns eyes,
That as we hear is newly come aland,
From Palestine, with all his men of war:
The poor remainer of the royal Fleet,
Preserved by miracle in Sicill Road.
Go mount your Coursers, meet him on the way,
Pray him to spur his Steed, minutes and hours,
Until his mother see her princely
son,
Shining in glory of his safe return.
Exeunt Lords.
Manet Queene Mother.
Illustrious England, ancient seat of kings,
Whose chivalry hath royalized thy fame:
That sounding bravely through terrestrial vail,
Proclaiming conquests, spoils, and victories,
Rings glorious Echoes through the farthest world.
What warlike nation trained in feats of arms,
What barbarous people, stubborn or untamed,
What climate under the Meridian signs,
Or frozen Zone under his brumal stage,
Erst have not quaked and trembled at the name
Of Britain, and her mighty Conquerors?
Her neighbour realms as Scotland, Denmarke, France,
Awed with their deeds, and jealous of her arms,
Have begged defensive and offensive leagues.
Thus Europe rich and mighty in her kings,
Hath feared brave England dreadful in her kings:
And now to eternize Albions Champions,
Equivalent with Trojans ancient fame,
Comes lovely Edward from Jerusalem,
Veering before the wind, ploughing the sea,
His stretched sails filled with the breath of men,
That through the world admires his manliness.
And lo at last, arrived in Dover road,
Long shank your king, your glory and our son,
With troops of conquering Lords and warlike knights,
Like bloody crested Mars overlooks his host,
Higher than all his army by the head,
Marching along as bright as Phoebus eyes,
And we his mother shall behold our son,
And Englands Peers shall see their sovereign.
The Trumpets sound, and enter the traine, viz. his maimed Souldiers with head
peeces and Garlands on them, euery man with his red Crosse
on his coate: the Ancient borne
in a Chaire, his Garland and his plumes on his headpeece, his Ensigne in his
hand. Enter after
them Glocester and Mortimer bareheaded, & others as many as may be. Then Longshanks
and his wife Elinor, Edmund Couchback, and Ione and Signior Moumfort the Earle of Leicesters
prisoner, with Sailers and Souldiers, and Charles de Moumfort his brother.
Q. Mother.
Glocester, Edward, O my sweet sons.
And then she falls and sounds.
Longsh.
Help Ladies: O ingrateful destiny,
To welcome Edward with this tragedy.
Glocest.
Patient your highness, it is but mothers love,
Received with sight of her thrice valiant sons:
Madam amaze not, see his Majesty
Returned with glory from the holy land.
Moth.
Brave sons the worthy Champions of our God,
The honourable soldiers of the highest,
Bear with your mother whose abundant love,
With tears of joys salutes your sweet return,
From famous journeys hard and fortunate.
But lords alas how heavy is our loss,
Since your departure to these Christian wars,
The king your Father, and the prince your son,
And your brave Uncle Almaines Emperor,
Aye me are dead.
Take comfort madam, leave these sad laments,
Dear was my uncle, dearer was my son:
And ten times dearer was my noble father,
Yet were their lives valued at thousand worlds,
They cannot scape the arrest of dreadful death:
Death that doth seize and summon all alike.
Then leaving them to heavenly blessedness,
To join in thrones of glory with the just,
I do salute your royal Majesty.
My gracious mother Queen, and you my lords,
Gilbart de Clare, Sussex, and Mortimer,
And all the princely states of Englands peers,
With health and honour to your hearts content,
And welcome wished England on whose ground,
These feet so often have desired to tread,
Welcome sweet Queen my fellow Traveller,
Welcome sweet Nell my fellow mate in arms,
Whose eyes have seen the slaughtered Saracens,
Piled in the ditches of Jerusalem,
And lastly welcome manly followers,
That bears the scars of honour and of arms,
And on your war drums carry crowns as kings,
Crown Mural, Naval, and triumphant all,
At view of whom the Turks have trembling fled,
And Saracens like sheep before the walls,
Have made their cottages in walled towns,
But Bulwarks had no fence to beat you back,
Lords, these and they will enter brazen gates,
And tear down lime and Morter with their nails.
Embrace them Barons these have got the name,
Of English Gentlemen and knights at arms:
Not one of these but in the Champain field,
Hath won his crown, his collar and his spurs,
Not Caesar leading through the streets of Rome,
The captive kings of conquered nations,
Was in his princely triumphs honoured more,
Than English Edward in this martial sight.
Courage men your lives are lost in service of the Lord,
Which is your glory and your Countries fame,
For limbs, you shall have living, lordships, lands,
And be my counsellors in wars affairs:
Soldiers sit down, Nell sit thee by my side,
These be prince Edwards pompous treasury.
The Queene Mother being set on the one side, and Queene Elinor on the
other, the king sitteth in the middest mounted highest, and at his feete the Ensigne vnderneath him.
O glorious Capital, beauteous Senate house,
Triumphant Edward, how like sturdy Oaks,
Do these thy Soldiers circle thee about,
To shield and shelter thee from winters storms?
Display thy cross, old Aims of the Vies,
Dub on your Drums tanned with Indiaes sun,
My lusty western lads, Matreueirs thou,
Sound proudly here a perfect point of war,
In honour of thy Sovereigns safe return.
Thus Longshanks bids his Soldiers Bien venue.
Vse Drummes, Trumpets, and Ensignes, and then speake Edward.
Edw.
O God my God, the brightness of my day,
How oft hast thou preserved thy servant safe,
By sea and land, yea in the gates of death,
O God to thee how highly am I bound,
For setting me with these on English ground?
One of my mansion houses will I give,
To be a college for my maimed men,
Where every one shall have an hundred
marks
Of yearly pension to his maintenance,
A Soldier that for Christ and country sights,
Shall want no living whilst king Edward lives,
Lords you that love me now be liberal,
And give your larges to these maimed men.
Q. Mot.
Towards this erection doth thy mother give,
Out of her dowry, five thousand pounds of gold,
To find them Surgeons to recure their wounds,
And whilst this ancient Standard bearer lives,
He shall have forty pound of yearly fee,
And be my Beadsman father if you please.
Madam I tell you England never bred,
A better soldier than your Beadsman is,
And that the Sultan and his Army felt.
Edmund.
Out of the duchy of rich Lancaster,
To find soft bedding for their bruised bones,
Duke Edmund gives three thousand pounds.
gramercy brother Edmund,
Happy is England under Edwards reign,
When men are had so highly in regard,
That Nobles strive who shall remunerate,
The soldiers resolution with regard.
My Lord of Glocester what is your benevolence?
A thousand marks if please your Majesty.
And yours my lord of Sussex?
Sussex.
Five hundred pound, if please your majesty.
Long.
What say you sir David of Brecknock.
David.
To a soldier sir David cannot be too liberal,
Yet that I may give no more than a poor knight is able
And not presume as a mighty Earl,
I give my Lord four hundred, four score,
And nineteen pounds:
And so my lord of Sussex I am behind you an ace.
And yet sir David ye amble after apace.
Lon.
Well said Da. thou couldst not be a Camber Britain
If thou didst not love a soldier with thy heart,
Let me see how if my Arithmetic will serve,
To total the particulars.
Qu. Eli.
Why my lord I hope you mean,
I shall be a benefactor to my fellow soldiers.
Longshankes.
And well said Nell.
What wilt thou I set down for thee?
Qu. El.
Nay my lord I am of age to set it down for myself.
You will allow what I do, will you not?
That I will Madam,
Were it to the value of my kingdom.
Q. Elin.
What is the sum my lord?
10000 pounds my Nell.
Then Elinor bethink thee of a gift worthy the king of Englands wife, and the king of
Spain's daughter, and give such a largess, that the Chronicles of this land may crake with
record of thy liberality.
Parturient montes: nascetur ridiculus mus.
shee makes a Cipher.
There my lord, neither one, two, nor three,
But a poor Cipher in Agrum, to enrich good fellows,
And compound their figure in their kind.
Madam I commend your composition,
An argument of your honourable disposition:
Sweet Nell thou shouldest not be thyself,
Did not with thy mounting mind,
Thy gift surmount the rest.
Gloce.
Call you this Ridieulus mus? marry sir this mouse
Would make a foul hole in a fair Cheese,
It is but a Cipher in Agrum,
And it hath made of 10000 pounds, 100000 pounds:
A princely gift and worthy memory.
Glocester.
My gracious Lord, as erst I was assigned,
Lieutenant to his Majesty,
Here render I up the crown left in charge with me,
By your princely father king Henrie,
Who on his death bed still did call for you,
And dying, wild to you the Diadem.
Thanks worthy Lords,
And seeing by doom of heavens it is decreed,
And lawful line of our succession,
Unworthy Edward is become your king,
We take it as a blessing from on hie,
And will our Coronation be solemnised,
Upon the 14. of December next.
Upon the 14. of December next?
Alas my Lord, the time is all too short
And sudden, for so great solemnity:
A year were scarce enough to set a-work,
Tailors, Embroiders, and men of rare device,
For preparation of so great estate.
Trust me sweet Ned, hardly shall I bethink me,
In twenty weeks what fashion robes to wear,
I pray thee then defer it till the spring,
That we may have our garments point device.
I mean to send for Tailors into Spain,
That shall confer of some fantastic suits,
With those that be our cunningest Englishmen,
What? let me brave it now or never Ned.
Madam content ye, would that were greatest care,
You shall have garments to your hearts desire,
I never red but Englishmen excelled,
For change of rare devises every way.
Yet pray thee Ned, my love, my lord, and king,
My fellow soldier, and compeer in arms,
Do so much honour to thy Elinor,
To wear a suit that she shall give thy grace,
Of her own cost and workmanship perhaps.
It will come by leisure daughter then I fear,
Thou art too fine fingered to be quick at work.
Twixt us a greater matter breaks no square,
So it be such my Nell as may beseem,
The majesty and greatness of a king.
And now my Lords and loving friends,
Follow your General to the court,
After his travels to repose him then,
There to recount with pleasure what is past,
Of wars alarums, showers and sharpest storms.
Exeunt all, sauing the Queene and her daughter.
Now Elinor, now Englands lovely Queen,
Bethink thee of the greatness of thy state:
And how to bear thyself with royalty,
Above the other Queens of Christendom,
That Spain reaping renown by Elinor,
And Elinor adding renown to Spain,
Britain may her magnificence admire.
I tell thee Ione, what time our highness sits,
Under our royal Canopy of state,
Glistering with pendants of the purest gold,
Like as our seat were spangled all with stars
The world shall wonder at our majesty,
As if the daughter of eternal Ops,
Turned to the likeness of Vermilion fumes,
Where from her cloudy womb the Centaurs leapt,
Were in her royal seat enthronized.
Ione.
Madam, if Ione thy daughter may advise,
Let not your honour make your manners change,
The people of this land are men of war,
The women courteous, mild, and debonair,
Laying their lives at princes feet,
That governs with familiar majesty,
But if their sovereigns once gin swell with pride,
Disdaining commons love which is the strength,
And sureness of the richest common wealth:
That Prince were better live a private life,
Than rule with tyranny and discontent.
Indeed we count them headstrong Englishmen
But we shall hold them in a Spanish yoke.
And make them know their Lord and sovereign.
Come daughter let us home for to provide:
For all the cunning workmen of this Isle,
In our great chamber shall be set a-work,
And in my hall shall bountifully feed.
My King like Phoebus bridegroom like shall march
With lovely Xheeis to her glassy bed,
And all the lookers-on shall stand amazed,
To see King Edward and his lovely Queen,
Sit lovely in Englands stately throne.
Exeunt Ambo.
Enter Lluellen, alias Prince of Wales: Rice ap Meredeth, Owen ap Rice, with swordes
and bucklers and freese Ierkins.
Llu.
Come Rice and rouse thee for thy countries good,
Follow the man that means to make you great:
Follow Lluellen rightful prince of Wales.
Sprung from the loins of great Cadwallader,
Descended from the loins of Trojan Brute,
And though the traitorous Saxons, Normans, Danes,
Have spent the true Romans of glorious Troy,
Within the western mountains of this Isle,
Yet have we hope to clime these stony pales,
When Londoners as Romans erst amazed,
Shall trembling cry Lluellens at the gate.
To accomplish this, thus have I
brought you forth,
Disguised to Milford haven, here attend,
The landing of the lady aeliner.
Her stay doth make me muse, the wind stands fairer.
And ten days hence we did expect them here,
Neptune be favourable to my love,
And steer her keel with thy three forked mace,
That from this shore I may behold her sails,
And in mine arms embrace my dearest dear.
Rice.
Brave prince of Wales, this honourable match,
Cannot but turn to Cambrias common good.
Simon de Momfort, her thrice valiant son,
That in the Barons wars was General,
Was loved and honoured of the Englishmen.
When they shall hear, she is your espoused wife,
Assure your grace we shall have great supply,
To make our roads in England mightily.
Owen.
What we resolved, must strongly be performed,
Before the king return from Palestine,
Whilst he wins glory at Jerusalem,
Let us win ground upon the
Englishmen.
Lluel.
Owen ap Rice, it is that Lluellen fears,
I fear me Edward will be come ashore,
Ere we can make provision for the war.
But be it as it will, within his court
My brother David is, that bears a face,
As if he were my greatest enemy,
He by this craft shall creep into her heart,
And give intelligence from time to time,
Of her intentions, drifts and stratagems.
Here let us rest upon the salt sea shore,
And while our eyes long for our hearts desires,
Let us like friends pastime us on the sands,
Our frolic minds are ominous for good.
Enter Friar Hugh ap Dauid, Guenthian his wench in Flannell, and Iack his Nouice.
Friar.
Guenthian as I am true man,
So will I do the best I can:
Guenthian as I am true Priest,
So will I be at thy behest:
Guenthian as I am true Friar,
So will I be at thy desire.
Novice.
My master stands too near the fire,
Trust him not wench, he will prove a liar.
Lluellen.
True man, true Friar, true priest, and true knave,
These four in one this trull shall have.
Here swear I by my shaven crown,
Wench if I give thee a gay green gown,
I will take thee up as I laid thee
down,
And never bruise nor batter thee.
O swear not master, flesh is frail,
Wench when the sign is in the tail,
Mighty is love and will prevail,
This Churchman doth but flatter thee.
A pretty worm, and a lusty friar,
Made for the field, not for the quire.
Guenth.
Master Friar as I am true maid,
So do I hold me well apaid:
It is Churchman's lay and verity,
To live in love and charity,
And therefore wean I as my creed,
Your words shall company my deed,
Dauie my dear, I yield in all,
Thine own to go and come at call.
And so far forth begins our brawl.
Then my Guenthian to begin,
Sith idleness in love is sin,
Boy to the town I will thee hie,
And so return even by and by,
When thou with cakes and muscadine,
And other junkets good and fine,
Hast filled thy bottle and thy bag.
Now master as I am true wag,
I will be neither late nor lag,
But go and come with gossips cheer,
Ere Gib our Cat can lick her ear.
For long ago I learned in school,
That lovers desire, and pleasures cool:
Saint Ceres sweets and Bacchus vine,
Now master for the Cakes and Wine.
Exit Nouice.
Wench to pass away the time in glee,
Guenthian set thee down by me,
And let our lips and voices meet,
In a merry country song.
Friar, I am at beck and bay,
And at thy commandment to sing and say,
And other sports among.
Ow.
Aye marry my lord, this is somewhat
like a man's money,
Here is a wholesome Welsh wench,
Lapped in her Flannel as warm as wool,
And as fit as a pudding for a Friars mouth.
The Friar and Guenthian sing: Lluellen speakes to them.
Pax vobis, pax vobis, good fellows fair fall ye.
Et cum spiritu tuo.
Friends have you anything else to say to the Friar?
Much good do you, much good you,
My masters heartily.
And you sir when ye eat:
Have ye anything else to say to the Friar?
Nothing, but I would gladly know,
If mutton be your first dish, what shall be your last service.
It may be fit I count it physic,
To feed but on one dish at a sitting:
Sir would you anything else with the
Friar?
O nothing sir, but if you had any manners,
You might bid us fall to.
Nay if that be the matter good enough,
Is this all ye have to say to the
All we have to say to you sir, it may be sir,
We would walk aside with your wench a little.
My masters and friends, I am a poor Friar, a man of Gods making, and a good fellow as
you are, legs, feet, face and hands, and heart from top to toe, of
my word, right shape and
Christendom: and I love a wench as a wench should be loved, and if you love yourself
walk good friends I pray you, and let the Friar alone with his flesh.
O Friar, your holy mother the church teaches you to abstain from these morsels, therefore
my masters it is a deed of charity to remove this stumbling block,
a fair wench, a shrewd
temptation to a Friars conscience.
Guen.
Friend if you knew the Friar half so well as the bailey of Brecknock, you would think
you might as soon move munck Dauie into the sea, as Guenth. from
his side.
Master by your leave, we will prove.
At your peril if you move his patience.
Brother, brother, and my good Countrymen.
Countrymen? nay I cannot think that an English friar, will come so far
into Wales
barefooted.
That is more than you know, and
yet my lord he might ride, having a filly so near.
Fri.
Hands off good countryman, at few words and fair warnings:
Countrymen, not so sir, we renounce thee Friar, and refuse your country.
Then brother and my good friends,
Hands off and if you love your ease.
Ease me no easings, we will case you of this
carriage.
Fellow be gone quickly or my pikestaff and I will set
thee away with a vengeance.
I am sorry trust me to see the church so unpatient.
Ye Dogs 'Swounds, do me a shrewd turn and mock me too, flesh and blood will not
bear
this: then rise up Robert and say to Richard, Redde rationem villicationis
tua . sir Countryman,
kinsman, Englishman, Welshman, you with the Wench, return your Habeas corpus, here is a
Circiorari for your Procedendo.
Hold friar we are thy countrymen.
Paid, paid, Digone, we are thy countrymen, Mundus.
My Countrymen? nay marry sir shall you not be my countrymen,
you sir, you, specially
you sir that refuse the Friar, and renounce his country.
Friar, hold thy hands, I swear as I am a Gentleman, I am a Welshman, and so are the
rest
of honesty.
Of honesty sayst thou?
They are neither Gentlemen nor Welshmen,
That will deny their country: Come hither wench,
I will have about with them once
more,
For denying of their Country.
Make as if ye would fight.
Friar thou wottest not what thou sayst,
This is the prince, and we are all his train:
Disposed to be pleasant with thee a little,
But I perceive Friar, thy nose will bide no jest.
As much as you will with me sir,
But not at any hand with my wench,
I and Richard my man here.
For here, Contra omnes gentes.
But is this Lluellen the great Camber Britain?
It is he Friar, give me thy hand,
And gramercy twenty times,
I promise thee thou hast cudgeled
Two as good lessons into my jacket,
As ever Churchman did at so short warning.
The one is, not to be too busy with another man's cattle,
The other, not in haste to deny my country.
It is pity my Lord,
But you should have more of this learning
You profit so well by it.
It is pity Friar but thou shouldest be Lluellens Chaplain, thou
edifiest so well, and so
shalt thou be, of mine honour, here I entertain thee, thy boy, and thy
trull, to follow my
fortune, in Secula seculorum .
And Richard my man sir if you love me,
He that stands by me, and shrunk not at all weathers,
And then you have me in my colours.
Lluel.
Friars agreed: Rice welcome the Ruffians.
Enter the Harper, and sing to the tune of Who list to lead a
Souldiers life.
Go to, go to, you Britains all,
And play the men both great and small,
A wondrous matter hath befall,
That makes the Prophets cry and call,
Tum da et di te de te dum,
That you must march both all and some,
Against your foes with trump and Drum:
I speak to you from God that you shall overcome.
With a turn both ways.
What now, who have we here?
Tum date dite dote dum.
What have we a fellow dropped out of the element,
What is he for a man?
Rice ap Mer.
Knowest thou this goosecap?
What? not Morgain Pigot, our good welsh prophet,
O it is a holy Harper.
Meredith.
A Prophet with a moraine,
Good my Lord, let us hear a few of his lines I pray you.
My lords, it is an odd fellow I can tell you,
As any is in all Wales:
He can sing rhyme with reason, and rhyme without reason,
And without reason or rhyme.
The devil he can,
rhyme with reason, and rhyme without reason,
And reason without rhyme:
Then good Morgan Pigot, pluck out thy spigot,
And draw us a fresh pot,
From the kinder kind of thy knowledge.
Knowledge my son, knowledge I warrant ye,
How sayst thou Morgaine, art thou not a very prophet?
Harper.
Friar, friar, a Prophet verily,
For great Lluellens love,
Sent from above, to bring him victory.
Mered.
Come then gentle prophet, let us see how thou canst salute
thy prince, say, shall we have
good success in our enterprise or no?
Harp.
When the weathercock of Carmarihen steeple
Shall engender young ones in the belfry,
And a heard of Goats leave their pasture,
To be clothed in silver:
Then shall Brute be born anew,
And Wales record their ancient hew,
Ask Friar David if this be not true.
This my Lord he means by you,
O he is a prophet, a prophet.
Soft you now good Morgan Pigot,
And take us with ye a little I pray,
What means your wisdom by all this.
The Weathercock (my lord) was your father, who by foul weather of war,
was driven
to take Sanctuary in Saint Maries at Carnaruon, where he begat young ones on
your mother in
the belfry, viz. your worship, and your brother David
But what didst thou mean by the Goats?
The Goats that leave the pasture to be clothed in silver, are the silver
Goats your men
wore on their sleeves.
Fr.
O how I love thee Morgain Pigot our sweet prophet.
Hence rogue with your prophesies, out of my sight.
Nay good my lord, let us have a few
more of these meters, he hath great store in his head.
Yea, and of the best in the market,
If your Lordship would vouchsafe to hear them.
Villain away, I will here no
more of your prophesies.
When legs shall lose their length,
Returning weary home, from out the holy land:
A Welshman shall be king,
And govern merry England.
Did I not tell your Lordship he would hit it home anon?
My Lord he comes to your time that is flat.
Aye master if you mark him, he hit the
mark pat.
As how Jack?
Nou.
Why thus: when legs shall lose their length,
And shanks yield up their strength:
Returning weary home from out the holy land,
Why my Lord, in this prophecy, is your advancement as plainly seen, as a three
halfpence through a dish of butter in a sunny day.
I think so Jack for he that sees three halfpence,
must tarry till the butter be melted in
the sun, and so forth apply boy
Non ego master, do you if you dare.
And so boy thou meanest, he that tarries this prophecy,
may see Long shanks shorter
by the head, and Lluellen wear the crown in the field.
By lady my Lord you go near the matter,
But what saith Morgaine Pigote more?
In the year of our lord God 1272, shall spring from the loins of Brute. one
whose
wives name being the perfect end of his ground, shall consummate the
peace betwixt
England and Wales, and be advanced to ride through Cheapside
with a crown on his
head, and that is meant by your lordship, for your
wives name being Ellen, and your own
Lluellen, beareth the perfect end of your own name: so must it
needs be, that for a time
Ellen flee from Lluellen, ye being betrothed
in heart each to others, must needs be
advanced to be highest of your kin.
Jack, I make him thy prisoner,
Look what way my fortune inclines,
That way goes he,
Sirrah, see you run swiftest.
Farewell, be far from the Spigot.
Exit.
Now sir, if our country Ale, were as good as your Metheglen, I would teach you
to play
the knave. or you should teach me to play the Harper.
Ambo, boy, you are too light witted,
As I am light minded.
Noui.
It seemed to me thou art fittest, and passing well.
Exeunt ambo.
Enter Guenther to Lluellen with letters.
What tidings bringeth Guenther with his haste?
Say man, what bodes thy message good or bad.
Guenther.
Bad my lord, and all in vain I wot,
Thou darest thine eyes upon the wallowing main,
As erst did Aegen to behold his son,
To welcome and receive thy welcome love,
And sable sails he saw, and so mayst thou,
For whose mishap the Brackish seas lament,
Edward, Edward.
And what of him?
Landed he is at Dover with his men,
From Palestine safe by his English Lords,
Received in triumphs like an earthly God,
He lives to wear his fathers Diadem,
And sway the sword of british Albion.
But Elinor, thy Elinor.
And what of her?
Hath amorous Neptune gazed upon my love,
And stopped her passage with his forked mace:
Or that I rather fear, O deadly fear,
Enamoured Nereus doth he withhold my Elinor?
Nor Neptune, Nereus nor other God,
Withholdeth from my gracious lord his love,
But cruel Edward that injurious king,
Withholds thy liefest lovely Elinor,
Taking in a Pinnace on the narrow seas,
By four tall ships of Bristowe, and with her,
Lord Emerick her unhappy noble brother,
As from Mount argis hitherward they sailed;
This say in brief these letters tell at large.
Lluellen reades his brother Dauids letters.
Lluel
Is Longshankes then, so lusty now become,
Is my fair love my beautions Elinor ta'en?
Villain damned villains not to guard her safe,
Or fence her sacred person from her foes,
Sun couldst thou shine and see my love beset,
And didst not clothe thy clouds in fiery coats,
Over all the heavens with winged sulphur flames,
As when the beams like mounted combatants,
Battled with Pyetion in the fallowed lays,
But if kind Cambria deign me good aspect,
To make me chiefest brute of western Wales,
I will short that gain-legged Longshanke by the top,
And make his flesh my murthering falchions food:
To arms true Britains sprung of Trojans seed.
And with your swords write in the book of Time,
Your British names in Characters of blood.
Owen ap Rice, while we stay for further force,
Prepare away in post, and take with thee,
A hundred chosen of thy countrymen,
And scour the marches with your Welshmens hooks,
That Englishmen may think the devil is come.
Rice shall remain with me, make thou thy bode,
In resolution to revenge these wrongs,
With blood of thousands guiltless of this rage,
Fly thou on them amain: Edward, my love
Be thy lives bane. Follow me countrymen,
Words make no way, my Elinor is surprised,
Robbed am I of the comfort of my life,
And know I this and am not venged on him?
Exit Lluellen, and the other lords.
Manet the Friar and Nouice.
Come boy we must buckle I see,
The prince is of my profession right:
Rather than he will lose his wench,
He will fight Ab ouo vsque ad mala.
O master doubt you not but your Novice will prove a whot shot, with a bottle of
Metheglin.
Exeunt, ere the wenche fall into a Welsh song and the Friar aunswer, and the Nouice betweene.
Enter the nine lordes of Scotland, with their nine pages, Gloster, Sussex, king Edward
in his sute of Glasse, Queene Elinor, Queene Mother, the King and Queene vnder a Canopie.
Nobles of Scotland, we thank you all,
For this days gentle princely service done.
To Edward Englands king and Scotland's lord:
Our Coronations due solemnity,
Is ended with applause of all estates,
Now then let us appose and rest us here,
But specially we thank you gentle lords,
That you so well have governed your griefs,
As being grown unto a general jar,
You choose king Edward by your Messengers,
To calm, to qualify, and to compound:
Thank Britain's strife of Scotland's climbing peers.
I have no doubt fair lords but you well wot,
How factions waste the richest Commonwealth,
And discord spoils the seats of mighty kings.
The Barons wars, a tragic wicked war,
Nobles how hath it shaken Englands strength?
Industriously it seems to me you have,
Loyally ventured to prevent this shock,
For which sith you have chosen me your judge,
My lords will you stand to what I shall award?
Baliol.
Victorious Edward, to whom the Scottish kings
Owe homage as their lord and sovereign,
Amongst us nine, is but one lawful king:
But might we all be judges in the case,
Then should in Scotland be nine kings at once,
And this contention never set or limited,
To stay these jars we jointly make appeal,
To thy imperial throne, who knows our claims,
We stand not on our titles before your grace,
But do submit ourselves to your award,
And whom your Majesty shall name to be our king,
To him we will yield obedience as a king,
Thus willingly, and of their own accord,
Doth Scotland make great Englands king their judge.
Then nobles since you all agree in one,
That for a crown so disagree in all,
Since what I do shall rest inrevocable,
And lovely England to thy lovely Queen,
Lovely Queen Elinor, unto her turn thy eye,
Whose honour cannot but love thee well,
Hold up your hands in sight, with general voice,
That are content to stand to our award.
They all holde vp their handes, and say he shall.
Deliver me the golden Diadem.
Lo here I hold the goal for which ye strived,
And here behold my worthy men at arms,
For chivalry and worthy wisdoms praise,
Worthy each one to wear a Diadem,
Expect my doom, as erst at Ida hills,
The Goddesses divine waited the award,
Of Danaes son: Balioll stand farthest forth,
Baliol behold I give thee the Scottish crown,
Wear it with heart and with thankfulness:
Sound Trumpets, and say all after me,
God save king Baliol the Scottish king.
The Trumpets sounds, all crie aloud, God saue King Baliol the Scottish king.
Thus lords though you require no reason why,
According to the conscience in the cause,
I make Iohn Balioll your anointed king:
Honour and love him as behooves him best,
That is in peace of Scotland's crown possessed.
Thanks royal England for thy honour done,
This justice that hath calmed our civil strife:
Shall now be ceased with honourable love,
So moved of remorse and pity,
We will erect a college of my name,
In Oxford will I build for memory,
Of Baliols bounty and his gratitude:
And let me happy days no longer see,
Than here to England loyal I shall
be.
Elinor.
Now brave Iohn Balioll Lord of Gallaway,
And king of Scots shine with thy golden head,
Shake thy spears in honour of his name,
Under whose royalty thou wearest the same.
Queene Elinors speeche.
The welkin spangled through with golden spots,
Reflects no finer in a frosty night,
Than lovely Longshankes in his Elinors eye:
So Ned thy Nell in every part of thee,
Thy person is guarded with a troop of Queens,
And every Queen as brave as Elinor,
Give glory to these glorious crystal quarries,
Where every robe an object entertains,
Of rich device and princely majesty.
Thus like Narcissus diving in the deep,
I die in honour and in Englands arms:
And if I drown, it is in my delight.
Whose company is chiefest life in death,
From forth whose coral lips I suck the sweet,
Wherewith are dainty Cupids candles made,
Then live or die brave Ned, or sink or swim,
An earthly bliss it is to look on him,
On thee sweet Ned, it shall become thy Nell,
Bounteous to be unto the beauteous,
Overpry the palms sweet fountains or my bliss,
And I will stand on tiptoe for a kiss.
He had no thought of any gentle heart,
That would not seize desire for such desert,
If any heavenly joy in women be,
Sweet of all sweets, sweet Nell it is in thee.
Now lords along by this the Earl of March,
Lord Mortimor over Cambriaes mountain tops,
Hath ranged his men, and feels Lluellens mind,
To which confines that well in wasting be,
Our solemn service of coronation past,
We will amain to back our friends at need,
And into Wales our men at arms shall march,
And we with them in person foot by foot.
Brother of Scotland, you shall to your home,
And live in honour there fair Englands friend,
And thou sweet Nell Queen of king Edwards heart.
Shall now come lesser at thy dainty love,
And at coronation meet thy loving peers,
When storms are past, and we have cooled the rage
Of these rebellious Welshmen that contend,
Against Englands majesty, and Edwards crown.
Sound Trumpets Heralds lead the train along,
This be king Edwards feast and holy day.
Exeunt.
Enter the Maris of London from Church, and Musicke before her.
Glocester, who may this be, a bride or what?
I pray ye Ione go see,
And know the reason of the harmony.
Good woman let it not ostend you any whit,
For to deliver unto me the cause,
That in this unusual kind of sort,
You pass the streets with music so.
Maris.
Mistress or Madam whatever you be,
Wot you I am the Mayor of Londons wife,
Who for I have been
delivered of a son,
Having not these dozen years had any before,
Now in my husbands year of Mairoltie,
Bringing him a goodly boy,
I pass unto my house a maiden bride,
Which private pleasure touching godliness,
Shall here no way I hope offend the good.
Queen.
You hope so gentle mistress, do you indeed!
But do not make it parcel of your creed.
Alas I am undone, it is the Queen,
The proudest Queen that ever England knew.
Exeunt Maris, & omnes.
Quee.
Come Gloster, let us to the court and revel there.
Exeunt Glocester and the Queene.
Enter Meredeth, Dauid, and Lluellen.
Soft is it not Meredeth I behold?
All good, all friends: Meredeth see the man,
Must make us great, and raise Lluellens head:
Fight thou Lluellen for thy friend and thee.
Mer.
Fight maugre fortune strong our battles strong,
And bear thy foes before thy pointed lance.
Not too much prowess good my lord at once.
Some talk of policy another while.
How comes my limbs hurt at this assault?
Hurt for our good, Meredeth make account,
Sir David's wit is full of good devise,
And kindly will perform what he pretends.
Enough of this my Lord at once,
What will you that I hold the king in hand,
Or what shall I especially advise,
Sitting in counsel with the English lords,
That so my counsel may avail my friends?
David if thou wilt best for me devise,
Advise my love be rendered to my hand:
Tell them the Chains that Mulciber erst made,
To tie Prometheus limbs to Caucuses,
Nor furies fangs shall hold me long from her,
But I will have her from the usurpers tent,
My beauteous Elinor: if aught in this,
If in this case thy wit may boot thy friends,
Express it then in this, in nothing else.
Aye there is a Card that puts us to our trump,
For might I see the star of Leicesters loins,
It were enough to darken and obscure,
This Edwards glory, fortune, and his pride:
First hereof can I put you out of doubt,
Lord Mortimor of the king hath her in charge,
And honourably entreats your Elinor,
Some thinks he prays Lluellen were in heaven,
And thereby hopes to coach his love on earth.
No, where Lluellen mounts, there Ellen flies
Inspeakable are my thoughts for her,
She is not from me in death to be divorced.
Go to, it shall be so, so shall it be,
Edward is full resolved of thy faith,
So are the English lords and Barons all:
Then what may let thee to intrude on them,
Some new found stratagem to feel their wit,
It is enough: Meredeth take my weapons,
I am your prisoner, say so at the least,
Go hence, and when you parley on the walls,
Make show of monstrous tyranny you intend,
To execute on me, as on the man,
That shamefully rebels against kin and kind:
And lest thou have thy love, and make
thy peace,
With such conditions as shall best concern,
David must die say thou a shameful death,
Edward perhaps with ruth and pity moved,
Will in exchange yield Elinor to thee,
And thou by me shalt gain thy hearts desire.
Sweetly advised David, thou blessest me,
My brother David lengthener of my life,
Friends gratulate to me my joyful hopes.
Enter Longshankes, Sussex, and others.
Why Barons, suffer ye our foes to breathe?
Assault, assault, and charge them all amain,
They fear, they fly, they faint, they fight in vain,
But where is gentle David in his Den?
Loath were I aught but good should him betide.
Sound an Alarum.
On the walles enter Longshankes, Sussex, Mortimor, Dauid the Friar, Meredith holding
Dauid by the collar, with a Dagger in his hande.
Where is the proud disturber of our state?
Traitor to Wails, and to his Sovereign.
Usurper here I am, what dost thou crave.
Welshman allegiance which thou owest thy king.
Traitor, no king, that seeks thy countries sack,
The famous runagate of Christendom.
Ambitious rebel, knowest thou what I am,
How great, how famous, and how fortunate,
And darest thou carry arms against me here,
Even when thou shouldest do reverence at my feet?
Yea feared and honoured in the farthest parts,
Hath Edward been, thy noble Henries son,
Traitor, this sword unsheathed hath shined oft,
With reeking in the blood of Saracens,
When like to Perseus on his winged steed,
Brandishing bright the blood of Adamant,
That aged Saturn gave fair Maias son,
Conflicting though with Gorgon in the vale,
Setting before the gates of Nazareth,
My horses hoofs I stained in Pagans gore,
Sending whole countries of heathen souls,
To Pluto's house: this sword, this thirsty sword,
Aims at thy head, and shall I hope ere long,
Gage and divide thy bowels and thy bulk,
Disloyal villain thou, and what is more.
Why Longshankes, thinkst thou I will be scared with words?
No, didst thou speak in thunder like to Ione,
Or shouldest as Briareus shake at once,
A hundred bloody swords, with bloody hands,
I tell thee Longshankes here he faceth thee,
Whom naught can daunt, no not the stroke of death:
Resolved ye see: but see the chance of war,
Knowest thou a traitor and thou seest his head,
Then Longshankes look this villain in the face:
This Rebel he hath wrought his countries wrack,
Base rascal, had and hated in his kind,
Object of wrath, and subject of revenge.
Lluellen, callest thou this the chance of war?
Bad for us all pardy, but worse for him,
Courage sir David, kings thou knowest must die,
And noble minds all dastard fear defies.
Renowned England, star of Edwards Globe,
My liefest lord and sweetest Sovereign,
Glorious and happy is this chance to me,
To reap this fame and honour in my death,
That I was hewed with foul defiled hands,
For my beloved king and countries good,
And died in grace and favour with my prince:
Seize on me bloody butchers with your paws,
It is but temporal that you can inflict.
Bravely resolved brave soldier by my life.
Hark you sir, I am afeared you will not be so resolved, by that time
you know so much
as I can show you, here be hot Dogs I can tell you, means to have the baiting of you.
Mort.
Lluellen in the midst of all thy braves,
How wilt thou use thy brother, thou hast ta'en,
Wilt thou let his master ransom him?
No nor his mistress gallant Mortimor,
With all the gold and silver of the land.
Ransom this Judas to his fathers line,
Ransom this traitor to his brother's life,
No take that earnest penny of thy death,
This touch my lord comes nothing near the mark.
Meredeth stabs him into the armes and shoulders.
O damned villain hold thy hands,
Ask and have.
We will nor ask nor have, seest thou these tools?
He showe him hote Pinsers.
These be the Dogs shall bait him to the death,
And shall by piecemeals tear his cursed flesh,
And in thy sight here shall he hang and pine.
O villains, traitors, how will I be venged?
What threats thou Edward,
Desperate minds contemn,
That fury menaceth, see thy words effects.
He cuts his nose.
O gracious heavens, dissolve me into clay,
This tyranny is more than flesh can bear.
Bear it brave mind, sith nothing but thy blood,
May satisfy in this extreme estate.
My lord it is in vain to threaten them,
They are resolved ye see upon his
death.
Sussex, his death, they all shall buy it dear,
Offer them any favour for his life,
Pardon, or peace, or aught what is beside:
So love me God, as I regard my friends.
Lluellen let me have thy brother's life,
Even at what rate and ransom thou wilt name.
Edward, king Edward, as thou list be termed,
Thou knowest thou hast my beauteous Elinor,
Produce her forth, to plead for David's life,
She may obtain more than an host of men.
Wilt thou exchange thy prisoner for thy love?
Talk no more to me, let me see her face.
Morti.
Why, will your majesty be all so base,
To stoop to his demands in everything?
Fetch her at once, good Mortimor be gone.
I go, but how unwilling heavens doth know.
Apace Mortimor if thou love thy friend.
I go for dearer than I leave behind.
Mortimor goes for Elinor, and conducts her in.
See Sussex how he bleedeth in my eye,
That beareth fortunes shock triumphantly.
Saw haw, master, I have found, I have
found.
What hast thou found Friar, ha?
News my lord, a Star from out the Sea,
The same is risen, and made a summers day.
Then Lluellen spieth Elinor and Mortimor, and saieth thus.
What Nell, sweet Nell, do I behold thy face?
Fall heavens, fleet stars, shine Phoebus lamp no more,
This is the Planet lends this world her light,
Star of my fortune, this that shineth bright,
Queen of my heart, load star of my delight,
Fair mold of beauty, miracle of fame,
O let me die with Elinor in mine arms:
What honour shall I lend thy loyalty,
Or praise unto thy sacred deity.
Marry this my lord, if I may give you counsel, sacrifice this Tike in her sight,
her friend,
which being done, one of your soldiers may dip his foul shirt
in his blood, so shall
you be waited with as many crosses as king Edward.
Good cheer sir David, we shall up anon.
Die Mortimor, thy life is almost gone.
Eli.
Sweet prince of Wales, were I within thine arms,
Then should I in peace possess my love,
And heavens open fair their crystal gates,
That I may see the palace of my intent.
Lluellen set thy brother free,
Let me have him, thou shalt have Elinor.
Sooth Edward I do prize my Elinor,
Dearer than life, but there belongeth more
To these affairs, than my content in love:
And to be short, if thou wilt have thy man,
Of whom I swear thou thinkest over well,
The safety of Lluellen and his men,
Must be regarded highly in this match,
Say therefore and be short, wilt thou give peace
And pardon to Lluellen and his men.
I will herein have time to be advised.
King Edward no, we will admit no pause,
For goes this wretch, this traitor to the pot,
And if Lluellen be pursued so near,
May chance to show thee such a tumbling cast,
As erst our father, when he thought to scape,
And broke his neck from Julius Caesars town.
My lord these rebels all are desperate.
And Mortimor of all most miserable.
How say you Welshmen, will you leave your arms,
And be true liegemen unto Edwards crown?
Al the Sold.
If Edward pardon surely what is past,
Upon conditions we are all content.
Belike you will condition with us then.
Sold.
Special conditions for our safety first,
And for our country Cambrias common good,
To avoid the fusion of our guilty blood.
Go to, say on.
First for our followers and ourselves and all,
We ask a pardon in the Princes word,
Then for this Lords possession in his love:
But for our Country cheer these boons we beg,
And Englands promise princely to thy Wails,
That none be Cambrias prince to govern us,
But he that is a Welshman born in Wales.
Grant this and swear it on thy knightly sword,
And have thy man, and us, and all
in peace.
Why Cambria Britains are you so incensed,
Will you deliver me to Edwards hands?
Solds.
No lord Lluellen we will back for thee,
Thy life, thy love, and golden liberty.
A truce with honourable conditions ta'en,
Wales happiness, Englands glory, and my bane.
Command retreat be sounded in our camp,
Soldiers I grant at full what you request,
David good cheer, Lluellen open the gates.
The gates are opened, enter thee and thine.
Daui.
The sweetest sun that ere I saw to shine.
Madam, a brabble well begun for thee,
Be thou my guest, and sir Lluellens love.
Mortimor solus.
Mortimer, a brabble ill begun for thee,
A truce with capital conditions ta'en:
A prisoner saved and ransomed with thy life,
Edward my king, my Lord and lover dear,
Full little dost thou wot, how this retreat.
As with a sword, hath slain poor Mortimor.
Farewell the flower the gem of beauties blaze,
Sweet Ellen, miracle of nature stand,
Fuellen in thy name, but heaven is in thy looks,
Sweet Venus let me saint or devil be,
In that sweet heaven or hell that is in thee.
Enter Iack and the Harper getting a standing against the Queene comes in.
The trumpets sound Queene Elinor in her litter borne by foure Negro Mores. Ione of
Acon with her, attended on by the Earle of Glocester, and her foure
footemen, one hauing set a ladder to the side of the litter, she descended and her daughter followeth.
Give me my pantofles.
Fie this hot weather how it makes me sweat,
Hey ho my heart, ah I am passing faint.
Give me my fan that I may cool my face,
Hold, take my mask but see you rumple not,
This wind and dust see how it smolders me,
Some drink good Gloster or I die for drink,
Ah Ned thou hast forgot thy Nell I see,
That she is thus enforced to follow thee.
Gloster.
This airs distemperature if please your majesty
Noisome through mountains vapours send thick must,
Unpleasant needs must be to you and your company,
That never was wont to take the air,
Till Flora have perfumed the earth with sweets,
With lilies, roses, mints and Eglantine.
I tell thee the ground is all too base,
For Elinor to honour with her steps:
Whose foot-pace when she progressed in the street,
Of Aecon and the fair Jerusalem,
Was naught but costly Arras points:
Fair Island tapestry and Azured silk,
My milk white steed treading on cloth of ray,
And trampling proudly underneath the feet,
Choice of our English woollen drapery.
This climate overlowering with black congealed clouds,
That takes their swelling from the marrish soil,
Fraught with infectious frogs and misty damps,
Is far unworthy to be once embalmed:
With redolence of this refreshing breath:
That sweetens where it lights as do the flames,
And holy fires of Vestaes sacrifice.
Whose pleasant fields new planted with the spring,
Make Thamesis to mount above the banks,
And like a wanton wallowing up and down:
On Floras beds and Napees silver down.
Glo.
And wales for me Madam while you are here,
No Climate good unless your grace be near,
Would wales had aught could please you half so well,
Or any precious thing in Glosters gift,
Whereof your ladyship would challenge me.
Well said my lord it is as my mother says,
You men have learned to woe a thousand ways.
O Madam had I learned against my need,
Of all those ways to woo one way to speed,
My cunning then had been my fortunes guide.
Faith Ione I think thou must be Glosters bride,
Good Earl how near he steps unto her side,
So soon this eye these younglings had espied,
I will tell thee girl when I was fair and young:
I found such honey in sweet Edwards tongue,
As I could never spend one idle walk,
But Ned and I would piece it out with talk.
So you my Lord when you have got your Ione,
No matter let Queen mother be alone.
Old Nell is mother now and grandmother may,
The greenest grass doth droop and turn to hay,
Woo one kind Clarke, good Gloster love thy Ione,
Her heart is thine, her eyes is not her own.
Gl.
This comfort Madam that your grace doth give
Binds me in double duty whilst I live,
Would God King Edward see and say no less.
Gloster I warrant thee upon my life,
My King vouchsafes his daughter for thy wife,
Sweet Ned hath not forgot since he did woo,
The gall of love and all that longs thereto.
Glost.
Why was your grace so coy to one so kind?
Kind Gloster so methinks indeed,
It seems he loves his wife no more than needs,
That sends for us in all the speedy haste,
Knowing his Queen to be so great with child,
And make me leave my princely pleasant seats,
To come into his ruder part of wales.
His highness hath some secret reason why,
He wisheth you to move from Englands pleasant courts
The Welshmen have of long time suitors been,
That when the war of rebels sorts an end:
None might be prince and ruler over them,
But such a one as was their countryman,
Which sure I think his grace hath granted them.
So then it is king Edwards policy,
To have his son, forsooth son if it be,
A Welshman, well welshman it liketh me,
And here he comes.
Enter Edward Longshankes and his lords, to the Queene and her footmen.
Nell, welcome into Wales,
How fares my Elinor?
Near worse, beshrew their hearts it is long on.
Hearts sweet Nell, shrew no hearts,
Where such sweet saints do dwell.
He holds her hand fast.
Nay then I see I have my dream, I pray let go,
You will not will you whether I will or no?
You are disposed to move me.
Say anything but so:
Once Nell thou gavest me this.
Qu Eli.
I pray let go, ye are disposed I think.
Aye Madam very well
Let go and be naught I say.
What ails my Nell?
Aye me, what sudden fits is this I prove;
What grief, what pinching pain, like youngmens love,
That makes me madding run thus too and fro?
What, melancholy Nell?
My lord pray let me go,
Give me sweet water, why how whot it is?
These be the fits, trouble men's wits.
Ione ask thy beauteous Mistress how she doth.
How fares your majesty?
Ione aggrieved at the heart and angered worse,
Because I came not right in,
I think the King comes purposely to spite me,
My fingers itch till I have had my will,
Proud Edward call in thy Elinor be still,
It will not be, nor rest I anywhere:
Till I have set it soundly on his ear.
Is that the matter then let me alone.
Qu. Elin.
Fie how I fret with grief.
Come hither Ione, knowest thou what ails my Queen?
Not I my lord, she longs I think to give your grace a box
on the ear.
Nay wench if that be all we will ear it well,
What all a-mort how doth my dainty Nell?
Look up sweet love, unkind, not kiss me once?
That may not be.
My lord I think you do it for the nonce.
Sweet heart one kiss.
For Gods sake let me go.
Sweet heart a kiss.
What, whether I will or no? you will not leave? let be I say?
I must be better chid.
No will? take that then lusty lord, Sir leave when
you are bid.
Why so this char is charred.
A good one by the rood,
No force no harm.
No harm that doth my Elinor any good.
Learn lords against you be married men to bow to
women's yoke:
And sturdy though you be you may not stir for every stroke:
Now my sweet Nell how doth my Queen?
She vaunts that mighty England hath felt her fist:
Taken a blow basely at Elinors hand,
And vaunt she may good leave being cursed and coy,
Lack nothing Nell whilst thou hast brought thy lord a lovely boy.
Veniacion I am sick good Katherina I pray thee be at hand.
Kath. Spain.
This sickness I hope will bring King Edward a jolly boy.
And Katherin who brings me that news shall not go
empty handed.
Exite omnes.
Enter Mortimor, Lluellen and Meredith.
Mortimor.
Farewell Lluellen with thy loving Nell.
Exit Mortimor.
God-a-mercy Mortimor and so farewell.
Mere.
Farewell and behanged half Sinons sapons brood
Good words Sir Rice wrongs have best remedy,
So taken with time patience and policy.
But where is the Friar who can tell?
Enter Friar.
That can I master very well,
And say I'faith what hath befell:
Must we at once to heaven or hell?
To heaven Friar, Friar no fie,
Such heavy souls mount not so hie.
Friar lies downe.
Then Friar lie thee down and die.
And if any ask the reason why,
Answer and say thou canst not tell,
Unless because thou must to hell.
No Friar because thou didst rebel,
Gentle Sir Rice ring out thy knell.
And Maddocke toll thy passing bell. So there lies a straw, and now to the law
masters
and friends, naked came we into the world naked are we
turned out of the good towns into the wilderness, let me say Mass,
methinks we are
a handsome Common-wealth, a handful of goodfellows, set a- sunning to dog on our own
discretion, what say you Sir? we are enough to keep a passage, will you be
ruled by me?
we will get the next day from Brecknocke the book of
Robin Hood, the Friar he shall instruct
us in his cause and we will even here fair and well since the king hath put us amongst the
discarding cards, and as it were ruined us with deuces and tres
out of the deck, every man
take his standing on Manmocke deny and wander like irregulars up and down the
wilderness, I will be master of misrule, I will be Robin Hood that once, cousin Rice thou shalt be
little Iohn, and here is Friar David as fit as a die for Friar Tuck,
now my sweet Nel if you will
make up the mess with a good heart for Maid marian and
do well with Lluellen under the
green wood trees, with as good a will as in the good towns,
why plena
est curia.
My sweetest love if this my infract fortune could never vaunt her sovereignty, and
shouldest thou pass the ford of Phlegeton, or with Leander win
the Hellispont in deserts,
Oenophrius ever dwell, or build thy bower on Aetnas fiery tops,
thy Nel would follow thee
and keep with thee, thy Nel would feed with thee and sleep with thee.
O Cupido quantus quaintus.
Bravely resolved Madam and then what rests my Lord Robin but we will live
and die
together like Chamber Britains, Robin Hood, little Iohn, Friar Tuck, and Maid marrian.
Llue.
There rests nothing now cousin but that I sell my chain to set us all in green and we will
all
play the Pioneers to make us a cave and Cabban for all weathers.
My sweet Lluellen though this sweet be gall,
Patience doth conquer me by out-suffering all.
Now Manmocke deny I hold thee a penny,
Thou shalt have neither sheep nor goat:
But Friar David, Will fleeces his coat,
Wherever Jack my Novice jet.
All is fish with him that comes to net,
David this year thou payest no debt.
Enter Mortimor solus.
Why Friar is it so plain indeed,
Lluellen art thou flatly so resolved.
To roist it out and roust so near the king:
What shall we have a passage kept
in wales:
For men at arms and knights adventurous?
By cock Sir Rice I see no reason why,
Young Mortimor should make one among:
And play his part on Manmocke dying here,
For love of his beloved Elinor:
His Elinor where she is I wot,
The bitter Northern wind upon the plains:
The damps that rise from out the quenchy plots:
Nor influence of contagious air should touch,
But she should court yet with the proudest dames,
Rich in attire and sumptuous in her fare.
And take her ease in beds of safest Down,
Why Mortimor may not thy offers move,
And win sweet Elinor from Lluellens love,
Why pleasant gold and gentle eloquence,
Have ticed the chasest Nymphs the fairest dames,
And vaunts of words, delights of wealth and ease,
Have made a Nun to yield Lluellens,
Being set to see the last of desperate chance,
Why should so fair a star stand in a vale?
And not be seen to sparkle in the sky,
It is enough Ione change his glittering robes:
To see Mennosyne and the flies:
Masters have after gentle Robin hood,
You are not so well accompanied I hope:
But if a potter come to play his part,
You will give him stripes or welcome good or worse:
Go Mortimor and make their love holidays,
The king will take a common scuse of thee,
And who hath more men to attend than Mortimor.
Enter Lluellen, Meredith, Frier, Elinor, and their traine.
They are all clad in greene &c. ; sing &c. ; Blith and bonny, the song ended Lluellen
speaketh.
Why so, I see my mates of old,
All were not lies that Bedlams told:
Of Robin Hood and little Iohn,
Friar Tuck and Maid marian.
Aye forsooth master.
How well they couched in forest green,
Frolic and lively with oaten teen:
And spent their day in game and glee,
Lluellen do seek if aught please thee,
Nor though thy foot be out of town,
Let thine look black on Edwards Crown.
Nor think this green is not so gay,
As was the golden rich array:
And if sweet Nel my Marrian,
Trust me as I am Gentleman:
Thou art as fine in this attire:
As fine and fit to my desire,
As when of Leicesters Hall and bower,
Thou wert the rose and sweetest flowers
How sayst thou Friar say I well?
For anything becomes my Nell.
Never made man of a woman born,
A Bullocks tail a blowing horn,
Nor can an Asses hide disguise,
A Lion if he ramp and rise.
My Lord, the Friar is wondrous wise.
Believe him for he tells no lies,
But what doth little Iohn devise?
That Robin Hood beware of spies,
An aged saying and a true,
Black will take no other hue.
He that of old hath been thy foe:
Will die but will continue
so.
O masters, whither shall we, doth any living creature know?
Rice and I will walk the round,
Friar see about the ground.
Enter Mortimor.
And spoil what pray is to be found,
My love I leave within in trust,
Because I know thy dealing just:
Come Potter come and welcome too,
Fare as we fare and do as we do.
Exit Lluellen & Meredith.
Nell adieu we go for news,
A little serves the Friars lust,
When nolens volens taste I must
Master at all that you refuse.
Such a porter would I choose,
When I mean to blind a skull,
While Robin walk with little Iohn,
The Friar will lick his marrian.
So will the Porter if he can.
Now Friar sith your lord is gone,
And you and I are left alone,
What can the Friar do or say,
To pass the weary time away?
Weary God wot poor wench to thee,
That never thought these days to see.
Break heart and split mine eyes in twain,
Never let me hear those words again.
What can the Friar do or say?
To pass the weary time away:
More dare I do than he dare say,
Because he doubts to have away.
Do somewhat Friar say or sing,
That may to sorrows solace bring,
And I meanwhile will
Garlands make.
O Mortimor were it for thy sake,
A Garland were the happiest stake:
That ever this hand unhappy drew.
Mistress shall I tell you true,
I have a song I learned it long ago,
I wot not whether you will like it well or ill,
It is short and sweet but somewhat broiled before,
Once let me sing it and I ask no more.
What Friar will you so indeed,
Agrees it somewhat with your need?
Why mistress shall I sing my creed,
That is fitter of the two at need.
O wench how mayst thou hope to speed?
O mistress out it goes.
Look what comes next the Friar throws.
The Frier sittes along and singes.
Such a sitting who ever saw,
An Eagles bird of a Jack daw.
So Sir is this all?
Sweet heart here is no more.
How now good fellow more indeed,
By one than was before.
How now the devil instead of a ditty.
Friar a ditty come late from the city,
To ask some pity of this lass so pretty:
Some pity sweet mistress I pray you.
How now Friar where are we now if you play not the man?
Friend Copesmate, you that come late from the
City,
To ask some pity of this lass so pretty,
In likeness of a doleful ditty,
Hang me if I do not pay ye.
O Friar you grow choleric, well you will
Have no man to Court your misters but yourself,
On my word I will take you down a button-hole,
Ye talk, ye talk child.
Enter Lluellen and Meredith.
It is well potter you fight in a good
quarrel,
Master this blade will hold let me see
then Friar.
Mine is for mine own turn I
warrant, give him his Tools, rise and let us to it, but
no
change and if you love me, I scorn the odds I can tell you, see fair play if you be
Gentlemen.
Marry shall we Friar, let us see,
be their staves of a length good, so now let us deem of the
matter Friar and Potter without more clatter I have cast your water, and
see as deep into your
desire, as he that had dined every
day into your bosom, O Friar will nothing serve your
turn but Larks.
Are such five birds for such course Clerks,
None but my Marian can serve your turn.
Cast water, for the house will burn.
O mistress mistress flesh is frail,
Ware when the sign is in the tail,
Mighty is love and doth prevail.
Therefore Friar shalt thou not fail,
But mightily your foe assail:
And thrush this Potter with thy flail,
And Potter never rave nor rail,
Nor ask questions what I ail:
But take this tool and do not quail,
But thrash this Friars russet cote:
They take the Flailes.
And make him sing a dastards note,
And cry Peccaus miserere Dauid.
In amo amaui : Go to.
Strike, strike.
Strike Potter be thou lief or loath,
And if you will not strike I will
strike for both.
Potter strikes.
He must needs go that the devil drives
Then Friar beware of other men's wives.
Frier strikes.
I wish master proud Potter the Devil have my soul:
But I will make my flail circumscribe your noll.
Why so, now it cottons, now the game begins.
One knave currieth another for his sins.
Frier kneeles.
O master shorten my offences in mine eyes:
If this Crucifix do not suffice,
Send me to Heaven in a hempen sacrifice.
Mortimor kneeles.
O masters masters let this be warning:
The Friar hath infected me with his learning.
Villains do not touch the forbidden hair now to delude, or to dishonour me.
O master, quae negata sunt grata sunt.
Rice every day thus shall it be, we will have a thrashing set among
the Friars, and he that of
these challengers lays on slowest load, be thou at hand Rice to gore him with thy
goad.
A Potter Potter the Friar may rue,
That ever this day this our quarrel he knew:
My pate addle, mine arms black and blue.
Potter.
Ah Friar who may his fates force eschew,
I think Friar you are prettily schooled.
And I think the Potter is handsomely cooled.
No Mortimor here that Eternal fire,
That burns and flames with brands of hot desire:
Why Mortimor, why dost thou not discover,
Thyself her knight her liegeman and her
lover?
Enter Iohn Balioll, King of Scots with his traine.
Lords of Albana, and my peers in France,
Since Balioll is invested in his rights,
And wears the royal Scottish Diadem,
Time is to rouse him that the world may wot,
Scotland disdains to carry Englands yoke.
Therefore my friends thus put in readiness,
Why slack we time to greet the English king?
With resolute message to let him know our minds,
Lord Versses though thy faith and oath be ta'en,
To follow Baliols arms for Scotland's right,
Yet is thy heart to Englands honour knit,
Therefore in spite of England and thyself,
Bear thou defiance proudly to thy king,
Tell him Albania finds heart and hope,
To shake off Englands tyranny be time,
To rescue Scotland's honour with his sword,
Lord Bruise see cast about Versses neck,
A strangling halter that he mind his haste.
How safest thou Versses wilt thou do this message?
Versses.
Although no common post, yet for my king
I will to England maugre Englands might,
And do mine errand boldly as becomes,
Albeit I honour English Edwards name,
And hold this slavish contemnment to scorn.
Balioll.
Then hie away as swift as swallow flies,
And meet me on our rodes on Englands ground,
We there think of thy message and thy haste.
Sound Trumpets.
Exit Balioll.
Enter King Edward Long shankes, Edmund Duke of Lancaster, Gloster, Sussex,
Dauid, Crespall booted from Northam.
Now have I leisure Lords to bid you welcome into Wales.
Welcome sweet Edmund to christen thy young nephew
And welcome Crossingham, give me thy hand,
But Sussex what became of Mortimor?
We have not seen the man this many a day.
Before your highness rid from hence to Northam.
Sir Roger was a suitor to your Grace,
Touching fair Elinor Lluellens love,
And so belike denied with discontent,
He discontinues from your Royal presence.
Why Sussex said we not for Elinor,
So she would leave whom she had loved too long,
She might have favour with my Queen
and me,
But man, her mind above her fortune mounts,
And that is a cause she fails in her accounts.
But go with me my lord of Lancaster.
We will go see my beauteous lovely Queen,
That hath enriched me with a goodly boy.
King Edward, Edmund, and Gloster, goes into the Queenes, Chamber, the Queenes
Tent opens, shee is discouered in her bed, attended by Mary Dutches of Lancaster Ioue of Acon her
daughter & the Queen donates his young sonne.
Ladies by your leave, how doth my Nell, mine own, my
love, my life, my heart, my
dear, my dove, my Queen, my wife.
Ned art thou come, sweet Ned welcome my joy.
Thy Nell presents thee with a lovely boy.
Kiss him, and christen him after thine own name.
Hey ho whom do I see, my lord of Lancaster, welcome heartily.
Lancaster.
I thank your grace, sweet Nell well met withal.
Brother Emund here is a kinsman of yours you must need be
acquainted.
A goodly boy God bless him, give me your hand Sir, you are
welcome into Wales.
Brother there is a fist I warrant you will hold a Mace as fast as ever did father or
grandfather before him.
But tell in now lapped in Lily bands,
How with my Queen, my lovely boy it stands:
After thy journey and these child-bed pains.
Sick mine own Ned thy Nell for thy company:
That lured her with thy lies all so far,
To follow thee unwieldy in thy war,
But I forgive thee Ned my limbs delight:
So thy young son thou see be bravely dight,
And in Carnaruan christened royally.
Sweet love let him be lapped most curiously,
He is thine own, as true as he is thine,
Take order then that he be passing fine.
My lovely Lady let that care be less,
For my young son the country will I feast:
And have him borne as bravely to the fount;
As ever yet Kings son to Christening went.
Lack thou no precious thing to comfort thee,
Dearer than Englands Diadem unto me.
Thanks gentle Lord, nurse rock the Cradle, fie:
The King so near, and here the boy to cry?
Ione take him up and sing a Lullaby.
It is well believe me wench god-a-mercy
Ione,
She learns my Lord to lull a young one of her own.
Give me some drink.
Drink Nectar my sweet Nell,
Worthy for seat in heaven with Jove to dwell.
Gramercy Ned, now well remembered yet,
I have a suite sweet lord, but you must not deny it,
Whereas my Lord of Gloster, good Clare mine host, my guide,
Good Ned let Ione of Acon be his bride,
Assure yourself that they are thoroughly wooed.
God send the King be taken in the mood,
Then Niece it is like that you shall have a husband,
Come hither Gloster hold give her thy hand,
Take her, sole daughter to the Queen of England.
Longsh. giues her to Gloster.
For news he brought Nell of my young son,
I promised him as much as I have done.
Gloster and Ione hand in hand.
We humbly thank your majesty.
Much joy may them betide,
A gallant bridegroom and a princely bride.
Now say sweet Queen what doth my Lady crave?
Tell me what name shall this young Welshman have.
born Prince of wales by Cambrias full consent.
Edward the name, that doth me well content,
Then Edward of Carnaruan shall he be,
And Prince of Wales christened in royalty.
D. Edmund.
My Lord I think the Queen would take a nap,
Nurse take the child and hold in your lap,
Farewell good Ione be careful of my Queen.
Sleep, Nell, the fairest Swan mine eyes have seen.
They close the Tent.
I had forgot to ask your Majesty.
How do you with the Abbeys here in Wales.
As kings with rebels Mun, our fight prevails,
We have good Robin Hood and little Iohn,
The Friar and the good Maid; marrian.
Why our Lluellen is a mighty man.
Trust me my Lord, methinks it were very good
That some good fellows went and scoured the wood,
And take in hand to cudgel Robin Hood.
I think the Friar for all his lusty looks,
Nor Robin rule with their gleams and hooks,
But would be quickly driven to the nooks.
I can assure your highness what I know,
The false Lluellen will not run nor go
Or give an inch of ground come man for man,
Nor that proud rebel called little Iohn,
To him that welds the massiest sword of England,
Welshman, how wilt thou that we understand,
But for Lluellen, David I deny,
England hath men will make Lluellen fly,
Maugre his beard and hide him in a hole,
Weary of Englands dints and manly dole.
D. Edm.
Gloster, grow not so hot in Englands right,
That paints his honour out in every sight.
By Gis fair Lords ere many days be past,
England shall give this Robin Hood his breakfast.
David, be secret friend to that I say,
And if I use thy skill thou knowest the way.
Where this proud Robin and his yeomen rome.
I do my Lord and blindfold thither can I run.
David enough, as I am a Gentleman,
I will have one merry flirt with little
Iohn,
And Robin Hood, and his Maid marrian,
Be thou my counsel and my company,
And thou mayst Englands resolution see.
Enter Sussex before the foure Barons of Wales.
May it please your majesty, here are four good Squires of the Cantreds where they do
dwell, come in the name of the whole country to gratulate unto your
highness all your good fortunes, and by me offer their most humble service to your
young
son their Prince, whom they most heartily beseech God to bless with long life and
honour.
Well said Sussex I pray bid them come near, Sir Dan trust me, this
is kindly done of your
country men.
Villains, Traitors to the ancient glory and renown of Cambria, Morris Vaghan art
thou
there, and thou proud Lord of Anglesee.
They kneele downe.
Enter Sussex with the foure Barrons of Wales, with the Mantle of frise.
Mantle Barons.
The poor country of Cambria by us unworthy
messengers, gratulates to your majesty the
birth of your young son Prince of Wales, and in this poor pressed expressed their most
zealous duty and affection, which with all humbleness we present to your
highness sweet and
sacred hands.
Gramercy Barons for your gifts and good wills, by this means my boy shall wear a
Mantle of countries weaving to keep him warm, and live for Englands honour and
Cambrias
good, I shall not need I trust courteously to inuit you, I doubt not Lords but you will be all in
readiness to wait on your young Prince and do him honour at
his christening.
The whole country of Cambria round about all well horsed, and
attended on both men and
women in their best array, are come down to do service of love and honour to our late born
Prince, your Majesties son and honey, the men and women of Sowdone especially have sent
in great abundance of cattle and corn enough by
computation for your highness household a
whole month and more.
We thank them all, and will present our Queen with
these courtesies and presents bestowed on
her young Son, and greatly account you for our friends.
Exit 4 Barons.
The Queens Tent opens, the King his brother the Earle of Gloster enter.
Who talketh there?
A friend Madam.
Madam it is the King.
Welcome my Lord hey ho what have we there?
Madam the country in all kindness and duty recommend their service and good
will to
your son and in token of their pure good will, presents him by us with a mantle of frieze
richly lined to keep him warm.
Q. Elinor.
A mantle of frieze, fie fie for Gods sake let me here no more of it and if you love
me, fie
my lord is this the wisdom and kindness of the country? now I commend me to them all,
and if Wales have no more wit or manners, than to cloth a Kings son in frieze I have a
mantle in store for my boy, that shall I trow make him shine like the
son, and perfume the
streets where he comes.
In good time Madam, he is your own, lap him as you list, but I promise thee Nell I
would not for ten thousand pounds the country should take unkindness at thy words.
It is no marvel sure, you have been royally received at their hands, no Ned, but that
thy Nell doth want of her will, her boy should glister like the Summers
Sun in robes as rich
as Jove when he triumphs.
His pap should be of precious Nectar made,
His food Ambrosia no earthly woman's milk,
Sweet fires of Cinnamon to open him by,
The Graces on his cradle should attend,
Venus should make his bed and wait on him,
And Phebus daughter sing him still asleep.
Thus would I have my boy used as divine,
Because he is king Edwardes son and mine.
And do you mean to make him up in frieze,
For God sake lay it up charily, and perfume it against
winter, it will make him a goodly
warm Christmas coat.
Ah Mun my brother, dearer than my life,
How this proud honour slays my heart with grief.
Sweet Queen how much I pity the effects,
This Spanish pride grees not with Englands prince,
Mild is the mind where honour builds his bower,
And yet is earthly honour but a flower.
Fast to those looks are all my fancies tide,
Pleased with thy sweetness, angry with thy pride.
Fie fie methinks I am not where I should be,
Or at the least I am not where I would be.
What wants my Queen to perfect her content,
But ask and have the King will not repent.
Thanks gentle Edward, lords have at you then,
Have at you all long bearded Englishmen,
Have at you lords and ladies when I crave,
To give your English pride a Spanish brave.
What means my Queen Gloster, this is a Spanish fit.
Ned thou hast granted and canst not revoke it.
Sweet Queen say on my word shall be my deed.
Qu. Elinor.
Then shall my words make many a bosom bleed
Reed Ned thy Queens request lapped up in rhyme,
And say thy Nell had skill to choose her time.
Read the paper Rice.
The pride of Englishmens long hair,
Is more than Englands Queen can bear:
Women's right breast cut them off all,
And let the great tree perish with the small.
What means my lovely Elinor by this?
Not be denied for my request it is.
The rhyme is, that men's beards and women's breasts be cast off
etcetera;
Gloster, an old said saying, he that grants all is asked,
Is much harder than Hercules task.
Were the King so mad as the Queen is wood,
Here were an end of Englands good.
My word is past I am well agreed,
Let men's beards melt and women's bosoms bleed.
Call forth my Barbers, Lords we will first begin.
Enter two Barbers.
Come sirrah cut me close unto the chin,
And round me even seest thou by a dish,
Leave not a lock my Queen shall have her wish.
What Ned, those locks that ever pleased thy Nel?
Were her desire, where her delight doth dwell,
Wilt thou deface that silver labyrinth?
More orient than pimpled Hyancinth,
Sweet Ned, thy sacred person ought not droop,
Though my command make other gallants stoop.
Madam, pardon me and pardon all,
No justice but the great runs with the small.
Tell me good Gloster art thou not afeared?
No my Lord but resolved to lose my beard.
Now Madam if you purpose to proceed,
To make so many guiltless Ladies bleed.
Here must the law begin, sweet Elinor at thy breast,
And stretch itself with violence to the rest,
Else Princes ought no other do,
Fair lady, than they would be done unto.
What logic call you this, doth Edward mock his love?
No Nell he doth as best in honour doth behove,
And prays thee gentle Queen, and let my prays move,
Leave these ungentle thoughts, put on a milder mind,
Sweet looks, not lofty, civil mood becomes a woman's kind:
And live as being dead, and buried in the ground,
Thou mayst for affability and honour be renowned.
Nay if you preach, I pray my lord begone,
The child will cry and trouble you anon.
The Nurse closeth the Tent.
Quo semel est imbuta recens seruabit odorem Testa
diu.
L. Maris.
Proud incest in the cradle of disdain,
Bred up in court of pride, brought up in Spain,
Dost thou command him coyly from thy sight?
That is the star, the glory of thy sight.
O could I with the riches of my crown,
Buy better thoughts for my renowned Nel,
Thy mind sweet Queen should be as beautiful,
As is thy face, as is thy features all.
Fraught with pure honour, treasure, and enriched,
With virtues and glory incomparable.
Ladies about her Majesty, see that the Queen your mother know not so
much, but at any
hand our pleasure is, that our young son be in this Mantle borne
to his Christening, for
special reasons is thereto moving, from the Church has best it please your women's wits
to
devise, yet sweet Ione see this faithfully performed, and hear you daughter, look you be
not last up when this day comes, lest
Gloster find another Bride in your steed, David go with
me.
Gloste.
She riseth early Ione, that beguileth thee of a Gloster.
believe him not sweet Niece, women can speak smooth for advantage.
We men do you mean my good uncle? Well be the accent
where it will women are
women, I will believe you for as great a matter as this comes to my lord.
gramercy sweet lady, et habebis
fidei mercedem contrà
,
Exite.
Enter the Nouice and his company to giue the Queene Musicke
at her Tent.
Come fellows, cast yourselves even round in a string, a ring I would say, come merely
on my word for the Queen is most liberal, and if you will please her well
she will
pay you royally, so lawful to brave well thy British lustily,
to solace our good Queen God
save her Grace, and give our young Prince a carpel in their kind, come
on come on set your
crowds and beat your heads together and behave you handsomely.
Here they sing.
Enter the Frier Dauid alone.
I have a budget in my nose this gay morning, and now will I try how clearkly the Friar can
behave himself, it is a common fashion
to get gold with stand, deliver your purses, Friar
Dauies will once in his days get money by wit, there
is a rich Farmer should pass this
ways to receive a round sum of money, if he come to me
the money is mine, and the law
shall take no vantage, I will cut off the law as the hangman
would cut a man down when he
hath shaken his heels half an hour under the gallows, well I must take some pains for this
gold, and have at it.
The Frier spreads the lappet of his gowne and fals to dice.
Enter a Farmer.
Farmer.
It is an old said saying I remember I red it in Catoes
Pueriles, that Cantabit vacuus
coram latrone viator . A man's purse penniless may sing before a thief, true as I
have
not one
penny, which makes me so pertly pass through these thickets, but indeed I receive a
hundred marks, and all the care is how I shall
pass again,
well, I resolved either to ride twenty miles about, or else to be
so well accompanied that I
will not care for these rufflers.
Did ever man play with such uncircumcised hands, sice ace
to eleven and lose the
chance.
God speed good fellow, why chafest thou so fast, there is
nobody will win thy money from
thee.
Sounds you offer me injury Sir to speak in my cast.
The Friar undoubtedly is lunatic, I pray thee good fellow leave chaffing, and get some
warm drink to comfort thy brains.
Alas Sir I am not lunatic, it is not so well, for I have lost my money which is far worse,
I have lost five gold Nobles to Saint Francis, and if I knew where
to meet with his receiver I
would pay him presently.
Wouldst thou speak with Saint Francis receiver?
O Lord, aye Sir full gladly.
Why man I am Saint Francis receiver, if you would have anything with him.
Are you Saint Francis receiver, Jesus, Jesus, are you Saint Francis receiver, and how does all?
I am his receiver, and am now going to him, abids Saint Thomas a Waterings to
breakfast
this morning to a calf's head and bacon.
Good Lord Sir I beseech you carry him these five Noble, and tell him I deal honestly
with him as if he were here present.
I will of my word and honestly Friar, and so farewell.
Farewell Saint Francis receiver even heartily, well now the Friar is
out of cash five Nobles,
God knows how he shall come into cash again, but I must to it
again, there is nine for your
holiness and six for me.
Enter Lluellen, Meredith, Potter, with there prisoners.
Come on my hearts, bring forth your prisoners and let us
see what store of fish is there in
their purse-nets, Friar why chafest thou man here is nobody will offer thee any
foul play I
warrant thee.
O good master give me leave, my hand is in a little, I trust I shall recover my losses.
The Friar is mad, but let him alone with his devise, and now to you my masters,
Peddler,
Priest and Piper, throw down your budgets in the mean while,
and when the Friar is at
leisure he shall tell you what you shall trust to.
Peddler.
Alas sir I have but three pence in the corner of my shoe,
Never a shoulder of Mutton Piper in your Tabor, but soft
here comes company.
Enter Longshankes, Dauid, Farmer.
Alas gentlemen if you love yourselves do not venture through this mountain, here is such
a coil with Robin Hood and his rabble that every cross in
my purse trembles for fear.
Honest man as I said to thee before, conduct us through
this wood, and if thou
beest robbed, or have any violence offered thee,
as I am a Gentleman I will repay it thee
again.
How much money hast thou about thee?
Faith Sir a hundred marks, I received it even now at Breaknocke,
but out alas we are
undone, yonder is Robin Hood and all the strong thieves in the
mountain I have no hope left
but your honours assurance.
Fear not I will be my words master.
Good master and if you love the Friar, give aim a while I you desire: and as you like
of
my devise, so love him that holds the dice.
What Friar art thou still labouring so hard, will you have anything more to Saint France?
Good lord are you here sweet Saint Francis receiver, how doth his holiness and all his good
family?
In good health faith Friar, hast thou any Nobles for
him?
You know the dice are not partial if Saint Francis were ten Saints they
will favour him no
more than they would favour the Devil if he play at dice, in very truth my friend they have
favoured the Friar, and I have won a hundred marks off Saint Francis, come Sir I
pray sirrah draw it over
I know sirrah he is a good man and never deceives none.
Draw it over, what meanest thou by that?
Why in numeratis pecuniis legem pone, pay me
my
winnings.
Far.
What ass is this, should I pay thee thy winnings?
Why art not thou sirrah Saint Francis receiver?
Indeed I do receive for Saint Francis.
Then I will make you pay for Saint Francis that is flat.
Bushing on both sides.
Help help I am robbed. I am robbed.
Villain you wrong the man, hands off.
Masters I beseech you leave this brawling and give me leave to speak, so it is
I went to
dice with Saint Francis and lost five Nobles, by good fortune his
Cashier came by received it of
me in ready cash, I being very desirous to try my fortune
further, played still, and as the dice
not being bound prentice to him or any man, favoured me, I drew a
hand and won a hundred
marks, now I refer it to your judgments whither the Friar is to seek his winnings.
Marie Friar the Farmer must and shall pay thee honestly ere he pass.
Shall I sir, why will you be content to pay half as you promised me.
Aye farmer if you had been robbed of it, but
if you be a gamester I will take no
charge of you I.
Alas I am undone.
So sir Friar, now you have gathered up your winnings I pray you stand up and
give
the messengers their charge that Robin Hood may receive his Toll.
And shall my Lord. Our thrice renowned Lluellen Prince of
Wales and Robin Hood of the
great mountain, doth will and command all passengers, at the sight of Richard servant
unto
me Friar David ap Tuck to lay down their weapons, and
quietly to yield for custom towards
the maintenance of his highness wars, the half of all such gold, silver,
money, and money
worth, as the said messenger hath then about him, but if he conceal any
part or parcel of the
same, then shall he forfeit all that he possesseth at that present, and this sentence
is
irrevocable confirmed by our Lord Lluellen Prince of Wales, and Robin Hood of the
great
mountains.
So vail your budgets to Robin of the mountain, but what art thou that
disdainest to
pay this custom, as if thou scornest the greatness of the prince of Wales?
Faith Robin thou seemest to be a good fellow there is my
bag, half is mine and half is
thine, but let us to it if thou darest
man for man, to try who shall have the whole.
Why thou speakest as thou shouldest speak. My masters on pain of my displeasure
depart
the place and leave us two to ourselves, I must lope his Longshankes for I will ear to a
pair of Longshankes.
They are fair marks sir, and I must defend as I may, Dauy be gone, hold here my
hearts, long legs gives you this amongst you to spend blows one with an other, Dauie now
Dauie days are almost come at end.
Mortim.
But Mortimor this sight is strange, stay thou in some corner to see what will befall in this
battle.
Edward.
Now Robin of the wood, alias Robin Hood, be it known to your worship by
these
presents, that the Longshankes which you aim at, have
brought the king
of England into these mountains, to use Lluellen, and to crack a blade with his man
that
supposeth himself Prince of Wales.
What Sir King, welcome to Cambrias, what foolish Edward darest thou endanger thyself
to travail these mountains, art thou so foolish hardy as to combat with the
Prince of Wales?
What I dare thou seest, what I can perform thou shalt shortly know, I think thee a
Gentleman, and therefore hold no scorn to fight with thee.
No Edward I am as good a man as thyself.
That shall I try.
They fight, and Dauid takes his brothers part, and Mortimor the Kings.
Hallow Edward how are thy senses confounded, what Dauy is it possible thou shouldest
be false to England?
Dauy.
Edward I am true to Wales, and so have been friends since my birth, and that shall
the
King of England know to his cost.
What Potter, did not I charge you to begone with your fellows?
No Traitor no Potter I, but Mortimor the Earl of March, whose coming
to these woods,
is to deceive thee of thy love, and reserved to save my sovereigns life.
Upon them brother let them not breath.
The King hath Lluellen downe, and Dauid hath Mortimor downe.
Villain thou diest, God and my right hath prevailed.
Base Earl now doth David triumph in thine overthrow, aye is
me Lluellen at the feet of
Longshanks.
What Mortimor under the sword of such a Traitor?
Brave King run thy sword up to the hilts into the blood
of the rebel.
O Mortimor thy life is dearer to me than millions of rebels.
Edward relieve my brother and Mortimor lives.
Aye villain thou knowest too well how dear
I hold my Mortimor, rise man and assure thee,
and the hate I bear to thee is long in respect of the deadly hatred I bear to
notorious rebel.
Away, his sight to me is like the sight of a
Cockatrice, villain I go to revenge me on
thy treason, and to make thee pattern to the world, of mountains treason, falsehood
and
ingratitude.
Brother he chafes, but hard was your hap to be overmastered
by the coward.
No coward David, his courage is like to the Lion, and were it not that
rule and
sovereignty sets us at jar, I could love and honour the man
for his valour.
But the Potter, o the villain will never out of my mind whilst I live, and I will
lay to be
revenged on his villainy.
Well David what will be shall be,
therefore casting these matters out of our heads, David
thou art welcome to Cambria, let us in and be merry after this cold cooling, and to prepare
to strengthen ourselves against the last threatenings.
After the Christening and marriage done, the Harrolds hauing attended, they passe ouer,
the bride is led by two Noblemen, Edmund of Lancaster, and the Earle of Sussex, and the
Bishop.
Welcome Ione Countess of Gloster to Gilbert de Clare forever. God give them joy,
cousin Gloster, see
us now go visit the King and Queen, and present their Majesties with their young son,
Edward Prince of Wales.
Then all passe in their order to the kings pauilion, the king sits in his
Tent with his pages about him.
Bishop.
We represent your highness most humbly, with your young
son Edward of Carnaruan
Prince of Wales.
Omnes.
God save Edward of Carnaruan prince of Wales.
Longsh. kisses them both
Edward Prince of Wales God bless thee with long life and honour, welcome Ione
countess of Gloster, God bless thee and thine forever, lords let
us visit my Queen and
wife, whom we will at once
present with a Son and daughter honoured to her desire.
Sound Trumpets, they all march to the Chamber.
Bishop speakes to her in her bed.
We humbly present your Majesty with your young son
Edward of Carnaruan Prince of
Wales.
God save Edward of Carnaruan prince of wales:
Queene Elinor shee kisses him.
Gramercy Bishop, hold take that to buy thee a Rochell, welcome Welshman,
here
Nurse open him and have him to the fire for God sake, they
have toused him, and wash them
thoroughly and that be good, and welcome Ione Countess of
Gloster, God bless thee with
long life, honour, and hearts ease.
I am now as good as my word Gloster, she is thine make much of her gentle Earl.
Now my sweet Nell what more commandeth my Queen that nothing may want
perject her contentment.
Nothing sweet Ned, but pray my king to feast the Lords and ladies royally, and
thanks a
thousand
times good men and women, to you all, for this duty and honour done to your
Prince.
Master Bridegroom by old custom this is your waiting day, Sir David you may
command all ample welcome in our court, for your
countrymen: brother Edmund
revel it now or never for honour of your Englands son, Gloster
now like a brave
Bridegroom marshall this many, and set these Lords and Ladies
to dancing, so shall you fulfil
the old English proverb, it is merry in Hall when beards wag all.
After the showe, and the King and Queen with all the lordes and ladies in place,
Longshanks speaketh.
What tidings brings Versses to our court?
Enter in Versses with a halter about his necke.
Tidings to make thee tremble English king.
Me tremble boy? must not be news from Scotland, can once make
English Edward
stand aghast.
Baliell hath chosen at this time to stir,
To rouse him Lion-like and cast the yoke:
That Scots ingloriously have borne from thee,
And all the predecessors of thy line:
And make his rods to re-obtain his rights,
And for his homage scuds thee all this despite.
Why how now princocks pratest thou to a king?
I do my message truly from my king.
This sword and target chide in louder terms,
I bring defiance from king Iohn Balioll,
To English Edward and his Barons all.
Marie so methinks thou defiest me with a witness.
Balioll my king in Barwicke makes his Court,
His camp he spreads upon the sandy plain,
And dares thee to the battle in his right.
What Court and Camp in Englishmens despite?
Hold messenger, commend me to thy King,
Wear thou my chain and carry this to him,
Greet all his route of Rebels more or less,
Tell them such shameful end will hit them all,
And wend with this as resolutely back,
As thou to England broughtest thy Scottish braves,
Tell then disdainfully Balioll from us,
We will rouse him from his hold, and make him soon
Dislodge his Camp, and take his walled town.
Say what I bid thee Versses to his teeth.
And earn this favour and a better thing.
Yes King of England whom my heart beloves,
Thinks as I promised him to brave thee hear,
So shall I bid Iohn Balioll base from thee.
So shalt thou earn my chain and favour Versses,
And carry him this token that thou sendst:
Why now is Englands harvest ripe,
Barons now may you reap the rich renown,
That under warlike colours springs in field,
And grows where ensigns wan upon the plains.
False Balioll Barwicke is no hold of proof,
To shroud thee from the strength of Edwards arm,
No Scot thy Treasons fear shall make the breach,
For Englands pure renown to enter one.
Amain amain upon these treacherous Scots.
Amain say all, upon these treacherous Scots,
While we with Edmund, Gloster, and the rest,
With speedy journeys gather up our forces,
And beat these braving Scots from Englands bounds,
Mortimor thou shalt take the route in task,
That revel here and spoil fair Cambria,
My Queen when she is strong and well a- foot,
Shall post to London and repast her there,
Then God shall send us happily all to meet,
And joy the honours of our victories,
Take vantage of our foes and see the time,
Keep still our hold, our fight yet on the plain,
Balioll I come proud Balioll and ingrate,
Persuaded to chase thy men from Englands gate.
Exit Edward King.
Enter Balioll with his traine.
Princes of Scotland and my loving friends.
Whose necks are overwearied with the yoke,
And servile bondage of these Englishmen,
Lift up your horns, and with your brazen hoofs,
Spur at the honour of your Enemies.
It is not ambitious thoughts of private rule,
Hath forced your king to take on him these Arms,
It is countries cause, it is the commons good,
Of us and of our brave posterity, to arms, to
arms.
Versses by this hath told the King our minds,
And he hath braved proud England to the proof,
We will remunerate his resolution,
With gold, with glory, and with kingly gifts.
Lord.
By sweet Saint Ierem Versses will not spare,
To tell his message to the English King:
And beard the jolly Longshankes to his face,
Were he the greatest Monarch in the world,
And here he comes his halter makes him haste.
Enter Versses.
Long live my lord the rightful King of Scots.
Welcome Versses, what news from England?
Like to the measure of Scotland's King?
Versses my Lord in terms like to himself,
Like to the messenger of Scottish King,
Defied the Peers of England and their lords,
That all his Barons trembles at my threats,
And Longshankes himself as dainted and amazed,
Gazed on my face not witting what to say:
Till rousing up he shaked his threating hair,
Versses quoth he take thou King Edwards chain,
Upon condition, thou a message do,
To Balioll false, perjured Balioll.
For in these terms he bad me greet your Grace,
And gave this halter to your excellences,
I took the chain and gave your Grace the rope.
You took the chain and give my Grace the rope,
Lay hold on him, why miscreant recreant,
And darest thou bring a halter to thy King?
But I will quite thy pain, and in that chain,
Upon a silver Gallows shalt thou hang,
That honoured with a golden rope of England,
And a silver Gibbet of Scotland,
Thou mayst hang in the air for fowls to feed
upon,
And men to wonder at, away with him away.
After the sight of Iohn Balioll is done, enter Mortimor pursuing of the Rebels.
Strike up that drum, follow, pursue and chase,
Follow, pursue, spare not the proudest he,
That havocs Englands sacred royalty.
Exit Morti.
Then make the proclamation vpon the walles. Sound Trumpets.
Enter Queene alone.
Now fits the time to purge our melancholy, and be
revenged upon this London
Dame.
Katherina
Enter Katherina,
At hand Madam.
Bring forth our London Maris here.
Kather.
I will Madam.
Now Nell bethink thee of some tortures for the Dame:
And purge thy choler to the uttermost,
Enter Maris and Katherine.
Now mistress Maris you have attendance urged,
And therefore to requite your courtesy,
Our mind is to bestow an office on you straight.
Myself, my life, and service mighty Queen, are humbly at
your Majesties command.
Then mistress Maris say whether will you be our Nurse or Laundress.
Then may it please your Majesty, to entertain your
handmaid for your Nurse, she will
attend the cradle carefully.
O no Nurse, the Babe needs no great rocking, it can lull itself, Katherina bind her in
the chair, and let me see how she will become a Nurse, so
now Katherin draw forth her breast
and let the Serpent suck his fill, why so now she is a Nurse, suck
on sweet Babe.
Ah Queen sweet Queen, seek not my blood to spill:
For I shall die before this Adder have his fill.
Die or die not, my mind is fully pleased,
Come Katherina to London now will we,
And leave our Maris with her nursery.
Kath.
Farewell sweet Maris look unto the Babe.
Exeunt Queene and Kath.
Farewell proud Queen the Author of my death,
The scourge of England and to English dames:
Ah husband sweet Iohn Bearmber Mayor of London,
Ah didst thou know how Marry is perplexed,
Soon wouldst thou come to Wales and rid me of this pain.
Here shee dies.
But o I die, my wish is all in vain.
Enter Lluellen running out before, and Dauid with a halter ready to hang himselfe.
The angry Heavens frowned on Britain's face
To Eclipse the glory of fair Cambria,
With sourer aspects the dreadful Planets lower,
Lluellen basely turn thy back and fly,
No Welshmen fight it to the last and die.
For if my men safely have got the Bride,
Careless of chance, I will reck no sour event,
Englands broad womb hath not that armed band,
That can expel Lluellen from his land.
Enter Dauid.
Fly Lord of Cambria, fly Prince of Wales,
Sweet brother fly the field is won and lost,
Thou art beset with Englands furious troupes,
And cursed Mortimor like a Lion leads,
Our men have got the Bride but all
in vain:
The English men are come upon our backs,
Either flee or die for Edward hath the day:
For me I have my rescue in my hand,
England on me no torments shall inflict,
Farewell Lluellen while we meet in Heaven.
Exit Dauid.
Enter Souldiers.
Follow pursue: lie there whatever thou be,
Lluellen is slaine with a Pike staffe:
Yet soft my hearts let us his countenance see,
This is the Prince I know him by his face,
O gracious fortune that me happy made,
To spoil the weed that chokes fair Cambria,
Hale him from hence and in this buskiewood,
Bury his corps, but for his head I vowed,
I will present our governor with the same.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter the Frier with a halter about his necke.
Come my gentle Richard my true master servant that in some storms have stood my
master, hang thee I pray thee lest I hang for thee, and down on thy marry bones like
a foolish fellow, that have gone far astray and ask forgiveness
of God and king Edward for
playing the rachel and the Rebel here in Wales, ah gentle Richard many a whot breakfast
have we been at together, and now since, like one of Mars his frozen knights I must hang up
my weapon upon this tree and come per
misericordiam to the mad Potter Mortimor, wring
thy hands Friar and sing a pitiful farewell to thy pikestaff at parting.
The Frier hauing song his farewell to his Pikestaffe
a takes his leaue of Cambria, and Exit the Frier.
Enter Mortimor with his souldiers, and Elinor.
Bind fast the Traitor and bring him away, that the law may justly pass upon him and
receive the reward of monstrous treasons and villainy, slain to the name and honour of his
noble country for you that slew Lluellen and presented us with his head, the King shall
reward your fortune and chivalry. Sweet Lady abate not thy looks so heavenly to
the earth,
God and the King of England hath honour for thee in store, and Mortimors heart at
service and
at thy commandment.
Thanks gentle Lord, but alas who can blame Elinor to accuse her stars,
that in one
hour hath lost honour and contentment.
And in one hour may your Ladyship recover both if you vouchsafe to be
advised by
your friends, but what makes the Friar here upon his marry
bones?
O Potter Potter the Friar doth sue,
Now his old master is slain and gone to have anew.
Ah sweet Lluellen how thy death I rue.
Well said Friar better once than never,
give me thy hand, my cunning shall fail me but
we will be fellows yet, and now Robin Hood is gone, it shall cost me whot water but
shalt be King Edwards man only I enjoin thee this, come not too near the Friar but good
Friar be at my hand.
O sir no sir not so sir, he was warned too lately
none of that flesh I love.
Come on, and for those that have made their
submission, and given their names in the
Kings name, I pronounce their pardons, and so God save King Edward.
Exeunt ambo from Wales.
Heres thunder and lightning when the Queen comes in.
Enter Queene Elinor and Ione.
Q Eli.
Why Ione, is this the welcome that the clouds affords,
how dare these disturb our
thoughts, knowing that I am Edwardes wife and Englands Queen here thus on
Charing green
to threaten me?
Ah mother blaspheme not so, your blaspheming and other wicked deeds hath caused
our
God to terrify your thoughts, and call to mind your sinful fact committed against
the Maris
here of lovely London, and better Maris London never bread, so
full of ruth and pity to the
poor, her have you made away,
that London cries for vengeance on your head.
I rid her not, I made her not away, by heaven I
swear, Traitors they are to Edward and to
Englands Queen that say I made away the Maris.
Take heed sweet Lady mother swear not so, a field of prise corn will not stop their
mouths, that said you have made away that virtuous woman.
Gape earth and swallow me, and let my soul sink down
to Hell if I were Author of that
women's Tragedy, O Ione, help Ione thy mother sinks.
O mother my help is nothing, o she is
sunk, and here the earth is new closed up
again, ah Charinge green forever change
thy hew, and never may the grass grow green
again but wither and return to stones, because that
beauteous Elinor sink on thee, well I
will send unto the king my fathers Grace, and satisfy him of this
strange mishap.
Exit Ione.
Alarum a charge after long skirmishe assault florishe. Enter King Edward with his traine
and Balioll prisoner Edward speaketh.
Now trothless King what fruits have braving boasts,
What end hath Treason but a sudden fall?
Such as have known thy life and bringing up,
Have praised thee for thy learning and thy art,
How comes it then that thou forgetst thy book? ,
That schooled thee to forget in gratitude,
Unkind, this hand hath nointed thee a king,
This tongue pronounced the sentence of thy ruth,
If thou in lieu of mine unfeigned love,
Hast levied arms for to attempt my crown,
Now see thy fruits, thy glories are dispersed,
And his, for like sith thou hast past thy bounds,
Thy sturdy neck must stoop to bear this yoke.
I took this lesson Edward from my book,
To keep a just equality of mind,
Content with every fortune as it comes,
So canst thou threat no more than I expect.
So sir your moderation is enforced,
Your goodly glosses cannot make it good.
Then will I keep in silence what I mean,
Since Edward thinks my meaning is not good.
Nay Balioll speak forth, if there yet remain,
A little remnant of persuading Art.
If cunning have power to win the king,
Let those employ it that can flatter him.
If honoured deed may reconcile the King,
It lies in me to give and him to take.
Why what remains for Balioll now to give?
Allegiance as becomes a royal king.
What league of faith where league is broken once?
The greater hope in them that once have fallen.
But foolish are those Monarchs that do yield
A conquered Realm upon submissive vows.
There take my crown and so redeem my life.
I sir that was the choicest plea of both,
For whoso quells the pomp of haughty winds.
And breaks their staff, whereon they build their trust,
Is sure in wanting power they carry not harm.
Balioll shall live, but yet within such bounds,
That if his wings grow fledge, they may be clipped?
Enter the Potter aud the Potters wife, called the Potters him dwelling there, and Iohn
her man.
Potters wife.
Iohn come away, you go as though you slept, a great knave and
be afraid of a little
thundering and lightning.
Iohn.
Call you this a little thundering, I am sure my breeches finds it a great deal, for I am
sure they are stuffed with thunder.
They are stuffed with a fool, are they not, will it please you to carry the lantern a
little
handsomer, and not to carry it with your hands in your slops.
Slops quoth you. would I had tarried at home
by the fire, and then I should not have need to put my
hands in my pockets, but I will lay
my life I know the reason of this foul weather.
Pot. wife.
Do you know the reason? I pray thee Iohn tell me and let me hear
this reason.
I lay my life some of your Gossips be cross-legged
that we came from, but you are wise
mistress for you come now aware and will not stay a- gossiping in a dry house all night.
Would it please you to walk and leave of your knavery, but state Iohn, what is that riseth
out of the ground, Jesus bless us Iohn, look how it riseth higher
and higher.
Be my troth mistress it is a woman, good Lord do women grow, I never saw none grow
before.
Hold thy tongue thou foolish knave, it is the spirit of some woman
Ha let me see where am I, on Charing green, aye on
Charing green here hard by
Westminster, where I was crowned and Edward there made King, aye it is true so it is, and
therefore Edward kiss not me unless you will straight perfume your lips Edward.
Ora pro nobis Iohn, I pray fall to your
prayers for my
life it is the Queen that chases thus, who sunk this day on Charing green,
and now is risen
up on Potters Hive, and therefore
truly Iohn I will go to her.
Here let the Potters wife goe to the Queen.
Welcome good woman, what place is this, sea or land I pray show to me.
Your Grace need not to fear you are on firm ground, it is the Potters Hive,
therefore cheer your Majesty for I will see you safe conducted to the Court, if case your
highness be therewithal pleased.
Make a noise, Westward how.
Aye good woman conduct me to the court, that there I may bewail my sinful life,
and call to God to save my wretched soul, woman what noise is this I hear?
If like your Grace it is the Watermen that calls for
passengers to go Westward now.
That fits my turn, for I will straight with them to Kings town
to the Court, and there
repose me till the king come home: and therefore sweet woman conceal what thou hast
seen, and lead me to those Watermen, for here doth Elinor
droop.
Come come here is a goodly leading of you is there not, first you must make us afeared, and
now I must be troubled in carrying of you, I would you were
honestly laid in your bed so that
I were not troubled with you.
Enter two messengers, the one that Dauid shall be hangd the other of the
Queenes sincking.
1. Mes.
Honour and Fortune wait upon the Crown
Of Princess Edward Englands valiant king.
Thanks Messenger, and if my God vouchsafe
That winged Honour wait upon my throne,
I will make her spread her plumes upon their heads,
Whose true allegiance doth confirm the Crown,
What news in Wales how wends our business there?
2. Messeng.
The false disturber of that wasted soil,
With his adherents is surprised my King:
And in assurance he shall start no more,
Breathless he lies and headless to my Lords,
The circumstance these lines shall here unfold.
A harmful weed by wisdom rooted out,
Can never hurt the true ingrafted plant,
But what is the news Sir Thomas Spencer brings?
Spenc.
Wonders my Lord, wrapped up in homely words,
And Letters to inform your Majesty.
O Heavens, what may these miracles portend?
Nobles my Queen is sick but what is more,
Reed brother Edmund reed a wondrous chance.
Edmund reedes a line of the Queens sincking.
And I not heard nor red so strange a thing.
Sweet Queen this sinking is a surfeit ta'en
Of pride, wherewith thy woman's heart did swell,
A dangerous malady in the heart to dwell,
Lords march we towards London now in haste,
I will go see my lovely Elinor,
And comfort her after this strange affright,
And where she is importune to have talk,
And secret conference with some Friars of France,
Mun thou with me and I with thee will go,
And take the sweet confession of my Nell,
We will have French enough to parley with the
Queen.
Might I advise your royal majesty,
I would not go for millions of gold:
What knows your grace disguised if you wend,
What you may hear in secrecy revealed?
That may appeal and discontent your highness,
A goodly creature is your Elinor,
Brought up in niceness and in delicacy,
Then listen not to her confession Lord,
To wound thy heart with some unkind conceit,
But as for Lancaster he may not go.
K. Edward.
brother I am resolved and go I will
If God give life, and cheer my dying Queen,
Why Mun, why man, whatever King Edward hears,
It lies in God and him to pardon all.
I will have no ghostly Fathers
out of France,
England hath learned Clerks and Confessors,
To comfort and absolve as men may do,
And I will be ghostly Father for this once.
Edmund thou mayst not go although thou die.
And yet how mayst thou here thy King deny?
Edward is gracious, merciful, meek and mild,
But furious when he finds he is beguiled.
Messenger hie thee back to Shrewsbury,
Bid Mortimor thy master speed him fast,
And with his fortune welcome us to London,
I long to see my beauteous lovely Queen.
Enter Dauid drawne on a hurdle with Mortimor and officers accompanied, with
the Frier, the Nouice, the Harper, and Lluellens head on a speare.
On afore, on afore.
Hold up your torches for dropping.
A fair procession, Sir David be of good cheer you cannot go out of the way having so
many guides at hand.
Be sure of that, for we go all the highway to the Gallows I
warrant you.
I go where my star leads me, and die in my countries just cause and quarrel.
The Star that twinkled at thy birth,
Good brother mine hath marred thy mirth,
An old said saw Earth must to earth,
Next year will be a piteous dearth,
Of Hemp I dare lay a penny:
This year is hanged so many.
Well said Morgan Pigot Harper, and Prophet for the Kings one mouth.
Tundateds tedo dote dum, this is the day the time is come
Morgan Pigots prophecy and
Lord Lluellens Tragedy.
Who saith the Prophet is an Ass, whose prophecies come so to pall:
Said he not oft and sung it to, Lluellen after much ado,
Should in spite heave up his chin, and be the highest of
his kin:
And see aloft Lluellens head,
Impaled with a crown of lead:
My Lord let not this South-fair lack,
That hath such cunning in his jack.
David hold still your clack,
Lest your heels make your neck crack.
Gentle Prophet if
ye love me forspeak me not, it is the worst
luck in the world
to stir a witch or anger a wise man, master Sheriff have
we any haste, best give my
horses some more hay.
Elinor in child-bed with her daughter Ione, and other Ladies.
Call forth those renowned Friars come from France,
And raise me gentle Ladies in my bed,
That while this faltering engine of my speech,
I leave to utter my concealed guilt,
I may respect and so repent my sins
What plague afflicts your royal Majesty?
Ah Ione I perish through a double wars,
First in this painful prison of my soul,
A world of dreadful sins holp thee to sight,
And, Nature having lost her working power,
Yields up her earthly Fortunes unto death.
Next over What my soul is overpressed,
In thee my Conscience laden with misdeeds,
Sits seeing my Conscience to ensue,
Without especial favour from above.
Your Grace must account it a warriors cross,
To make resist where danger there is none,
Superdew your Fever by precious Art,
And help you still through hope of heavenly aide.
The careless sleep rule on the mountains tops,
That see the seaman floating on the surge,
The threatening winds comes springing with the floods
To overwhelm and drown his crazed keel,
His tacks torn, his sails borne overboard.
How pale like Vallows flowers the mountain stands?
Upon his hatches waiting for his jerk,
Wringing his hands that ought to play the pomp,
May blame his fear that laboureth not for life.
So thou poor soul may tell a servile tale,
May council me, but I that prove thy pain.
May hear thee talk, but not redress my harm,
But ghastly death already is addressed,
To glean the latest blossom of my life,
My spirit fails me, are these Friars come?
Enter the King and his brother in Friers weeds.
King.
Dominus vobiscum.
Et cum spiritu tuo.
Draw near grave Fathers, and approach my bed:
Forbear our presence Ladies for a while,
And leave us to our secret conference.
What cause hath moved your royal Majesty,
To call your servant from their countries bounds?
For to attend your pleasure here in Englands court?
See you not holy Friars mine estate,
My body weak inclining to my grave.
Edm.
We see and sorrow for thy pain fair Queen.
By this eternal signs of my defects,
Friars consecrate mine ineternal grief,
My soul, ah wretched soul within this breast,
Faint for to mount the Heavens with wings of grace,
A hundred by flocking troupes of sin,
That stop my passage to my wished hours.
The nearer Elinor, so the greatest hope of health,
And deign to us for to impart your quiet.
Who by our prayers and counsel ought to arm,
Aspiring souls to scale the heavenly grace.
Shame and remorse doth stop my course of speech.
Madam you need not dread our conference,
Who by the order of the holy Church,
Are all anointed to sacred secrecy.
Did I not think, nay were I not assured,
Your wisdoms would be silent in that cause,
No fear could make me to bewray myself,
But gentle fathers I have thought it good,
Not to rely upon these Englishmen,
But on your troths, you holy men of France,
Then as you love your life and Englands weal,
Keep secret my Confession from the king,
For why my story nearly toucheth him,
Whose love compared with my loss delights,
With many sorrows that my heart affrights.
My heart misgives.
Be silent, follow Friar.
In pride of youth when I was young and fair,
And gracious in the king of Englands sight,
The day before that night his Highness should,
Possess the pleasure of my wedlocks bed,
Caitiff accursed monster as I was,
His brother Edmund beautiful and young,
Upon my bridal couch by my consent,
Enjoys the flower and favour of my love.
The King beholdeth his brother wofully.
And I became a Traitoress to my Lord.
Facinus scelus, in fandum nefas.
Madam, through sickness, weakness, and your wits, it were
very good to bethink yourself
before you speak.
Good father not so weak but that I wot,
My heat doth rent to think upon the time,
But why exclaims this holy Friar so?
O pray then for my faults religious man.
It is charity in men of my degree,
To sorrow for our neighbours heinous sins:
And Madam, though some promise love to you,
And zeal to Edmund brother to the King,
I pray the Heavens you both may soon
repent.
But might it please your Highness to proceed,
Unto this sin a worser doth succeed.
For Ione of Acon the supposed child,
And daughter of my Lord the English King:
Is basely born begotten of Friar.
Such time as I was their arrived in France,
His only true and lawful son my friends,
He is my hope, his son that should succeed.
Is Edward of Carnaruan lately born,
Now all the scruples of my troubled mind,
I sighing sound within your reverent ears,
O praise for pity, pray for I must die.
Remit my God the folly of my youth,
My groaned spirits attends thy mercies seat,
Queene Elinor dies.
Fathers farewell, commend me to my King,
Commend me to my children and my friends,
And close mine eyes for death will have his due.
Blushing I shut these thine enticing lamps,
The wanton baits that make me suck my bane,
Pirpus hardened flames did never reflect,
More hideous flames than from my breast arise,
What fault more vild unto thy dearest Lord?
Our daughter base begotten of a Priest,
And Ned my brother partner of my love,
O that those eyes that lightened Caesar's brain,
O that those looks that mastered Phucebus brand,
Or else those looks that stain Melisaes far,
Should shrine discreet desire and lawless lust,
Unhappy King dishonoured in thy stock,
Hence feigned weeds, unfeigned is my grief.
Dread Prince my brother if my vows avail,
I call to witness Heaven in my behalf,
If zealous prayer might drive you from suspect,
I bend my knees and humbly crave this boon,
That you will drive misdeeds out of your mind,
May never good betide my life my
Lord,
If once I dreamed upon this damned deed,
But my deceased sister and your Queen,
Afflicted with recureless maladies,
Impatient of her pain grew lunatic,
Discovering errors never dreamed upon,
To prove this true the greatest men of all,
Within their learned volumes do discord,
That all extremes, and all and in naught but extremes,
Then think o King her agony in death,
Bereaves her sense and memory at once,
So that she spoke she knew
nor how nor what.
Sir sir, fain would your highness hide your faults,
By cunning vows and glossing terms of Art,
And well thou mayst delude these listening ears,
Yet never assuage by proof this jealous heart,
Traitor thy head shall ransom my disgrace,
Daughter of darkness, whose accursed bower,
The Poet fained to live upon Auernus,
Whereas Cimerians darkness checks the Sun,
David's jealousy afflict me not so sore,
Fair Queen Elinor could never be so false,
Aye but she vowed these treasons at her
death,
A time not fit to fashion monstrous lies,
Ah my ungrateful brother as thou art,
Could not my love, nay more could not the law,
Nay further, could not nature thee allure,
For to refrain from this incestuous sin,
Haste from my sight, call Ione of Acon here,
Exit Edmund.
The luke-warm spring distilling from his eyes,
His oaths, his vows, his reasons rested with remorse,
From forth his breast empoisoned with suspect,
Fain would I deem that false I find too true.
Enter Ione of Acone.
I come to know what Englands King commands,
I wonder why your Highness greets me thus.
With strange regard and unacquainted terms.
Ki.
Ah Ione this wonder needs must wound thy breast,
For it hath well nigh slain my wretched heart.
What is the Queen my sovereign mother dead
Woes in unhappy Lady we begone?
The Queen is dead, yet Ione lament not thou,
Poor soul guiltless art thou of this deceit,
That hath more cause to curse than to complain.
My dreadful soul assailed with doleful speech,
Joins me to bow my knees unto the ground,
Beseeching your most royal Majesty,
To rid your woeful daughter of suspect.
I daughter Ione, poor soul thou art deceived,
The King of England is no scorned Priest.
Was not the Lady Elinor your spouse,
And am not I the offspring of your loins?
Aye but when Ladies list to run astray,
The poor supposed father wears the horn,
And pleating leave their Liege in Princes laps,
Ione thou art daughter to a lecherous Friar,
A Friar was thy father hapless Ione,
Thy mother in profession vows no less,
And I vild wretch which sorrowed hard no less,
What am I then a Friars base born brat?
Presumptuous wretch why press I fore my king,
How can I look my husband in the face?
Why should I live since my renown is lost?
Away thou wanton weed, hence worlds delight.
Shee fals groueling on the ground.
l'orechie abbassa come vinto et stanco,
Destrier cha in bocca il fren gli sproni al
fianco.
O sommo Dio come i guidneo humani,
Spesse off uscan son danu membo oscunro,
Hapless and wretched, lift up thy heavy head
Nurse not so much as this unhappy chance,
Unconstant Fortune still will have her course.
My King, my King, let Fortune have her course
Fly thou my soul and take a better corse,
Ayes me from royal state I now am fallen.
You purple springs that wander in my veins,
And whilom wants to feed my heavy heart,
Now all at once make haste and pity me,
And stop your powers and change your native course,
Dissolve to air your luke-warm bloody streams,
And cease to be that I may be no more,
Your curled locks draw from this cursed head,
Abase her pomp for Ione is basely born,
Ah Gloster thou poor Gloster hast the wrong.
Shee sodainly dies at the Queenes beds feete.
Die wretch, hate death, for Ione hath lived too long.
Revive thee hapless Lady grieve not thus,
In vain speak I for she revives no more,
Poor hapless soul thy own aspected moans,
Hath wrought her sudden and untimely death.
Enter Edmund, Gloster, running with Ladies and conuaies Ione of Acon awaie.
Lords, Ladies haste, ah Gloster art thou come,
Then must I now present a Tragedy,
Thy Ione is dead, yet grieve thou not her fall,
She was too base a spouse for such a Prince.
Conspire you then with Heavens to work my harms?
O sweet assuagers of our martial miss,
Desired death deprive me of my life,
That I in death may end my life and love.
Gloster thy King is partner of thy heaviness,
Although nor tongue not eyes bewray his mean,
For I have lost a flower as fair as thine,
A love more dear, for Elinor is dead,
But since the heavenly ordinance decrees,
That all things change in their prefixed time,
Be thou content and bear it in thy breast,
Thy swelling grief as needs I must mine,
Thy Ione of Acon and my Queen deceased,
Shall have that Honour as beseems their state.
You peers of England, see in royal pomp,
These breathless bodies be entombed straight
With tried colours covered all with black,
Let Spanish steeds as swift as fleeting wind,
Convey these Princes to their funeral,
Before them let a hundred mourners ride,
In every time of their enforced abode,
Rear up a cross in token of their work,
Whereon fair Elinors picture shall be placed,
Arrived at London near our Pallas bounds,
Inter my lovely Elinor late deceased,
And in remembrance of her royalty,
Erect a rich and stately carved Cross,
Whereon her stature shall with glory shine,
And hence forth see you call it Charing cross,
For why the chancest and the choicest Queen,
That ever did delight my royal eyes,
There dwell in darkness whilst I die in grief,
But soft, what tidings with these pursuivants?
Enter Messenger approch from Mortimor.
Messenger.
Sir Roger Mortimor with all Sussex as erst your Grace by message did command,
here at hand in purpose to present your Highness with his signs of victory, and
trothless
Balioll their accursed King, with fire and sword doth threat Northumberland.
How one affliction calls another over,
First death torments me, then I feel disgrace,
Again Lluellen he rebels in Wales,
And false Balioll means to brave me too,
But I will find provision for them all,
My constancy shall conquer death and shame,
And Mortimor it is thou must haste to
wales,
And rouse that Rebel from his starting holes,
And rid thy King of his contentious foe,
Whilst I with Elinor, Gloster, and the rest,
With speedy journey gather up our force,
And bear these braving Scots from out our bounds.
Courage brave Soldiers fates hath done their worst,
Now Virtue let me triumph in thine aide.
Exite Edward.
Gloster solus.
Now Ione of Acon let me mourn thy fall
Sole here alone now set thee down and sigh,
Sigh hapless Gloster for thy sudden loss,
Pale death alas hath banished all thy pride,
Thy wedlock vows how ought have I beheld?
Enter Mortimor with the head.
Thy eyes thy looks thy lips and every part,
How nature store in them to show their Art,
In shine, in shape, in colour and compare,
But now hath death the enemy of love,
Stained and deformed, the shine, the shape, the reed,
With pale and dimness, and my love is dead.
Ah dead my love, vile wretch why am I living?
So willeth fates, and I must be contented,
All pomp in time must fade and grow to nothing,
Wept I like Nobe, yet it profits nothing,
Then cease my sighs since I may not regain her,
And woe to wretched death that thus hath slain her.
Exit Gloster.
Yours. By George Peele Master of Arts in Oxenford.