Chapter 10

_Painted with the Nine Worthies, among them King Henry VIII. holding a book, on it inscribed_ 'Verbum Dei'.

_Enter_ SIR RALPH BAGENHALL _and_ SIR THOMAS STAFFORD.

BAGENHALL. A hundred here and hundreds hang'd in Kent. The tigress had unsheath'd her nails at last, And Renard and the Chancellor sharpen'd them. In every London street a gibbet stood. They are down to-day. Here by this house was one; The traitor husband dangled at the door, And when the traitor wife came out for bread To still the petty treason therewithin, Her cap would brush his heels.

STAFFORD. It is Sir Ralph, And muttering to himself as heretofore. Sir, see you aught up yonder?

BAGENHALL. I miss something. The tree that only bears dead fruit is gone.

STAFFORD. What tree, sir?

BAGENHALL. Well, the tree in Virgil, sir, That bears not its own apples.

STAFFORD. What! the gallows?

BAGENHALL. Sir, this dead fruit was ripening overmuch, And had to be removed lest living Spain Should sicken at dead England.

STAFFORD. Not so dead, But that a shock may rouse her.

BAGENHALL. I believe Sir Thomas Stafford?

STAFFORD. I am ill disguised.

BAGENHALL. Well, are you not in peril here?

STAFFORD. I think so. I came to feel the pulse of England, whether It beats hard at this marriage. Did you see it?

BAGENHALL. Stafford, I am a sad man and a serious. Far liefer had I in my country hall Been reading some old book, with mine old hound Couch'd at my hearth, and mine old flask of wine Beside me, than have seen it: yet I saw it.

STAFFORD. Good, was it splendid?

BAGENHALL. Ay, if Dukes, and Earls, And Counts, and sixty Spanish cavaliers, Some six or seven Bishops, diamonds, pearls, That royal commonplace too, cloth of gold, Could make it so.

STAFFORD. And what was Mary's dress?

BAGENHALL. Good faith, I was too sorry for the woman To mark the dress. She wore red shoes!

STAFFORD. Red shoes!

BAGENHALL. Scarlet, as if her feet were wash'd in blood, As if she had waded in it.

STAFFORD. Were your eyes So bashful that you look'd no higher?

BAGENHALL. A diamond, And Philip's gift, as proof of Philip's love, Who hath not any for any,--tho' a true one, Blazed false upon her heart.

STAFFORD. But this proud Prince--

BAGENHALL. Nay, he is King, you know, the King of Naples. The father ceded Naples, that the son Being a King, might wed a Queen--O he Flamed in brocade--white satin his trunk-hose, Inwrought with silver,--on his neck a collar, Gold, thick with diamonds; hanging down from this The Golden Fleece--and round his knee, misplaced, Our English Garter, studded with great emeralds, Rubies, I know not what. Have you had enough Of all this gear?

STAFFORD. Ay, since you hate the telling it. How look'd the Queen?

BAGENHALL. No fairer for her jewels. And I could see that as the new-made couple Came from the Minster, moving side by side Beneath one canopy, ever and anon She cast on him a vassal smile of love, Which Philip with a glance of some distaste, Or so methought, return'd. I may be wrong, sir. This marriage will not hold.

STAFFORD. I think with you. The King of France will help to break it.

BAGENHALL. France! We have once had half of France, and hurl'd our battles Into the heart of Spain; but England now Is but a ball chuck'd between France and Spain, His in whose hand she drops; Harry of Bolingbroke Had holpen Richard's tottering throne to stand, Could Harry have foreseen that all our nobles Would perish on the civil slaughter-field, And leave the people naked to the crown, And the crown naked to the people; the crown Female, too! Sir, no woman's regimen Can save us. We are fallen, and as I think, Never to rise again.

STAFFORD. You are too black-blooded. I'd make a move myself to hinder that: I know some lusty fellows there in France.

BAGENHALL. You would but make us weaker, Thomas Stafford. Wyatt was a good soldier, yet he fail'd, And strengthen'd Philip.

STAFFORD. Did not his last breath Clear Courtenay and the Princess from the charge Of being his co-rebels?

BAGENHALL. Ay, but then What such a one as Wyatt says is nothing: We have no men among us. The new Lords Are quieted with their sop of Abbeylands, And ev'n before the Queen's face Gardiner buys them With Philip's gold. All greed, no faith, no courage! Why, ev'n the haughty prince, Northumberland, The leader of our Reformation, knelt And blubber'd like a lad, and on the scaffold Recanted, and resold himself to Rome.

STAFFORD. I swear you do your country wrong, Sir Ralph. I know a set of exiles over there, Dare-devils, that would eat fire and spit it out At Philip's beard: they pillage Spain already. The French King winks at it. An hour will come When they will sweep her from the seas. No men? Did not Lord Suffolk die like a true man? Is not Lord William Howard a true man? Yea, you yourself, altho' you are black-blooded: And I, by God, believe myself a man. Ay, even in the church there is a man-- Cranmer. Fly would he not, when all men bad him fly. And what a letter he wrote against the Pope! There's a brave man, if any.

BAGENHALL. Ay; if it hold.

CROWD (_coming on_). God save their Graces!

STAFFORD. Bagenhall, I see The Tudor green and white. (_Trumpets_.) They are coming now. And here's a crowd as thick as herring-shoals.

BAGENHALL. Be limpets to this pillar, or we are torn Down the strong wave of brawlers.

CROWD. God save their Graces!

[_Procession of Trumpeters, Javelin-men, etc.; then Spanish and Flemish Nobles intermingled_.

STAFFORD. Worth seeing, Bagenhall! These black dog-Dons Garb themselves bravely. Who's the long-face there, Looks very Spain of very Spain?

BAGENHALL. The Duke Of Alva, an iron soldier.

STAFFORD. And the Dutchman, Now laughing at some jest?

BAGENHALL. William of Orange, William the Silent.

STAFFORD. Why do they call him so?

BAGENHALL. He keeps, they say, some secret that may cost Philip his life.

STAFFORD. But then he looks so merry.

BAGENHALL. I cannot tell you why they call him so.

[_The_ KING _and_ QUEEN _pass, attended by Peers of the Realm, Officers of State, etc. Cannon shot off_.

CROWD. Philip and Mary, Philip and Mary! Long live the King and Queen, Philip and Mary!

STAFFORD. They smile as if content with one another.

BAGENHALL. A smile abroad is oft a scowl at home.

[KING _and_ QUEEN _pass on. Procession_.

FIRST CITIZEN. I thought this Philip had been one of those black devils of Spain, but he hath a yellow beard.

SECOND CITIZEN. Not red like Iscariot's.

FIRST CITIZEN. Like a carrot's, as thou say'st, and English carrot's better than Spanish licorice; but I thought he was a beast.

THIRD CITIZEN. Certain I had heard that every Spaniard carries a tail like a devil under his trunk-hose.

TAILOR. Ay, but see what trunk-hoses! Lord! they be fine; I never stitch'd none such. They make amends for the tails.

FOURTH CITIZEN. Tut! every Spanish priest will tell you that all English heretics have tails.

FIFTH CITIZEN. Death and the Devil--if he find I have one--

FOURTH CITIZEN. Lo! thou hast call'd them up! here they come--a pale horse for Death and Gardiner for the Devil.

_Enter_ GARDINER _(turning back from the procession)_.

GARDINER. Knave, wilt thou wear thy cap before the Queen?

MAN. My Lord, I stand so squeezed among the crowd I cannot lift my hands unto my head.

GARDINER. Knock off his cap there, some of you about him! See there be others that can use their hands. Thou art one of Wyatt's men?

MAN. No, my Lord, no.

GARDINER. Thy name, thou knave?

MAN. I am nobody, my Lord.

GARDINER (_shouting_). God's passion! knave, thy name?

MAN. I have ears to hear.

GARDINER. Ay, rascal, if I leave thee ears to hear. Find out his name and bring it me (_to_ ATTENDANT).

ATTENDANT. Ay, my Lord.

GARDINER. Knave, thou shalt lose thine ears and find thy tongue, And shalt be thankful if I leave thee that. [_Coming before the Conduit_. The conduit painted--the nine worthies--ay! But then what's here? King Harry with a scroll. Ha--Verbum Dei--verbum--word of God! God's passion! do you know the knave that painted it?

ATTENDANT. I do, my Lord.

GARDINER. Tell him to paint it out, And put some fresh device in lieu of it-- A pair of gloves, a pair of gloves, sir; ha? There is no heresy there.

ATTENDANT. I will, my Lord; The man shall paint a pair of gloves. I am sure (Knowing the man) he wrought it ignorantly, And not from any malice.

GARDINER. Word of God In English! over this the brainless loons That cannot spell Esaias from St. Paul, Make themselves drunk and mad, fly out and flare Into rebellions. I'll have their bibles burnt. The bible is the priest's. Ay! fellow, what! Stand staring at me! shout, you gaping rogue!

MAN. I have, my Lord, shouted till I am hoarse.

GARDINER. What hast thou shouted, knave?

MAN. Long live Queen Mary!

GARDINER. Knave, there be two. There be both King and Queen, Philip and Mary. Shout!

MAN. Nay, but, my Lord, The Queen comes first, Mary and Philip.

GARDINER. Shout, then, Mary and Philip!

MAN. Mary and Philip!

GARDINER. Now, Thou hast shouted for thy pleasure, shout for mine! Philip and Mary!

MAN. Must it be so, my Lord?

GARDINER. Ay, knave.

MAN. Philip and Mary!

GARDINER. I distrust thee. Thine is a half voice and a lean assent. What is thy name?

MAN. Sanders.

GARDINER. What else?

MAN. Zerubbabel.

GARDINER. Where dost thou live?

MAN. In Cornhill.

GARDINER. Where, knave, where?

MAN. Sign of the Talbot.

GARDINER. Come to me to-morrow.-- Rascal!--this land is like a hill of fire, One crater opens when another shuts. But so I get the laws against the heretic, Spite of Lord Paget and Lord William Howard, And others of our Parliament, revived, I will show fire on my side--stake and fire-- Sharp work and short. The knaves are easily cow'd. Follow their Majesties. [_Exit. The crowd following_.

BAGENHALL. As proud as Becket.

STAFFORD. You would not have him murder'd as Becket was?

BAGENHALL. No--murder fathers murder: but I say There is no man--there was one woman with us-- It was a sin to love her married, dead I cannot choose but love her.

STAFFORD. Lady Jane?

CROWD (_going off_). God save their Graces!

STAFFORD. Did you see her die?

BAGENHALL. No, no; her innocent blood had blinded me. You call me too black-blooded--true enough Her dark dead blood is in my heart with mine. If ever I cry out against the Pope Her dark dead blood that ever moves with mine Will stir the living tongue and make the cry.

STAFFORD. Yet doubtless you can tell me how she died?

BAGENHALL. Seventeen--and knew eight languages--in music Peerless--her needle perfect, and her learning Beyond the churchmen; yet so meek, so modest, So wife-like humble to the trivial boy Mismatch'd with her for policy! I have heard She would not take a last farewell of him, She fear'd it might unman him for his end. She could not be unmann'd--no, nor outwoman'd-- Seventeen--a rose of grace! Girl never breathed to rival such a rose; Rose never blew that equall'd such a bud.

STAFFORD. Pray you go on.

BAGENHALL. She came upon the scaffold, And said she was condemn'd to die for treason; She had but follow'd the device of those Her nearest kin: she thought they knew the laws. But for herself, she knew but little law, And nothing of the titles to the crown; She had no desire for that, and wrung her hands, And trusted God would save her thro' the blood Of Jesus Christ alone.

STAFFORD. Pray you go on.

BAGENHALL. Then knelt and said the Misere Mei-- But all in English, mark you; rose again, And, when the headsman pray'd to be forgiven, Said, 'You will give me my true crown at last, But do it quickly;' then all wept but she, Who changed not colour when she saw the block, But ask'd him, childlike: 'Will you take it off Before I lay me down?' 'No, madam,' he said, Gasping; and when her innocent eyes were bound, She, with her poor blind hands feeling--'where is it? Where is it?'--You must fancy that which follow'd, If you have heart to do it!

CROWD (_in the distance_). God save their Graces!

STAFFORD. Their Graces, our disgraces! God confound them! Why, she's grown bloodier! when I last was here, This was against her conscience--would be murder!

BAGENHALL. The 'Thou shall do no murder,' which God's hand Wrote on her conscience, Mary rubb'd out pale-- She could not make it white--and over that, Traced in the blackest text of Hell--'Thou shall!' And sign'd it--Mary!

STAFFORD. Philip and the Pope Must have sign'd too. I hear this Legate's coming To bring us absolution from the Pope. The Lords and Commons will bow down before him-- You are of the house? what will you do, Sir Ralph?

BAGENHALL. And why should I be bolder than the rest, Or honester than all?

STAFFORD. But, sir, if I-- And oversea they say this state of yours Hath no more mortice than a tower of cards; And that a puff would do it--then if I And others made that move I touch'd upon, Back'd by the power of France, and landing here, Came with a sudden splendour, shout, and show, And dazzled men and deafen'd by some bright Loud venture, and the people so unquiet-- And I the race of murder'd Buckingham-- Not for myself, but for the kingdom--Sir, I trust that you would fight along with us.

BAGENHALL. No; you would fling your lives into the gulf.

STAFFORD. But if this Philip, as he's like to do, Left Mary a wife-widow here alone, Set up a viceroy, sent his myriads hither To seize upon the forts and fleet, and make us A Spanish province; would you not fight then?

BAGENHALL. I think I should fight then.

STAFFORD. I am sure of it. Hist! there's the face coming on here of one Who knows me. I must leave you. Fare you well, You'll hear of me again.

BAGENHALL. Upon the scaffold.

[_Exeunt_.