Part 73

HORNER. Alas, my lord, hang me if ever I spake the words. My accuser is my prentice; and when I did correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow upon his knees he would be even with me. I have good witness of this, therefore I beseech your majesty, do not cast away an honest man for a villain’s accusation.

KING HENRY. Uncle, what shall we say to this in law?

GLOUCESTER. This doom, my lord, if I may judge: Let Somerset be regent o’er the French, Because in York this breeds suspicion; And let these have a day appointed them For single combat in convenient place, For he hath witness of his servant’s malice. This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey’s doom.

SOMERSET. I humbly thank your royal Majesty.

HORNER. And I accept the combat willingly.

PETER. Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for God’s sake, pity my case! The spite of man prevaileth against me. O Lord, have mercy upon me! I shall never be able to fight a blow. O Lord, my heart!

GLOUCESTER. Sirrah, or you must fight or else be hanged.

KING HENRY. Away with them to prison; and the day Of combat shall be the last of the next month. Come, Somerset, we’ll see thee sent away.

[_Flourish. Exeunt._]

SCENE IV. Gloucester’s Garden

Enter the Witch Margery Jourdain, the two Priests, Hume, Southwell and Bolingbroke.

HUME. Come, my masters. The duchess, I tell you, expects performance of your promises.

BOLINGBROKE. Master Hume, we are therefore provided. Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms?

HUME. Ay, what else? Fear you not her courage.

BOLINGBROKE. I have heard her reported to be a woman of an invincible spirit. But it shall be convenient, Master Hume, that you be by her aloft while we be busy below; and so, I pray you go, in God’s name, and leave us.

[_Exit Hume._]

Mother Jourdain, be you prostrate and grovel on the earth. John Southwell, read you; and let us to our work.

Enter Duchess aloft, Hume following.

ELEANOR. Well said, my masters; and welcome all. To this gear, the sooner the better.

BOLINGBROKE. Patience, good lady; wizards know their times. Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, The time of night when Troy was set on fire, The time when screech-owls cry and ban-dogs howl, And spirits walk and ghosts break up their graves; That time best fits the work we have in hand. Madam, sit you and fear not. Whom we raise We will make fast within a hallowed verge.

[_Here they do the ceremonies belonging, and make the circle; Bolingbroke or Southwell reads_ “Conjuro te”, _etc. It thunders and lightens terribly; then the Spirit riseth._]

SPIRIT. _Adsum_.

M. JOURDAIN. Asnath, By the eternal God, whose name and power Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask; For till thou speak thou shalt not pass from hence.

SPIRIT. Ask what thou wilt. That I had said and done!

BOLINGBROKE. [_Reads_.] _First of the King: what shall of him become?_

SPIRIT. The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose, But him outlive and die a violent death.

[_As the Spirit speaks, Southwell writes the answer._]

BOLINGBROKE. [_Reads_.] _What fates await the Duke of Suffolk?_

SPIRIT. By water shall he die and take his end.

BOLINGBROKE. [_Reads_.] _What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?_

SPIRIT. Let him shun castles. Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains Than where castles mounted stand. Have done, for more I hardly can endure.

BOLINGBROKE. Descend to darkness and the burning lake! False fiend, avoid!

[_Thunder and lightning. Exit Spirit._]

Enter the Duke of York and the Duke of Buckingham with their Guard, and Sir Humphrey Stafford, and break in.

YORK. Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash. Beldam, I think we watched you at an inch. What, madam, are you there? The King and commonweal Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains. My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not, See you well guerdoned for these good deserts.

ELEANOR. Not half so bad as thine to England’s king, Injurious duke, that threatest where’s no cause.

BUCKINGHAM. True, madam, none at all. What call you this? Away with them! Let them be clapped up close And kept asunder.—You, madam, shall with us.— Stafford, take her to thee.

[_Exit Stafford._]

[_Exeunt above, Duchess and Hume, guarded._]

We’ll see your trinkets here all forthcoming. All, away!

[_Exeunt guard with Jourdain, Southwell, Bolingbroke, etc._]

YORK. Lord Buckingham, methinks you watched her well. A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon! Now, pray, my lord, let’s see the devil’s writ. What have we here? [_Reads_.] _The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose. But him outlive and die a violent death._ Why, this is just _Aio te, Aeacida, Romanos vincere posse._ Well, to the rest: _Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk? By water shall he die and take his end. What shall betide the Duke of Somerset? Let him shun castles; Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains Than where castles mounted stand._ Come, come, my lords, these oracles Are hardly attained, and hardly understood. The King is now in progress towards Saint Albans, With him the husband of this lovely lady. Thither go these news as fast as horse can carry them. A sorry breakfast for my Lord Protector.

BUCKINGHAM. Your Grace shall give me leave, my Lord of York, To be the post, in hope of his reward.

YORK. At your pleasure, my good lord.

[_Exit Buckingham._]

Who’s within there, ho!

Enter a Servingman.

Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick To sup with me tomorrow night. Away!

[_Exeunt._]

ACT II

SCENE I. Saint Albans

Enter the King, Queen, Gloucester, Cardinal and Suffolk with Falconers hallooing.

QUEEN MARGARET. Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook I saw not better sport these seven years’ day; Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high, And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.

KING HENRY. But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest! To see how God in all His creatures works! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.

SUFFOLK. No marvel, an it like your majesty, My Lord Protector’s hawks do tower so well; They know their master loves to be aloft, And bears his thoughts above his falcon’s pitch.

GLOUCESTER. My lord, ’tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.

CARDINAL. I thought as much. He would be above the clouds.

GLOUCESTER. Ay, my Lord Cardinal, how think you by that? Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven?

KING HENRY. The treasury of everlasting joy.

CARDINAL. Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart, Pernicious Protector, dangerous peer, That smooth’st it so with king and commonweal!

GLOUCESTER. What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown peremptory? _Tantaene animis coelestibus irae?_ Churchmen so hot? Good uncle, hide such malice. With such holiness can you do it?

SUFFOLK. No malice, sir; no more than well becomes So good a quarrel and so bad a peer.

GLOUCESTER. As who, my lord?

SUFFOLK. Why, as you, my lord, An ’t like your lordly Lord Protectorship.

GLOUCESTER. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.

QUEEN MARGARET. And thy ambition, Gloucester.

KING HENRY. I prithee, peace, good queen, And whet not on these furious peers; For blessed are the peacemakers on earth.

CARDINAL. Let me be blessed for the peace I make Against this proud Protector, with my sword!

GLOUCESTER. [_Aside to Cardinal_.] Faith, holy uncle, would ’twere come to that!

CARDINAL. [_Aside to Gloucester_.] Marry, when thou dar’st.

GLOUCESTER. [_Aside to Cardinal_.] Make up no factious numbers for the matter, In thine own person answer thy abuse.

CARDINAL. [_Aside to Gloucester_.] Ay, where thou dar’st not peep; an if thou dar’st, This evening, on the east side of the grove.

KING HENRY. How now, my lords?

CARDINAL. Believe me, cousin Gloucester, Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, We had had more sport.—[_Aside to Gloucester_.] Come with thy two-hand sword.

GLOUCESTER. True, uncle. [_Aside to Cardinal_.] Are ye advised? The east side of the grove?

CARDINAL. [_Aside to Gloucester_.] I am with you.

KING HENRY. Why, how now, uncle Gloucester?

GLOUCESTER. Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord. [_Aside to Cardinal_.] Now, by God’s mother, priest, I’ll shave your crown for this, Or all my fence shall fail.

CARDINAL. [_Aside to Gloucester_.] _Medice, teipsum._— Protector, see to ’t well, protect yourself.

KING HENRY. The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords. How irksome is this music to my heart! When such strings jar, what hope of harmony? I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife.

Enter a Townsman of Saint Albans, crying, “A miracle!”

GLOUCESTER. What means this noise? Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?

TOWNSMAN. A miracle! A miracle!

SUFFOLK. Come to the King, and tell him what miracle.

TOWNSMAN. Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban’s shrine, Within this half hour, hath received his sight, A man that ne’er saw in his life before.

KING HENRY. Now, God be praised, that to believing souls Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair!

Enter the Mayor of Saint Albans and his brethren, bearing Simpcox between two in a chair, Simpcox’s Wife following.

CARDINAL. Here comes the townsmen on procession, To present your highness with the man.

KING HENRY. Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, Although by his sight his sin be multiplied.

GLOUCESTER. Stand by, my masters. Bring him near the King. His highness’ pleasure is to talk with him.

KING HENRY. Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance, That we for thee may glorify the Lord. What, hast thou been long blind and now restored?

SIMPCOX. Born blind, an ’t please your grace.

WIFE. Ay, indeed, was he.

SUFFOLK. What woman is this?

WIFE. His wife, an ’t like your worship.

GLOUCESTER. Hadst thou been his mother, thou couldst have better told.

KING HENRY. Where wert thou born?

SIMPCOX. At Berwick in the north, an ’t like your grace.

KING HENRY. Poor soul, God’s goodness hath been great to thee. Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, But still remember what the Lord hath done.

QUEEN MARGARET. Tell me, good fellow, cam’st thou here by chance, Or of devotion, to this holy shrine?

SIMPCOX. God knows, of pure devotion; being called A hundred times and oftener, in my sleep, By good Saint Alban, who said “Simpcox, come, Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.”

WIFE. Most true, forsooth; and many time and oft Myself have heard a voice to call him so.

CARDINAL. What, art thou lame?

SIMPCOX. Ay, God Almighty help me!

SUFFOLK. How cam’st thou so?

SIMPCOX. A fall off of a tree.

WIFE. A plum-tree, master.

GLOUCESTER. How long hast thou been blind?

SIMPCOX. O, born so, master.

GLOUCESTER. What, and wouldst climb a tree?

SIMPCOX. But that in all my life, when I was a youth.

WIFE. Too true; and bought his climbing very dear.

GLOUCESTER. Mass, thou lov’dst plums well, that wouldst venture so.

SIMPCOX. Alas, good master, my wife desired some damsons, And made me climb, with danger of my life.

GLOUCESTER. A subtle knave! But yet it shall not serve.— Let me see thine eyes. Wink now. Now open them. In my opinion yet thou seest not well.

SIMPCOX. Yes, master, clear as day, I thank God and Saint Alban.

GLOUCESTER. Sayst thou me so? What colour is this cloak of?

SIMPCOX. Red, master, red as blood.

GLOUCESTER. Why, that’s well said. What colour is my gown of?

SIMPCOX. Black, forsooth, coal-black as jet.

KING HENRY. Why, then, thou know’st what colour jet is of?

SUFFOLK. And yet, I think, jet did he never see.

GLOUCESTER. But cloaks and gowns before this day, a many.

WIFE. Never before this day in all his life.

GLOUCESTER. Tell me, sirrah, what’s my name?

SIMPCOX. Alas, master, I know not.

GLOUCESTER. What’s his name?

SIMPCOX. I know not.

GLOUCESTER. Nor his?

SIMPCOX. No, indeed, master.

GLOUCESTER. What’s thine own name?

SIMPCOX. Sander Simpcox, an if it please you, master.

GLOUCESTER. Then, Sander, sit there, the lyingest knave in Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, thou mightst as well have known all our names as thus to name the several colours we do wear. Sight may distinguish of colours; but suddenly to nominate them all, it is impossible.—My lords, Saint Alban here hath done a miracle; and would ye not think his cunning to be great that could restore this cripple to his legs again?

SIMPCOX. O master, that you could!

GLOUCESTER. My masters of Saint Albans, have you not beadles in your town, and things called whips?

MAYOR. Yes, my lord, if it please your grace.

GLOUCESTER. Then send for one presently.

MAYOR. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight.

[_Exit a Townsman._]

GLOUCESTER. Now fetch me a stool hither by and by.—Now, sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from whipping, leap me over this stool and run away.

SIMPCOX. Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone. You go about to torture me in vain.

Enter a Beadle with whips.

GLOUCESTER. Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap over that same stool.

BEADLE. I will, my lord.—Come on, sirrah; off with your doublet quickly.

SIMPCOX. Alas, master, what shall I do? I am not able to stand.

[_After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps over the stool and runs away; and they follow and cry, “A miracle!”_]

KING HENRY. O God, seest Thou this, and bearest so long?

QUEEN MARGARET. It made me laugh to see the villain run.

GLOUCESTER. Follow the knave, and take this drab away.

WIFE. Alas, sir, we did it for pure need.

GLOUCESTER. Let them be whipped through every market town Till they come to Berwick, from whence they came.

[_Exeunt Wife, Beadle, Mayor, etc._]

CARDINAL. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle today.

SUFFOLK. True, made the lame to leap and fly away.

GLOUCESTER. But you have done more miracles than I. You made in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly.

Enter Buckingham.

KING HENRY. What tidings with our cousin Buckingham?

BUCKINGHAM. Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold. A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent, Under the countenance and confederacy Of Lady Eleanor, the Protector’s wife, The ringleader and head of all this rout, Have practised dangerously against your state, Dealing with witches and with conjurers, Whom we have apprehended in the fact, Raising up wicked spirits from under ground, Demanding of King Henry’s life and death, And other of your highness’ Privy Council, As more at large your Grace shall understand.

CARDINAL. [_Aside to Gloucester_.] And so, my Lord Protector, by this means Your lady is forthcoming yet at London. This news, I think, hath turned your weapon’s edge; ’Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour.

GLOUCESTER. Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my heart. Sorrow and grief have vanquished all my powers, And, vanquished as I am, I yield to thee, Or to the meanest groom.

KING HENRY. O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones, Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby!

QUEEN MARGARET. Gloucester, see here the tainture of thy nest, And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best.

GLOUCESTER. Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal How I have loved my king and commonweal; And, for my wife, I know not how it stands. Sorry I am to hear what I have heard. Noble she is; but if she have forgot Honour and virtue, and conversed with such As like to pitch defile nobility, I banish her my bed and company And give her as a prey to law and shame That hath dishonoured Gloucester’s honest name.

KING HENRY. Well, for this night we will repose us here; Tomorrow toward London back again, To look into this business thoroughly, And call these foul offenders to their answers, And poise the cause in Justice’ equal scales, Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails.

[_Flourish. Exeunt._]

SCENE II. London. The Duke of York’s Garden

Enter York, Salisbury and Warwick.

YORK. Now, my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick, Our simple supper ended, give me leave In this close walk to satisfy myself In craving your opinion of my title, Which is infallible, to England’s crown.

SALISBURY. My lord, I long to hear it at full.

WARWICK. Sweet York, begin; and if thy claim be good, The Nevilles are thy subjects to command.

YORK. Then thus: Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons: The first, Edward the Black Prince, Prince of Wales; The second, William of Hatfield; and the third, Lionel, Duke of Clarence; next to whom Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster; The fifth was Edmund Langley, Duke of York; The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester; William of Windsor was the seventh and last. Edward the Black Prince died before his father And left behind him Richard, his only son, Who after Edward the Third’s death reigned as king, Till Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster, The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, Crowned by the name of Henry the Fourth, Seized on the realm, deposed the rightful king, Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she came, And him to Pomfret; where, as all you know, Harmless Richard was murdered traitorously.

WARWICK. Father, the Duke hath told the truth; Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown.

YORK. Which now they hold by force and not by right; For Richard, the first son’s heir, being dead, The issue of the next son should have reigned.

SALISBURY. But William of Hatfield died without an heir.

YORK. The third son, Duke of Clarence, from whose line I claim the crown, had issue, Philippa, a daughter, Who married Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March. Edmund had issue, Roger, Earl of March; Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor.

SALISBURY. This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke, As I have read, laid claim unto the crown And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king, Who kept him in captivity till he died. But to the rest.

YORK. His eldest sister, Anne, My mother, being heir unto the crown, Married Richard Earl of Cambridge, who was son To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third’s fifth son. By her I claim the kingdom; she was heir To Roger, Earl of March, who was the son Of Edmund Mortimer, who married Philippa, Sole daughter unto Lionel, Duke of Clarence. So, if the issue of the elder son Succeed before the younger, I am king.

WARWICK. What plain proceeding is more plain than this? Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, The fourth son; York claims it from the third. Till Lionel’s issue fails, his should not reign; It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock. Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together, And in this private plot be we the first That shall salute our rightful sovereign With honour of his birthright to the crown.

BOTH. Long live our sovereign Richard, England’s king!

YORK. We thank you, lords. But I am not your king Till I be crowned, and that my sword be stained With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster; And that’s not suddenly to be performed, But with advice and silent secrecy. Do you as I do in these dangerous days— Wink at the Duke of Suffolk’s insolence, At Beaufort’s pride, at Somerset’s ambition, At Buckingham, and all the crew of them, Till they have snared the shepherd of the flock, That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey. ’Tis that they seek; and they, in seeking that, Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy.

SALISBURY. My lord, break we off; we know your mind at full.

WARWICK. My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick Shall one day make the Duke of York a king.

YORK. And, Neville, this I do assure myself: Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick The greatest man in England but the king.

[_Exeunt._]

SCENE III. A Hall of Justice

Sound trumpets. Enter the King, the Queen, Gloucester, York, Suffolk and Salisbury; the Duchess of Gloucester, Margery Jourdain, Southwell, Hume and Bolingbroke under guard.

KING HENRY. Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester’s wife. In sight of God and us, your guilt is great; Receive the sentence of the law for sins Such as by God’s book are adjudged to death. You four, from hence to prison back again; From thence unto the place of execution. The witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes, And you three shall be strangled on the gallows. You, madam, for you are more nobly born, Despoiled of your honour in your life, Shall, after three days’ open penance done, Live in your country here in banishment, With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man.

ELEANOR. Welcome is banishment; welcome were my death.

GLOUCESTER. Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath judged thee. I cannot justify whom the law condemns.

[_Exeunt Duchess and the other prisoners, guarded._]

Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground!— I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go; Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease.

KING HENRY. Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester. Ere thou go, Give up thy staff. Henry will to himself Protector be; and God shall be my hope, My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet. And go in peace, Humphrey, no less beloved Than when thou wert Protector to thy king.

QUEEN MARGARET. I see no reason why a king of years Should be to be protected like a child. God and King Henry govern England’s realm! Give up your staff, sir, and the King his realm.

GLOUCESTER. My staff? Here, noble Henry, is my staff. As willingly do I the same resign As e’er thy father Henry made it mine; And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it As others would ambitiously receive it. Farewell, good King. When I am dead and gone, May honourable peace attend thy throne.

[_Exit._]

QUEEN MARGARET. Why, now is Henry King and Margaret Queen, And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce himself, That bears so shrewd a maim. Two pulls at once; His lady banished, and a limb lopped off. This staff of honour raught, there let it stand Where it best fits to be, in Henry’s hand.

SUFFOLK. Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays; Thus Eleanor’s pride dies in her youngest days.

YORK. Lords, let him go.—Please it your majesty, This is the day appointed for the combat, And ready are the appellant and defendant, The armourer and his man, to enter the lists, So please your highness to behold the fight.

QUEEN MARGARET. Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore Left I the court to see this quarrel tried.

KING HENRY. I’ God’s name, see the lists and all things fit. Here let them end it, and God defend the right!

YORK. I never saw a fellow worse bested, Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, The servant of his armourer, my lords.

Enter at one door Horner the armourer, and his Neighbours, drinking to him so much that he is drunk; and he enters with a drum before him and his staff with a sandbag fastened to it; and at the other door Peter, his man, with a drum and sandbag, and Prentices drinking to him.

1 NEIGHBOUR. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of sack; and fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough.

2 NEIGHBOUR. And here, neighbour, here’s a cup of charneco.

3 NEIGHBOUR. And here’s a pot of good double beer, neighbour. Drink, and fear not your man.

HORNER. Let it come, i’ faith, and I’ll pledge you all; and a fig for Peter!

1 PRENTICE. Here, Peter, I drink to thee, and be not afraid.

2 PRENTICE. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master. Fight for credit of the prentices.

PETER. I thank you all. Drink, and pray for me, I pray you, for I think I have taken my last draught in this world. Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee my apron; and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer; and here, Tom, take all the money that I have. O Lord bless me! I pray God, for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learnt so much fence already.

SALISBURY. Come, leave your drinking and fall to blows. Sirrah, what’s thy name?

PETER. Peter, forsooth.

SALISBURY. Peter? What more?

PETER. Thump.

SALISBURY. Thump! Then see thou thump thy master well.