By the cold policy that still suspects.
Enter KING, WALWORTH, PHILPOT, &c.
KING.
I would speak to thee, Wat Tyler: bid the mob
Retire awhile.
PIERS.
Nay, do not go alone —
Let me attend you.
TYLER.
Wherefore should I fear?
Am I not arm’d with a just cause? — retire,
And I will boldly plead the cause of Freedom.
(Advances.)
KING.
Tyler, why have you kill’d my officer?
And led my honest subjects from their homes,
Thus to rebel against the Lord’s anointed?
TYLER.
Because they were oppress’d.
KING.
Was this the way
To remedy the ill? — you should have tried
By milder means — petition’d at the throne —
The throne will always listen to petitions.
TYLER.
King of England,
Petitioning for pity is most weak,
The sovereign people ought to demand justice.
I kill’d your officer, for his lewd hand
Insulted a maid’s modesty: your subjects
I lead to rebel against the Lord’s anointed,
Because his ministers have made him odious:
His yoke is heavy, and his burden grievous.
Why do we carry on this fatal war,
To force upon the French a king they hate;
Tearing our young men from their peaceful homes;
Forcing his hard-earn’d fruits from the honest peasant;
Distressing us to desolate our neighbours?
Why is this ruinous poll tax imposed,
But to support your court’s extravagance,
And your mad title to the crown of France?
Shall we sit tamely down beneath these evils
Petitioning for pity?
King of England!
Why are we sold like cattle in your markets —
Deprived of every privilege of man?
Must we lie tamely at our tyrant’s feet,
And, like your spaniels, lick the hand that beats us?
You sit at ease in your gay palaces,
The costly banquet courts your appetite,
Sweet music sooths your slumbers; we the while,
Scarce by hard toil can earn a little food,
And sleep scarce shelter’d from the cold night wind:
Whilst your wild projects wrest the little from us
Which might have cheer’d the wintry hour of age:
The Parliament for ever asks more money:
We toil and sweat for money for your taxes:
Where is the benefit, what food reap we
From all the councils of your government?
Think you that we should quarrel with the French?
What boots to us your victories, your glory?
We pay, we fight, you profit at your ease.
Do you not claim the country as your own?
Do you not call the venison of the forest,
The birds of heaven your own? — prohibiting us,
Even tho’ in want of food, to seize the prey
Which nature offers? — King! is all this just?
Think you we do not feel the wrongs we suffer?
The hour of retribution is at hand,
And tyrants tremble — mark me, King of England.
WALWORTH.
(Comes behind him, and stabs him.)
Insolent rebel, threatening the King!
PIERS.
Vengeance! vengeance!
HOB.
Seize the King.
KING.
I must be bold. (Advancing.)
My friends and loving subjects,
I will grant all you ask: you shall be free —
The tax shall be repeal’d — all, all you wish.
Your leader menaced me, he deserv’d his fate.
Quiet your angers; on my royal word
Your grievances shall all be done away.
Your vassalage abolish’d. — A free pardon
Allow’d to all: so help me God it shall be.
JOHN BALL.
Revenge, my brethren, beseems not Christians.
Send us these terms sign’d with your seal of state.
We will await in peace: deceive us not. —
Act justly, so to excuse your late foul deed.
KING.
The charter shall be drawn out: on mine honour,
All shall be justly done.
END OF ACT THE SECOND.
Wat Tyler - Act III
ACT III.
SCENE — SMITHFIELD.
PIERS (meeting JOHN BALL.)
You look disturb’d, my father?
JOHN BALL.
Piers, I am so.
Jack Straw has forced the Tower: seized the Archbishop,
And beheaded him.
PIERS.
The curse of insurrection!
JOHN BALL.
Aye, Piers! our nobles level down their vassals —
Keep them at endless labour like their brutes,
Degrading every faculty by servitude:
Repressing all the energy of the mind.
We must not wonder then, that like wild beasts,
When they have burst their chains, with brutal rage
They revenge them on their tyrants.
PIERS.
This Archbishop!
He was oppressive to his humble vassals:
Proud, haughty, avaricious. —
JOHN BALL.
A true high-priest!
Preaching humility with his mitre on!
Praising up alms and Christian charity
Even whilst his unforgiving hand distress’d
His honest tenants.
PIERS.
He deserv’d his fate then.
JOHN BALL.
Justice can never link with cruelty.
Is there among the catalogue of crimes
A sin so black that only Death can expiate?
Will Reason never rouse her from her slumbers,
And darting thro’ the veil her eagle eye,
See in the sable garment of the law
Revenge conceal’d? — This high priest has been haughty —
He has oppress’d his vassals: tell me, Piers,
Does his Death remedy the ills he caused?
Were it not better to repress his power
Of doing wrong — that so his future life
Might expiate the evils of the past,
And benefit mankind?
PIERS.
But must not vice
Be punished?
JOHN BALL.
Is not punishment revenge?
The momentary violence of anger
May be excus’d: the indignant heart will throb
Against oppression, and the outstretch’d arm
Resent its injured feelings: the Collector
Insulted Alice, and roused the keen emotions
Of a fond father. Tyler murder’d him.
PIERS.
Murder’d! — a most harsh word.
JOHN BALL.
Yes, murder’d him:
His mangled feelings prompted the bad act,
And Nature will almost commend the deed
That Justice blames: but will the awaken’d feelings
Plead with their heart-emoving eloquence
For the cool deliberate murder of Revenge?
Would you, Piers, in your calmer hour of reason
Condemn an erring brother to be slain?
Cut him at once from all the joys of life,
All hopes of reformation! to revenge
The deed his punishment cannot recall?
My blood boil’d in me at the fate of Tyler,
Yet I revenged not.
PIERS.
Oh my C
hristian father!
They would not argue thus humanely on us,
Were we within their power.
JOHN BALL.
I know they would not!
But we must pity them that they are vicious,
Not imitate their vice.
PIERS.
Alas, poor Tyler!
I do repent me much that I stood back,
When he advanced fearless in rectitude
To meet these royal assassins.
JOHN BALL.
Not for myself,
Tho’ I have lost an honest virtuous friend,
Mourn I the death of Tyler: he was one
Gifted with the strong energy of mind,
Quick to perceive the right, and prompt to act
When Justice needed: he would listen to me
With due attention, yet not yielding lightly
What had to him seem’d good; severe in virtue
He awed the ruder people whom he led
By his stern rectitude.
PIERS.
Witness that day
When they destroy’d the palace of the Gaunt;
And hurl’d the wealth his avarice had amass’d,
Amid the fire: the people, fierce in zeal,
Threw in the flames the wretch whose selfish hand
Purloin’d amid the tumult.
JOHN BALL.
I lament
The death of Tyler, for my country’s sake.
I shudder lest posterity enslav’d
Should rue his murder! — who shall now control
The giddy multitude, blind to their own good,
And listening with avidity to the tale
Of courtly falsehood!
PIERS.
The King must perform
His plighted promise.
(Cry without) — The Charter! — the Charter!
(Enter Mob and Herald.)
TOM MILLER.
Read it out — read it out.
HOB.
Aye, aye, let’s hear the Charter.
HERALD.
Richard Plantagenet, by the grace of God,
King of England, Ireland, France, Scotland,
and the town of Berwick upon Tweed, to all
whom it may concern, These presents,
Whereas our loving subjects have complained
to us of the heavy burdens they endure,
particularly from our late enacted
poll-tax; and whereas they have risen in
arms against our officers, and demanded the
abolition of personal slavery, vassalage, and
manorial rights; we, ever ready in our sovereign
mercy to listen to the petitions of our
loving subjects, do annul all these grievances.
MOB.
Huzza! long live the king!
HERALD.
And do of our royal mercy, grant a free
pardon to all who may have been anyways
concerned in the late insurrections. All this
shall be faithfully performed on our royal
word. So help us God.
God save the King.
(Loud and repeated shouts.)
HERALD.
Now then depart in quiet to your homes.
JOHN BALL.
Nay, my good friend — the people will remain
Embodied peaceably, till Parliament
Confirm the royal charter: tell your king so:
We will await the Charter’s confirmation,
Meanwhile comporting ourselves orderly
As peaceful citizens, not risen in tumult,
But to redress their evils.
Exit Herald, &c. HOB, PIERS, and
JOHN BALL, remain.
HOB.
’Twas well order’d.
I place but little trust in courtly faith.
JOHN BALL.
We must remain embodied; else the king
Will plunge again in royal luxury;
And when the storm of danger is past over,
Forget his promises.
HOB.
Aye, like an aguish sinner,
He’ll promise to repent when the fit’s on him,
When well recover’d, laugh at his own terrors.
PIERS.
Oh ! I am grieved that we must gain so little!
Why are not all these empty ranks abolish’d;
King, slave, and lord, ‘ennobl’d into MAN?’
Are we not equal all? — have you not told me
Equality is the sacred right of man,
Inalienable, tho’ by force withheld?
JOHN BALL.
Even so: but Piers, my frail and fallible judgment
Knows hardly to decide if it be right,
Peaceably to return; content with little,
With this half restitution of our rights,
Or boldly to proceed through blood and slaughter,
Till we should all be equal and all happy.
I chose the milder way: — perhaps I erred.
PIERS.
I fear me — by the mass, the unsteady people
Are flocking homewards! how the multitude
Diminishes!
JOHN BALL.
Go thou, my son, and stay them.
Carter, do you exert your influence.
All depends on their stay: my mind is troubl’d,
And I would fain compose my thoughts for action.
(Exeunt HOB and PIERS.)
Father of mercies! I do fear me much
That I have err’d: thou gav’st my ardent mind
To pierce the mists of superstitious falsehood; —
Gav’st me to know the truth. I should have urg’d it
Thro’ every op, perhaps,
The seemly voice of pity has deceiv’d me,
And all this mighty movement ends in ruin!
I fear me, I have been like the weak leech,
Who, sparing to cut deep, with cruel mercy
Mangles his patient without curing him.
(Great tumult.)
What means this tumult? hark! the clang of arms!
God of eternal justice! the false monarch
Has broke his plighted vow!
Enter PIERS, wounded.
PIERS.
Fly, fly, my father — the perjur’d king — fly! fly!
JOHN BALL.
Nay, nay, my child — I dare abide my fate,
Let me bind up thy wounds.
PIERS.
’Tis useless succour,
They seek thy life; fly, fly, my honour’d father.
Fain would I die in peace to hope thee safe.
I shall soon join thee, Tyler! — they are murdering
Our unsuspecting brethren: half unarm’d,
Trusting too fondly to the tyrant’s vows,
They were dispersing: — the streets swim with blood.
O! save thyself.
Enter Soldiers.
SOLDIER.
This is that old seditious heretic.
(Seizes JOHN BALL.)
SECOND SOLDIER.
And here the young spawn of rebellion;
My orders ar’n’t to spare him.
(Stabs PIERS.)
Come, you old stirrer-up of insurrection,
You bell-wether of the mob — you ar’n’t to die
So easily.
(They lead off JOHN BALL — the tumult
increases — Mob fly across the Stage —
the Troops pursue them — loud cries and
shouts.)
SCENE — WESTMINSTER HALL.
KING, WALWORTH, PHILPOT, SIR JOHN TRESILIAN, &c.
WALWORTH.
My liege, ’twas wisely order’d to destroy
The dunghill rabble, but take prisoner
That old seditious priest: his strange wild notions
Of this equality, when well exposed,
Will create ridicule, and shame the people
Of their late tumults.
SIR JOHN TRESILIAN.
Aye, there’s nothing like
A fair free open trial, where the king
Can chuse his jury and appoint his judges.
KING.
Walworth, I must thank you for my deliverance;
’Twas a bold deed to stab him in the parley!
Kneel down, and rise a knight, Sir William Walworth.
Enter Messenger.
MESSENGER.
I left them hotly at it. Smithfield smoked
With the rebels’ blood: your troops fought loyally,
There’s not a man of them will lend an ear
To pity.
SIR WILLIAM WALWORTH.
Is John Ball secur’d?
MESSENGER.
They have seiz’d him.
Enter Guards with JOHN BALL.
GUARD.
We’ve brought the old villain.
SECOND GUARD.
An old mischief-maker —
Why there’s fifteen hundred of the mob are kill’d,
All thro’ his preaching!
SIR JOHN TRESILIAN.
Prisoner! are you the arch-rebel, John Ball?
JOHN BALL.
I am John Ball; but I am not a rebel.
Take ye the name, who, arrogant in strength,
Rebel against the people’s sovereignty.
SIR JOHN TRESILIAN.
John Ball, you are accus’d of stirring up
The poor deluded people to rebellion;
Not having the fear of God and of the king
Before your eyes; of preaching up strange notions
Heretical and treasonous; such as saying
That kings have not a right from heaven to govern;
That all mankind are equal; and that ranks
And the distinctions of society,
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 26