Am I king, and shall I not prevail?
Anjou, be pacifi’d, and Bullen, leave
To feed thy swelling stomach with contempt.
LOD’WICK
Your grace doth know, with pardon be it spoken,
My wrongs are such, as I have cause to frown,
Nor can you blame me if I loath his flight
That was the butcher of my brother’s life.
In Burgundy what slaughters did he make?
What tyranny left he unpractis’d there?
Philip suppress’d, did not their bloody hands
Extend to women and resistless babes?
Amongst the rest, was not the Duchess drown’d?
And that which draws continual flood of tears
From these mine eyes, and daily doth assail
My feeble heart with never dying grief,
Miscarri’d not young Frederick my son?
Ah, was he not untimely by their means
Cut off, that should have comfort’d mine age?
Poor boy, whose piteous speaking eye
Might have been able to have turn’d the hearts
Of savage lions, yet they spar’d him not.
KING
Ah, speak no more of Burgundy’s decease,
Nor wake the quiet slumber of thy son,
But with the grey decrepit hairs of thine
That are expir’d since Frederick was entomb’d,
With his dear aunt amidst the liquid waves,
Let slip the memory of that mishap,
And now forget it and forgive it too.
LOD’WICK
Although I must confess the least of these
Incumbent evils is argument enough
To whet the bluntest stomach to revenge,
Yet that your highness may perceive my mind
Doth savour of mildness and compassion,
And that the Bullen duke may ne’er be found
To be a traitor to his king’s command,
There is my dagger, and I’ll lay my hand
Under the foot of Anjou where he treads,
And I will do it to deserve your love.
KING
We thank thee, Bullen, for thy kind respect;
But he that should be foremost to set ope
The gate of mercy, and let friendship in,
Upon whose head redounds the whole reproach
Of all these injuries, swoll’n big with ire
Stands as an outlaw still upon defiance.
MERCURY
[Aside.] I must dissemble, there’s no remedy.
KING
Look, Anjou, here, and let his summers brow
Thaw the hard winter of thy frozen heart.
MERCURY
Dread sovereign, Anjou likewise doth submit,
And with repentant thoughts for what is past,
Rests humbly at your majesty’s dispose.
KING
Then take the Duke of Bullen by the hand,
And treading former hatred under foot
Wherewith your houses have been still oppres’t,
Like subjects of your king, be reconcil’d.
MERCURY
There is my hand, Lod’wick, the hand of him
That thought to have imbru’d it in thy blood,
But now is made the instrument of peace.
LOD’WICK
And there is mine, with which I once did vow
To sacrifice thy body to pale death,
But now I do embrace thee as a friend.[They embrace.
MERCURY
[Aside.] The like do I, but to another end,
For Louis no sooner shall depart from hence,
But straight new deeds of mischief I’ll commence.
KING
This joys my soul and more to let you know
How pleasing this retrait of peace doth seem,
Till my return from Palestine again,
Be you joint governors of this my realm.
I do ordain you both my substitutes,
And herewithal bequeath into your hands
The keeping of the crown.Myself adorn’d
With these habiliments of humble life,
Will forward to perform my promis’d vow.
LOD’WICK
The God of heaven be still your highness’ guide.
MERCURY
[Aside.] And help to thrust thy partnership aside.
KING
Lod’wick, the love that thou dost bear to us,
And Mercury, the allegiance thou dost owe,
Now in my absence both of you will show.
So leaving and relying on your trust,
I bid farewell; remember to be just.[Exit.
MERCURY
Brother of Bullen — so I’ll call you now —
For why, this birth of new authority
Will have it so; let me entreat your grace
That you’ll excuse my sudden haste from hence;
I have some urgent cause of great affairs
That call me to the country for awhile,
But long it shall not be ere I return.
LOD’WICK
At your good pleasure be it, brother of Anjou;
Yet let me tell you that the jealous world
By this our separation will misjudge.
MERCURY
Not for so short a space.On Friday next,
I mean, God willing, to revisit you.
LOD’WICK
Adieu, my lord. [Exit MERCURY.
The strange events that time
In his continuance often brings to pass.
Not two hours since I would have sworn he lied,
That would have told me Anjou and myself
Should ever have been heard to interchange
Such friendly conference.But my word is pass’d,
And I will keep my covenant with the king.
Enter two Gentlemen, Petitioners.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
God save your honour!
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Health to the Duke of Bullen!
LOD’WICK
Gentlemen, y’are welcome.Come you with news?
Or have you some petition to the king?
FIRST GENTLEMAN
A suit, my lord, which should have been prefer’d
Unto the king himself, but being gone
Upon his pilgrimage before we came,
The power now to do us right remains
Within your hands, whom, as we understand,
His grace hath made vice-gerent of the land.
LOD’WICK
What is your suit?
SECOND GENTLEMAN
This paper will unfold,
If please you take perusal of the same.
LOD’WICK
Oh, I remember now; it is to have
A patent seal’d for certain exhibition
Given by his highness for your service done
Against the late invasion of the English.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
True, my good lord.
LOD’WICK
Well, I will do you any good I can;
But, gentlemen, I must be plain with you:
I am but the half part of that authority
Which late you spake of, for with me is join’d
The Duke of Anjou, equally possess’d
And he even now departed from the court;
But when he doth return, you shall be sure
To be dispatch’d.
SECOND GENTLEMAN
When he returns, my lord?
That will not be, I fear, till angry war
Hath brought destruction on some part of France.
LOD’WICK
How say you that?“Till angry war hath brought
Destruction on some part of France.”Why so?
SECOND GENTLEMAN
Because, my lord, in secret he hath levied
A mighty power, which since, as we are told,
Lying
not far from Paris had in charge
As on this day to meet the duke at Mullins.
LOD’WICK
A town near neighbouring on my territories.
It is even so; this proud dissembling duke
Made our reconcilement but a colour
To cloak his treason till the king were gone,
And now his hollow and perfidious dealing,
As when the turf the adder lurked in
Is shorn away, begins to show itself.
It is at me he aims; the blood he drank
In Burgundy will not allay his thirst;
Orleans must administer a fresh supply;
But lest my wife and daughter, whom I left
Slenderly guarded, fall into his hands,
Which now is all the comfort I have left.
Come, gentlemen, I will dispatch your suit,
And afterward ride post unto my house.
FIRST GENTLEMAN
We will attend upon your excellence.[Exeunt.
Scene 2
ENTER BARNABY BUNCH, a botcher, with a pair of shears, a handbasket with acrossbottom of thread, three or four pair of old stockings, pieces of fustianand cloth, &c.
BUNCH
Bonjour in French is “good morrow” in English; true, and therewithal good morrow, fair — what? maids? — no, good morrow, fair morning; and yet as fair as it looks, I fear we shall have rain.These French fleas bite so filthily.We travellers are abject — that’s to say order’d to many mysteries and troubles.I, Barnaby Bunch, the botcher, no whilome — that is, sometime — of a better trade; for I was an ale-draper as Thames and Tower-wharf can witness.Well, God be with them both!My honourable humour to learn language and see fashions has lost me many a stout draught of strong ale, what at London, what at Gravesend, were I was born.This France, I confess, is a goodly country, but it breeds no ale herbs.Good water, that’s drink for a horse, and de vine blanket and de vine coverlet, dat is vine claret for great out-rich cobs.Well, fare England wherethe poor may have a pot of ale for a penny, fresh ale, firm ale, nappy ale,nippitate ale, irregular, secular ale, courageous ale, contagious ale,alcumistical ale.Well, up with my ware, and down to my work, and on to mysong, for a merry heart lives long.
[He hangs three or four pair of hose upon a stick, and falls to sewing one hose heel, and sings.
King Richard’s gone to Walsingham,
[Speaks.] Kate, is my goose roasted?
[Sings.] To the Holy Land,
[Speaks.] I mean my pressing iron, wench.
[Sings.] To kill Turk and Saracen that the truth do withstand.
[Speaks.] Prithee, make it hot; I must use it.
[Sings.] Christ, his cross be his good speed; Christ his foes to quell.
[Speaks.] Let it not be hot, Kate.
[Sings.] Send him help in time of need, and to come home well.
[Speaks.] Oh, for one pot of Mother Bunch’s ale, my own mother’s ale, to wash my throat this misty morning!It would clear my sight, comfort my heart, and stuff my veins, that I should not smell the favour of these stockings.Well, fare cleanly Englishmen yet.These Frenchmen’s feet have a pocky strong scent.
Enter two or three Citizens, one after another, with bags and plate and things to hide.
Who be these that run so fearfully?Ha?citizens by the mass!Citizens that look as they were scar’d.
[Sings.] John Dory bought him an ambling nag, to Paris to ride-a
And happy are they can seek and find, for they are gone to hida-a.
FIRST CITIZEN
How blessed is this botcher that can sing
When all the city is set on sorrowing. [He seeks up and down for a place to hide his plate.
Where shall I hide this little that I have,
Whilst speedy flight attempt my life to save?
SECOND CITIZEN
Oh, unexpected, sudden misery,
More bitter made by our security!
We unprovided and our foes at hand,
The head depress’d, how can the body stand? [He seeks as above.
Where shall I shroud unseen this little pelf,
Whilst I by flight assay to save myself?
THIRD CITIZEN
Whom have we here?My gold will me betray.
Thee must I leave, with life to steal away.[He seeks.
Thou art my life, then if I live ’tis wonder,
When limbs and life are forc’d to part in sunder.
FIRST CITIZEN
Who’s there?
SECOND CITIZEN
A friend.Who thou?
FIRST CITIZEN
No enemy.What’s he?
THIRD CITIZEN
A citizen your neighbour.What fellow’s that?
FIRST CITIZEN
A botcher, a poor English mechanic.
SECOND CITIZEN
What shall we do in this calamity?
FIRST CITIZEN
Hide what we have, and fly from th’enemy.
THIRD CITIZEN
O, how near is he?
SECOND CITIZEN
He’ll be here to-night.
THIRD CITIZEN
No mean to save our lives but present flight.
BUNCH
What, are these thick-skinn’d, heavy purs’d gorbellied churls mad?What do they fear?To be robb’d, I think.O, that they would hide their money where I might find it, that should be the first language I would learn to speak. Though I have no money, I am as merry as they, and well fare nothing once a year.For early up and never the near.
Enter LOD’WICK.
LOD’WICK
O, whither fly ye, silly, heartless shadows?
What sudden fear so daunts your courages?
Are ye surpris’d with dread of enemies?
Then arm yourselves to guard yourselves and yours.
Let not base rumours drive ye from your den,
As hares from forms.Stay, fight, and die like men.
FIRST CITIZEN
O, noble duke Lod’wick, what avails our stay
When all our power cannot defend one part?
LOD’WICK
We shall have help.
SECOND CITIZEN
From whom?
LOD’WICK
From Count Lavall.
FIRST CITIZEN
No, he and Trosthey are with Mercury.
LOD’WICK
Yet Monsieur Rossibroune may come in time.
THIRD CITIZEN
All is but hazard; we are sure of none.
Therefore God buy you my lord, for I’ll save one.[Exit.
SECOND CITIZEN
And I another.
FIRST CITIZEN
And I, if I can. [Exeunt ambo.
LOD’WICK
Are ye all gone?Stays there not one man?
Good fellow, what art thou?
BUNCH
A corrector of extravagant hose feet.
LOD’WICK
Wilt thou abide?
And fight against th’approaching enemy?
BUNCH
Envy?What envy?
LOD’WICK
The proud Duke of Anjou, Mercury,
That comes to sack this unprovided town.
BUNCH
Is he near hand?
LOD’WICK
Ay, nearer than I wish.
BUNCH
O, that I had my pressing iron out of the fire, and my clean shirt from my laundress, that I might bid this town farewell, and bless it with my heels toward it!Fie, fie, down with my stall, up with my wares, shift for myself.
LOD’WICK
So all will leave me in extremity.
Enter a Messenger.
NUNTIO
Dear honoured lord, made haste to save yourself!
The armed troups of treacherous Mercury
Approach so fast, and in such multitudes,
That some of them are seen within a league,
And not a man of ours in readiness,
Except it be to run, none to resist.
/> LOD’WICK
Then must I run as fast as they.
Lod’wick till now was never runaway. [Exeunt LOD’WICK and Messenger.
BUNCH
If everybody run, it’s time for me to go.O, that my customers had their ware, and I money for mending them, here’s sudden wars when we ne’er thought upon it.Well, if I had had grace, I might have tarried at Tower- wharf, armed with a white apron, a pot in my left hand, a chalk in my right.“What makes this in the pie?”“Six pence,” said I.“Fill here hey in the Swan!” “By and by, anon, anon.”There might I have eat my fill, and drunk my fill, and slept my fill, and all without fear; safe as mouse in a mill; here if th’envy come, will be nothing but kill, kill, kill; and I am sure to be in most danger, because I am an English man and a stranger; this is the luck of them that travel foreign lands.Now one pair of running legs are worth two pair of working hands. [Exit.
Scene 3
ENTER DUKE MERCURY with Soldiers, drum and ensign.
MERCURY
A plague upon you!Was the palace watch’d,
That he and his have all escaped thus?
O, I could tear my very heartstrings out,
I am so stung with this indignity.
Will no man bring me word that he is taken?
Night wert thou any thing but what thou art,
A think dark shadow, that art only seen,
I would not live, till thou wert banished.
But let him go, and now shall Anjou shine
More brighter than the burning lamp of heaven,
Where in the height of the celstial signs,
In all his pomp he sails along the skies.
Now France shall shake with terror of my name.
Only my word shall be a parliament,
Enacting statutes as shall bind the world,
Where majesty shall plead prerogative,
In mighty volumes writing with his hand
The uncontroll’d decrees of sovereignty.
Lod’wick expulsed, and King Francis gone,
Yet once is Anjou King of France alone.
Enter Messenger.
MESSENGER
My lord.
MERCURY
Is Lod’wick taken?Ransom him to me,
And take my dukedom, whatso’er thou be.
MESSENGER
I am a messenger of other news.
MERCURY
O, but salute mine ears with that sweet sound
And in that music be all accents drown’d.
MESSENGER
My lord, to arms, to arms!My lord of Anjou,
The power of Spain hath past the Pryan hills
And are already entered into France
Under Hernando, the great Duke of Medena.
The frontiers lie all blazed with rude war;
The fields are cover’d with uncivil arms
Of sunburnt Moors, and tawny Africans
Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker Page 26