Castilian; God bless us. There came but one Dondego
into England, and he made all Paul’s stink again: what
shall a whole army of Dondegoes do, my sweet countrymen?
Chum. Marry, they will make us all smell abominably:
he comes not here, that’s flat.
Brett. A Spaniard is called so because he’s a Spaniard,
his yard is but a span.
Chum. That’s the reason our Englishwomen love them not
Brett. Eight, for he carries not the Englishman’s yard
about him. If you deal with him, look for hard measure;
if you give an inch, he’ll take an ell; if he give an ell,
he’ll take an inch; therefore, my fine, spruce, dapper,
finical fellows, if you are now, as you have always been
counted, politic Londoners to fly to the stronger side, leave
Arundel, leave Norfolk, and love Brett.
Clown. We’ll fling our flat caps at them.
Brett. Wear your own neat’s-leather shoes; scorn
Spanish leather; cry, a fig for the Spaniard. Said I well, bullies?
Omnes. Ay, ay, ay.
Brett. Why, then, fiat, fiat!
And every man die at his foot that cries not a Wyat, a
Wyat.
Omnes. A Wyat, a Wyat, a Wyat.
Enter WYAT.
Wyat. Sweet music, gallant fellow-Londoners!
Clown. V faith, we are the madcaps, we are the lickpennies.
Wyat. You shall be all Lord Mayors at least.
[Exeunt Wyat, Brett, and Soldiers.
Alarum sounds, and enter WYAT, BRETT, RODSTON,
ISLEY, and SOLDIERS, again.
Wyat. Those eight brass pieces shall do service now
Against their masters, Norfolk and Arundel:
They may thank their heels more than their hands
For saving of their lives.
When soldiers turn surveyors, and measure lands,
God help poor farmers.
Soldiers and friends, let us all play nimble blood-hounds
And hunt them step by step. We hear
The lawyers plead in armour ‘stead of gowns:
If they fall out about the case they jar,
Then they may cuff each other from the bar,
Soft, this in Ludgate: stand aloof, I’ll knock.
He knocks; enter PEMBROKE Upon ike walls.
Pem. Who knocks?
Wyat. A Wyat, a true friend.
Open your gates, you lowering citizens;
I bring you freedom from a foreign prince:
The queen has heard your suit, and ’tis her pleasure
The city gates stand open to receive us.
Pem. Avaunt, thou traitor! thinks thou by forgery
To enter London with rebellious arms?
Know that these gates are barr’d against thy entrance;
And it shall cost the lives of twenty thousand
True subjects to the queen before a traitor enters.
Omnes. Shoot him through.
Wyat. Stay, let’s know him first.
Clown. Kill him; then let’s know him afterwards.
Pem. Look on my face, and blushing see with shame
Thy treasons character’d.
Brett. ’Tis the Lord Pembroke.
Wyat. What have we to do with the Lord Pembroke?
Where’s the queen’s lieutenant?
Pem. I am lieutenant of the city now.
Wyat. Are you Lord Mayor?
Pem. The greatest lord that breathes enters not here
Without express command from my dear queen.
Wyat. She commands by us.
Pern. I do command thee, in her highness’ name,
To leave the city gates, or, by my honour,
A piece of ordnance shall be straight discharg’d
To be thy death’s-man, and shoot thee to thy grave.
Wyat. Then here’s no entrance?
Pem. No, none. [Exit Pembroke.
Brett. What should we do following Wyat any longer?
Wyat. O London, London, thou perfidious town!
Why hast thou broke thy promise to thy friend,
That for thy sake, and for the general sake,
Hath thrust myself into the mouth of danger?
March back to Fleet-street: if that Wyat die,
London, unjustly, buy thy treachery.
Brett. Would I could steal away from Wyat! it should
be the first thing that I would do.
[Here they all steal away from Wyat, and leave him alone.
Wyat. Where’s all my soldiers? what, all gone,
And left my drum and colours without guard!
O infelicity of careful men!
Yet will I sell my honour’d blood as dear
As ever did faithful subject to his prince. [Exit.
Enter NORFOLK and ISLET.
Isley. Pembroke revolts and flies to Wyat’s side.
Norf. He’s damned in hell that speaks it.
Enter HARPER.
Harper. O my good lord, ’tis spread
That Pembroke and Count Arundel both are fled!
Enter PEMBROKE and ARUNDEL.
Pem. ‘S foot, who said so? what devil dare stir my patience?
Zounds, I was talking with a crew of vagabonds
That lagg’d at Wyat’s tail, and am I thus
Paid for my pains?
Norf. And there being miss’d,
Some villain, finding you out of sight, hath rais’d
This slander on you: but come, my lord.
Pem. I’ll not fight.
Norf. Nay, sweet earl.
Pem. Zounds, fight, and hear my name dishonour’d!
Aran. Wyat is march’d down Fleet-street: after him.
Pem. Why do not you, and you, pursue him?
Norf. If I strike one blow, may my hands fall off.
Pem. And if I do, by this
Norf. Come, leave your swearing:
Did not my country’s care urge to this quarrel,
For my part I would not strike a blow.
Pem. No more would I:
I’ll eat no wrongs: let’s all die, and I’ll die.
Enter MESSENGER.
Mess. Stand on your guard,
For this way Wyat is pursued amain.
A great noise: cries of follow. Enter WYAT, with his
sword drawn, being wounded.
Within. Follow, follow.
Norf. Stand, traitor, stand, or thou shalt ne’er stand more,
Wyat. Lords, I yield;
An easy conquest ’tis to win the field
After all’s lost. I am wounded: let me have a surgeon,
That I may go sound unto my grave.
’Tis not the name of traitor ‘pals me,
Nor plucks my weapon from my hand:
Use me how you can,
Though you say traitor, I’m a gentleman.
Your dreadful shaking me, which I defy,
Is a poor loss of life; I wish to die:
Death frights my spirit no more than can my bed,
Nor will I change one hair, losing this head.
Pern. Come, guard him, guard, him.
Wyat. No matter where;
I hope for nothing, therefore nothing fear.
[Exeunt omnes.
Enter WINCHESTER, NORFOLK;, ARUNDEL, PEMBROKE, with other lords.
Win. My lord of Norfolk, will it please you- sit;
By you, the noble Lord) of Arundel.
Since it hath pleas’d her sacred majesty
To nominate us here commissioners,
Let us, without all partiality,
Be open-ear’d to what they can allege.
Where’s the Lieutenant of the Tower?
Enter LIEUTENANT of the Tower.
Lieut. Here, my good lord.
Win. Fetch forth the prisoners;
Place them severally in chairs of state.
Clerk of the crown, proceed as law requires.
Enter GUILDFORD and JANE.
Clerk. Guildford Dudley, hold up thy hand at the bar.
Guild. Here at the bar of death I hold it up;
And would to God, this hand heav’d to the law,
Might have advanc’d itself in better place,
For England’s good and for my sovereign’s weal!
Clerk. Jane Gray, Lady Jane Gray,
Hold up thy hand at the bar.
Jane. A hand as pure from treason, as innocent
As the white livery
Worn by th’ angels in their Maker’s sight!
Clerk. You are here indicted by the names of Guildford Dudley, Lord Dudley, Jane Gray, Lady Jane Gray, of capital and high treason against our most sovereign lady the queen’s majesty. That is to say, that you, Guildford Dudley, and Lady Jane Gray, have, by all possible means, sought to procure unto yourselves the royalty of the crown of England, to the disinheriting of our new sovereign lady the queen’s majesty, the true and lawful issue to that famous king Henry the Eighth, and have manifestly adorned yourselves with the state’s garland imperial, and have granted warrants, commissions, and such like, for levying of men and soldiers to be sent against the said majesty: what answer you to this indictment, — guilty, or not guilty?
Guild. Our answer shall be several like ourselves;
Yet, noble earl, we confess the indictment.
May we not make some apology unto the court?
Norf. It is against the order of the law;
Therefore directly plead unto the indictment,
And then you shall be heard.
Guild. Against the law!
Words utter’d then as good unspoken were,
For whatsoe’er you say, you know your form,
And you will follow it unto our deaths.
Norf. Speak, are you guilty of these crimes, or no?
Jane. I’ll answer first: I am, and I am not;
But should we stand unto the last unguilty,
You have large-conscience jurors to besmear
The fairest brow with style of treachery.
Norf. The barons of the land shall be your jury.
Jane. An honourable and worthy trial;
And God forbid so many noblemen
Should be made guilty of our timeless deaths!
Arun. You’ll answer to the indictment, will you not?
Guild. My lord, I will: I am
Norf. What? are you guilty or no?
Guild. I say unguilty still, yet I am guilty.
Jane. Slander not thyself:
If there be any guilty, it was I;
I was proclaim’d queen, I the crown should wear.
Guild. Because I was thy husband, I stand here.
Jane. Our loves we sought ourselves, but not our pride;
And shall our fathers’ faults our lives divide?
Guild. It was my father that made thee distrest.
Jane. O, but for mine, my Guildford had been blest!
Guild. My Jane had been as fortunate as fair.
Jane. My Guildford free from this soul-grieving care.
Guild. If we be guilty, tis no fault of ours;
And shall we die for what’s not in our power?
We sought no kingdom, we desir’d no crown:
It was imposed upon us by constraint,
Like golden fruit hung on a barren tree;
And will you count such forcement treachery?
Then make the silver Thames as black as Styx,
Because it was constrain’d to bear the barks,
Whose battering ordnance should have been employ’d
Against the hinderers of our royalty.
Win. You talk of senseless things.
Guild. Do trees want sense,
That by the power of music have been drawn
To dance a pleasing measure?
We’ll come, then, nearer unto living things:
Say we usurp the English royalty,
Was’t not by your consents?
I tell you, lords, I have your hands to shew,
Subscrib’d to the commission of my father,
By which you did authorize him to wage arms.
If they were rebellious ‘gainst your sovereign,
Who cried so loud as you, God save Queen Jane?
And come you now your sovereign to arraign?
Come down, come down, here at a prisoner’s bar;
Better do so than judge yourselves amiss:
For look, what sentence on our heads you lay,
Upon your own may light another day.
Win. The queen hath pardon’d them.
Guild. And we must die for a less fault:
O partiality!
Jane. Patience, my Guildford; it was ever known,
They that sinn’d least, the punishment have borne.
Guild. True, my feir queen of sorrow, truly speak.
Great men, like great flies, through law’s cobwebs break,
But the thinn’st frame the prison of the weak.
Norf. Now trust me, Arundel,
It doth grieve me much to sit
In judgement of these harmless
Arun. I help’d to attach the father, but the son —
O, through my blood I feel compassion run!
My lords, we’ll be humble suitors to the queen,
To save these innocent creatures from their deaths,
Norf Let’s break up court:
If Norfolk long should stay,
In tears and passion I should melt away.
Win. Sit still: what! will you take
Compassion upon such? —
They are heretics.
Jane. We are Christians;
Leave our conscience to ourselves:
We stand not here about religious causes,
But are accus’d of capital treason.
Win. Then you confess the indictment.
Guild. Even what you will:
Yet save my Jane, although my blood you spill.
Jane. If I must die, save princely Guildford’s life.
Norf. Who is not mov’d to see this loving strife?
Arun. Pray pardon me 5 do what you will to-day,
And I’ll approve it, though it be my death.
Win. Then hear the speedy sentence of your deaths:
You shall be carried to the place from whence you came,
From thence unto the place of execution,
Through London to fee drawn on hurdles,
Where thou, Jane Gray, shalt suffer death by fire,
Thou, Guildford Dudley, hang’d and quarter’d;
So Lord have mercy upon you!
Guild. Why, this is well, since we must die,
That we must die together.
Win. Stay, and hear the mercy of the queen;
Because you are of noble parentage,
Although the crime of your offence be great,
She is only pleas’d that you shall
Both. Will she pardon us?
Win. Only, I say, that you shall lose your heads
Upon the Tower-hill. So, convey them hence:
Lieutenant, strictly look unto your charge.
Guild. Our dooms are known, our lives have play’d their part.
Farewell, my Jane.
Jane. My Dudley, mine own heart.
Guild. Fain would I take a ceremonious leave;
But that’s to die a hundred thousand deaths.
Jane. I cannot speak, for tears.
Lieut. My lord, come.
Guild. Great griefs speak louder, when the least are
dumb. Exeunt.
Enter Sir THOMAS WYAT, in the Tower.
Wyat. The sad aspect this prison doth afford
Jumps with the measure that my heart doth keep;
And this enclosure here, of nought but stone,
Yields far more comfort than the stony hearts
Of them that wrong’d their country an
d their friend.
Here is no perjur’d councillors to swear
A sacred oath and then forswear the same!
No innovators here doth harbour keep;
A stedfast silence doth possess the place:
In this the Tower is noble, being base.
Enter LORDS, to WYAT.
Norf. Sir Thomas Wyat.
Wyat. That’s my name, indeed.
Win. You should say traitor.
Wyat. Traitor, and Wyat’s name,
Differ as far as Winchester and honour.
Win. I am a pillar of the mother church.
Wyat. And what am I?
Win. One that subverts the state.
Wyat. Insult not too much o’er th’ unfortunate;
I have no bishop’s rochet to declare my innocency.
This is my cross,
That causeless I must suffer my head’s loss:
When that hour comes wherein my blood is spilt,
My cross will look as bright as yours twice gilt.
Norf. Here’s for that purpose.
Wyat. Is your grace so short?
Belike you come to make my death a sport.
Win. We come to bring you to your execution;
You must be hang’d and quarter’d instantly:
At the Park corner is a gallows set,
Whither make haste to tender nature’s debt.
Wyat. Then here’s the end of Wyat’s rising up:
I to keep Spaniards from the land was sworn.
Right willingly I yield myself to death,
But sorry such should have my place of birth.
Had London kept its word, Wyat had stood,
But now King Philip enters through my blood.
Win. Where’s the lieutenant of the Tower?
Exeunt Officers with Wyat.
Enter LIEUTENANT.
Lieut. Here, my lord.
Win. Fetch forth your other prisoners.
Lieut. My lord, I will;
Here lies young Guildford, here the lady Jane.
Norf. Conduct them forth.
Enter GUILDFORD and JANE.
Guild. Good morrow, once more, to my lovely Jane.
Jane. The last good morrow, my sweet love, to thee.
Guild. What were you reading?
Jane. On a prayer-book.
Guild. Trust me, so was I: we had need to pray,
For see, the ministers of death draw near.
Jane. To a prepared mind death is a pleasure:
I long in soul till I have spent my breath.
Guild. My lord high chancellor, you’re welcome hither
What! come you to behold our execution?
And, my lord Arundel, thrice welcome:
You help’d t’ attach our father; come you now to see
The black conclusion of our tragedy?
Win. We come to do our office.
Guild. So do we;
Our office is to die, yours to look on:
Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker Page 160