The Life of Sir John Oldcastle [10]
field.
John and Tom, and Dick and Hodge,
And Rafe and Robin, William & George,
And all my knaves shall fight like men,
At Ficket field on Friday next.
BOURNE.
What sum of money mean you to disburse?
MURLEY.
It may be modestly, decently, soberly, and handsomely
I may bring five hundred pound.
ACTON.
Five hundred, man! five thousand's not enough!
A hundred thousand will not pay our men
Two months together. Either come prepared
Like a brave Knight, and martial Colonel,
In glittering gold, and gallant furniture,
Bringing in coin a cart load at he least,
And all your followers mounted on good horse,
Or never come disgraceful to us all.
BEVERLY.
Perchance you may be chosen Treasurer.
Ten thousand pound's the least that you can bring.
MURLEY.
Paltry, paltry! in and out, to and fro, upon occasion I
have ten thousand pound to spend, and ten too. And
rather than the Bishop shall have his will of me for my
conscience, it shall out all. Flame and flax, flame and
flax! it was got with water and malt, and it shall fly
with fire and gun powder. Sir Roger, a cart load of
money till the axetree crack, my self and my men in
Ficket field on Friday next: remember my Knighthood,
and my place. There's my hand; I'll be there.
[Exit.]
ACTON.
See what Ambition may persuade men to,
In hope of honor he will spend himself.
BOURNE.
I never thought a Brewer half so rich.
BEVERLY.
Was never bankerout Brewer yet but one,
With using too much malt, too little water.
ACTON.
That's no fault in Brewers now-adays.
Come, away, about our business.
[Exeunt.]
ACT II. SCENE III. An audience-chamber in the
palace at Eltham.
[Enter King Henry, Suffolk, Butler, and Old-castle
kneeling to the King.]
KING.
Tis not enough, Lord Cobham, to submit;
You must forsake your gross opinion.
The Bishops find themselves much injured,
And though, for some good service you have done,
We for our part are pleased to pardon you,
Yet they will not so soon be satisfied.
COBHAM.
My gracious Lord, unto your Majesty,
Next unto my God, I owe my life:
And what is mine, either by nature's gift,
Or fortune's bounty, all is at your service.
But, for obedience to the Pope of Rome,
I owe him none, nor shall his shaveling priests
That are in England alter my belief.
If out of holy Scripture they can prove,
That I am in an error I will yield,
And gladly take instruction at their hands;
But otherwise, I do beseech your grace,
My conscience may not be encroached upon.
KING.
We would be loath to press our subjects' bodies,
Much less their souls, the dear redeemed part
Of him that is the ruler of us all;
Yet let me counsel ye, that might command:
Do not presume to tempt them with ill words,
Nor suffer any meetings to be had
Within your house, but to the uttermost,
Disperse the flocks of this new gathering sect.
COBHAM.
My liege, if any breathe, that dares come forth,
And say my life in any of these points
Deserves th'attaindor of ignoble thoughts,
Here stand I, craving no remorse at all,
But even the utmost rigor may be shown.
KING.
Let it suffice; we know your loyalty.
What have you there?
COBHAM.
A deed of clemency;
Your Highness' pardon for Lord Powis' life,
Which I did beg, and you, my noble Lord,
Of gracious favour did vouchsafe to grant.
KING.
But yet it is not signed with our hand.
COBHAM.
Not yet, my Liege.
[One ready with pen and ink.]
KING.
The fact, you say, was done,
Not of prepensed malice, but by chance.
COBHAM.
Upon mine honor so, no otherwise.
KING.
There is his pardon; bid him make amends,
[Writes.]
And cleanse his soul to God for his offence.
What we remit, is but the body's scourge--
[Enter Bishop.]
How now, Lord Bishop?
BISHOP.
Justice, dread Sovereign!
As thou art King, so grant I may have justice.
KING.
What means this exclamation? let us know.
BISHOP.
Ah, my good Lord, the state's abused,
And our decrees most shamefully profaned.
KING.
How? or by whom?
BISHOP.
Even by this heretic,
John and Tom, and Dick and Hodge,
And Rafe and Robin, William & George,
And all my knaves shall fight like men,
At Ficket field on Friday next.
BOURNE.
What sum of money mean you to disburse?
MURLEY.
It may be modestly, decently, soberly, and handsomely
I may bring five hundred pound.
ACTON.
Five hundred, man! five thousand's not enough!
A hundred thousand will not pay our men
Two months together. Either come prepared
Like a brave Knight, and martial Colonel,
In glittering gold, and gallant furniture,
Bringing in coin a cart load at he least,
And all your followers mounted on good horse,
Or never come disgraceful to us all.
BEVERLY.
Perchance you may be chosen Treasurer.
Ten thousand pound's the least that you can bring.
MURLEY.
Paltry, paltry! in and out, to and fro, upon occasion I
have ten thousand pound to spend, and ten too. And
rather than the Bishop shall have his will of me for my
conscience, it shall out all. Flame and flax, flame and
flax! it was got with water and malt, and it shall fly
with fire and gun powder. Sir Roger, a cart load of
money till the axetree crack, my self and my men in
Ficket field on Friday next: remember my Knighthood,
and my place. There's my hand; I'll be there.
[Exit.]
ACTON.
See what Ambition may persuade men to,
In hope of honor he will spend himself.
BOURNE.
I never thought a Brewer half so rich.
BEVERLY.
Was never bankerout Brewer yet but one,
With using too much malt, too little water.
ACTON.
That's no fault in Brewers now-adays.
Come, away, about our business.
[Exeunt.]
ACT II. SCENE III. An audience-chamber in the
palace at Eltham.
[Enter King Henry, Suffolk, Butler, and Old-castle
kneeling to the King.]
KING.
Tis not enough, Lord Cobham, to submit;
You must forsake your gross opinion.
The Bishops find themselves much injured,
And though, for some good service you have done,
We for our part are pleased to pardon you,
Yet they will not so soon be satisfied.
COBHAM.
My gracious Lord, unto your Majesty,
Next unto my God, I owe my life:
And what is mine, either by nature's gift,
Or fortune's bounty, all is at your service.
But, for obedience to the Pope of Rome,
I owe him none, nor shall his shaveling priests
That are in England alter my belief.
If out of holy Scripture they can prove,
That I am in an error I will yield,
And gladly take instruction at their hands;
But otherwise, I do beseech your grace,
My conscience may not be encroached upon.
KING.
We would be loath to press our subjects' bodies,
Much less their souls, the dear redeemed part
Of him that is the ruler of us all;
Yet let me counsel ye, that might command:
Do not presume to tempt them with ill words,
Nor suffer any meetings to be had
Within your house, but to the uttermost,
Disperse the flocks of this new gathering sect.
COBHAM.
My liege, if any breathe, that dares come forth,
And say my life in any of these points
Deserves th'attaindor of ignoble thoughts,
Here stand I, craving no remorse at all,
But even the utmost rigor may be shown.
KING.
Let it suffice; we know your loyalty.
What have you there?
COBHAM.
A deed of clemency;
Your Highness' pardon for Lord Powis' life,
Which I did beg, and you, my noble Lord,
Of gracious favour did vouchsafe to grant.
KING.
But yet it is not signed with our hand.
COBHAM.
Not yet, my Liege.
[One ready with pen and ink.]
KING.
The fact, you say, was done,
Not of prepensed malice, but by chance.
COBHAM.
Upon mine honor so, no otherwise.
KING.
There is his pardon; bid him make amends,
[Writes.]
And cleanse his soul to God for his offence.
What we remit, is but the body's scourge--
[Enter Bishop.]
How now, Lord Bishop?
BISHOP.
Justice, dread Sovereign!
As thou art King, so grant I may have justice.
KING.
What means this exclamation? let us know.
BISHOP.
Ah, my good Lord, the state's abused,
And our decrees most shamefully profaned.
KING.
How? or by whom?
BISHOP.
Even by this heretic,