The Life of Sir John Oldcastle [11]
This Jew, this Traitor to your majesty.
COBHAM.
Prelate, thou liest, even in thy greasy maw,
Or whosoever twits me with the name
Of either traitor, or of heretic.
KING.
Forbear, I say: and, Bishop, shew the cause
>From whence this late abuse hath been derived.
BISHOP.
Thus, mighty King:--By general consent,
A messenger was sent to cite this Lord,
To make appearance in the consistory;
And coming to his house, a ruffian slave,
One of his daily followers, met the man,
Who, knowing him to be a parroter,
Assaults him first and after, in contempt
Of us and our proceedings, makes him cate
The written process, parchment, scale and all:
Whereby his master neither was brought forth,
Nor we but scorned for our authority.
KING.
When was this done?
BISHOP.
At six a clock this morning.
KING.
And when came you to court?
COBHAM.
Last night, my Lord.
KING.
By this it seems, he is not guilty of it,
And you have done him wrong t'accuse him so.
BISHOP.
But it was done, my lord, by his appointment,
Or else his man durst ne'er have been so bold.
KING.
Or else you durst be bold to interrupt,
And fill our ears with frivolous complaints.
Is this the duty you do bear to us?
Was't not sufficient we did pass our word
To send for him, but you, misdoubting it,
Or--which is worse--intending to forestall
Our regal power, must likewise summon him?
This savors of Ambition, not of zeal,
And rather proves you malice his estate,
Than any way that he offends the law.
Go to, we like it not; and he your officer,
That was employed so much amiss herein,
Had his desert for being insolent.
[Enter Huntington.]
So, Cobham, when you please you may depart.
COBHAM.
I humbly bid farewell unto my liege.
[Exit.]
KING.
Farewell.--What's the news by Huntington?
HUNTINGTON.
Sir Roger Acton and a crew, my Lord,
Of bold seditious rebels are in Arms,
Intending reformation of Religion.
And with their Army they intend to pitch
In Ficket field, unless they be repulsed.
KING.
So near our presence? Dare they be so bold?
And will proud war, and eager thirst of blood,
Whom we had thought to entertain far off,
Press forth upon us in our native bounds?
Must we be forced to hansell our sharp blades
In England here, which we prepared for France?
Well, a God's name be it! What's their number, say,
Or who's the chief commander of this rout?
HUNTINGTON.
Their number is not known, as yet, my Lord,
But tis reported Sir John Old-castle
Is the chief man on whom they do depend.
KING.
How, the Lord Cobham?
HUNTINGTON.
Yes, my gracious Lord.
BISHOP.
I could have told your majesty as much
Before he went, but that I saw your Grace
Was too much blinded by his flattery.
SUFFOLK.
Send post, my Lord, to fetch him back again.
BUTLER.
Traitor unto his country, how he smoothed,
And seemed as innocent as Truth it self!
KING.
I cannot think it yet he would be false;
But if he be, no matter; let him go.
We'll meet both him and them unto their woe.
[Exeunt all but Bishop.]
BISHOP.
This falls out well, and at the last I hope
To see this heretic die in a rope.
ACT III. SCENE I. An avenue leading to lord
Cobham's house in Kent.
[Enter Earl of Cambridge, Lord Scroop, Gray, and
Chartres the French factor.]
SCROOP.
Once more, my Lord of Cambridge, make rehearsal,
How you do stand entitled to the Crown.
The deeper shall we print it in our minds,
And every man the better be resolved,
When he perceives his quarrel to be just.
CAMBRIDGE.
Then thus, Lord Scroop, sir Thomas Gray, & you,
Monsieur de Chartres, agent for the French:--
This Lionel, Duke of Clarence, as I said,
Third son of Edward (England's King) the third,
Had issue Phillip, his sole daughter and heir;
Which Phillip afterward was given in marriage
To Edmund Mortimer, the Earl of March,
And by him had a son called Roger Mortimer;
Which Roger, likewise, had of his descent
Edmund, Roger, Anne, and Eleanor--
Two daughters and two sons--but those three
Died without issue. Anne, that