The Life of Sir John Oldcastle [14]
lords.--My noble lords?
My noble villains, base conspirators.
How can they look his Highness in the face,
Whom they so closely study to betray?
But I'll not sleep until I make it known.
This head shall not be burdened with such thoughts,
Nor in this heart will I conceal a deed
Of such impiety against my king.
Madam, how now?
[Enter Harpoole and the rest.]
LADY COBHAM.
You are welcome home, my Lord.
Why seem ye so disquiet in your looks?
What hath befallen you that disquiets your mind?
LADY POWIS.
Bad news, I am afraid, touching my husband.
COBHAM.
Madam, not so: there is your husband's pardon.
Long may ye live, each joy unto the other.
POWIS.
So great a kindness as i know not how
To make reply; my sense is quite confounded.
COBHAM.
Let that alone: and madam, stay me not,
For I must back unto the court again
With all the speed I can. Harpoole, my horse.
LADY COBHAM.
So soon, my Lord? what, will you ride all night?
COBHAM.
All night or day; it must be so, sweet wife.
Urge me not why or what my business is,
But get you in. Lord Powis, bear with me,
And madam, think your welcome ne'er the worse:
My house is at your use. Harpoole, away.
HARPOOLE.
Shall I attend your lordship to the court?
COBHAM.
Yes, sir; your gelding! mount you presently.
[Exeunt.]
LADY COBHAM.
I prithee, Harpoole, look unto thy Lord.
I do not like this sudden posting back.
POWIS.
Some earnest business is a foot belike;
What e'er it be, pray God be his good guide.
LADY POWIS.
Amen! that hath so highly us bested.
LADY COBHAM.
Come, madam, and my lord, we'll hope the best;
You shall not into Wales till he return.
POWIS.
Though great occasion be we should depart,
Yet madam will we stay to be resolved
Of this unlooked for, doubtful accident.
[Exeunt.]
ACT III. SCENE II. A road near Highgate.
[Enter Murley and his men, prepared in some filthy
order for war.]
MURLEY.
Come, my hearts of flint, modestly, decently, soberly,
and handsomely, no man afore his Leader; follow your
master, your Captain, your Knight that shall be, for the
honor of Meal-men, Millers, and Malt-men. Dunne is the
mouse. Dick and tom, for the credit of Dunstable, ding
down the enemy to morrow; ye shall not come into the
field like beggars. Where be Leonard and Laurence, my
two loaders? Lord have mercy upon us, what a world is
this? I would give a couple of shillings for a dozen of
good feathers for ye, and forty pence for as many scarfs
to set ye out withal. Frost and snow! a man has no heart
to fight till he be brave.
DICK.
Master, I hope we be no babes. For our manhood, our
bucklers and our town foot-balls can bear witness: and
this light parrel we have shall off, and we'll fight naked
afore we run away.
TOM.
Nay, I am of Laurence mind for that, for he means to
leave his life behind him; he and Leonard, your two
loaders, are making their wills because they have wives.
Now we Bachelors bid our friends scramble for our
goods if we die: but, master, pray ye, let me ride upon
Cutte.
MURLEY.
Meal and salt, wheat and malt, fire and tow, frost and
snow! why, Tom, thou shalt. Let me see: here are you,
William and George are with my cart, and Robin and
Hodge holding my own two horses: proper men, handsome
men, tall men, true men.
DICK.
But, master, master, me thinks you are a mad man to hazard
your own person and a cart load of money too.
TOM.
Yea, and, master, there's a worse matter in't. If it be as I
heard say, we go to fight against all the learned Bishops,
that should give us their blessing; and if they curse us, we
shall speed ne'er the better.
DICK.
Nay, bir lady, some say the King takes their part; and, master,
dare you fight against the King?
MURLEY.
Fie, paltry, paltry! in and out, to and fro, upon occasion; if
the King be so unwise to come there, we'll fight with him too.
TOM.
What, if ye should kill the King?
MURLEY.
Then we'll make another.
DICK.
Is that all? do ye not speak treason?
MURLEY.
If we
My noble villains, base conspirators.
How can they look his Highness in the face,
Whom they so closely study to betray?
But I'll not sleep until I make it known.
This head shall not be burdened with such thoughts,
Nor in this heart will I conceal a deed
Of such impiety against my king.
Madam, how now?
[Enter Harpoole and the rest.]
LADY COBHAM.
You are welcome home, my Lord.
Why seem ye so disquiet in your looks?
What hath befallen you that disquiets your mind?
LADY POWIS.
Bad news, I am afraid, touching my husband.
COBHAM.
Madam, not so: there is your husband's pardon.
Long may ye live, each joy unto the other.
POWIS.
So great a kindness as i know not how
To make reply; my sense is quite confounded.
COBHAM.
Let that alone: and madam, stay me not,
For I must back unto the court again
With all the speed I can. Harpoole, my horse.
LADY COBHAM.
So soon, my Lord? what, will you ride all night?
COBHAM.
All night or day; it must be so, sweet wife.
Urge me not why or what my business is,
But get you in. Lord Powis, bear with me,
And madam, think your welcome ne'er the worse:
My house is at your use. Harpoole, away.
HARPOOLE.
Shall I attend your lordship to the court?
COBHAM.
Yes, sir; your gelding! mount you presently.
[Exeunt.]
LADY COBHAM.
I prithee, Harpoole, look unto thy Lord.
I do not like this sudden posting back.
POWIS.
Some earnest business is a foot belike;
What e'er it be, pray God be his good guide.
LADY POWIS.
Amen! that hath so highly us bested.
LADY COBHAM.
Come, madam, and my lord, we'll hope the best;
You shall not into Wales till he return.
POWIS.
Though great occasion be we should depart,
Yet madam will we stay to be resolved
Of this unlooked for, doubtful accident.
[Exeunt.]
ACT III. SCENE II. A road near Highgate.
[Enter Murley and his men, prepared in some filthy
order for war.]
MURLEY.
Come, my hearts of flint, modestly, decently, soberly,
and handsomely, no man afore his Leader; follow your
master, your Captain, your Knight that shall be, for the
honor of Meal-men, Millers, and Malt-men. Dunne is the
mouse. Dick and tom, for the credit of Dunstable, ding
down the enemy to morrow; ye shall not come into the
field like beggars. Where be Leonard and Laurence, my
two loaders? Lord have mercy upon us, what a world is
this? I would give a couple of shillings for a dozen of
good feathers for ye, and forty pence for as many scarfs
to set ye out withal. Frost and snow! a man has no heart
to fight till he be brave.
DICK.
Master, I hope we be no babes. For our manhood, our
bucklers and our town foot-balls can bear witness: and
this light parrel we have shall off, and we'll fight naked
afore we run away.
TOM.
Nay, I am of Laurence mind for that, for he means to
leave his life behind him; he and Leonard, your two
loaders, are making their wills because they have wives.
Now we Bachelors bid our friends scramble for our
goods if we die: but, master, pray ye, let me ride upon
Cutte.
MURLEY.
Meal and salt, wheat and malt, fire and tow, frost and
snow! why, Tom, thou shalt. Let me see: here are you,
William and George are with my cart, and Robin and
Hodge holding my own two horses: proper men, handsome
men, tall men, true men.
DICK.
But, master, master, me thinks you are a mad man to hazard
your own person and a cart load of money too.
TOM.
Yea, and, master, there's a worse matter in't. If it be as I
heard say, we go to fight against all the learned Bishops,
that should give us their blessing; and if they curse us, we
shall speed ne'er the better.
DICK.
Nay, bir lady, some say the King takes their part; and, master,
dare you fight against the King?
MURLEY.
Fie, paltry, paltry! in and out, to and fro, upon occasion; if
the King be so unwise to come there, we'll fight with him too.
TOM.
What, if ye should kill the King?
MURLEY.
Then we'll make another.
DICK.
Is that all? do ye not speak treason?
MURLEY.
If we