ACT I.

SCENE I. Hereford. A street.

[Enter Lord Herbert, Lord Powis, Owen, Gough, Davy, and several other followers of the lords Herbert and Powis; they fight. In the fight, enter the Sheriff and two of his men.]

SHERIFF. My Lords, I charge ye in his Highness' name, To keep the peace, you, and your followers.

HERBERT. Good Master Sheriff, look unto your self. POWIS. Do so, for we have other business.

[Profer to fight again.]

SHERIFF. Will ye disturb the Judges, and the Assize? Hear the King's proclamation, ye were best.

POWIS. Hold then, let's hear it. HERBERT. But be brief, ye were best. BAILIFF. Oyes!

DAVY. Cousin, make shorter O, or shall mar your Yes. BAILIFF. Oyes!

OWEN. What, has her nothing to say but O yes? BAILIFF. Oyes!

DAVY. O nay! pye Cosse plut down with her, down with her! A Pawesse! a Pawesse!

GOUGH. A Herbert! a Herbert! and down with Powis! [Helter skelter again.]

SHERIFF. Hold, in the King's name, hold. OWEN. Down i' tha knave's name, down.

[In this fight, the Bailiff is knocked down, and the Sheriff and the other run away.]

HERBERT. Powesse, I think thy Welsh and thou do smart. POWIS. Herbert, I think my sword came near thy heart.

HERBERT. Thy heart's best blood shall pay the loss of mine. GOUGH. A Herbert! a Herbert!

DAVY. A Pawesse! a Pawesse!

[As they are lifting their weapons, enter the Mayor of Hereford, and his Officers and Towns-men with clubs.]

MAYOR. My Lords, as you are liege men to the Crown, True noblemen, and subjects to the King, Attend his Highness' proclamation, Commanded by the Judges of Assize, For keeping peace at this assembly.

HERBERT. Good Master Mayor of Hereford be brief.

MAYOR. Sergeant, without the ceremony of Oyes, Pronounce aloud the proclamation.

SERVANT. The King's Justices, perceiving what public mischief may ensue this private quarrel, in his majesty's name do straightly charge and command all persons, of what degree soever, to depart this city of Hereford, except such as are bound to give attendance at this Assize, and that no man presume to wear any weapon, especially welsh-hooks, forest bills--

OWEN. Haw, no pill nor wells hoog? ha? MAYOR. Peace, and hear the proclamation.

SERVANT. And that the Lord Powesse do presently disperse and discharge his retinue, and depart the city in the King's peace, he and his followers, on pain of imprisonment.

DAVY. Haw? pud her Lord Pawesse in prison? A Pawes! A Pawesse! cossone live and tie with her Lord.

GOUGH. A Herbert! a Herbert!

[In this fight the Lord Herbert is wounded, and falls to the ground; the Mayor and his company go away, crying clubs; Powesse runs away; Gough and other of Herbert's faction busy themselves about Herbert; enter the two Judges in their robes, the Sheriff and his Bailiffs afore them, &c.]

FIRST JUDGE. Where's the Lord Herbert? is he hurt or slain? SHERIFF. He's here, my Lord.

SECOND JUDGE. How fares his Lordship, friends? GOUGH. Mortally wounded, speechless; he cannot live.

FIRST JUDGE. Convey him hence; let not his wounds take air, And get him dressed with expedition.

[Ex. Herbert & Gough.]

Master Mayor of Hereford, Master Shrieve o' the shire, Commit Lord Powesse to safe custody, To answer the disturbance of the peace, Lord Herbert's peril, and his high contempt Of us, and you the King's

commissioners. See it be done with care and diligence.

SHERIFF. Please it your Lordship, my Lord Powesse is gone Past all recovery.

SECOND JUDGE. Yet let search be made, To apprehend his followers that are left.

SHERIFF. There are some of them. Sirs, lay hold of them. OWEN. Of us? and why? what has her done, I pray you?

SHERIFF. Disarm them, Bailiffs. MAYOR. Officers, assist.

DAVY. Hear you, Lor shudge, what resson is for this? OWEN. Cosson pe puse for fighting for our Lord?

FIRST JUDGE. Away with them. DAVY. Harg you, my Lord.

OWEN. Gough my Lord Herbert's man's a shitten kanave. DAVY. Ise live and tie in good quarrel.

OWEN. Pray you do shustice; let all be preson.

DAVY. Prison! no. Lord shudge, I wool give you pale, good suerty. SECOND JUDGE. What Bail? what sureties?

DAVY. Her coozin ap Ries, ap Evan, ap Morris, ap Morgan, ap Lluellyn, ap Madoc, ap Meredith, ap Griffen, ap Davy, ap Owen, ap Shinken Shones.

SECOND JUDGE. Two of the most sufficient are ynow. SHERIFF. And 't please your Lordship, these are all but one.

FIRST JUDGE. To Jail with them, and the Lord Herbert's men; We'll talk with them, when the Assize is done.

[Exeunt.]

Riotous, audacious, and unruly Grooms, Must we be forced to come from the Bench, To quiet brawls, which every Constable In other civil places can suppress?

SECOND JUDGE. What was the quarrel that caused all this stir?

SHERIFF. About religion, as I heard, my Lord. Lord Powesse detracted from the power of Rome, Affirming Wickliffe's doctrine to be true, And Rome's erroneous. Hot reply was made By the lord Herbert, they were traitors all That would maintain it: Powesse answered, They

were as true, as noble, and as wise As he, that would defend it with their lives; He named for instance sir John Old-castle The Lord Cobham: Herbert replied again, "He, thou, and all are traitors that so hold." The lie was given, the several factions drawn, And so enraged, that we could not appease it.

FIRST JUDGE. This case concerns the King's prerogative, And's dangerous to the State and common wealth. Gentlemen, Justices, master Mayor, and master Shrieve, It doth behoove us all, and each of us In general and particular, to have care For suppressing of all mutinies, And all assemblies, except soldiers' musters For the King's preparation into France. We hear of secret conventicles made, And there is doubt of some conspiracies, Which may break out into rebellious arms When the King's gone, perchance before he go: Note as an instance, this one perilous fray; What factions might have grown on either part, To the destruction of the King and Realm. Yet, in my conscience, sir John Old-castle, Innocent of it, only his name was used. We, therefore, from his Highness give this charge: You, master Mayor, look to your citizens; You, master Sheriff, unto your shire; and you As Justices, in every one's precinct, There be no meetings. When the vulgar sort Sit on their Ale-bench, with their cups and cans, Matters of state be not their common talk, Nor pure religion by their lips profaned. Let us return unto the Bench again, And there examine further of this fray.

[Enter a Bailiff and a Servant.]

SHERIFF. Sirs, have ye taken the lord Powesse yet? BAILIFF. No, nor heard of him.

SERVANT. No, he's gone far enough.

SECOND JUDGE. They that are left behind shall answer all. [Exeunt.]

SCENE II. Eltham. An antechamber in the palace.

[Enter Suffolk, Bishop of Rochester, Butler, parson of Wrotham.]

SUFFOLK. Now, my lord Bishop, take free liberty To speak your mind: what is your suit to us?

BISHOP. My noble Lord, no more than what you know, And have been oftentimes invested with: Grievous complaints have past between the lips Of envious persons to upbraid the Clergy, Some carping at the livings which we have, And others spurning at the ceremonies That are of ancient custom in the church. Amongst the which, Lord Cobham is a chief: What inconvenience may proceed hereof, Both to the King and to the commonwealth, May easily be discerned, when like a frenzy This innovation shall possess their minds. These upstarts will have followers, to uphold Their damned opinion, more than Harry shall To undergo his quarrel gainst the French.

SUFFOLK. What proof is there against them to be had, That what you say the law may justify?

BISHOP. They give themselves the name of Protestants, And meet in fields and solitary groves.

SIR JOHN. Was ever heard, my Lord, the like til now? That thieves and rebels--sblood, heretics, Plain heretics, I'll stand tooth to their teeth-- Should have, to colour their vile practices, A title of such worth as Protestant?

[Enter one with a letter.]

SUFFOLK. O, but you must not swear; it ill becomes One of your coat to rap out bloody oaths.

BISHOP. Pardon him, good my Lord, it is his zeal; An honest country prelate, who laments To see such foul disorder in the church.

SIR JOHN. There's one--they call him Sir John Old-castle-- He has not his name for naught: for like a castle Doth he encompass them within his walls; But till that castle be subverted quite, We ne'er shall be at quiet in the realm.

BISHOP. That is not our suit, my Lord, that he be ta'en, And brought in question for his heresy. Beside, two letters brought me out of Wales,

Wherein my Lord Hereford writes to me, What tumult and sedition was begun, About the Lord Cobham at the Sises there, (For they had much ado the calm the rage), And that the valiant Herbert is there slain.

SUFFOLK. A fire that must be quenched. Well, say no more, The King anon goes to the counsel chamber, There to debate of matters touching France: As he doth pass by, I'll inform his grace Concerning your petition: Master Butler, If I forget, do you remember me.

BUTLER. I will, my Lord. [Offer him a purse.]

BISHOP. Not for a recompence, But as a token of our love to you, By me my Lords of the clergy do present This purse, and in it full a thousand Angels, Praying your Lordship to accept their gift.

SUFFOLK. I thank them, my Lord Bishop, for their love, But will not take they money; if you please To give it to this gentleman, you may.

BISHOP. Sir, then we crave your furtherance herein. BUTLER. The best I can, my Lord of Rochester.

BISHOP. Nay, pray ye take it; trust me but you shall.

SIR JOHN. --Were ye all thee upon New Market heath, You should not need strain curtsey who should ha't; Sir John would quickly rid ye of that care.

SUFFOLK. The King is coming. Fear ye not, my Lord; The very first thing I will break with him Shall be about your matter.

[Enter King Henry and Huntington in talk.]

KING. My Lord of Suffolk, Was it not said the Clergy did refuse To lend us money toward our wars in France?

SUFFOLK. It was, my Lord, but very wrongfully.

KING. I know it was, for Huntington here tells me, They have been very bountiful of late.

SUFFOLK. And still they vow, my gracious Lord, to be so, Hoping your majesty will think of them As of your loving subjects, and suppress All such malicious errors as begin To spot their calling, and disturb the church.

KING. God else forbid: why, Suffolk, is there Any new rupture to disquiet them?

SUFFOLK. No new, my Lord; the old is great enough, And so increasing as, if not cut down, Will breed a scandal to your royal state, And set your Kingdom quickly in an uproar. The Kentish knight, Lord Cobham, in despite Of any law, or spiritual discipline, Maintains this upstart new religion still, And divers great assemblies by his means And private quarrels are commenced abroad, As by this letter more at large, my liege, Is made apparent.

KING. We do find it here: There was in Wales a certain fray of late, Between two noblemen, but what of this? Follows it straight, Lord Cobham must be he Did cause the same? I dare be sworn, good knight, He never dreamt of any such contention.

BISHOP. But in his name the quarrel did begin, About the opinion which he held, my liege.

KING. How if it did? was either he in place, To take part with them, or abet them in it? If brabling fellows, whose inkindled blood, Seethes in their fiery veins, will needs go fight, Making their quarrels of some words that past Either of you, or you, amongst their cups, Is the fault yours, or are they guilty of it?

SUFFOLK. With pardon of your Highness, my dread lord, Such little sparks, neglected, may in time Grow to a might flame: but that's not all; He doth, beside, maintain a strange religion, And will not be compelled to come to mass.

BISHOP. We do beseech you, therefore, gracious prince, Without offence unto your majesty, We may be bold to use authority.

KING. As how?

BISHOP. To summon him unto the Arches, Where such offences have their punishment.

KING. To answer personally? is that your meaning? BISHOP. It is, my lord.

KING. How, if he appeal?

BISHOP. He cannot, my Lord, in such a case as this. SUFFOLK. Not where Religion is the plea, my lord.

KING. I took it always, that our self stood out, As a sufficient refuge, unto whom Not any but might lawfully appeal. But we'll not argue now

upon that point. For Sir John Old-castle, whom you accuse, Let me entreat you to dispence awhile With your high title of pre-eminence.

[In scorn.]

Report did never yet condemn him so, But he hath always been reputed loyal: And in my knowledge I can say thus much, That he is virtuous, wise, and honourable. If any way his conscience be seduced, To waver in his faith, I'll send for him, And school him privately; if that serve not, Then afterward you may proceed against him. Butler, be you the messenger for us, And will him presently repair to court.

[Exeunt.]

SIR JOHN. How now, my lord, why stand you discontent? In sooth, me thinks the King hath well decreed.

BISHOP. Yea, yea, sir John, if he would keep his word; But I perceive he favours him so much, As this will be to small effect, I fear.

SIR JOHN. Why, then, I'll tell you what y'are bets to do: If you suspect the King will be but cold In reprehending him, send you a process too To serve upon him: so you may be sure To make him answer 't, howsoe'er it fall.

BISHOP. And well remembered! I will have it so. A Sumner shall be sent about it straight.

[Exit.]

SIR JOHN. Yea, do so. In the mean space this remains For kind sir John of Wrotham, honest Jack. Me thinks the purse of gold the Bishop gave Made a good show; it had a tempting look. Beshrew me, but my fingers' ends to itch To be upon those rudduks. Well, tis thus: I am not as the world does take me for; If ever wolf were clothed in sheep's coat, Then I am he,--old huddle and twang, yfaith, A priest in show, but in plain terms a thief. Yet, let me tell you too, an honest thief, One that will take it where it may be spared, And spend it freely in good fellowship. I have as many shapes as Proteus had, That still, when any villainy is done, There may be none suspect it was sir John. Besides, to comfort me,--for what's this life, Except the crabbed bitterness thereof, Be sweetened now and then with lechery?-- I have my Doll, my concubine, as twere, To frolic with, a lusty bouncing girl. But whilst I loiter here, the gold may scape, And that must

not be so. It is mine own; Therefore, I'll meet him on his way to court, And shrive him of it: there will be the sport.

[Exit.]

SCENE III. Kent. An outer court before lord Cobham's house.

[Enter three or four poor people: some soldiers, some old men.]

FIRST. God help! God help! there's law for punishing, But there's no law for our necessity: There be more stocks to set poor soldiers in, Than there be houses to relieve them at.

OLD MAN. Faith, housekeeping decays in every place, Even as Saint Peter writ, still worse and worse.

FOURTH. Master mayor of Rochester has given commandment, that none shall go abroad out of the parish; and they have set an order down forsooth, what every poor householder must give towards our relief: where there be some ceased, I may say to you, had almost as much need to beg as we.

FIRST. It is a hard world the while.

OLD MAN. If a poor man come to a door to ask for God's sake, they ask him for a license, or a certificate from a Justice.

SECOND. Faith we have none but what we bear upon our bodies, our maimed limbs, God help us.

FOURTH. And yet, as lame as I am, I'll with the king into France, if I can crawl but a shipboard. I had rather be slain in France, than starve in England.

OLD MAN. Ha, were I but as lusty as I was at the battle of Shrewbury, I would not do as I do: but we are now come to the good lord Cobham's, to the best man to the poor that is in all Kent.

FOURTH. God bless him! there be but few such. [Enter Lord Cobham with Harpoole.]

COBHAM. Thou peevish, froward man, what wouldst thou have?

HARPOOLE. This pride, this pride, brings all to beggary. I served your father, and your grandfather; Show me such two men now! No! No! Your backs, your backs, the devil and pride, Has cut the throat of all good housekeeping.-- They were the best Yeomens' masters, That ever were in England.

COBHAM. Yea, except thou have a crew of seely knaves And sturdy rogues still feeding at my gate, There is no hospitality with thee.

HARPOOLE. They may sit at the gat well enough, but the devil of any thing you give them, except they will eat stones.

COBHAM. Tis long, then, of such hungry knaves as you. [Pointing to the beggars.]

Yea, sir, here's your retinue; your guests be come. They know their hours, I warrant you.

OLD MAN. God bless your honour! God save the good Lord Cobham And all his house!

SOLDIER. Good your honour, bestow your blessed alms Upon poor men.

COBHAM. Now, sir, here be your Alms knights. Now are you As safe as the Emperour.

HARPOOLE. My Alms knights! nay, th' are yours. It is a shame for you, and I'll stand too 't; Your foolish alms maintains more vagabonds, Than all the noblemen in Kent beside. Out, you rogues, you knaves! work for your livings!-- Alas, poor men! O Lord, they may beg their hearts out, There's no more charity amongst men than amongst So many mastiff dogs!--What make you here, You needy knaves? Away, away, you villains.

SECOND SOLDIER. I beseech you, sir, be good to us.

COBHAM. Nay, nay, they know thee well enough. I think that all the beggars in this land are thy acquaintance. Go bestow your alms; none will control you, sir.

HARPOOLE. What should I give them? you are grown so beggarly, you have scarce a bit of bread to give at your door. You talk of your religion so long, that you have banished charity from amongst you; a man may make a flax shop in your kitchen chimneys, for any fire there is stirring.

COBHAM. If thou wilt give them nothing, send them hence: let them not stand here starving in the cold.

HARPOOLE. Who! I drive them hence? If I drive poor men from your door, I'll be hanged; I know not what I may come to my self. Yea,

God help you, poor knaves; ye see the world, yfaith! Well, you had a mother: well, God be with thee, good Lady; thy soul's at rest. She gave more in shirts and smocks to poor children, than you spend in your house, & yet you live a beggar too.

COBHAM. Even the worst deed that ere my mother did was in relieving such a fool as thou.

HARPOOLE. Yea, yea, I am a fool still. With all your wit you will die a beggar; go too.

COBHAM. Go, you old fool; give the poor people something. Go in, poor men, into the inner court, and take such alms as there is to be had.

SOLDIER. God bless your honor.

HARPOOLE. Hang you, rogues, hang you; there's nothing but misery amongst you; you fear no law, you.

[Exit.]

OLD MAN. God bless you, good master Rafe, God save your life; you are good to the poor still.

[Enter the Lord Powis disguised, and shroud himself.]

COBHAM. What fellow's yonder comes along the grove? Few passengers there be that know this way: Me thinks he stops as though he stayed for me, And meant to shroud himself amongst the bushes. I know the Clergy hate me to the death, And my religion gets me many foes: And this may be some desperate rogue, suborned To work me mischief.--As it pleaseth God! If he come toward me, sure I'll stay his coming-- Be he but one man--what so'er he be.

[The Lord Powis comes on.]

I have been well acquainted with that face. POWIS. Well met, my honorable lord and friend.

COBHAM. You are welcome, sir, what ere you be; But of this sudden, sir, I do not know you.

POWIS. I am one that wisheth well unto your honor; My name is Powis, an old friend of yours.

COBHAM. My honorable lord, and worthy friend, What makes your lordship thus alone in Kent, And thus disguised in this strange attire?

POWIS. My Lord, an unexpected accident Hath at this time inforc'd

me to these parts; And thus it hapt:--Not yet full five days since, Now at the last Assize at Hereford, It chanced that the lord Herbert and my self, Mongst other things, discoursing at the table, Did fall in speech about some certain points Of Wickliffe's doctrine gainst the papacy And the religion catholique, maintained Through the most part of Europe at this day. This wilful teasty lord stuck not to say That Wickliffe was a knave, a schismatic, His doctrine devilish and heretical, And what soe'er he was maintained the same, Was traitor both to God and to his country. Being moved at his peremptory speech, I told him some maintained those opinions, Men, and truer subjects than lord Herbert was: And he replying in comparisons, Your name was urged, my lord, gainst his challenge, To be a perfect favourer of the truth. And to be short, from words we fell to blows, Our servants and our tenants taking parts-- Many on both sides hurt--and for an hour The broil by no means could be pacified, Until the Judges, rising from the bench, Were in their persons forced to part the fray.

COBHAM. I hope no man was violently slain.

POWIS. Faith, none, I trust, but the lord Herbert's self, Who is in truth so dangerously hurt, As it is doubted he can hardly scape.

COBHAM. I am sorry, my good lord, of these ill news.

POWIS. This is the cause that drives me into Kent, To shroud my self with you, so good a friend, Until I hear how things do speed at home.

COBHAM. Your lordship is most welcome unto Cobham; But I am very sorry, my good lord, My name was brought in question in this matter, Considering I have many enemies, That threaten malice, and do lie in wait To take advantage of the smallest thing. But you are welcome: and repose your lordship, And keep your self here secret in my house, Until we hear how the lord Herbert speeds. Here comes my man.

[Enter Harpoole.] Sirra, what news?

HARPOOLE. Yonder's one master Butler of the privy chamber, is sent unto you from the King.

POWIS. I pray God the lord Herbert be not dead, And the King, hearing whither I am gone, Hath sent for me.

COBHAM. Comfort your self my lord, I warrant you.

HARPOOLE. Fellow, what ails thee? doost thou quake? dost thou shake? dost thou tremble? ha?

COBHAM. Peace, you old fool! Sirra, convey this gentleman in the back way, and bring the other into the walk.

HARPOOLE. Come, sir; you are welcome, if you love my lord. POWIS. God have mercy, gentle friend.

[Exeunt.]

COBHAM. I thought as much: that it would not be long, Before I heard of something from the King About this matter.

[Enter Harpoole with Master Butler.]

HARPOOLE. Sir, yonder my lord walks, you see him; I'll have your men into the Cellar the while.

COBHAM. Welcome, good master Butler.

BUTLER. Thanks, my good lord: his Majesty doth commend His love unto your lordship, And wills you to repair unto the court.

COBHAM. God bless his Highness, and confound his enemies! I hope his Majesty is well.

BUTLER. In health, my lord.

COBHAM. God long continue it! Me thinks you look As though you were not well: what ails you, sir?

BUTLER. Faith, I have had a foolish odd mischance, That angers me: coming over Shooters hill, There came a fellow to me like a Sailor, And asked me money; and whilst I stayed my horse To draw my purse, he takes th' advantage of A little bank and leaps behind me, whips My purse away, and with a sudden jerk, I know not how, threw me at least three yards Out of my saddle. I never was so robbed In all my life.

COBHAM. I am very sorry, sir, for your mischance. We will send our warrant forth, to stay such suspicious persons as shall be found. Then, master Butler, we will attend you.

BUTLER. I humbly thank your lordship, I will attend you.