from France And sometimes to from Spaine But neuer could I heare that England yet Has bin so base to seeke a King from either T is policie deare Queene no loue at all Win. T is loue great Queene no pollicie at all Wiat. Which of you all dares iustifie this match And not be toucht in conscience with an oath Remember O remember I beseech you King Henries last will and his act at Court I meane that royall Court of Parliament That does prohibit Spaniards from the Land That Will and Act to which you all are sworne And doe not damme your soules with periurie Mary But that wee knowe thee Wyat to be true Vnto the Crowne of England and to vs Thy ouer-boldnesse should bee payde with death But cease for feare your liberà ll tongue offend With one consent my Lordes you like this match Omnes We doe great Soueraigne Mary Call in Count Edmond Honorable Lords Enter Edmond Wee haue determined of your Ambassie and thus I plight our loue to Philips heart Imbarke you straight the winde blowes wondrous faire Till he shall land in England I am all care 〈◊〉 all but Sir Thomas VVyat Wia. And ere hee land in England I will offer My loyall brest for him to treade vpon O who so forward Wyat as thy selfe To raise this troublesome Queene in this her Throane Philip is a Spaniard a proud Nation Whome naturally our Countrie men abhorre Assist me gratious heauens and you shall see What hate I beare vnto their Slauerie I le into Kent there muster vp my friendes To saue this Countrie and this Realme defend Exit Sir Thomas Wyat. Enter Guilford Dudley Iane and 〈◊〉 Guil. God morrow to the Patron of my woe Iane God morrowe to my Lord my louely Dudley Why doe you looke so sad my dearest Lord Guil. Nay why doth Iane thus with a heauie eye And a defected looke salute the day Sorrow doth ill become thy siluer brow Sad griefe lyes dead so long as thou liues fayre In my Ianes ioy I doe not care for care Iane My lookes my loue is sorted with my heart The Sunne himselfe doth scantly show his face Out of this firme grate you may perceiue the Tower-Hill Thronged with store of people As if they gap'd for some strange Noueltie Guil. Though sleepe doe sildome dwéll in men of care Yet I did this night sleepe and this night dream't My Princely father great Northumberland Was marryed to a stately Bride And then me thought iust on his Bridall day A poysoned draught did take his life away Iane Let not fond visions so appale my Loue For dreames doe oftentimes contrarie prooue Guil. The nights are teadious and the daies are sad And see you how the people stand in heapes Each man sad looking on his aposed obiect As if a generall passion possest them Their eyes doe seeme as dropping as the Moone As if prepared for a Tragedie For neuer swarmes of people there doe tread But to rob life and to inrich the dead And shewe they wept Lef My Lord they did so for I was there Gui. I pra'y resolue vs good Maister Lieftenant Who was it yonder that rendered vp his life To natures death Lief. Pardon me my Lord t is fellony to acquaint you with death of any Prisoner yet to resolue your grace it was your Father great Northumberland that this day lost his head Guil Peace rest his soule his sinnes be buried in his graue And not remembred in his Epitaph but who comes heere Iane My Father Prisoner Enter Suffolke garded foorth Suff: O Iane now naught but feare thy Tytle thy state Thou now must leaue for a small graue Had I bin contented to a bin great I had stood But now my rising is puld downe with blood Farwell point me my house of prayers Iane Is greefe so short t wa's wont to be full of wordes T is true but now Deathes lesson bids a coulde adue Farwell thus friendes on desperate iourneys parte Breaking of wordes with teares that swelles the heart Exit Suffolke Leef It is the pleasure of the Queene that you part lodgings Till your Arrainement which must be to morrow Iane Good Maister Lieftenant let vs pray together Lief. Pardon me Madam I may not they that owe you sway me Guil: Intreate not Iane though shee our bodies part Our soules shall meete Farwell my loue Iane My Dudley my owne heart Exeunt O◠Enter Wyat with Souldiers UUiat Hold Drumme stand Gentlemen Giue the word along stand stand Maisters friendes Souldiers and therefore Gentlemen I know some of you weare warme pursses Linde with golde to them I speake not But to such leane knaues that cannot put vp Crosses thus I say fight valiantly And by the mary God you that haue all Your life time siluer lackt Shall now get Crownes marry they must be crackt Sol: No matter wee le change them for white money Wiat But it must needs be so deare Countriemen For Souldiers are the maisters of wars mint Blowes are the stamps they set vpon with bullets And broken pates are when the braines lyes spilt These light crownes that with blood are double guilt But that 's not all that your stout hearts shall earne Sticke to this glorious quarrell and your names Shall stand in Chronicles ranck'd euen with Kings You free your Countrie from base spanish thrall From Ignominious slauerie Who can disgest a Spaniard that 's a true Englishman Solo Would he might choake that disgest him Wiat. Hee that loues freedome and his Countrie Crie a Wyat he that will not with my heart Let him stand foorth shake handes And wee le depart Sol. A Wyat a Wyat a Wyat Enter Norry sounding a Trumpet Har: Forbeare or with the breath thy Trumpet spends This shall let foorth thy soule Nor: I am a Herald and chalenge safetie By the lawe of armes Her: So shalt thou when thou art lawfully imploide Wia: What loude knaues that Nor: No knaue Sir Thomas I am a true man to my Queene to whome thou art a Traytor Sol. Knocke him downe Wiat. Knocke him downe fie no Wee le handle him he shall sound before he goe Har. Hee comes from Norfolke and those fawning Lords in Maries name waying out life to them that will with basenesse burie it Ceaze on him as a pernitious enemie Wia. Sir George be ruld Since we professe the Arte of Warre Let 's not be hist at for our ignorance Hee shall passe and repasse iuggle the best he can Lead him into the Cittie Norry set foorth Set foorth thy brasen throate and call all Rochester About thee doe thy office fill their Light heads with proclamations doe Catch Fooles with Lime-twigs dipt with pardons But Sir George and good sir Harry Isley If this Gallant open his mouth too wide Powder the Varlet pistoll him fire the Roofe that 's ore his mouth He craues the law of Armes and he shall ha 't Teach him our law to cut 's throate if he prate If lowder reach thy
of ground where we must die Sprinckle their bloodes Though I know no cause why Norf: Speake you to me Lord Guilford Gui: Norfolke no I speake to Norf: To whome Gui: Alasse I doe not knowe which of vs two dies first Win: The better part Gui: O rather kill the worst Iane T is I sweete loue that first must kisse the blocke Guilf. I am a man 〈◊〉 men better brooke shocke of threatning death Your sexe are euer The thoughts of death a womans hearte will breake Iane But I am armde to die Guilf: Likelyer to liue Death to the vnwilling dooth his presence giue Hee dares not looke the bolde man in the face But on the fearefull layes his killing Mace Winc. It is the pleasure of the Queene that the Lady Iane must first suffer death Iane I thanke her Highnesse That I shall first depart this haplesse world and not Suruiue to see my dere loue dead Guilfo: She dying first I three times loose my head Enter the Headsman Headsm. Forgiue me Lady I pra'y your death Guilf: Ha hast thou the heart to kill a face so faire Win It is her Heades-man Guil: And demaundes a pardon Onely of her for taking off her head Iane I gentle Guilford and I pardon him Guil: But I le not pardon him thou art my wife And he shall aske me pardon for thy life Hed: Pardon me my Lord Gui: Rise doe not kneele Though thou submit'st thou hast a lowring steele Whose fatal declynation brings our death Good man of earth make haste to make vs earth Heds. Pleaseth the Lady Iane I le helpe her off with her night-Gowne Iane Thankes gentle friend But I haue other waiting women to attend mee Good Mistris Ellin lend me a helping hand To strip me of this worldly ornament Off with these robes O teare them from my side Such silken couers are the guilt of pride Insteede of gownes my couerture be earth My worldly death or new Celestiall breath What is it off Lad: Madam almoste Iane Not yet O God! how hardly can we shake off this worldes Pomp That cleaues vnto vs like our bodies skinne Yet thus O God shake of thy seruants sinne Lady Here is a scarfe to blinde your eies Iane From all the world but from my Guilfords sight Before I fasten this beneath my browe Let me behold him with a constant looke Gui: O doe not kill me with that pitious eie Iane T is my last farwell take it patiently My dearest Guilford let vs kisse and part Nowe blinde mine eyes neuer to see the skie 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Guil: Oh! He 〈◊〉 into a trance Norf: How fares my Lord Arun Hee 's falne into a trance Norf: Wake him not vntill hee wake himselfe O happie Guilford if thou die in this Thy soâ—le will be the first in heauenly blisse Enter th◠〈◊〉 〈◊〉 with Ianes head Win: Heare comes the Heads-man with the head of Iane Guil Who spake of Iane who namde my lòuely Iane Win Behold her head Gui. O I shall faint againe Yet let me beare this fight vnto my graue My sweete Ianes head Looke Norfolke Arundell Winchester Doe male factors looke Thus when they die a ruddie lippe A cleere reflecting eye Cheekes purer then the Maiden oreant pearle That sprinckles bashfulnes through the clowdes Her innocence has giuen her this looke The like for me to show so well being dead How innocence would Guilford loose his head Win. My Lord the time runs on Guil So does our death Heere 's one has run so fast shee 's out of breath But the time goes on And my faire Ianes white soule wil be In heauen before me If I doe stay stay gentle wife Thy Guilford followes thee Though on the earth we part by aduerse fate Our soules shall knock together at heauens gate The skie is calme our deathes haue a faire day And we shall passe the smoother on our way My Lords farwell I once farwel to all The Fathers pride has causde the Childrens fall Exi Guilford to Death Norf. Thus haue we seene her Highnesse will perform'd And now their heads and bodies shall bee ioynd and buried in one graue as fits their loues Thus much I le say in their behalfes now dead Their Fathers pride their liues haue seuered FINIS
THE FAMOVS History of Sir Thomas Wyat With the Coronation of Queen Mary and the coming in of King Philip As it was plaied by the Queens Maiesties Seruants Written by Thomas Dickers And Iohn Webster LONDON Printed by F. A. for Thomas Archer and are to be solde at his shop in the Popes-head Pallace nere the Royall Exchange 1607 THE Famous Historie of Sir Thomas Wyat. Enter Northumberland and Suffolke Suff: HOw fares the King my Lord speakes he cheerely Nor: Euen as a dying man whose life Like to quicke lighting which is no sooner seene but is extinct Suff: Is the Kings will confirm'd Nor: I that 's the point that we leuel at But oh the confirmation of that will t is all t is all Suff: That will confirme my Daughter Queene Nor. Right my Sonne is marryed to your daughter My Lord in an euen plaine way I will Deriue the Crowne vnto your Daughters head What though the King hath left behinde Two Sisters lawfull and immediate heires To succeed him in his Throane Lyes it not In our powers to contradict it Haue we not the King and Counsels hands vnto it Tut wee stand high in mans opinion And the worldes broad eye Enter Sir Thomas Wyat. Suff. Heere comes Sir Thomas Wyat Nor: Sir Thomas booted and spur'd whether away so fast Wiat. It bootes me not to stay When in this land rebellion beares such sway Gods will a Court T is chang'd Since Noble Henries daies You haue set your handes vnto a will A will you well may call it So wils Northumberland So wils great Suffolke Against Gods will to wrong those Princely Maides Nor. Will you not subscribe your hand with other of the Lords Not with me that in my handes Surprise the Soueraigntie Wyat. I le damb'd my soule for no man no for no man who at doomes day must answere for my sinne Not you nor you my Lordes Who nam'de Queene Iane in noble Henries daies Which of you all durst once displace his issue My Lords my Lords you whet your kniues so sharp To carue your meate That they will cut your fingars The strength is weakenesse that you builde vpon The King is sicke God mend him I God mend him But were his soule from his pale body free Adieu my Lords the Court no court for me Exit Wyat. North. Farwell I feare thee not The Fly is angrie but hee wants a sting And all the Counsell onely this peruerse And peeuish Lord hath onely deny'd his hand To the inuesting of your princely Daughter Hee 's idle and wants power Our Ocean shall these petty brookes deuoure Heere comes his Highnesse Doctor 〈◊〉 Enter Doctor Suff: How fares his Highnesse Doct: His body is past helpe We haue left our practice to the Diuines That they may cure his soule Aru: Past phisickes helpe why then past hope of life Heere comes his Highnesse Preacher Life reuerent man Enter Preacher Pre. Life life though death his body doe disseuer Our King liues with the King of heauen for euer Nor. Dead send for Heralds call me Purseuants Wher 's the King at armes in euerie market towne Proclaime Queene Iane Suff. Best to take the opinion of the Counsell Nort. You are too timorous We in our selues Are power sufficient the King being dead This hand shall place the crowne On Queene Ianes head Trumpets and Drums with your notes resound Her royal name that must in state be crown'd Exeūt Om Enter Guilford and Iane Guil: Our Cousen King is dead Ian: Alasse how small an Vrne containes a King He that ruld all euen with his princely breath Is forc'd to stoope now to the stroake of death Heard you not the proclamation Gui: I heare of it and I giue credit to it What great men feare to be Their feares grow greater Our Fathers grow ambitious And would force vs saile in mightie tempests And are not Lordes of what they doe possesse Are not thy thoughts as great Ian. I haue no thoughts so ranke so growne to head As are our Fathers pride Troth I doe inioy a Kingdome hauing thee And so my paine be prosperous in that What care I though a Sheep-cote be my Pallace Or fairest roofe of honour Gui. See how thy blood keepes course with mine Thou must be a Queene aye me a Queene The flattering belles that shrilly sound At the Kings funerall with hollow heartes Will cowardly call thee Soueraigne For indeed thou wouldst prooue but an Vsurper Ian, Who would weare fetters though they were all of golde Or to be sicke though his faint browes For a wearing Night-cap wore a Crowne Thou must assume a tytle that goes on many feet But t is an office wherein the heartes of Schollers And of Souldiers will depend vppon thy Hearse Were this rightly scand Wee scarce should finde a King in any Land Enter Arundell Arun. Honor and happy reigne Attend the new Maiestie of England Ian: To whome my Lord bends this your aue Arun. To your grace dread Soueraigne You are by the Kings will and the consent Of all the Lords chosen for our Queene Ian: O God! me thinkes you sing my death In parts of musickes lowdnes T is not my turne to rise Enter Northumberland Suffolke with the Purse and the Mace with others Nor: The voice of the whole Land-speakes in my tongue It is concluded your Maiestie must ride From hence vnto the Tower there to stay Vntill your Coronation Ian: O God! Suff. Why sighes your Maiestie Ian: My Lord and Father I pray tell me Was your Fathers Father ere a King Suff. Neuer and it like your grace Ian. Would I might still continue of his lyne Not trauell in the cloudes It is often seene the heated blood That couets to be royall leaues off ere it be noble My learned carefull King what must we goe Gui. We must Ian. Then it must be so Nor. Set forward then A dead march and passe round the stage and Guilford speakes The Towre will be a place of ample state Some lodgings in it will like dead mens sculs Remember vs of frailty Gui. We are led with pompe to prison O propheticke soule Lo we ascend into our chaires of State Like funerall Coffins in some funerall Pompe descending to their graues But we must on How can we fare well to keep our Court Where Prisoners keepe their caue A florish Exeunt Omnes Enter Queene Mary with a Prayer Booke in her hand like a Nun Mary Thus like a Nun not like a Princesse borne Descended from the Royall Henries loynes Liue I inuirond in a house of stone My Brother Edward liues in pompe and state I in a mansion here all ruinate Their rich attire delicious banquetting Their seuerall pleasures all their pride and honour I haue forsaken for a rich prayer Booke The Golden Mines of wealthy India Is all as drosse compared to thy sweetnesse Thou art the ioy and comfort of the poore The euerlasting blisse in thee we finde This little volume inclosed in