The Dramatic Works of John Ford ... With notes critical and explanatory, by W. Gifford ... To which are added Fame's Memorial and verses to the memory of Ben Jonson

Front matter

THE DRAMATIC WORKS 01 JOHN FORD, IN TWO VOLUMES. WITH NOTES CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY. BY W. GIFFORD, Esq. TO WHICH ARE ADDED FAME'S MEMORIAL, AND VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF BEN JONSON. I, SECUND0 omine! VOL. II. LONDON : JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. MDCCCXXVII. LONDON: I'RINTED BY C. RO WORTH, B E I L YARD, TEMTLB BAR. CONTENTS OF VOLUME II. Page PERKIN WARBECK i 1 THE FANCIES, CHASTE AND NOBLE 129 the lady's TRIAL 249 THE sun's DARLING 359 THE WITCH OF EDMONTON 439 FAME'S MEMORIAL 5Gl VERSES TO THE MEMORY OF BEN JONSON 6l0 GLOSSARIAL INDEX ERRATA. Page 362, note, for Lewis, read Low in. 4*50, note, for cover or which, read cover of which. PERKIN WARBECK. VOL. II. B PERKIN WARBECK. The title of the old quarto is " The Chronicle Historie of Perkin Warbeck. A strange truth. Acted (some-times) by the Queenes Majesties Servants at the Phoenix in Drurie-lane.

London, printed by T. P. for Hugh Beeston, and are to be sold at his shop, neere the Castle in Cornehill, 1634." Here again we have the poet's anagram, Fide Honor. It was reprinted in 171J, in 12mo, when the nation was in a state of disquietude, from insurgent movements in Scotland. In 1 745, it appears to have been brought out at Goodman's Fields, on occasion, Oldys says, of the present rebellion under the Pretender's eldest son. Nothing is said of its reception : it could scarcely be very favourable at such a period; for, to the reproach of the judg ment of those who brought it forward, it is calculated to defeat the very object which they bad in view, and to excite a compassionate feeling — not for the king upon the throne, but — for bis youthful competitor." 1 " There are now, in December, 1745, on occasion of the present rebellion under the Pretender's eldest son, two plays, near finished, on this story of Perk.nl Warbeck, one by Charles Macklin the player, the other by Mr. Joseph Elderton, a young attorney ; the former for Drury Lane, the latter at Covent Garden, but this play of John Ford's has got the start of tlicm at Goodman's Fields.

Macklin's was a silly performance, and was soon dismissed, he being twenty pounds out of pocket by acting it, yet got it printed. Elderton's was not finished before it was too late in the season to act it ; and when the rebellion was suppressed in the field, it was thought unreasonable to revive it on the stage. Macklin's was called by ihe foolish title of King Henry VII. or the Popish Impostor, popery being looked on as no objection in that reign. Elderton's was called The Pre tender." — MS. Noles to Langbaine, by Oldys. My kind uld friend. Mr. Waldron, with whom perished more interesting and amusing theatrical history, than can perhaps now be found on the stage, told me that Badel.v, the actor, gave him the following anecdote : — " I was sitting one evening at the Cyder Cellar with Macklin, and incidentally observed, (for I was not very deeply read in theatrical history., that I wondered there had not been a play written un the story of Perkin \\ arbeck. ' There has, sir,' gruffly replied Macklin. ' Indeed ! and how did it succeed ? ' It was damned, -ir.' * Bless me ! it must have been very ill written then — such a story !

Prologue

. Studies have, of this nature, been of late, So out of fashion, so unfollowed, that It is become more justice, to revive The antic follies of the times, than strive To countenance wise industry: no want Of art doth render wit, or lame, or scant, Or slothful, in the purchase of fresh bays ; But want of truth in them, who give the praise To their self-love, presuming to out-do The writer, or (for need) the actors too. But such the author's silence best befits, Who bids them be in love with their own wits. From him, to clearer judgments, we can say He shows a History, couch'd in a play : A history of noble mention, known, Famous, and true ; most noble, 'cause our own : Not forged from Italy, from France, from Spain, But chronicled at home ; as rich in strain Of brave attempts,- as ever fertile rage, In action, could beget to grace the stage.

We cannot limit scenes, for the whole land Itself appear'd too narrow to withstand Competitors for kingdoms : nor is here Unnecessary mirth forced, to endear A multitude : on these two rests the fate Of worthy expectation, Truth and State. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Henry VII. Lord Dawbeney. Sir William Stanley, Lord Chamberlain Earl of Oxford. Earl of Surrey. Fox, Bishop of Durham Urswick, Chaplain to the King. Sir Robert Clifford. Lambert Simnel. Hialas, a Spanish Agent. James IV. King of Scotland. Earl of Huntley. Earl of Crawford. Lord Daliell. Marc hmo nt, a Herald. Perkin Warbeck. Stephen Frion, his Secretary. John A-Water, ALayor of Cork. Heron, a Mercer. Sketon, a Tailor. Astley, a Scrivener. DRAMATIS PERSON. I . Lady Katherine Gordon. Countess of C it a w ford. .(axe Douglas, Lady Katherine'* Attendant.

Sheriff, Constables, Officers, Guards, Serving-men, Masquers, and Soldiers. Scene, — Partly in England, partly in Scotland. PERKIN WARBECK. ACTI. SCENE I. Westminster. The Royal Presence-Chamber . Enter King Henry, supported to the Throne by the Bishop of Durham and Sir William Stanley. Earl of Oxford, Earl of Surrey, and Lord Dawbeney. — A Guard. K. Hen. Still to be haunted, still to be pursued, Still to be frighted with false apparitions Of pageant majesty, and new-coin'd greatness, As if we were a mockery king in state, Only ordain'd to lavish sweat and blood, In scorn and laughter, to the ghosts of York, Is all below our merits;5 yet, my lords, My friends and counsellors, yet we sit fast In our own royal birth-right : the rent face And bleeding wounds of England's slaughter'd people, Have been by us, as by the best physician, 5 Ford has closely followed Lord Bacon ; here we have almost his very words.

" At this time, the king began to be haunted uith spirits, by the magic and curious arts of the Lady Margaret, who raised up the ghost of Richard Duke of York, second son to King Edward the Fourth, to walk, and vex him," &c. At last both thoroughly cured, and set in safety; And yet, for all this glorious work of peace, Ourself is scarce secure. Ditr. The rage of malice Conjures fresh spirits with the spells of York. For ninety years ten English kings and princes, Threescore great dukes and earls, a thousand lords And valiant knights, two hundred fifty thousand Of English subjects have, in civil wars, Been sacrificed to an uncivil thirst Of discord and ambition: this hot vengeance Of the just Powers above, to utter ruin And desolation, had reign'd on, but that Mercy did gently sheath the sword of justice, In lending to this blood-shrunk commonwealth A new soul, new birth, in your sacred person.

Daw. Edward the Fourth, after a doubtful fortune, Yielded to nature, leaving to his sons, Edward and Richard, the inheritance Of a most bloody purchase; these young princes, Richard the tyrant, their unnatural uncle, Forced to a violent grave; so just is Heaven ! Him hath your majesty, by your own arm Divinely strengthen'd, pull'd from his Boar's sty,6 And struck the black usurper to a carcase. Nor doth the house of York decay in honours, Though Lancaster doth repossess his right ; 6 pull'd from his Boar's sty.] This contemptuous allusion to the armorial bearings of Richard III. is very common in our old writers. Shakspcare has it frequently in his tragedy of this Usurper. For Edward's daughter is king Henry's queen : A blessed union, and a lasting blessing For this poor panting island, if some shreds, Some useless remnant of the house of York Grudge not at this content.

Oxf. Margaret of Burgundy Blows fresh coals of division. Sur. Painted fires, "Without or heat to scorch, or light to cherish. Daw. York's headless trunk, her father ; Edward's fate, Her brother, king ; the smothering of her nephews By tyrant Gloster, brother to her nature, Nor Gloster's own confusion, (all decrees Sacred in heaven) can move this woman-monster, But that she still, from the unbottom'd mine Of devilish policies, doth vent the ore Of troubles and sedition. O.rf. In her age, — Great sir, observe the wonder,7 — she grows fruitful, Who, in her strength of youth, was always barren : Nor are her births as other mothers' are, At nine or ten months' end; she has been with child 7 Oxford's speech is principally taken from that of Henry's am bassador (Sir W. Warham) to the archduke. " It is the strangest thing in the world, that the Lady Margaret, excuse us if we name her, whose malice to the king is causeless and endless, should now, when she is old, at the time when other women give over child bearing, bring forth two such monsters, being not the births of nine or ten months, but of many years.

And whereas other mothers bring forth children weak, and not able to help themselves, she bringeth forth tall striplings, able, soon after their coming into the world^to bid battle to mighty kings." Eight, or seven years at least ; whose twins being born, (A prodigy in nature,) even the youngest Is fifteen years of age at his first entrance, As soon as known i' th' world, tall striplings, strong And able to give battle unto kings ; Idols of Yorkish malice. [Dair.f And but idols ; A steely hammer crushes them to pieces. K. Hen. Lambert, the eldest, lords, is in our service, Preferr'd by an officious care of duty From the scullery to a falconer; strange example ! Which shews the difference between noble natures And the base-born : but for the upstart duke, The new-revived York, Edward's second son, Murder'd long since i' th' Tower; he lives again, And vows to be your king.

Stan. The throne is fill'd, sir. A'. Hen. True, Stanley; and the lawful heir sits on it: A guard of angels, and the holy prayers Of loyal subjects are a sure defence Against all force and counsel of intrusion. — But now, my lords, put case, some of our nobles, [Daw.] And but idols, &c] The 4to, by mistake, rives this ibort speech also to Oxford If is much in Dawbeney's manner. Our Great Ones, should give countenance and courage To trim duke Perkin ; you will all confess Our bounties have unthriftily been scatter'd Amongst unthankful men. Daw. Unthankful beasts, Dogs, villains, traitors ! K. Hen. Dawbeney, let the guilty Keep silence; I accuse none, though I know Foreign attempts against a state and kingdom Are seldom without some great friends at home. Stan. Sir, if no other abler reasons else Of duty or allegiance could divert A headstrong resolution, yet the dangers So lately past by men of blood and fortunes In Lambert Simnel's party,9 must command More than a fear, a terror to conspiracy.

The high-born Lincoln, son to De la Pole, The earl of Kildare, ([the] lord Geraldine,) Francis lord Lovell, and the German baron, Bold Martin Swart, with Broughton and the rest, (Most spectacles of ruin, some of mercy) 9 Simnel's party,] Simnel's party (for he himself was a mere puppet in the hands of the Earl of Lincoln) was utterly defeated in the battle of Newark. " Bold Martin Swart," one of the most celebrated of those soldiers of fortune who, in that age, traversed Europe with a band of mercenaries, ready to fight for the first person that would pay them, fell in this action, after " performing bravely," as the roble historian says, " with his Germans." Lam bert was taken prisoner. Henry saved his life, for which Bacon produces many good reasons, and advanced him first to the dignity of a turn-spit in his own kitchen, and subsequently to that of an under-falconer.

ACT I. PERKIN WARBECK. Are precedents sufficient to forewarn The present times, or any that live in them, What folly, nay, what madness 'twere to lift A finger up in all defence but your's, Which can be but impostorous in a title. K. Hen. Stanley, we know thou lov'st us, and thy heart Is figured on thy tongue; nor think we less Of any's here. — How closely we have hunted This cub (since he unlodg'd) from hole to hole, Your knowledge is our chronicle ; first Ireland, The common stage of novelty, presented This gewgaw to oppose us ; there the Geraldines And Butlers once again stood in support Of this colossic statue: Charles of France Thence call'd him into his protection, Dissembled him the lawful heir of England ; Yet this was all but French dissimulation, Aiming at peace with us ; which, being granted On honourable terms on our part, suddenly This smoke of straw was pack'd from France again, T' infect some grosser air*:' and now we learn (Maugre the malice of the bastard Nevill, 1 Yet all this, &c.] " When Perkin was come to the court of France, the king received him with great honour. — At the same time there remained to him di.crs Englishmen of quality, Nr .lames Neville, Sir John Taylor, and about an hundred more. — But all this, on the French king's part, was but a trick, the bitter to bow king Henry to peace; and therefore upon the first grain of in cense, that was sacrificed upon the altar of peace at Boloign, Per kin was smoked away."

Sir Taylor is a very unusual mode of de signating a knight ; but perhaps the king does it in scorn. Sir Taylor, and a hundred English rebels) They're all retired to Flanders, to the dam That nurs'd this eager whelp, Margaret of Burgundy. But we will hunt him there too ! we will hunt him, Hunt him to death, even in the beldam's closet, Though the archduke were his buckler ! Sur. She has styled him, " The fair white rose of England." Daw. Jolly gentleman! More fit to be a swabber to the Flemish, After a drunken surfeit. Enter Urswick. Urs. Gracious sovereign, Please you peruse this paper. [The king reads. Dur. The king's countenance Gathers a sprightly blood. Daw. Good news; believe it. K. Hen. Urswick, thine ear.2 — Thou hast lodged him? 2 Urswick, thine ear.] Christopher Urswick was at this time almoner to the king.

He had been chaplain to the Countess of Richmond, who afterwards married Thomas Lord Stanley, the elder brother of Sir W. Stanley, the person here implicated ; and was trusted by this nobleman with the correspondence between him and Richmond (Henry VII.), and therefore, perhaps, much in his confidence and esteem. His eager importunity to betray the brother of his former patron argues but little for his character ; but in those days much consistency is rarely to be found. Weaver, who gives his epitaph, (by which it appears that he possessed and resigned several high stations in the church,) concludes thus — " Here let him rest, as an example for all unjust prelates to ad mire, and for few or none to imitate." — The news which Urswick now communicated was evidently that of his having privately PERKIN WARBECK.

ACT I Urs. Strongly safe, sir. K. Hen. Enough, — is Barley come too? i rrs. No, my lord. K. Hen. No matter — phew ! he's but a running weed, At pleasure to be pluck'd up by the roots ; But more of this anon. — I have bethought me. My lords, for reasons which you shall partake, It is our pleasure to remove our court From Westminster to the Tower:3 we will lod^e This very night there; give, lord chamberlain, A present order for it. Stan. The Tower! — [Aside.'] — 1 shall, sir. K.Hen. Come, my true, best, fast friends, these clouds will vanish, The sun will shine at full; the heavens are clearing. [ Flourish.— E.reunt. brought the double traitor, Clifford, the confidential agent of Warbeck's party, to England. Sir Robert Clifford and Master William Barley, Lord Bacon says, " were the only two who adventured their fortunes openlv— sent, indeed, from the party of the conspirators here to understand the truth ol what passed in Flanders, and not without some help of money from hence, to be provisionally delivered, if they were satisfied that there «a> truth in these pretences."

Clifford, it appears, was soon won t<» give up hi. employers. Master Barley, for whom Henry next inquires, did not betray his cause quite so speedily, nor trust quite so readilv to the king's clemency as Clifford; in the end. however, he also returned \o •Lngland, and was pardoned. 3 Lord Bacon well accounts for this sudden resolution of the nr§' , ",""i p!'lCC 0t the ToWer was tbose" to th;lt end, that if Clifford should accuse any of the great ones, they might, without suspicion, or noise, or sending abroad of warrants, be presently attached t the court and prison being within the cincture of one wall, SCENE II. Edinburgh. — An Apartment in Lord Huntley's House. Enter Huntley and Dalyell. Hunt. You trifle time, sir. Dal. Oh, my noble lord, You construe my griefs to so hard a sense, That where the text is argument of pity, Matter of earnest love, your gloss corrupts it With too much ill-placed mirth.

Hunt. " Much mirth," lord Dalyell! Not so, I vow. Observe me, sprightly gallant. I know thou art a noble lad, a handsome, Descended from an honourable ancestry, Forward and active, dost resolve to wrestle, And ruffle in the world by noble actions, For a brave mention to posterity : I scorn not thy affection to my daughter, Not I, by good Saint Andrew; but this bugbear, This whoreson tale of honour, — honour, Dalyell! — So hourly chats and tattles in mine ear, The piece of royalty that is stitch'd up In my Kate's blood, that 'tis as dangerous For thee, young lord, to perch so near an eaglet, As foolish for my gravity to admit it : I have spoke all at once. Dal. Sir, with this truth, You mix such wormwood, that you leave no hope For my disorder'd palate e'er to relish vol. 11. c ACT I. 18 PERKIN WARBECK.

A wholesome taste again : alas ! I know, sir, What an unequal distance lies between Great Huntley's daughter's birth and Dalyell's fortunes ; She's the king's kinswoman, placed near the crown, A princess of the blood, and I a subject. Hunt. Right; but a noble subject; put in that too. Dal. I could add more; and in the rightest line, Derive my pedigree from Adam Mure, A Scottish knight; whose daughter was the mother To him who first begot the race of Jameses, That sway the sceptre to this very day. But kindreds are not ours, when once the date Of many years have swallovv'd up the memory Of their originals; so pasture-fields, Neighbouring too near the ocean, are supp'd up And known no more: for stood I in my first And native greatness, if my princely mistress Vouchsafed me not her servant, 'twere as good I were reduced to clownery, to nothing, As to a throne of wonder.

Hunt. Now, by Saint Andrew, A spark of metal! he has a brave fire in him. I would he had my daughter, so I knew 't not. But 't must not be so, must not. — [Aside] — Well, young lord, This will not do yet; if the girl be headstrong, And will not hearken to good counsel, steal her, And run away with her; dance galliards, do, And frisk about the world to learn the languages : 'Twill be a thriving trade; you may set up by't. Dal. With pardon, noble Gordon, this disdain Suits not your daughter's virtue, or my constancy. Hunt. You're angry — would he would beat me, I deserve it. , [Aside. Dalyell, thy hand, we are friends: follow thy courtship, Take thine own time and speak; if thou prevail'st With passion, more than I can with my counsel, She's thine; nay, she is thine: 'tis a fair match, Free and allow'd. I'll only use my tongue, Without a father's power; use thou thine: Self do, self have — no more words; win and wear her.

Dal. You bless me; I am now too poor in thanks To pay the debt I owe you. Hunt. Nay, thou'rt poor enough. — I love his spirit infinitely. — Look ye, She comes: to her now, to her, to her! Enter Katherine and Jane. Kath. The king commands your presence, sir. Hunt. The gallant — This, this, this lord, this servant, Kate, of yours, Desires to be your master. Kath. I acknowledge him A worthy friend of mine. c2 ACT I. 20 PERKIN WARBECK. Dal. Your humblest creature. Hunt. So, so; the game's a-foot, I'm in cold hunting, The hare and hounds are parties. [Aside. Dal. Princely lady, How most unworthy I am to employ My services, in honour of your virtues, How hopeless my desires are to enjoy Your fair opinion, and much more your love; Are only matters of despair, unless Your goodness gives large warrants to my boldness, My feeble-wing'd ambition.

Hunt. This is scurvy. [Aside. Kath. My lord, I interrupt you not. Hunt. Indeed ! Now on my life she'll court him. — [Aside.] — Nay, nay, on, sir. Dal. Oft have I tuned the lesson of my sorrows To sweeten discord, and enrich your pity, But all in vain: here had my comforts sunk And never ris'n again, to tell a story Of the despairing lover, had not now, Even now, the earl your father Hunt. He means me sure. [Aside. Dal. After some fit disputes of your condition, Your highness and my lowness, given a licence Which did not more embolden, than encourage My faulting tongue. Hunt. How, how? how's that ? embolden? Encourage? I encourage ye! d'ye hear, sir? A subtle trick, a quaint one. — Will you hear, man ? What did I say to you? come, come, to th' point. Kath. It shall not need, my lord. Hunt. Then hear me, Kate ! — Keep you on that hand of her; I on this. — Thou stand'st between a father and a suitor, Both striving for an interest in thy heart: He courts thee for affection, I for duty; He as a servant pleads; but by the privilege Of nature, though I might command, my care Shall only counsel what it shall not force.

Thou canst but make one choice; the ties of marriage Are tenures, not at will, but during life. Consider whose thou art, and who; a princess, A princess of the royal blood" of Scotland, In the full spring of youth, and fresh in beauty. The king that sits upon the throne is young, And yet unmarried, forward in attempts On any least occasion, to endanger His person; wherefore, Kate, as I am confident Thou dar'st not wrong thy birth and education By yielding to a common servile rage Of female wantonness, so I am confident Thou wilt proportion all thy thoughts to side Thy equals, if not equal thy superiors. My lord of Dalyell, young in years, is old In honours, but nor eminent in titles [N]or in estate, that may support or add to The expectation of thy fortunes. Settle ACT I PERKIN WARBECK. Thy will and reason by a strength of judgment, For, in a word, I give thee freedom ; take it.

If equal fates have not ordain'd to pitch Thy hopes above my height, let not thy passion Lead thee to shrink4 mine honour in oblivion: Thou art thine own; I have done.5 Dal. Oh! you are all oracle, The living stock and root of truth and wisdom. Kath. My worthiest lord and father, the indulgence Of your sweet composition, thus commands The lowest of obedience; you have granted A liberty so large, that I want skill To choose without direction of example: From which I daily learn, by how much more * Lead thee to shrink mine honour, $ -c] This is the reading of the 4to, and makes very good sense ; but from the general tenor of the sentence, I am inclined to believe that the poet's word was sink. 5 / hace done.] And done well too ! The person here meant is George, the eldest son of Alexander Seton, and second Earl of Huntley.

He married Anabella, daughter of James I. Hence it is that he talks, in his opening speech, of " the piece of royalty that is stitched up in his Kates blood." What authority the'poet had for the histrionic character of this nobleman, I know not; but if the princely family of the Gordons ever numbered such a person age as this among their ancestors, let them be justlv proud of him; for neither on the stage, nor in the great dran'ia of life, will there be easdy found a character to put in competition with him. Daliell (for so Ford writes it) is also a noble fellow. There are two persons of that name, William and Robert Dalzell, grandsons of bir John Dalzell, either of whom, from the date, might be meant for the character here introduced. Of the former nothing is recorded The latter, Douglas says, " was killed at Dumfries, in a skirmish between Maxwell and Crichton, July, 1508."

You take off from the roughness of a father, By so much more I am engaged to tender The duty of a daughter. For respects Of birth, degrees of title, and advancement, I nor admire nor slight them; all my studies Shall ever aim at this perfection only, To live and die so, that you may not blush In any course of mine to own me yours. Hunt. Kate, Kate, thou grow'st upon my heart, like peace, Creating every other hour a jubilee. Kath. To you, my lord of Dalyell, I address Some few remaining words: the general fame That speaks your merit, even in vulgar tongues, Proclaims it clear ; but in the best, a precedent. Hunt. Good wench, good girl, i' faith ! Kath. For my part, trust me, I value mine own worth at higher rate, 'Cause you are pleas'd to prize it : if the stream Of your protested service (as you term it) Run in a constancy, more than a compliment, It shall be my delight, that worthy love Leads you to worthy actions; and these guide you Richly to wed an honourable name: So every virtuous praise, in after-ages, Shall be your heir, and I, in your brave mention, Be chronicled the mother of that issue, That glorious issue.

Hunt. Oh, that I were young again ! She'd make me court proud danger, and suck spirit From reputation. ACT I. PERKIN WARBECK. Kath. To the present motion, Here's all that I dare answer: when a ripeness Of more experience, and some use of time, Resolves to treat the freedom of my youth Upon exchange of troths, I shall desire No surer credit of a match with virtue Than such as lives in you ; mean time, my hopes are Preser[v]'d secure, in having you a friend. Dal. You are a blessed lady, and instruct Ambition not to soar a farther flight, Than in the perfum'd air of your soft voice. — My noble lord of Huntley, you have lent A full extent of bounty to this parley; And for it shall command your humblest servant. Hunt. Enough: we are still friends, and will continue A hearty love. — Oh, Kate ! thou art mine own. — No more ; — my lord of Crawford.

Enter Crawford.6 Craw. From the king I come, my lord of Huntley, who in council Requires your present aid. Hunt. Some weighty business ? Craiv. A secretary from a duke of York, 6 Enter Crawford.] This is probably (for I speak with great hesitation on the subject) John, second son of David, fourth Earl Crawford. If I am right in this conjecture, he stood in some kind of relationship to Huntley, his elder brother Alexander (dead at this period) having married Lady Jane Gordon, the earl's second daughter. The second son to the late English Edward, Conceal'd, I know not where, these fourteen years, Craves audience from our master ; and 'tis said The duke himself is following to the court. Hunt. Duke upon duke! 'tis well, 'tis well; here's bustling For majesty; — my lord, I will along with you.

Craw. My service, noble lady. Kath. Please you walk, sir ? Dal. " Times have their changes ; sorrow makes men wise ; The sun itself must set as well as rise ;" Then, why not I ? Fair madam, I wait on you. [Exeunt. SCENE III. London. — An Apartment in the Tower. Enter the Bishop of Durham, Sir Robert Clifford, and Ursm^ick. — Lights. Dur. You find, Sir Robert Clifford, how securely King Henry, our great master, doth commit His person to your loyalty; you taste His bounty and his mercy even in this ; That at a time of night so late, a place So private as his closet, he is pleas'd To admit you to his favour : do not falter In your discovery ; but as you covet A liberal grace, and pardon for your follies, So labour to deserve it, by laying open All plots, all persons, that contrive against it Urs.

Remember not the witchcraft, or the magic, The charms and incantations, which the sorceress Of Burgundy hath cast upon your reason : Sir Robert, be your own friend now, discharge Your conscience freely ; all of such as love you, Stand sureties for your honesty and truth. Take heed you do not dally with the king, He is wise as he is gentle. Clif. I am miserable, If Henry be not merciful. Urs. The king comes. Enter King Henry. K Hen. Clifford ! Clif. (Kneels.) Let my weak knees rot on the earth, If I appear as lep'rous in my treacheries, Before your royal eyes, as to my own I seem a monster, by my breach of truth. A'. Hen. Clifford, stand up; for instance of thy safety, I offer thee my hand. Clif. A sovereign balm For my bruis'd soul, I kiss it with a greediness. [Kisses the King's hand, and rises.