Shakespeare

“ I’ll speak a proud word: I have but one parsonage, Wrotham; tis better than the Bishopric of Rochester. There’s ne’er a hill, heath, nor down in all Kent, but tis in my parish: Barham down, Chobham down, Gad’s Hill, Wrotham hill, Black heath, Cock’s heath, Birchen wood, all pay me tithe. Gold, quoth a? ye pass not for that.
SUFFOLK.
Harry, ye are out; now, parson, shake the dice.
SIR JOHN. Set, set; I’ll cover ye at all. A plague on’t, I am out: the devil, and dice, and a wench, who will trust them?
SUFFOLK.
Sayest thou so, priest? Set fair; at all for once. ”

“ Where’s the lord Cobham, sir John Old-castle,
That noble alms-giver, housekeeper, virtuous,
Religious gentleman? Come to me there, boys,
Come to me there!
ACTON.
Why, who but he shall be our General?
MURLEY.
And shall he knight me, and make me colonel?
ACTON.
My word for that: sir William Murley, knight.
MURLEY. Fellow sir Roger Acton, knight, all fellows—I mean in arms—how strong are we? how many partners? Our enemies beside the King are might: be it more or less upon occasion, reckon our force. ”

“ Darst thou but lift thy hand against my calling?
COBHAM.
No, not to hurt you for a thousand pound.
HARPOOLE. Nothing but to borrow your upper garments a little; not a word more, for if you do, you die: peace, for waking the children. There; put them on; dispatch, my lord. The window that goes out into the leads is sure enough, I told you that before: there, make you ready; I’ll convey him after, and bind him surely in the inner room.
[Carries the bishop into the Tower, and returns.]
COBHAM.
This is well begun; God send us happy speed,
Hard shift you see men make in time of need, Harpoole. ”

“ COBHAM.
A deed of clemency;
Your Highness’ pardon for Lord Powis’ life,
Which I did beg, and you, my noble Lord,
Of gracious favour did vouchsafe to grant.
KING.
But yet it is not signed with our hand.
COBHAM.
Not yet, my Liege.
[One ready with pen and ink.]
KING.
The fact, you say, was done,
Not of prepensed malice, but by chance.
COBHAM.
Upon mine honor so, no otherwise.
KING.
There is his pardon; bid him make amends,
[Writes.]
And cleanse his soul to God for his offence.
What we remit, is but the body’s scourge—
[Enter Bishop.] ”

“ MURLEY. Be’t more or less upon occasion, Lord have mercy upon us, Tom, th’art a fool, and thou speakest treason to knighthood. Dare any wear golden or silver spurs till he be a knight? No, I shall be knighted to morrow, and then they shall on. Sirs, was it ever read in the church book of Dunstable, that ever malt man was made knight?
TOM. No, but you are more: you are meal-man, maltman, miller, corn-master and all.
DICK.
Yea, and half a brewer too, and the devil and all for wealth.
You bring more money with you, than all the rest.
MURLEY. The more’s my honor. I shall be a knight to morrow! ”

“ SIR JOHN.
All’s gone but that.
HUNTINGTON.
What? half a broken angel?
SIR JOHN.
Why sir, tis gold.
KING.
Yea, and I’ll cover it.
SIR JOHN.
The devil do ye good on’t, I am blind, ye have blown me up.
KING.
Nay, tarry, priest; ye shall not leave us yet.
Do not these pieces fit each other well?
SIR JOHN.
What if they do?
KING.
Thereby begins a tale:
There was a thief, in face much like Sir John—
But twas not he, that thief was all in green—
Met me last day at Black Heath, near the park,
With him a woman. ”

“ SIR JOHN. I must make you find some before we part. If you have no money, you shall have war: as many sound dry blows as your skin can carry.
KING.
Is that the plain truth?
SIR JOHN. Sirra, no more ado; come, come, give me the money you have. Dispatch, I cannot stand all day.
KING. Well, if thou wilt needs have it, there tis: just the proverb, one thief robs another. Where the devil are all my old thieves, that were wont to keep this walk? Falstaff, the villain, is so fat, he cannot get on’s horse, but me thinks Poines and Peto should be stirring here about. ”

“ 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.] ”

“ SUMNER.
O hold, hold, good master serving-man! I will eat it.
HARPOOLE. Be champing, be chawing, sir; or I’ll chaw you, you rogue! the purest of the honey! Tough wax is the purest of the honey.
SUMNER.
O Lord, sir! oh! oh!
[He eats.]
HARPOOLE. Feed, feed! wholesome, rogue, wholesome! Cannot you, like an honest Sumner, walk with the devil your brother, to fetch in your Bailiffs’ rents, but you must come to a noble man’s house with process? Sblood! if thy seal were as broad as the lead that covers Rochester church, thou shouldst eat it. ”

“ DOLL. Faith, sir John, I might have gone to service again; old master Harpoole told me he would provide me a mistress.
SIR JOHN. Peace, Doll, peace. Come, mad wench, I’ll make thee an honest woman; we’ll into Lancashire to our friends: the troth is, I’ll marry thee. We want but a little money to buy us a horse, and to spend by the way; the next sheep that comes shall lose his fleece, we’ll have these crowns, wench, I warrant thee.
[Enter the Irish man with his master slain.]
Stay, who comes here? some Irish villain, me thinks, that has slain a man, and draws him out of the way to rifle him. ”

“ COBHAM. Harpoole, Harpoole, I hear a marvelous noise about the house: God warrant us, I fear we are pursued: what, Harpoole.
HARPOOLE.
[Within.] Who calls there?
COBHAM.
Tis I; dost thou not hear a noise about the house?
HARPOOLE. Yes, mary, do I:—zwounds, I can not find my hose; this Irish rascal that was lodged with me all night hath stolen my apparel, and has left me nothing but a lowsy mantle, and a pair of brogues. Get up, get up, and if the carrier and his wench be asleep, change you with them as he hath done with me, and see if we can escape.
[Exit lord Cobham.] ”

“ SIR JOHN. Gone, Doll, gone; flown, spent, vanished: the devil, drink and the dice has devoured all.
DOLL.
You might have left me in Kent, that you might, until
you had been better provided, I could have stayed at
Cobham.
SIR JOHN. No, Doll, no, I’ll none of that; Kent’s too hot, Doll, Kent’s too hot. The weathercock of Wrotham will crow no longer: we have pluckt him, he has lost his feathers; I have pruned him bare, left him thrice; is moulted, is moulted, wench. ”

“ COBHAM.
The inner rooms be very hot and close,
I do not like this air here in the Tower.
HARPOOLE.
His case is hard my lord.—You shall safely get out of the
Tower; but I will down upon them, in which time get
you away.
COBHAM.
Fellow, thou troublest me.
HARPOOLE. Hear me, my Lord!—Hard under Islington wait you my coming; I will bring my Lady, ready with horses to convey you hence.
COBHAM.
Fellow, go back again unto thy Lord and counsel him.
HARPOOLE.
Nay, my good lord of Rochester, I’ll bring you to Saint
Albans through the woods, I warrant you.
COBHAM.
Villain, away. ”

“ SUMNER. I have the law to warrant what I do; and though the Lord Cobham be a noble man, that dispenses not with law: I dare serve process were a five noble men. Though we Sumners make sometimes a mad slip in a corner with a pretty wench, a Sumner must not go always by seeing: a man may be content to hide his eyes, where he may feel his profit. Well, this is my Lord Cobham’s house if I can devise to speak with him; if not, I’ll clap my citation upon’s door: so my lord of Rochester bid me. But me thinks here comes one of his men.
[Enter Harpoole.] ”

“ 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. ”

“ DOLL. I am as true to thee as the stone is in the wall; and thou knowest well enough, sir John, I was in as good doing, when I came to thee, as any wench need to be; and therefore thou hast tried me, that thou hast: by God’s body, I will not be kept as I have been, that I will not.
PRIEST. Doll, if this blade hold, there’s not a peddlar walks with a pack, but thou shalt as boldly choose of his wares, as with thy ready money in a Merchant’s shop. We’ll have as good silver as the King coins any. ”

“ LORD WARDEN.
Good my Lord Bishop, pacify your wrath
Against the Lady.
BISHOP.
Then let her confess
Where Old-castle her husband is concealed.
LORD WARDEN.
I dare engage mine honor and my life,
Poor gentlewoman, she is ignorant
And innocent of all his practises,
If any evil by him be practised.
BISHOP.
If, my Lord Warden? nay, then I charge you,
That all the cinque Ports, whereof you are chief,
Be laid forthwith, that he escape us not.
Shew him his highness’ warrant, Master Shrieve.
LORD WARDEN.
I am sorry for the noble gentleman—
[Enter Old-castle and Harpoole.] ”

“ HARPOOLE. Be of good cheer, my Lord: if they be foes, we’ll scramble shrewdly with them: if they be friends, they are welcome. One of them (my Lord Warden) is your friend; but me thinks my lady weeps; I like not that.
CROAMER. Sir John Old-castle, Lord Cobham, in the King’s majesty’s name, I arrest ye of high treason. ”

“ ALE MAN. God’s bores! I am sorry for’t: yfaith, sir, I lodge no body but a good honest merry priest,—they call him sir John a Wrotham— and a handsome woman that is his niece, that he says he has some suit in law for; and as they go up & down to London, sometimes they lie at my house.
HARPOOLE.
What, is he here in thy house now?
ALE MAN. She is, sir. I promise you, sir, he is a quiet man; and because he will not trouble too many rooms, he makes the woman lie every night at his bed’s feet. ”

“ HARPOOLE. If this be parchment, & this wax, eat you this parchment and this wax, or I will make parchment of your skin, and beat your brains into wax: Sirra Sumner, dispatch; devour, sirra, devour.
SUMNER. I am my lord of Rochester’s Sumner; I came to do my office, and thou shalt answer it.
HARPOOLE. Sirra, no railing, but betake you to your teeth. Thou shalt eat no worse than thou bringst with thee: thou bringst it for my lord, and wilt thou bring my lord worse than thou wilt eat thy self? ”

“ 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. ”

“ Wilt thou forsake the priest, and go with me?
CONSTABLE. A! well said, Master Harpoole; you are a merry old man, yfaith. Yfaith, you will never be old. Now, by the mack, a pretty wench indeed!
HARPOOLE. Ye old mad merry Constable, art thou advised of that. Ha, well said, Doll! fill some ale here.
DOLL. [Aside.] Oh, if I wist this old priest would not stick to me, by Jove, I would ingle this old serving-man.
HARPOOLE. Oh you old mad colt! yfaith, I’ll feak you! fill all the pots in the house there.
CONSTABLE. Oh, well said, Master Harpoole! you are heart of oak when all’s done. ”

“ To hear what news is stirring in these brawls.
[Enter sir John and Doll.]
SIR JOHN.
Stand, true-man! says a thief.
KING.
Stand, thief! says a true man. How if a thief?
SIR JOHN.
Stand, thief, too.
KING. Then, thief or true-man, I see I must stand. I see, how soever the world wags, the trade of thieving yet will never down. What art thou?
SIR JOHN.
A good fellow.
KING.
So am I too. I see thou dost know me.
SIR JOHN. If thou be a good fellow, play the good fellow’s part: deliver thy purse without more ado. ”

“ HARPOOLE. Sblood, my lord Bishop, ye do me wrong. I am neither heretic nor puritan, but of the old church: I’ll swear, drink ale, kiss a wench, go to mass, eat fish all Lent, and fast Fridays with cakes and wine, fruit and spicery, shrive me of my old sins afore Easter, and begin new afore whitsontide.
CROAMER.
A merry, mad, conceited knave, my lord. ”

“ BUTLER.
Didst thou not rob me?
SIR JOHN. I must confess I saw some of your gold. But, my dread Lord, I am in no humor for death; therefore, save my life. God will that sinners live; do not you cause me die. Once in their lives the best may go astray, and if the world say true, your self (my liege) have been a thief. ”

“ 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 ”

“ CARRIER.
Come, Kate Owdham, thou and Ise trimly dizard.
[Exeunt.]
ACT V. SCENE VIII. A wood near St. Albans. [Enter sir John Old-castle, and his Lady disguised.]
COBHAM.
Come, Madam, happily escaped; here let us sit.
This place is far remote from any path,
And here awhile our weary limbs may rest,
To take refreshing, free from the pursuit
Of envious Rochester.
LADY COBHAM.
But where, my Lord,
Shall we find rest for our disquiet minds?
There dwell untamed thoughts that hardly stop,
To such abasement of disdained rags. ”