Sir John Oldcastle

Act I. Scene I. Hereford. a Street.

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.

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!

SHERIFF. Hold, in the King’s name, hold.

OWEN. Down i’ tha knave’s name, down.

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!

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

Act I. Scene Ii. Eltham. an Antechamber in the

palace.

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?

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.

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.

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