[Enter King Henry, Suffolk, Huntington, and two with lights.]
KING.
My lords of Suffolk and of Huntington,
Who scouts it now? or who stands Sentinels?
What men of worth? what Lords do walk the round?
SUFFOLK.
May it please your Highness--
KING.
Peace, no more of that.
The King's asleep; wake not his majesty
With terms nor titles; he's at rest in bed.
Kings do not use to watch themselves; they sleep,
And let rebellion and conspiracy
Revel and havoc in the common wealth.--
Is London looked unto?
HUNTINGTON.
It is, my Lord:
Your noble Uncle Exeter is there,
Your brother Gloucester and my Lord of Warwick,
Who, with the mayor and the Aldermen,
Do guard the gates, and keep good rule within;
The Earl of Cambridge and sir Thomas Gray
Do walk the Round; Lord Scroop and Butler scout.
So, though it please your majesty to jest,
Were you in bed, well might you take your rest.
KING.
I thank ye, Lords, but you do know of old,
That I have been a perfect night-walker.
London, you say, is safely looked unto--
Alas, poor rebels, there your aid must fail--
And the Lord Cobham, sir John Old-castle,
He's quiet in Kent. Acton, ye are deceived;
Reckon again, you count without your host;
To morrow you shall give account to us.
Til when, my friends, this long cold winter's night
How can we spend? King Harry is a sleep
And all his Lords, these garments tell us so;
All friends at football, fellows all in field,
Harry, and Dick, and George. Bring us a drum;
Give us square dice, we'll keep this court of guard
For all good fellows companies that come.
Where's that mad priest ye told me was in Arms,
To fight, as well as pray, if need required?
SUFFOLK.
He's in the Camp, and if he know of this,
I undertake he would not be long hence.
KING.
Trip, Dick; trip, George.
[They trip.]
HUNTINGTON.
I must have the dice.
What do we play at?
[They play at dice.]
SUFFOLK.
Passage, if ye please.
HUNTINGTON.
Set round then; so, at all.
KING.
George, you are out.
Give me the dice. I pass for twenty pound.
Here's to our lucky passage into France.
HUNTINGTON.
Harry, you pass indeed, for you sweep all.
SUFFOLK.
A sign king Harry shall sweep all in France.
[Enter Sir John.]
SIR JOHN.
Edge ye, good fellows; take a fresh gamester in.
KING.
Master Parson? We play nothing but gold.
SIR JOHN.
And, fellow, I tell thee that the priest hath gold. Gold?
sblood, ye are but beggarly soldiers to me. I think I have
more gold than all you three.
HUNTINGTON.
It may be so, but we believe it not.
KING.
Set, priest, set. I pass for all that gold.
SIR JOHN.
Ye pass, indeed.
KING.
Priest, hast thou any more?
SIR JOHN.
Zounds, what a question's that?
I tell thee I have more than all you three.
At these ten Angels!
KING.
I wonder how thou comest by all this gold;
How many benefices hast thou, priest?
SIR JOHN.
Yfaith, but one. Dost wonder how I come by gold? I
wonder rather how poor soldiers should have gold; for
I'll tell thee, good fellow: we have every day tithes,
offerings, christenings, weddings, burials; and you poor
snakes come seldom to a booty. 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.
KING.
Out, sir; pay all.
SIR JOHN.
Sblood, pay me angel gold.
I'll none of your cracked French crowns nor pistolets.
Pay me fair angel gold, as I pay you.
KING.
No cracked French crowns? I hope to see more cracked
French crowns ere long.
SIR JOHN.
Thou meanest of French men's crowns, when the King is
in France.
HUNTINGTON.
Set round, at all.
SIR JOHN.
Pay all: this is some luck.
KING.
Give me the dice, tis I must shred the priest:
At all, sir John.
SIR JOHN.
The devil and all is yours. At that! Sdeath, what casting
is this?
SUFFOLK.
Well thrown, Harry, yfaith.
KING.
I'll cast better yet.
SIR JOHN.
Then I'll be hanged. Sirra, hast thou not given thy soul to
the devil for casting?
KING.
I pass for all.
SIR JOHN.
Thou passest all that e'er I played withal.
Sirra, dost thou not cog, nor foist, nor slur?
KING.
Set, parson, set; the dice die in my hand:
When parson, when? what, can ye find no more?
Already dry? wast you bragged of your store?
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. I was all alone
And weaponless, my boy had all my tools,
And was before providing me a boat.
Short tale to make, sir John--the thief, I mean--
Took a just hundreth pound in gold from me.
I stormed at it, and swore to be revenged
If e'er we met. He, like a lusty thief,
Brake with his teeth this Angel just in two
To be a token at our meeting next,
Provided I should charge no Officer
To apprehend him, but at weapon's point
Recover that and what he had beside.
Well met, sir John; betake ye to your tools
By torch light, for, master parson, you are he
That had my gold.
SIR JOHN.
Zounds, I won 't in play, in fair square play, of the
keeper of Eltham park; and that I will maintain with
this poor whinyard, be you two honest men to stand
and look upon's, and let's alone, and take neither part.
KING.
Agreed! I charge ye do not budget a foot.
Sir John, have at ye.
SIR JOHN.
Soldier, ware your sconce.
[Here, as they are ready to strike, enter Butler and draws
his weapon and steps betwixt them.]
BUTLER.
Hold, villains, hold! my Lords, what do you mean,
To see a traitor draw against the King?
SIR JOHN.
The King! God's will, I am in a proper pickle.
KING.
Butler, what news? why dost thou trouble us?
BUTLER.
Please it your Highness, it is break of day,
And as I scouted near to Islington,
The gray eyed morning gave me glimmering
Of armed men coming down Highgate hill,
Who by their course are coasting hitherward.
KING.
Let us withdraw, my Lords. Prepare our troops
To charge the rebels, if there be such cause.
For this lewd priest, this devilish hypocrite,
That is a thief, a gamester, and what not,
Let him be hanged up for example sake.
SIR JOHN.
Not so my gracious sovereign. I confess that I am
a frail man, flesh and blood as other are: but, set my
imperfections aside, by this light, ye have not a taller
man, nor a truer subject to the Crown and State, than
Sir John of Wrotham.
KING.
Will a true subject rob his King?
SIR JOHN.
Alas, twas ignorance and want, my gracious liege.
KING.
Twas want of grace. Why, you should be as salt
To season others with good document,
Your lives as lamps to give the people light,
As shepherds, not as wolves to spoil the flock.
Go hang him, Butler.
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.
KING.
I confess I have,
But I repent and have reclaimed my self.
SIR JOHN.
So will I do, if you will give me time.
KING.
Wilt thou? My lords, will you be his sureties?
HUNTINGTON.
That when he robs again, he shall be hanged.
SIR JOHN.
I ask no more.
KING.
And we will grant thee that.
Live and repent, and prove an honest man,
Which when I hear, and safe return from France,
I'll give thee living: till then take thy gold;
But spend it better than at cards or wine,
For better virtues fit that coat of thine.
SIR JOHN.
Vivat Rex curat lex! My liege, if ye have cause
of battle, ye shall see Sir John of Wrotham bestir
himself in your quarrel.
[Exeunt.]
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