palace.
[Enter Suffolk, Bishop of Rochester, Butler, parson of
Wrotham.]
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?
[Enter one with a letter.]
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.
[Offer him a purse.]
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.
SUFFOLK.
The King is coming. Fear ye not, my Lord;
The very first thing I will break with him
Shall be about your matter.
[Enter King Henry and Huntington in talk.]
KING.
My Lord of Suffolk,
Was it not said the Clergy did refuse
To lend us money toward our wars in France?
SUFFOLK.
It was, my Lord, but very wrongfully.
KING.
I know it was, for Huntington here tells me,
They have been very bountiful of late.
SUFFOLK.
And still they vow, my gracious Lord, to be so,
Hoping your majesty will think of them
As of your loving subjects, and suppress
All such malicious errors as begin
To spot their calling, and disturb the church.
KING.
God else forbid: why, Suffolk, is there
Any new rupture to disquiet them?
SUFFOLK.
No new, my Lord; the old is great enough,
And so increasing as, if not cut down,
Will breed a scandal to your royal state,
And set your Kingdom quickly in an uproar.
The Kentish knight, Lord Cobham, in despite
Of any law, or spiritual discipline,
Maintains this upstart new religion still,
And divers great assemblies by his means
And private quarrels are commenced abroad,
As by this letter more at large, my liege,
Is made apparent.
KING.
We do find it here:
There was in Wales a certain fray of late,
Between two noblemen, but what of this?
Follows it straight, Lord Cobham must be he
Did cause the same? I dare be sworn, good knight,
He never dreamt of any such contention.
BISHOP.
But in his name the quarrel did begin,
About the opinion which he held, my liege.
KING.
How if it did? was either he in place,
To take part with them, or abet them in it?
If brabling fellows, whose inkindled blood,
Seethes in their fiery veins, will needs go fight,
Making their quarrels of some words that past
Either of you, or you, amongst their cups,
Is the fault yours, or are they guilty of it?
SUFFOLK.
With pardon of your Highness, my dread lord,
Such little sparks, neglected, may in time
Grow to a might flame: but that's not all;
He doth, beside, maintain a strange religion,
And will not be compelled to come to mass.
BISHOP.
We do beseech you, therefore, gracious prince,
Without offence unto your majesty,
We may be bold to use authority.
KING.
As how?
BISHOP.
To summon him unto the Arches,
Where such offences have their punishment.
KING.
To answer personally? is that your meaning?
BISHOP.
It is, my lord.
KING.
How, if he appeal?
BISHOP.
He cannot, my Lord, in such a case as this.
SUFFOLK.
Not where Religion is the plea, my lord.
KING.
I took it always, that our self stood out,
As a sufficient refuge, unto whom
Not any but might lawfully appeal.
But we'll not argue now upon that point.
For Sir John Old-castle, whom you accuse,
Let me entreat you to dispence awhile
With your high title of pre-eminence.
[In scorn.]
Report did never yet condemn him so,
But he hath always been reputed loyal:
And in my knowledge I can say thus much,
That he is virtuous, wise, and honourable.
If any way his conscience be seduced,
To waver in his faith, I'll send for him,
And school him privately; if that serve not,
Then afterward you may proceed against him.
Butler, be you the messenger for us,
And will him presently repair to court.
[Exeunt.]
SIR JOHN.
How now, my lord, why stand you discontent?
In sooth, me thinks the King hath well decreed.
BISHOP.
Yea, yea, sir John, if he would keep his word;
But I perceive he favours him so much,
As this will be to small effect, I fear.
SIR JOHN.
Why, then, I'll tell you what y'are bets to do:
If you suspect the King will be but cold
In reprehending him, send you a process too
To serve upon him: so you may be sure
To make him answer 't, howsoe'er it fall.
BISHOP.
And well remembered! I will have it so.
A Sumner shall be sent about it straight.
[Exit.]
SIR JOHN.
Yea, do so. In the mean space this remains
For kind sir John of Wrotham, honest Jack.
Me thinks the purse of gold the Bishop gave
Made a good show; it had a tempting look.
Beshrew me, but my fingers' ends to itch
To be upon those rudduks. Well, tis thus:
I am not as the world does take me for;
If ever wolf were clothed in sheep's coat,
Then I am he,--old huddle and twang, yfaith,
A priest in show, but in plain terms a thief.
Yet, let me tell you too, an honest thief,
One that will take it where it may be spared,
And spend it freely in good fellowship.
I have as many shapes as Proteus had,
That still, when any villainy is done,
There may be none suspect it was sir John.
Besides, to comfort me,--for what's this life,
Except the crabbed bitterness thereof,
Be sweetened now and then with lechery?--
I have my Doll, my concubine, as twere,
To frolic with, a lusty bouncing girl.
But whilst I loiter here, the gold may scape,
And that must not be so. It is mine own;
Therefore, I'll meet him on his way to court,
And shrive him of it: there will be the sport.
[Exit.]
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