Bian. To give my body up to thy embraces; A pleasure that I never wish'd to thrive in Before this fatal minute: mark me now; If thou dost spoil me of this robe of shame, best comforts here, I vow again, By my To thee, to heaven, to the world, to time, Ere yet the morning shall new christen day, Fer. How, Madam, how ! Bian. I will: Do what thou wilt, 'tis in thy choice; what say ye? Bian. Yes, take it; that, Or what thy heart can wish: I am all thine. Fer. Oh me- -come, come, how many women, pray, Were ever heard or read of, granted love, And did as you protest you will? Bian. Fernando ! Jest not at my calamity: I kneel: (Kneels.) By these dishevel'd hairs, these wretched tears, Think me a common and most cunning whore, Fer. I must believe ye; yet I hope anon, Nay, laugh at my simplicity: say, will ye? Bian. No; by the faith I owe my bridal vows: But ever hold thee much much dearer far Than all my joys on earth; by this chaste kiss. Fer. You have prevail'd: and heaven forbid that I Should by a wanton appetite prophane This sacred temple. 'Tis enough for me, Bian. Nay, be thine : Command my power, my bosom, and I'll write Fer. Enough: I'll master passion, and triumph In you my love as it begun shall end. -but day comes on: Bian. The latter I new vow Each hour shall perfect up. Sweet, let us part. Fer. Best Life, good rest. THE CHRONICLE HISTORY OF PERKIN WARBECK. BY JOHN FORD. Perkin Warbeck and his Followers are by Lord Dawbney presented to King Henry as Prisoners. Dawb. Life to the King, and safety fix his throne. I here present you, royal Sir, a shadow Of majesty, but in effect a substance Of pity; a young man, in nothing grown We observe no wonder; I behold ('tis true) A handsome youth indeed, but not admire him. Dawb. From sanctuary At Bewley, near Southampton; registred, King H. I must not thank you, Sir; you were to blame To infringe the liberty of houses sacred: Dawb. Gracious Lord, They voluntarily resign'd themselves, King H. So? 'twas very well; 'Twas very well. Turn now thine eyes, Till wanting breath, thy feet of pride have slipt Warb. But not my heart: my heart Will mount, till every drop of blood be frozen Of life be hid from me, in an eclipse Dawb. Whither speeds his boldness? King H. O let him range: The player's on the stage still; 'tis his part: He does but act. What follow'd? Warb. Bosworth field: Where at an instant, to the world's amazement, A morn to Richmond and a night to Richard Appear'd at once. The tale is soon applied: Fate which crown'd these attempts, when least assur'd, Might have befriended others, like resolv'd. King H. A pretty gallant! thus your Aunt of Burgundy, Your Duchess Aunt, inform'd her nephew; so The lesson prompted, and well conn'd, was moulded Till, learnt by heart, 'tis now receiv'd for truth. The sphere of majesty: in such a court King H. Sirrah, shift Your antick pageantry, and now appear In your own nature; or you'll taste the danger Of fooling out of season. Warb. I expect No less than what severity calls justice, And politicians safety; let such beg, As feed on alms: but if there can be mercy In a protested enemy, then may it Descend to these poor creatures*, whose engagements To the bettering of their fortunes, have incurr'd A loss of all: to them if any charity Flow from some noble orator, in death King H. So brave? What a bold knave is this! His Followers. We trifle time with follies. Urswick, command the Dukeling, and these fellows, With safety let them be convey'd to London. Taunts, or abuse, be suffer'd to their persons : Warb. Noble thoughts Meet freedom in captivity. The Tower: Our childhood's dreadful nursery! King H. Was ever so much impudence in forgery? The custom sure of being styl'd a King, Hath fast'ned in his thought that he is such. Warbeck is led to his death. Oxford. Look ye, behold your followers, appointed To wait on ye in death. Warb. Why, Peers of England, We'll lead 'em on courageously. I read A triumph over tyranny upon Their several foreheads. Faint not in the moment |