Alphonsus Emperor of Germany A Iragedy i it I ' ''III 11 HfflHul^HHi 1 ! J 1 Class J^^U^ ■'iJt^fS Book________J"^^_^5 Copyright^" COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT ALPHONSUS EMPEROR OF GERMANY REPRINTED IN FACSIMILE FROM THE EDITION OF 1654 WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY HERBERT F. SCHWARZ G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK AND LONDON Ii:be 1knicf?erbocfier press 1913 W3A^3 Copyright, 1913 BY HERBERT F. SCHWARZ TEbe litnfcherbocltec ipceM* "Skew ffocft ©C!,A332840 PREFACE The text of this edition of Alphonsus, Emperor of Germany, is a reproduction in facsimile of a copy of the original edition designated British Museum copy 644 d. 50. In the introduction no attempt has been made to solve the vexed questions of authorship and of date — questions that have been so ably discussed by others — but the endeavor has been to bring the play into relation with certain tendencies of the Elizabethan and Jacobean age. In the notes appended to the volume the purpose has been to draw as largely as possible upon the records of contemporary travellers for the elucidation of the references made by the dramatist to conditions characteristic of the Germany of his day. To the praiseworthy pioneer work of Elze and to the scholarly investigations of Professor Parrott any one who at- tempts to bring out this play must necessarily be under special obligations. For the quotations fre- quently made from the edition of the former and for the guidance that the edition of the latter has been in connection with the comments on the text the writer wishes to express his deep indebtedness. The writer takes this opportunity, too, of recording his warm ap- preciation of the help which certain suggestions, made by his wife, have been to him. iv Preface The eminently satisfactory text that Professor Parrott has prepared in his collected plays of Chapman must render the attempt by another to further reconstruct the play a futile task. The present edition contains, therefore, only a very few text emendations, and these have been necessarily relegated to the notes. H. F. S. December i, igz2. INTRODUCTION In his Literary Relations of England and Germany in the Sixteenth Century, Herford makes the statement (p. 171) that "the score or so of early plays which pro- fess to be founded on German history treat it with an open contempt much beyond what is demanded by the exclusive pursuit of scenic effect. Historic truth is not subordinated to dramatic truth but simply ignored." After characterising Alphonsus of Germany as "a crude and sanguinary travesty of an imperial election dispute in which the chief interest attaches to a wholly mythical love affair, " he goes on to say that "the play is never- theless probably the least unhistorical of the whole group. " The plot evolves out of the contention of Alphonso X of Castile and Richard, Earl of Cornwall, aspirants, during the Interregnum of the thirteenth century, to the crown of the Holy Roman Empire. The dramatis personce include a large number of historic figures, but the plot and the interpretation of character are for the most part at variance with the record of history. Alphonsus, who in the play is depicted as a monster of iniquity, was an inoffensive monarch who never entered the land over which the dramatist would have us believe he established so bloody a rule. The partisan align- ment credited to the different Electors does scant justice to the stand they actually took. Prince Edward (later Edward I of England) never placed foot upon the soil of Germany and thus escaped the charms of vi Alphonsus the German maiden to which in the play he succumbs so completely. Both the lives and the deaths of the prin- cipal characters were, in short, radically different from what a reading of the drama would lead one to suppose. As an offset to the liberties which he takes with the events of history, the dramatist preserves, with rather exceptional fidelity, social customs and political insti- tutions peculiar to the Empire. If the play fails to render accurately the spirit of the age in which the action is laid, it indicates, though in an exaggerated manner, the violence and the trickery of the period in which it was written. Although it would be a libel to assert, without some modification, that the play taken as an entity illustrates the temper of those times, several incidents of brutality and craft that find place in it have their parallels, more or less close, in the history of the day. To attempt to identify the events or allusions in this drama with any one of these parallels would be hazardous, and yet, after a review of the evidence, the conclusion seems legitimate that the violence and intrigue of the Elizabethan age find their magnified reflection in Alphonsus of Germany and in dramas of that type. To the substantiation of this contention this brief introduction is devoted. The first five maxims which Lorenzo impresses upon his willing pupil (see pp. 3-5 of the play) are, as Meyer has pointed out in Machiavelli and the Elizabethan Drama, more or less close renditions of precepts contained in Gen- tillet's Discours sur les Moyens de bien gouverner. . . . Contre Nicholas Machiavel. Of the sixth maxim: "Be alwaies jealous of him that knows your secrets. And therefore it behooves you credit few ; And when you grow into the least suspect, With silent cunning must you cut them off, " Introduction vii Meyer {Machiavelli and the Elizabethan Drama, p. 136) says: "This is not to be found exactly as stated either in Machiavelli or Gentillet, but must have been per- verted by the dramatists from Principe, 23." The last two lines of the sixth maxim are deserving of special attention. The murder of an accomplice or of one cognisant of some secret the betrayal of which would be costly, is not infrequent in the Elizabethan drama. What is worthy of emphasis is that it was apparently not exceptional in the history of that age. For instance, some of those who had a hand in the assassination of Darnley had to be rendered safe, to prevent their mak- ing revelations implicating others. One of them who wandered about in the dark, professing his guilt, was seized and thrust into prison. Another, from whom betrayal was feared, was knocked over the head and buried out of the way (Froude, History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Defeat of the Spanish Armada, vol. xi, p. 42). According to Weldon {Court and Character of James I, p. 23) when Sir Gervase Elwaies, Lieutenant of the Tower, learned of the design of Weston against the life of Overbury, he attempted, and at the time succeeded in, dissuading him from so foul a deed by stating among other things that "so many personages of honour would never cabinet such a secret in his breast, that might ruin them," thereby making Weston sensible of the dangers he ran. It was no uncommon thing in those days, "the game being bagged," as Lord Castlemaine expresses it, "to hang the spaniel which caught it, that its master might not appear." Having delivered himself of the sixth maxim above quoted, Lorenzo, to teach his pupil by example, relates how he sent Julio Lentulus to his grave with a poison that the latter had entrusted to him. The particular viii Alphonsus virtue of this poison is that "it is twenty days before it works." Lorenzo has another poison, which ''kills suddenly," and it is this poison which Alphonsus, who has profited by the nefarious teachings of his secretary, uses in killing the latter. In Act III, Alphonsus, after having drunk to the King of Bohemia, puts poison into the beaker. Bohemia, unaware of the treachery of the Emperor, drinks the poisoned draft. Later there is allusion to the fact that "in twenty hours" this poison will not work, a statement which has prompted Elze, somewhat arbitrarily, to identify it with the poison that Lorenzo had in his possession and to change the reading of the line in Act I from "twenty days" to "twenty hours. " But slow-working poisons, as well as those that "killed suddenly," are referred to in the Elizabethan age. In 1579, for instance, there appeared before Don Bernardino in London a youth who claimed that he had a poison which, if applied to the lining of a man's hat, would dry up his brain and cause his death in ten days. He was ready, if the Ambassador ap- proved, to try its power on the Prince of Orange. Although Don Bernardino had no great faith in the successful issue of the attempt, he nevertheless gave the youth his blessing and sent him on his evil mission (Froude, History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Defeat of the Spanish Armada, vol. xi, p. 590). The efficacy of this method of poisoning may be doubted. And yet it is in order to point out that in The White Devil (Act V, sc. 2) Lodovico sprinkles Brachiano's beaver with a poison, and Brachiano in the next scene, feeHng the effects of the poison, exclaims: "O, my brain 's on fire! The helmet is poisoned. " Introduction ix In this play, moreover, allusion is made (Act V, sc. i) to a poisoning attempt of the time. The lines, "To have poisoned . . . The pummel of his saddle . . . ," Reed points out, recall the case of Edward Squire, who in 1 598 ' ' was convicted of anointing the pummel of the Queen's saddle with poison, for which he was afterwards executed." The notion of poisoning saddles seems to have been harboured, however, by others besides Squire. More than ten years earlier, in January, 1587, Stafford, a brother of Sir Edward, the Ambassador at Paris, came to Walsingham with the story that there was a conspir- acy to take the life of the Queen, in which M. Chas- teauneuf was the prime mover. According to Stafford's report Chasteauneuf had asked him whether he knew any one who, for a suitable reward, would undertake to kill Elizabeth. The Pope was ready to pay an an- nuity of ten thousand crowns to the successful assassin. Stafford further told Walsingham that he was ap- proached by Destrappes, Chasteauneuf 's secretary, to the same purpose. To ingratiate himself with them and thus to gather further details of the conspiracy, Stafford, according to his account, replied that there was a man named Moody, under arrest for debt at Newgate, who, he thought, might be prevailed upon. Destrappes expressing a readiness to interview Moody, he and Stafford went to the prison. There, according to Stafford, Moody proposed that if he were released (a thing that could be readily accomplished, for his debt was but a trifling one) , he would either poison the Queen's saddle or introduce a bag of powder under her bed (Froude, History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Destruction of the Spanish Armada, vol. xii, pp. 336-337). X Alphonsus Chimerical as this proposal appears, the drama con- tains instances equally fantastic. Barabas in the Jew of Malta (Act IV, sc. 4) administers poison through a flower, which he presents to his victim to smell — a de- vice which is employed in the French ballad entitled "La Marquise" (Blade, Poesies Populaires en Langue Frangaise, p. 26): ' ' La reinne lui donne un bouquet Fait de fleurs tant jolies ; Mais en flairant ce beau bouquet, EUe a perdu la vie." In Marlowe's Massacre at Paris, sc. 2, Guise, addressing an apothecary, says: "Where are those perfumed gloves which late I sent To be poisoned?" Guise, having come into possession of the gloves, sends them to the Queen. In the very words used in the play the Bishop of Rodez refers to this incident in his History of Henry IV. "Some historians," he states, "say that she was poisoned with a pair of perfumed gloves; but if I be not deceived, this is a falsity." When Ithamore in Act II, sc. 3, of The Jew of Malta takes for granted that the letter which Barabas hands him is poisoned, he may well be alluding to a practice of the day. Certain it is that in an age not very dis- tant, as time goes, the attempt of conveying poison on the paper of a letter was sometimes made. Witness the following incidents: — At Rome there was held in captivity by Pope Innocent VIII an unfortunate Turkish prince named Djem, whose existence was a menace to the rule of Bajazet, his brother. Living in constant fear of his life, Djem took the precaution on one occasion, in giving audience to an ambassador sent by his hostile-minded brother, of having that emissary Introduction xi lick every part of a letter he bore, both inside and out, before Djem would venture to so much as take it in his fingers (Fyvie, Story of the Borgias, pp. 27-28). The suspicion that was harboured by Djem proved to be ill- founded, but an instance occurred not many years later which proves the wisdom of the men who in crafty Italy were on their guard. Tomasino, a musician in the serv- ice of Alexander VI, undertook to bear to the Pope certain letters purporting to come from the commu- nity of Forli, of which Tomasino was a native. These letters Tomasino had contrived to envenom with a deadly poison. Possibly as a precaution against in- fection he therefore brought them rolled up within a hollow cane (Gordon, Lives of Alexander VI and CcBsar Borgia, p. 141). The carrying of letters in a cane was not unknown to the Elizabethan age and the bearer of poisoned letters would, therefore, have run no greater risk of infection then than in the time of the Borgias. This secret conveyance is alluded to in Tan- cred and Gismunda, as well as in Boccaccio's first novel of the fourth day, on which Tancred and Gismunda is based, but it played a part, too, in the history of the period. Froude records (History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Defeat of the Spanish Armada, vol. X, p. 297) that a lad was detected bringing secret letters to Mary Stuart "concealed in a staff." The "toy," mentioned in Act I of Alphonsus of Germany, "to cast a man asleep" even when merely "smelt unto," though not a deadly poison, suggests one or two of the poisoning devices described above. To the poisoned weapon there is no reference in Alphonsus of Germany and yet its use in the Elizabethan age and the allusions that are made to it in other dramas may serve as excuse for a paragraph or two regarding it. In Act V, sc. I, of Tamhurlaine occurs the line, "And xii Alphonsus every bullet dipt in poisoned drugs. " In The Devil's Charter, Baglioni, exulting over the fallen Rotsi, ex- claims, "You never drempt of a poysoned bullet, did you?" If one seeks for confirmation in the history of the period of this method of making assassination doubly sure, the death of the Prince of Orange is a case in point. Balthazar Gerard fired three poisoned balls into the body of the Protestant Prince (Morley, Rise of the Dutch Republic, p. 718). Allusions to poisoned swords, rapiers, and daggers are frequent in the Elizabethan drama. To mention only a few: — In Act I, sc. i, of ^ Fair Quarrel, Russell says, "And I must tell you, sir, you have spoke swords, And 'gainst the law of arms, poisoned the blades. ' ' In The Tragical History of Dr. Faustus, sc. 6, occurs the phrase "envenomed steel." The surgeon called in to examine the King's wounds {The Massacre at Paris, sc. 24) exclaims, "Alas, my lord, the wound is dangerous For you are stricken with a poisoned knife. " But perhaps the most convincing example of an allusion to this contemporary practice is to be found in Hamlet. Whether or not the Hamlet-Laertes fencing bout found place in the Ur-Hamlet — in all probability Kyd's — there is certainly neither in Saxo Grammaticus nor in the Hystorie of Hamblet, based on Belleforest and published in 1608, a situation, however embryonic, which suggests this contest, much less the poisoning of the foils that are used in it. It was probably not merely the scenic limitations or the more noble concep- tion of Hamlet's character that prompted Shakespeare, or the playwright responsible for the earlier drama, to Introduction xiii replace the holocaust of the non-dramatic versions of the story by a new denouement. It seems probable that the substitution was recognised as adding vraisemblance by association with a practice familiar to the age. There was certainly one conspicuous case, antedating Shakespeare's Hamlet and involving the destinies of the nation, in which the poisoned rapier played its part. At the examination and voluntary confession of Edmond Yorke, taken the 20th of August, 1594, before Sir Michael Blount, Knt., Sir Edward Coke, Knt., etc. (Jardine, Criminal Trials, vol. ii, p. 271), it was elicited that at a certain conference there had been discussed "divers de- vices how to kill her majesty. Some spake of a little cross-bow of steel, that should carry a little arrow level a great way ; and if the same did with a small arrow draw blood, being poisoned, she should not escape it. And this examinate was persuaded to have a little dagger, and so to kill her as she walked in the garden. But it was thought better to execute it with a rapier poisoned in the point, which is least suspected." Years later it was rumoured that Elizabeth's successor had been done to death by similar means. On Saturday, March 22d, five months after the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot, it is recorded (Stow's Annates of King James, p. 881) that a report was circulated, and continued to grow, to the effect that the King had been murdered. " Most reports agreed," the account adds, "that the king was stabd with an envenomed knife. " The drinking of poisoned wine, through a draught of which Bohemia is done to death in Alphonsus of Germany, was a common mode of assassination in the Elizabethan as in other ages, and is alluded to in the dramas of the period. Occasionally in the plays men meet their death accidentally, as it was at one time believed Pope Alexander VI met his, by drinking a xiv Alphonsus poisoned beverage Intended for another. Thus in Women Beware of Women the Duke drinks the poisoned cup which Bianca had prepared for his brother, the Cardinal. In Hamlet the Queen-mother swallows the potion which the King had set aside for her son. The proffering of poisoned wine under a semblance of good will, a circumstance that adds to the dramatic effectiveness of the scene in Alphonsus of Germany, had its parallels, too, in history. Froude records {His- tory of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Defeat of the Spanish Armada, vol. i, p. 50) that "as a first evidence of returning cordiality, a present of wine was sent to Shan O'Neil from Dublin. It was consumed at his table, but the poison had been unskilfully prepared. It brought him and half his household to the edge of death, but no one actually died." "Half this I drink unto your Highness health, It is the first since we were joynd in Office, " says Alphonsus to his victim before handing him the beaker he has just surreptitiously poisoned, reminding one of the words Piero gives expression to (Antoftio's Revenge, Act I, sc. i) when referring to the poisoned draught intended for Andrugio : "That I should drop strong poison in the bowl, Which I myself caroused unto his health And future fortune of our unity!" The introduction of poisoned drinks as a material part of the plot or allusions to them occur in a number of plays, of which a few only need be mentioned : — Devil's Charter, Hoffman, Robert Earl of Huntington, The Bloody Banquet, Webster's Appius and Virginia, Thomas Wyatt, Sophonisba, etc. Introduction xv Perhaps nothing so conclusively proves the pre- valence of poisoning during the era and the decades preceding and following it than the ready attribution to its agency of illnesses of mysterious origin. When Don John of Austria died in 1578 of a sudden illness, some maintained that he had been poisoned either by Philip, or by the States, or by an assassin in the employ of Walsingham, while others were of the opinion that he died from breakdown occasioned by anxiety and his brother's suspicions (Froude, History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Defeat of the Spanish Armada, vol. xi, p. 158). It was uncertain whether poison or natural illness caused the death of the Earl of Mar (Froude, vol. x, p. 448). Queen Elizabeth took the precaution after Mary had thrown herself on her bounty to direct that the food consumed by the Queen of Scots should be prepared by her own servants, "lest an accidental illness should be imputed to poison" (Froude, vol. ix, p. 240). And Mary profited by the dominant suspicion of the age in seeking release. Froude states (vol. ix, p. 457) that she wrote to La Mothe Fenelon to present a sharp demand for her Uberation, on the ground that she was "seized with symptoms of the same disorder which had so nearly killed her at Jedburgh. They were harmless, being the result merely of pills, but she had calculated justly on the alarm of the Queen of England, who dreaded nothing so much as any serious illness of her prisoner which the world would attribute to poison." The Bishop of Rodez records {History of Henry IV) that when Charles IX fell mortally sick, he was believed by many to have been poisoned, and that when Henry III was stricken with an ear affliction, he attributed his malady to poison, accusing Monsieur. Aiken makes the statement {Memoirs of the Court of James /, vol. i, xvi Alphonsus p. 341) that after a time it became the belief, ''not merely of the vulgar, or of a party, but of persons of the highest rank and consequence, " that Prince Henry was poisoned by Viscount Rochester. "Nor did the king himself escape the horrid and incredible charge of being privy to the poisoning of his son, at least after the fact. " Alphonsus' audacity in accusing those of a rank all but equal to his own of being poisoners must have seemed plausible to an audience of the Elizabethan age when poisoning was a practice resorted to in a most conscienceless manner. Marvell several decades later was thought to have died of poison and Birrell points out {Lije of Marvell) that "such a suspicion in those bad times was not far-fetched." In Act II of Alphonsus of Germany two peasants are prompted to make an attempt upon the life of Richard through an anonymous letter. Crude as is this device, it is only one of many instances in the Elizabethan drama of the use of the letter for treacherous purposes, and for at least some of these instances there are historic parallels. In Fletcher's Bonduca, Act III, sc. 2, the daughter of Bonduca sends a letter to Junius pro- testing her love for him and arranging for a rendez-vous. She closes her epistle with "the gods, my Junius, keep thee, and me to serve thee!" Junius has every need of the gods* assistance, for the faithless maiden soon shows him what sort of service he may expect from her. Arrived at the trysting-place with his friends, he is apprehended, called a salt-itch'd slave, and threatened w4th death, from which, however, he is spared by the intervention of Caratach. Francisco de Medicis in The White Devil is even more cunning in inditing an amorous epistle that he hopes, and not vainly, will work mischief. He gives instructions to his servant to de- liver to Vittoria a letter offering his love, at such time Introduction xvii when the followers of Brachiano, her lover, may be near to intercept it or demand the nature of its contents. Instances of the use of forged letters to calumniate the innocent are found in Middleton. Geraldine in The Family of Love, hoping to involve in trouble the guardian of the girl he loves, presents a letter to the guardian's wife. This letter, purporting to come from a woman in the country, relates how the guardian has gotten her with child. In More Dissemblers Besides Women, Lactantio, at the instigation of the Duchess, draws up a letter in the General's handwriting and affixes to it the General's signature. The letter con- tains a dishonourable proposal of love and the Duchess hopes, through its instrumentality, to have the General arrested. She has, however, a subtler reason for de- siring his arrest than Lactantio supposes. Secure in her power, she confronts the General with the forged letter and offers him a love which she pretends he has solicited. In Phosnix, Act V, sc. i, occurs the line, " 'T is forg'd against mine honour and my life." A somewhat different use of the letter is made in Massinger's Duke of Milan. In this play Francisco, to undermine the constancy of Marcelia and thus accomplish his designs upon her honour, gives her a letter written by her husband, Lodovico Sforza, which, without an explanation of the circumstances under which it was written and of the contingency under which its instructions were to be carried out, gives the false impression that the Duke, instead of loving his wife with an extravagant passion, really has a deep hatred for her. Interesting examples of the letter forged for treacher- ous purposes occur in Fletcher's Valentinian and in The Knight of Malta. In the former play Maximus, in order to remove every obstacle that threatens the xviii Alphonsus accomplishment of his vengeance, resolves to clear from his path the too faithful Aecius whose loyalty to the tyrannical Valentinian is unswerving. He accordingly draws up a letter and places it where Valentinian cannot fail to come upon it. In the letter Maximus is urged to keep a vigilant eye upon Aecius, whose popularity among the soldiers, it is alleged, is so great that they are on the point of dethroning the Emperor and raising Aecius to the pinnacle of the State in Valentinian's stead. The credulous Valentin- ian hereupon resolves to have Aecius killed. In The Knight of Malta, Zanthia, the mistress of Mountferrat, forges a letter of a treasonable purport and attaches to it the signature of Oriana, who is guiltless of con- spiring with the Turkish enemy and, contrary to the impression which the letter conveys, is equally guilt- less of entertaining love for him. The instances of the use of the treacherous letter in Fletcher — their number might be added to — deserve some emphasis, for Fletcher's father played an im- portant role in the life, or perhaps more accurately in the death, of Mary Stuart, a woman against whom, many believe, was directed a forgery of the most daring magnitude. It was Fletcher's father who as chaplain was a witness to Mary's tragic end at Fotheringay and who, when the axe had fallen on her head, pronounced, amid the silence of the awe-struck assemblage, the solemn words: "So perish all the Queen's enemies. " Circumstances of the career of Mary Queen of Scots must have frequently been described to the family circle by one who had been present in an official capa- city at her spectacular execution and mention must have been made more than once of the famous "casket letters. " If this assumption is sound, it may account for Fletcher's partiality for the forged letter written to Introduction xix calumniate, or bring about the ruin of, the innocent. Even if Fletcher placed no faith in the contention that the "casket letters" were forged, the attribution of their origin to forgery must have appealed strongly to his sense of the dramatic. The "casket letters," it will be recalled, were letters and sonnets discovered in an old casket. They were neither signed nor directed, but they were declared, after comparison with Mary Stuart's letters, to have been written by her and to have been sent to Bothwell. Their character, if genuine, tells heavily against Mary's innocence. The contention that the treacherous letter as used in the EUzabethan drama has an historic complexion does not rest, however, on the authenticity or lack of authenticity of the "casket letters." Many citations might be made from the history of the period to con- firm the impression that the forged letter was frequently employed to embarrass and cast suspicion upon its al- leged inditers. Essex, on trial, asserted that letters coun- terfeited in his name had been sent into Ireland to Sir Christopher Blunt, the hope of the writers being to cast reflection on his honour and his reputation. He furthermore testified that one Bales had confessed that he had been compelled to forge Essex's handwriting in at least a dozen letters. The Attorney-General by way of reply contended that Bales had been hired thereunto by John Daniels, one of Essex's own men, to the end that if Essex's own handwriting were submitted as evidence against him, he might deny its authenticity (Jardine, Criminal Trials, vol. i, p. 328). Gerard is authority for the statement that it was an "inveterate habit " of conspirators at that period to drop compromising documents in places where their discovery was assured. He instances {What was the Gunpowder Plot?, p. 218) the placing of a letter in the court of Salis- XX Alphonsus bury House, which letter purported to come from five Catholics. Although professing to be appalled and horrified by the Gunpowder Plot, these men are re- presented as warning Cecil that they have pledged themselves to assassinate him if he makes the occasion the excuse for relentless activity against the CathoHcs. The letter was in all probability a forgery, maliciously framed against the Catholics. The resourcefulness of Throgmorton also bears testimony to the prevalence of forgery for defamatory purposes. Before he was carried off under arrest, Throgmorton found time to write a few hasty words in cipher to Mendoza. He said that he had denied all knowledge of certain compromis- ing papers and had explained that they must have been left in his house by some one who desired to do him injury (Froude, History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Defeat of the Spanish Armada, vol. xi, pp. 642-643). Welwood is of the opinion that Cecil was aware of the Gunpowder Plot long before its discovery, and that the famous letter to Monteagle, presumably coming from one of the conspirators, was "a contri- vance of his own. " Jardine thinks it not at all unlikely that the letter was, as Osbom calls it, a "neat device" which the Secretary adopted to prevent the real mode of the discovery from becoming known (Jardine, Criminal Trials, vol. ii, p. 189). The hypothesis that Tresham (the brother-in-law of Monteagle), or Monteagle acting on information received from him, laid bare the conspiracy before the government, thus enabling it to frame the letter of warning, has its defenders. This was the theory held by Greenway, one of the Jesuits who was accused of being a party to the plot (Hume-Stafford, History of England, vol. i, p. 685). In 1586, in order that more light might be shed on Introduction xxi the Babington conspiracy, the Queen suggested that a ciphered letter be conveyed to Ballard as if from one of the confederates. It was hoped that thereby Ballard might be lured into writing an answer. But Phillips, a professional decipherer, was unable to furnish a key and hence the project had to be abandoned (Froude, History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Defeat of the Spanish Armada, vol. xii, p. 272), The name of Phillips turns up later on again. The bearer of it had fallen under suspicion because of a correspondence with Hugh Owen. Accordingly another agent, named Barnes, was employed by Cecil to write a letter pur- porting to come from Phillips, who was then in England, and carry it to Owen, who was sojourning in Flanders. This plan miscarried owing to the arrest of Barnes in Dover (Gerard, What was the Gunpowder Plot?, pp. iii- 112). The forging of one side of a correspondence, though it might sometimes tempt the innocent into the com- mission of treasons for which they had previously had only a mild sympathy, served the prime purpose of trapping the guilty into an admission of their guilt. More subversive of justice was the attempt to force Gowrie into confession. He was induced, notwith- standing his protest that such a statement would be an untruth, to profess in a letter to the King that he had been involved in several conspiracies against his Majesty which he could reveal in a private inter- view. Those who counselled him to take this step urged that the letter, being of a general character, would pique the King's curiosity, and that at the audience which was certain to be granted him as a consequence, he could explain that the letter was only an expedient to enable him to secure the attention of the King for the stating of his own case. Threatened with death xxii Alphonsus if he did not comply with the suggestion, he yielded. Arran pledged his sacred word of honoiir that he should be safe. But at the trial, where nothing was proved against Gowrie, the letter was produced and resulted in his conviction (Andrew Lang, James VI and the Gowrie Mystery, p. 120). A similar case is recorded in Gordon's Lives of Pope Alexa?tder VI and his Son CcEsar Borgia (p. 119). The Pope, being anxious to propitiate the Castilian monarchs and their ally, Freder- ick, King of Naples, denied having granted a certain dispensation which had incensed them, alleging that it was forged by the secretary of the briefs, one Mon- seigneur Florida, Archbishop of Cosenza. The un- fortunate scapegoat was put under arrest. The Pope commissioned a scamp named Giovanni Merades to visit Florida and under pretence of playing chess with him to persuade him, innocent as he was, to acknowledge himself guilty. As an inducement Florida was pro- mised reinstatement in the Pope's good graces, the restoration of all the benefices of which he had been deprived, and even promotion to greater dignities than he had ever enjoyed. On the strength of the confession which the deluded Archbishop was thus in- veigled into making, his estate was confiscated and given to Borgia. The following testimony of Cobham is cited not necessarily for its authenticity, for Cobham was given to contradiction, but in substantiation of the tend- ency to forgery at that period. In denying that he had made a declaration attributed to him incriminating Raleigh, Cobham said: "That villain Wade [the Lieu- tenant of the Tower] did often solicit me, and, not prevailing, got me, by a trick, to write my name on a piece of white paper, which I, thinking nothing, did ; so that if any charge came under my hand, it was forged Introduction xxiii by that villain Wade, by writing something above my hand, without my consent or knowledge " (Gerard, What Was the Gunpowder Plot?, pp. 202-3). The section of this introduction that has to do with the forged letter may fittingly be closed with a brief allusion to forged letters patent. In Stow's Annales (p. 865) it is stated that "James Steward was executed for counterfeiting the King's hand, thinking thereby to have procured the Great Scale of England, unto a forged letters patents, for the passing and conveying of an hundred marks by the year, of Crown land unto him- self, " In Part II. of Heywood's Edward IV a stage direction reads, "Enter Rufford and Fogge with the counterfait letter-patents. Shore stands aside." This conversation then ensues : Rufford: This is King Richard's hand, I know it well. And this of thine is justly counterfeit, As he himself would swear it were his own. Shore: The King's hand counterfeit? List more of that. Rufford: Why every letter, every little dash In all respects alike. Now may I use My transportation of my corn and hides. Without the danger of forbidding law. When the Empress bids Alphonsus (p. 41) to cut off her nose, she is alluding to a barbarous punishment of the age, which is mentioned in not a few dramas. In Blurt Master Constable, Act II, sc. 2, Imperia says, "Trivia, strip that villain; Simperina, pinch him, sHt his wide nose." Isabella in The White Devil in her eagerness to do physical violence to Vittoria, who has supplanted her in her husband's affections, proposes among other things to "cut off her nose." Jane Shore in Part II of Edward IV is fearful of being led before the xxiv Alphonsus offended Queen lest the latter "slit her nose" or "spurn her unto death. " In Middleton's Anything for a Quiet Life, Knavesby proposes to go home and cut his "wife's nose off." Aiken records {Memoirs of the Court of James /, vol. i, pp. 189-190) that Jonson, Marston, and Chapman were in danger of having their ears and noses slit upon complaint of Sir James Murray, gentle- man of the bedchamber, who took offence at their lines regarding the Scots in their joint play Eastward Ho. The ear, however, more often than the nose suffered mutilation. The offences for which these punishments were imposed were frequently of a trivial character. Ii^ I559> ^ dishonest purveyor who had taken smelts for the queen's provision and had then sold them at an advanced price was as a punishment placed for three days in the pillory in Cheapside, with a "bawdricke of smelts" about his neck, and upon his forehead a paper indicating his offence. As a culmination to these in- dignities he was to have lost one of his ears, but owing to the petition of the Lord Mayor, he was instead condemned to a prolonged imprisonment (Hayward, Annals of the First Four Years of Elizabeth's Reign, p. 30). Thomas Pound, a Lancashire gentleman, upon whom had been imposed a fine for infringement of the laws against Catholics, under Elizabeth, was a victim of the bigotry from which the reign of her successor was not free. Pound had ventured to send a petition to the King on behalf of one Skitel, a neighbour of his, who had been condemned to death for "harbouring a Jesuit." For his temerity Pound was sentenced to pay a fine of £1000 and to stand in the pillory at Westminster and Lancaster. It was further pro- posed that he should have an ear cut off at each of these places. Owing to the public indignation occa- Introduction xxv sioned by this harsh sentence and the intercession of the Queen as well as that of the Spanish and the French ambassadors, the punishment was modified in the execution, and even Skitel's sentence of death was changed to one of banishment (Hume-Stafford, History of England, p. 684). The part of Pound's sen- tence which has to do with the loss of his ears is of pertinence in this connection. When both ears were to be forfeited, it seems to have been a not unusual custom to make the excision of one ear in a designated place and to lop off the other ear in a different locality. The following quotation from The Blind Beggar of Bednall Green is in keeping with the citation just made : "This reprieve is counterfeit and made by me, your ordinary pasport maker, that should have lost an ear at Salisbury, and another at Northampton." There are not a few allusions in the drama of the period to the custom of amputating the ear. Refer- ences to it may be found, to mention only a few instances, in Marston's What You Will, Marlowe's Massacre at Paris, Middleton's Michaelmas Term and Anything for a Quiet Life, Webster's Appius and Virginia, and in the Prologue of The Woman Hater. As Prof. Ashley H. Thomdike has pointed out {The Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on Shakspere, p. 58), the allusion in the Prologue of The Woman Hater is reminiscent of the plight in which the collaborators of Eastward Ho found themselves. A wag who had written an abusive satire, concluded with these lines: " Now God preserve the king, the queen, the peers, And grant the author long may wear his ears, " whereat his Majesty was much amused. In the reign of Henry VIII able-bodied men found begging were, for a first offence, merely whipped. A xxvi Alphonsus second conviction was punished by the cropping of the offender's ears (Traill, Social England, vol. iii, p. 120). According to the Act of 1 530-1 scholars of the uni- versities, sailors, pardoners, and others were for the first offence whipped in the same manner as ordinary vagabonds; for the second, they were to be scourged two days, to be placed in the pillory, and were further- more to forfeit one of their ears; for the third, they were to be scourged again, to suffer the humiliation of the pillory, and to lose their remaining ear (Traill, Social England, vol. iii, pp. 250-1). An even more revolting spectacle is that conjured up by the threat to tear from the body the victim's heart. The second murderer {Massacre at Paris, sc. 21) exclaims, "O that his heart were leaping in my hand." Lines as sanguinary appear even in such a play as A Woman Killed with Kindness: "Rip up my breast, and with my bleeding heart Present him as a token. " Lodowick {The Jew of Malta, Act II, sc. 2) declares he will have Mathias's heart. The Cardinal in the Blind Beggar oj Bednall Green voices this sentiment, so out of accord with his Christian office: "0 1 could tear my flesh And eat his heart for this disparagement, " lines which remind one of the unnatural appetite of Nicke in A Woman Killed with Kindness: "I cannot eate, But had I Wendol's heart I would eate that. " Philip in Lust*s Dominion threatens to "beat that dog to death that sounds retreat," and adds "I '11 tear his Introduction xxvii heart out that dares name that sound." Citations of this character — and they might be multiplied — sound strange to the modern ear, but they probably did not shock the robust nerves of the Elizabethans. In fact, language no less violent was under extreme circum- stances used at that time in civil life as well as on the stage. When Essex was accused of treason, he ex- claimed, "This hand shall pull out this heart when any disloyal thought shall enter it" (Strickland's Queen Elizabeth). Lord Gray, one of the commissioners at the trial of Davison, who was made a scapegoat by Elizabeth for the execution of Mary Stuart, in deliver- ing his judgment used these words, that "in revenge for his sovereign, he [Davison] would have been the first to have rent his heart out of his body" (Froude, History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Destruction of the Spanish Armada, vol. xii, P- 375)- This punishment was actually imposed, among others equally revolting, upon the assassin of William the Silent. It was decreed that his heart should be torn from his breast and flung in his face. The sentence was literally executed (Motley, Rise of the Dutch Repub- lic, pp. 719-720), as inhuman a proceeding as that perpetrated by the Aztecs on their human sacrifices' (Prescott's Conquest of Mexico, vol. i, p. 79). Another execrable punishment was the chopping off of the hand of an offender. Allusions to it are not infrequent in the drama. In The Royal King and Loyal Subject, the Loyal Subject, commanded to send one of his daughters to court, says: "Had the King commanded One of my hands, I had sent it willingly; But her! yet Kings must not be dallied with, " xxviii Alphonsus which reminds one of the words used by Susan in A Woman Killed with Kindness, "Will Charles Have me cut off my hands and send them Acton?" In Traill's Social England (vol. iii, p. 364) it is recorded that in the reign of Elizabeth the exportation of raw materials was sharply discouraged. The exportation of a live sheep might, in the case of a first offence, cost a man his hand. The courage with which the victims bore their punishment — fine examples of the physical hardihood of that age of iron as well as of gold — blots out in some measure, or at any rate directs attention from, the appalling cruelty of the following incident. A Puritan lawyer, John Stubbs by name, wrote a pamph- let, wherein he commented rather too frankly and dis- tastefully regarding the match at one time proposed between Elizabeth and Alengon (Creighton, Queen Elizabeth, p. 172). Both Stubbs and his book-seller, Page, were sentenced to lose their right hand. They were conducted from the Tower to a scaffold erected in front of the palace at Westminster, and "their right hands were struck off with a cleaver driven through the wrist with a beetle, " While the dismem- bered stump was being cauterised with a hot iron. Page said proudly, "I have left there a true English- man's hand." Stubbs, exhausted from the flow of blood, nevertheless waved his hat with all the energy he could muster and cried, "God save Queen Elizabeth, '' before dropping in a faint (Froude, History of E?igland from the Fall of Wolsey to the Destruction of the Spanish Armada, vol. xi, p. 181). Characterised by loyalty, though tempered some- Introduction xxix what doubtless by self-interest, is an incident, not unlike in some respects the case just related, which occurred some decades earlier, Holinshed records that "on the loth of June, 1541 Sir Edmund Knevet, knight, of Norfolk, was arraigned before the king's justices . . . for striking of one master Clere of Norfolk, servant with the Earl of Surrey, within the king's house in the tennis court. There was first chosen to go upon the said Edmund, a quest of gentlemen, and a quest of yeomen, to inquire of the said strife, by the which inquests he was found guilty, and had judgement to lose his right hand. ... At the time when this sentence was to be executed, Sir Ed- mund Knevet desired that the king, of his benign grace, would pardon him of his right hand, and take the left, for (quoth he) if my right hand be spared, I may here- after do such good service to his grace, as shall please him to appoint." So touched was the King by this plea that he granted Knevet a free pardon. It may be in order at this point to make reference to the fact that in the Elizabethan age the hand was looked upon as a responsible agent and not only were blame and praise attached to it, but self-inflicted punishment was at times visited upon it for its failure to execute a difficult and desired task or for its activity in a cause that led to humiliating or other evil results. In Alphonsus of Germany (p. 67) Alexander gives his hand credit for murdering the Emperor: "This happy hand, blest be my hand therefore, Reveng'd my Fathers death upon his Soul. " More often, however, the hand is taken to task for some evil done or good left undone. In Tamhurlaine, Part II, Act IV, sc. 3, for instance, Olympia, pretend- XXX Alphonsus ing that she has an ointment which will render the part of the body that is anointed with it invulnerable, per- suades her importunate and lustful lover, Theridamas, to stab her neck. Theridamas in his credulity strikes the blow, and when he realises the consequence of his act exclaims: "What have I slain her! Villain stab thyself; Cut off this arm that murdered thy love. " When Cranmer, who had signed a recantation of Luther's doctrines, was led to the stake in 1556, he repented of his previous weakness and gave utterance to these memorable words, stamping him the hero that in life's supreme moment he showed himself to be: ''Forasmuch as my hand offended, writing contrary to my heart, my hand shall first be punished therefor, for when I come to the fire, it shall first be burned!" When the fire was kindled and rose, he held his right hand steadfastly and immovably in the consuming flame so that all those present might see it burn away before his body was touched. Mucius is supposed to have had con- ferred upon him the surname of Scasvola because after having mistakenly killed another, in the belief that it was Porsena, he is said to have burned off the hand that served him so ill. The incident is recorded in Plutarch and in Livy (de Beaufort, / 'Incertitude des cinq premiers siecles de Vhistoire Romaine). Scsevola is a character in Haywood's Rape of Lucrece and his spoken lines: "Oh too rash, Mutius, hast thou missed thy aime? And thou base hand that didst direct my poniard Against a peasants breast, behold thy error Thus will I punish : I will give thee freely Unto the fire, nor will I wear a limbe, That with such rashnesse shall offend his Lord, " Introduction xxxi must have sounded like a distorted version of Cranmer's declaration. Reference may at this point be made to a custom which seems to have its reflection in some of the plays of the day. After Mary Stuart's execution all of the objects spattered with her blood, including her beads, Paternoster, handkerchief, the cloth on the block, and the scaffold were burned, so that none of them might be taken away (Froude's History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Destruction of the Spanish Armada, vol. xii, p. 361). Just before her execution Mary, noticing that her chaplain and her ladies were not present, asked the reason of their absence. Kent told her he feared they might scream or faint or attempt perhaps to dip their handkerchiefs in her blood. The last assigned reason has an astonishingly close parallel in The Spanish Tragedy. Hieronimo, it will be recalled, dips a handkerchief in his son's blood and vows not to part with it till he has achieved his revenge. In Marlowe's Dido it is related that Pyrrhus took his father's flag "and dipped it in the old king's chill-cold blood. " The breaking on the wheel, referred to on p. 67 of Alphonsus of Germany, was a common punishment of the day. Allusions to it are found in Tamburlaine, Part II, in Hoffman, in The White Devil, in The Duchess of Malfi, etc. After the rising of the Castilians in Scotland and the murder of the captured regent, Lennox, Cawdor, who was taken, was broken on the wheel (Froude's History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the De- struction of the Spanish Armada, vol. x, p. 285). The Bishop of Rodez, in his History of Henry IV, records that " the Baron of Fontanelles for having had a hand in the Byron conspiracy and besides that treating of his own accord with the Spaniards to deliver to them a little is- land on the coast of Britany, was broke on the wheel in xxxii Alphonsus the Greve by sentence of the Great Council. " Coryat, one of the travellers of the age who has left an interest- ing record of his impressions and gleanings in foreign lands, states {Crudities, vol. ii, p. 308) that he "ob- served in a great many places, on both sides of the Rhene, more gallowes and wheeles betwixt Mentz and Colen, then ever I saw in so short a space in all my life, especially within a few miles of Colen." Coryat describes {Crudities, vol. i, p. 159) in some de- tail the method of execution by the wheel. Referring to a wheel he saw on his jaunt through France, he states that on it "the bodies of murderers only are tormented and broken in peeces with certaine yron instruments, wherewith they breake their armes first, then their legs and thighes, and after their breast: If they are fav- oured their breast is first broken. That blow on their breast is called the blow of mercy, because it doth quickly bereave them of their life. This torment of the wheele I find in Aristotle to have been used amongst the ancient Grecians also Who in the seventh booke of his Ethicks and third Chapter, useth the word Tpoxi^euq which signifieth to be tormented with the wheele. " In Germany the penalty of being broken on the wheel was most frequently associated with the crime of murder. But in the Netherlands, according to Fynes Moryson, another traveller of the age, the punishment was also imposed upon counterfeiters {Iti7ierary, vol. iv, p. 471). To the last-mentioned traveller one turns for eluci- dation of the strangely barbarous custom referred to on pp. 69-70 of Alphonsus of Germany. When the punishment to be meted out to Alexander is under dis- cussion. Prince Edward says: "I would adjudge the Villain to be hang'd As here the Jewes are hang'd in Germany. " Introduction xxxiii To this the Elector of Saxony assents: "Young Prince it shall be so; go dragg the Slave Unto the place of execution: There let the Judas, on a Jewish Gallowes, Hang by the heels between two English Mastives, There feed on Doggs, let Doggs there feed on thee, And by all means prolong his miserie. " "Neare Lindaw, " writes Fynes Moryson (Itinerary, vol. iv, p. 289), *' I did see a malefactor hanging in Iron chaines on the gallowes, with a Mastive Dogge hanging on each side by the heeles, so as being starved, they might eate the flesh of the malefactor before him- selfe died by famine. And at Franckford I did see the like spectacle of a Jew hanged alive in chaines, after the same manner." This method of execution, modi- fied according to local custom or caprice, seems to have been practised at one time or another in diverse places. In the year 1399 one of those miraculous occurrences that are so characteristic of the credulity of the Middle Ages, and so strange a mingling of devotion and re- ligious antipathy, was said to have taken place in Posen. Certain Jews of Posen were accused of having persuaded a poor woman to steal the Host for them. The sacred thing was, according to the account, taken to a cellar in the Ghetto, where the Jews showed their aversion for it by thrusting into it their knives. Then occurred the astonishing thing. The Host began to bleed and to perform miracles. In fear the Jews threw it into a swamp, but it still continued to perform mir- acles, thereby attracting the notice of the Christians. For this alleged desecration a punishment resembling closely the diabolical torment referred to above was imposed. The woman who had stolen the Host, the xxxiv Alphonsus Jewish Rabbi, and the most aged of the Jews were together with dogs attached to posts and were slowly roasted to death (Kohnt, Geschichte der Deutschen Juden, pp. 287-8). Discrimination against Jews not only in life but even in death is, furthermore, referred to by Alphonse Levy {Geschichte der Juden in Sachsen, p. 47). According to this author Jewish criminals, condemned to death in Leipzig, who failed to recant their belief, were not considered worthy to be hung upon a Christian gallows; wherefore a special gallows was assigned to them. If one may believe Roger Ascham, a form of execution not radically different from those described above was practised by the Turk, who, however, in the instance recorded, visited the punish- ment not on the unbelieving Jew but upon the Christian unbeliever. In the foregoing sketch the writer pleads guilty to having every now and then strayed into a discussion of matters which, while legitimately classifiable under the headings of violence and intrigue, may at times have seemed to the reader to have only an indirect bearing on Alphonsus of Germany. But, if he has overstepped his prerogative, it has been in the hope of re-emphasising certain tendencies of the age which find exaggerated ex- pression in this drama, and thus of smoothing the way for an understanding of certain incidents in the play that, without such an explanation, would seem grotesque and unnatural. A period of literature that cultivated the chronicle history play; that put on the stage dramatisations of contemporary events like the trage- dies of Byron and Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt; that occasionally used the drama for the presentation of a political allegory, as in the case of Middleton's Game at Chess; and that in the field of the domestic tragedy was even known to draw for its subject-matter upon an Introduction xxxv actual murder case of the time; a period of literature that throws so much interesting light on customs and manners peculiar to the day and through which runs the strong current of late i6th and early 17th century life — did not, it may be safely concluded, fail to reflect in fulness the brutal practices and the sub- terranean methods that prevailed at the time. THE TRAGEDY O F ALPHONSUS OF GERMANY As it liath been very often Adled ( with great app!aufe ) at the Privat houfe inBLACKt-RiERs by Iiis late M A » B s T I E s Servfents. By Q^OYgc Qhap}nan Gent. •-3 LONDON, Printed for Humphrey MosELEY,ancl aretobe fold at his Shopp at the Pnnces-Arms in ^i/Pauls Cliurch-yard 1654. ^ #» i^ i;;^ c.'iva :^ 1^ i^ ^ V ci;^ ^ ^ -^ ^ c^i^a #. c.:»a ^ clija To the Reader I Shall not need to befpeak thee C our- teouSjif thou haft feen tliis Piece pre- fented with all the Elegance of Life and Aftion on the "Blacl^Friers Stage; But if it be a Stranger to thee^give me leave to prepare thy acceptation^by tel- ling thee, it was receiv'd with general applaufe, and thy judgement (1 doubt not ) will be fatisficd in the reading. 1 will not raife thy Exped:ation fur- ther, nor delay thy Entertainment by ateclious Preface. TheDefign ishigb, the Contriven^ent fubtle, and will defervc thy grave Attention in the perufalL FarovelL mwmnwvmwm ^Dramatis Terfon^. ALfhonftis Emperour of Germany , King of Bohemia, > BHhop of Mentz* BiQiopof C9llen» Bi(hop of Tr^^r. Talhtine of the Rhein, Duke of Saxon, Marque fs of Brandenhurgh* Prince Edward of England, Jilchard Duke of Gornwall: Lorenzo de cipres^ Secretary to the Etfiperour, i^lexander his Son, the Emperours Page. jfahelU the Empreft. Hedewick Daughter to the Duke of SSlX^^^ Captain of the Guard. Souldiers. Jaylor. Two Boores# •v- The fcvcn Elc- Aors of the Ger- man Empire. (I) ALP HONSUS Emperour dKjermany. Enter Alphonfus ihe Emperour in bts night-gown, af:d hu Potrt,andatorch in hts h^Tid, Alexander tie Tnpcs hii Pag€,followtnq^ htm, Oy, give me the Matter Key of all the doors. To Bed a-gain, and leave me to my \c\(, [£xit U Ktchard come? hare four Ele^i^ors [Alex- fworn der. To make him Kcifar in defpiteofme f Why then Alfhonftu it is time to wake. No Hnglidiman, thou art too hot at hand. Too dial low bf aind co undermine my tbrone j JheSpani/h Si^n haih purifi'd my wit. And dry*d up all grofs humours in my head. That I am fightcd as the King of Birds, And can cUlirern thy deepeft Stratagems. \ im the lawful German Emperour, Chofen, en(hll*d,hy general confent; And ihcy may tearm me Tyrant as they pleafe^ I will be King, and Tyrant if I pleafe; For what is Empire but a Tyrannies And none but children ufe it otherwife. Of feven EIc«.%rs, four are faJIn away. The other three I dare not greatly truft; My Wife is Sifter to mine enemy, And therefore wifely to be dealt withaUi But why do I except in fpecial. When ihis poAuon muft be geaeraf. » A LPHON SUS Thai no man living muil be credited, Further than tends unto thy proper good. But to the purpolc oftny filent walk; Within t'.iis Chamber lyes my Seeretar)^, Lorenz,o de Cipres, in whofe learned brain Is all the Gompars of the world eontaind j And as the ignorant and limple age Of our foret'athers, blinded in their zeal, Recciv'd dark anfwcrs from l^pp^lh's Hirineji And honour'd him as Pairon of their blifs; Sol, not muffled in fimplicitie. Zealous indeed ofnothing but my good* Haft to the At*gur of my happineN, To lay the ground of my enfbino Wars. He learns his wifdom, not by flighc"bi Bird?, By prying into facrificed beafts. By Hares that crofs the way , by howling Wolves, By gazing on the Starry Element, Of vain imaginary calculation? ; But from a fetled wifdom in it [q.\( Which teaeheth to be void of paflion. To be Religious as the ravenous Wolf, Who loves the Lamb for hunger, and for prey; To threaten our inferiors with our looks ; To flatter our Superiors at our need ; To be an outward Saint, an iriwa-d Devill; TheCe are the le»ftures that my Mafter reads. This Key commands a!l Chambers in the Court;' Now on a fudain will I try his wit, I kn:>vv my eomming is unlook'd for. He opens the door, and findf lloxenzo fleep a lofr. Nay flcep, Lorer}z,o, I will walk a while. As natu'ein the framing of the world, Ordain'd there ^\ou\dht njht I vac num' Even Co ms thinks his wif lom fhou'd contriyCj That all his Study fhouid be full of wit, And every corner fiuft with fentences ? What's this ?P/<«f 5? tArifiotle f ixxQn thefe are Ordinary, It (Qtcas this is a note but newly written. \^He reads a note which hejinds among his Books, Vna nmferauY pf Germany. j Un* Sibu-^a non a]ic duos Erithicos ; ivhich being granted^ the %oman Em fire yotll Kot Jnjjice Alphonfus King oj Caftilc, arid Richard £^r/ n, I marry this is argued like him(eif,and now cne thinks he wakes, [Lore)jz.o Rifeth; arid Tnatchcs at his fword which hun^ by his Bed fide.] "" ' LorenANhzi are there thieves within theEmperour's Court? Villain thou dy'rt ; what mak'ft thou in my Chamber > jilphoK. How now Lorenz.0^ wilt thou flay thy Lord? Loren. Idobefcech your facrcd Maje/iy to pardon me, I did not know your grace. uilphon. Ly down L>orenz.o^ I vvill fit by if^ec Tne ayr isfiiarp and piercing ; tremble not, Had it been any oiher but our id(. He murt have been a villain .nd a thief. Loren. Aa^ my Lordivvhar means your exGclIcQce, To walk by night in thefe Co dangerous times ? Alphon. Have I not reafon now lo walk and watch When I am compaft with fo many fees ? They ward, they watch, they caft,and they confpirc* To win confederate Pqnces to their aid, And batter down the Eagle from my creaft. Omy Lorenz.0, if thou iielp me not, Th' Imperial Crown is flisken from my head. And giv'o Trom meu'ito an Englifh Earl. Thou knoweli how all things ftand as well as we» Who are our enemies, and who cur friends, Wh )muft b^ ihreatn^d, and whodallyed^with. Who won by words, and who by force of arms 5 For all the honour I have done to thee. Now fpeak, and fpcak to purpofe in the caufc i Na/ r^i^ thy body, labour with thy brain, And of thy words my felf will be the fcribe. Lore}i, why then my Lord, take Paper, Pen and Tnki Write firl^ this maxim, it fhall do you good, 1. \ Prince muft be of the nature of. the Lion and the Fox j but not the one without the other. jllpheTt, 4 ALPHON SUS jdlphon. T.ie r-ox is lubiil, but he vvanceth force - The Lion /Irong, but Icorncth policie ; 1*1 imitate Lyfwder in this point , And where the Lion's hide is thin and (canr. Pi firmly patch it with the Foxes fell. Let it futfice f can be both in on?. Lorfff. 2. A Prince above a!l thinc;<; rnufi fecm devout* but there is nothing fo dangerous to his (late, as to re^^ard hispromife orhi^oath. yjlphon, Tufli, fear not me, my promife<; are found. But he that trufts them fha!! be (urc to (dU. Lorcn. Nay my g :oJ Lord, but that I know your MajeHy, To be a rea.ly .,uickvvitted Scholar, I would bellow a comment on the text. 3. Trull not a reconciled friend ; for good turns cannot blot out old grudges. Alphoyj. Then mull I watch the Palatine of the Rhcit?^ I caus'd his Father to be put to death. Loren. Ycur H ighncfs hath as little caufe to truft The dangerous mighty Dxikzo^Saxonj/ ; You know, you fought to banifh him the Land; And as for CnlUn, was not he the firit That fent for %ichArd'mio germanj f Alphon. What's thy opinion of the other four? Alpho>7. That Bohemte neither cares for one nor other j But hopes thi<: deadly lltife b.'tween you twain, Will cafl th' I.nperial Crown upon his head. For Trtcr anj BraKtieubcr^^, I think of them As fimple men that wiHi the common good ; And as for Mentz. J need not cenfurc him, Ktchard hath chain'd him in a golden bond. And fav'd his lil'e from ignominious death. Alphon. Let it fuRice, Lorenz^o^ that I know. When ChurfHrfi Mentn. yyas taken Prifonert By young vi*-'^or»Ous Otho Duke ot Br^nfchrvetge Tnat Richard Earl o\' (^or»rv alidad disburfe The ranfome of a King, a million, To favehis life, and rid him out of bands, That fu n of gold did fill the Brnn{chweiqe bagJ ; But fince my felf have rain'd a golden fltowcr. Of Ofbright Hungarian Ducatcs and Cfufadoes, Into the private Coffers of the Bi/liop, The English Angela took cheir wings and fled ; My crofTes blefy his of the fevcn Elctflors, His Princely double-dealing holiners Will fpoyl the EnglifJi Emp^reur ofhope. But I refer thefe matters to thefequcl. Proceed Lorenz.0 tbnvird to the next. Lorert. I'm o!ad your grace hath dealt fo cunningly, With that vi^^oricus/^clc^c minded Prclaie ; for in clevlioii his voice is hrli but to the next. 4. ' I is more fa^ety far a Prince to be feared than loved. Al^hoK. Lore is an hum: ur pfeafcth him that loves j Let me be hated, \o I pleafe iny fe f. Love is an humour mi;dand changeable ; But fear ergraves a reverence in the heart. Lore*i. J. To keep an ufurped Crown, a Prirce maft fwear, forfwear, poyibn. mur ier, and commit all kind of vil- lanics, provided it be cunningly kept from the eye of the world. siphon. But my Lorcnz,o that's the harde/l point* It is not for a Prince to exc cute, Phyficians and Apothecaries"muf) krvn\v» And fervile fv-^ar or Counlel-Srcak'ng bribes, VV/il from a Peafant In an hour extort Enough toovertnrov a \fr)narchv. Lorcti. Thctetore my Lord fct dowo this TTxt and lafi Article. 6. Be aiwales jealous of him that knows your fecrets, And therefore it behooves you credit few; And when ycu grow into the icafi (ufpe-'i, With filenc cunning muff you cut them cff-. As tor examp!e,7«//V LetJtHlus^ A molt rcnowne i Neapolitan^ Gave me this Box cf poyfon. t'was not Ion' ig But therewithal! Ifent him to his grave. Alphort. And vyhat's the fpecial vertue of the fame ? L01 en. That it is twenty diys before it workj. ^;^W. But what is this? Loren. C ALPHONSUS Loren. This an infection thaikilsfuddainly. This but a toy locafl amanaileep. Alfho». How? being drunk ? Lor^M. No.'bcingrmeltunio. Jlphorj. Then fmell Loren^.o^ I did break thy fleep j And for this time, this lecture fliall fuffice. Lorayj. What have you done my Lord ? y'ave made me fafe, For (tirring henee thefe four and twenty hours. Alpho». 1 fee this charms his fenfesfudainly. How now hore-fjz^o, haU* afleep already ? t/£neiii Pilot bv the God of dreams, Was never luli*d into a founder trance; And now jilfhonfta over- read thy notej. [He rtads, Thelc a'C already at my finoers ends. And Icli ihe wor d O-^ouldfi idthislittleSchcdalc, Thus will I rend the text, and after this, On my behaviou'* fet fo fair a glofs. That men fhall take me for a Convertite ; But fome may think, I OioulJ forget my parr» And have been over ra(h in renting it, Topnt them out of doubt I fludy iiire. Tie make a backward repeti'ion. In being jealous of my CounfcJ keepers, Thi<; i<; the poyfon that kils fu.lainly. So oidli thou \miO Julna Lentnlit', And blood with blood muU be reOjuited thus. Now am I fafe, and no man knows my Counfels. Churfurfl o^ Mentz.^ if now thou pi 7 thy part, Erning thy gold with cunnmgworkmanfliip. Upon the Bemifli Kfncs ambition, Richard fhall fhamefully fail of his hope. And I with triumph keep my Emperie. "Exit* Enter the Kiyig of Bohemia, the Bipops of IVfentz, ColIcn» Trier, the Tallattne of the Rhein, The Duke o/Saxon, T/;^ (Jl^i^rcjueji of Brandenburg. Bohe. Chnrfurfls and Princes of the Ek«.^ioD, Since by the adverfe fortune of our age, Th^facredand Impetial MajeHy Nstb Em^erour ^/Germany. 7 Hath been ufurp'd by opt n Tyranny, We the feven Pilfais oUhe Gcrn?an Empire^ To whom (ucceirj/cly it doth belon;^ To make eledion of our Emperours, Are here afi'eml^Ied to uniie a new Unto her former Hrengih and ^loriou? type Our half declining Roman Monarchy, And in that hope, I Henry King o[' Bohcm, Churftirfl and Sevvcr to the EDipercur, Do take my feat next to the facred throne. Mentz.. Next feat belongs to 'jnhm Tlorttu Archbifhop o^ Mentz., Chancelor oHScrmanjy By birth the Duke ot fruitful Tomo /.ird. Pal. The next place in elev-'Hon longs tome, (jeorge (^ajfimirm Palfgraveofihc %l^erri^ His Highnefs Tafler, and upon my knee Ivo\V a purcfincereinoated^cal Unto my Country, and no wrelied hate. Or private love fiiall blind mine intellev?!. Collen. Brave DuTce of Saxony Dure ilinds greateft hope, Stir now or never, let the Spanifh tyrant. That hath diflionoured us, murdjr'd our Friend^ And /bin'd this feat with blood of innocents. At la(t becha'lis'd with ibt Saxon I'word, And may zA/hrtits Arciibilliop of ^0 //£■«, Chancelor Q\Oalha and the fourtli tiev'lor; Be thought u.iwortliyothis phceand birtli , But he affifJ thee to his utmofl power. Sax. WifJom. not word-', mufl be the foveraign falve, To fearch anJ heal thefe grievou- fc/ircd wounds. And in that hope zy^uq^ptflii^s Duke of Saxon^ Arch-Marfl\3ll to the Emp.Tour take my place. Trtfr, The like doth Fredenck^\rcU-'Ri(\\op o{ Trier, Dukco^Lorram, Chancelour o[ Itabe. Bran. Thefeventh and laf^ \s Jo.ichim CaroltUj Marquefs of Brandenburg, overworn with age, Whofe Office is to be the Treafurer ; But Wars have made theCoffer': like the Chair. Peace bringeth plenty, Wars bring poverty : Grant Heavens, this meeting may be to ctfcvl, Eftablifh Peace, and cut ofi Tyrannic. Ento" 8 ALPHONSUS £»ftr the Empref? Ifabel'a Kifi^ John's Daughter Empreji. Pardon my bold intrunon migluy (Iwrfttrfis, And let nriy words pierce deeply in your hearis. O 1 1 befeech you on my bended Knees, Ithepoor mirerablcEmpre(5, A Granger in this Land.unu'dtobroyl', Wife to the one, and Siliei to the other That are Competitors for Soveraignty ; All that I pray, is, mzke a quiet end; Make Peace b^fivveen my Husband and my Brother, O chink ho.vgrici doth (hnd on either /ide, ir cither party chance to be vmifs; My Huiband is my Husband ; bur my Drorhcr, My heart doth melt to think he lliouidmiic-arry. My Brother is my Brother ;bui my Husband, O how my joynts do ihake fearing his wrong ! If both flioul j dye in thefe uncertam broyls. O me, why do 1 live to think upon'tl Bear with my interrupted fpeeches Lords, Tears flop my voice* your wiidomi know my meaning. Alas I know my Brother Rtchard\ heart Atfcfis not Empire, he would rather choofe To make return again to Palejlttte^ And be a fcourge unto the Inridelsj As for my Lord, he is impatient, The more my grief, the lelVer is my hope. Yec Princes thus he lends you word by mc. He will fubmjt himfelf to your award, And labour to amend vvhat is amifs. All I have fa id, or can device to (siy^ Is few words of great worth, Make unity, Bohe, Madam, that ive have fuffer'd you to knecI (o long Agrees not with your d'^^nhy nor ours ; Thus we cxcul'c it, when we once arc fee. In foJcmn Councclof £le.4ion, AVemaynot rife till fomc what be concluded So much for that; coaching your carncft fute; Your Majertic doth know how it concerns us, Comfort your fdfj as wc do hope the beH ; Bat "Emfercur of Germany. ^ But tell us, Madam, wher's your Husband now' EmpreJ?. 1 left him at his prayers, good my Lorcf. Saxon. At prayers? Madam, that's a miracle. Pall. Vndcubtediy your Hi^^hnels did mi/Jake J Tvvaslure fomeBookot Conjuridon; I think he never faid pray 'r in hii life. Empref. Ah me, my fear, I fear, will take effe^l , Your hace to him, and love unto my Brother, Will break my heart, and fpoil th'- Imperial peace. Mentz.. My Lord otSaxon^ and Prihre PalUtwe, This hard opinion yet is more than needs ; But, gracious Madam* leave as to our (tlvts. EmpreJI. I go, and Heav'n {hat hpidj the Hearts of Kingj^ Dire(^ your Counfels unto unity. Exit. Bohe. Novv to the depth of that we have in hand ; This is the quc/iion, whether the King ofSpM^t Shall Hill continue in the Royal throne. Or yield It up u\MoPUr.tagenet^ Or we proceed uuo a third Eelei^ion. Saxon. E'rc fuch a viperous blood- thir% Spaniard Shall fuck the hearts of our Nobility, Th' Imperial Sword which Saxony doth bear. Shall be unOieith'd to War againft the world. Pall. My hate is more than words can cefti/ie. Slave as he is he murdered my Father. Coll. Prince %t,chnrd h the Champion of the world. Learned, and mild, fie for the Government. Bohe. And what have we to do with Englifhmen ? They are divided from our Continent. But now that we niay orderly proceed To our hioh OfHce of Eleilfon, To you my Lord o^Mentz. it doth belong Having firfl voice in this Imperial Synod, To name a worthy man for Emperour^. {cts^ Mentz,. It may be thought,moft grave and rcrcrend Prin- That in refped ofdivers (urns of gold, Which Richard of mecr charitable love. Not as a bribe, but as a deed of Alms, Disburs'd for me unto the Duke ofBrur.[chrveige, That I dare name no other man but hej C Or 30 ALPHONSUS Or fhould I nominate an other Prince, Upon the contrary I may be thought A. molt ingratefui wretch unto my Ftlend ; But private caufe mull yield to publiek ^ood ; Therefore me thinks it were the fitteft courld To choofc the worthiert upon this Bench. Bo)yem. We are all Germans, wljy (hould we be yoak'd Either by En^liflmienor Spaniards ? Saxo. The Earl o^CormvaU by a fail eonfcqc Was fent for out o^EngUnd. (J[ientu, Though he were. Our later thoughts are purer than our firft. And to conclude, I think this end were bef^. Since we have once chofen him Empetour, That fome great Prince of wifdom and of power, Whofe countenance may overbear his pride. Be joynd in equal Government with ^Iphcryjfta, Bohew. Your HoJinefs hath found ly in few wordf Set down a mean to t^uiet all thcfe broyls. Trier, So may we hope for peace if he amend ; But (hail Prince %icbard then be joynd with him ? Fal. Why fhould your Hiohnels ask that quelHon ? As if a Prince of fo high Kingly Birth, Would live in couples with fo bafc a Cur ? Bohe. Prince Pallatwe,(ucQ words do ill become ihce. Snxon, He fardbut right, and cali'd a Dog a Dog. Bohe. His Birth iz Princely. Saxo, His manners villanouSj And vertuou< Richard fcorns fo bafe a voak. Bohe. My Lord of S.ixon^ give me leave to tell you, Ambition b'inds your judgement in this cafe ; You hope, if by your means Rtchard be Emperour» He, in requital of fo great advancement, Will make the long, defi red Marriage up Between the Prince of England and your Siftcr» And to that end Edward the Prince o^Wnks^ Hath born his Uncle Company to i^ermarty. Saxo. Why King of Bohem \*{\ unknown to ihee, How oft the5^A-o«jSons havemarryed Queens, And Daughters Kings, yea mightiert Emperours ? If Smferour of Germany. n It Edward like her be^uiy and behaviour, Hc'I make no que/Hon ot'lier Princely Birth ; nut let that pais, I Cay, as tii\ I 'aid, That vcrtLOu^ Ji^chatd fcorns Co bafc ayoak. Aierii^c. It' Rtcliard icorn, fomc one upon this Bench, \Vho(c power may overbear zy^/pho^m pride. Is to be named. Wli?c think you my Lords ? Saxon. I think it was a mii;hty mafs ot" G^ld, That made your grace o| this opinion. Mentz.. My Lord oCSaxotty^ you wrong me much. And know I highly fcorn to take a bribe. ^ Pal. I think you fcorn indeed to have it known : But to the purpofe, if it muft be fo. Who is the Htteil man to joyn with him ? ColUn. Firft with an Oxe to plou^^h will I be yok'd CMem^. The fittefi is your grace in mine opinion. Bohem. I am content, to ftay theie mutinies. To take upon me what you do impofe. Saxon. Why here's a tempeft quickly overblown.] God give you joy my Lord of half the Empire; For rre I will not meddle in the matter. But warn your Majeftie to have a care. And vigilant refped unto yourperfon, I'J hie me home to fortifie my Towns, Not to oftlnd, but to defend my felf. Palf. Ha' with youCofin, and adieu my Lord?, 1 am afraid this fuddam knitted Peace. Will turn unto a tedious lafting War % Only thus much we do requclt you all, ' Deal honourably with the Earl of C^r;nr^//, And (b adieu. Sxennt. Saxon.tz. go you unto Prince Richara, (^ J Aim n ALPHOKSUS And tell him flatly here's no Crown, nor Empire For En-^IiiTi iaaaders;tell him, 'twere his bdi To hie him home to help the King his Brother* AgainfUhe Earl of Leice/ler tind the Barons ' p//.«. My Lord ofMe»u^ fweet words will qualiffc When bitter tearms will adde unto his raee Tis no fmall hope that hath deceit 'd the Duke • Therefore be mildj I know an Englilliman, Being flatteredjis a Lamb,threa(ned,a Lion; Tell him his charges what fo e're they are Shalbe repaid with treble vantages ; Do thi$,-vve will exped their refolmions. CMe>ttz,.Btothzi: of a//^«,I entreat your oracc To take this charge upon you in my liead -^ For why I fliame to look him in the face. ' ColUu. Your Holinefs Oian pardon me in this. Had I the profit I would take the pains • With (Lame enough your Grace may b/ing the meflage. Mentz,.Thus am J Wrong 'd, God knows^unguilcify. A It /u S^«" 3rm your countenance with innocency And boldly do the meflage to the Prince • For no man qKq mil be the meflfenger. * C/lf.j.c Why then I muft,/7nce thefs no remedy. [ExH Jra.d. IfH^ivn that guides the hearts of [Menti mighty men, ' Doealnriihe Winds oftAefe great Potentates And make them like of this Arbitrament Sweet Peace wiJ! tryumph thorough Chn-flendom, And germa^y (hill bids this happy day. Ef^tcr Alexander dc Toledot^^ r^^e. fi!'''"^? '^e moft mifcrablel O my dear Father! S.^.;;. What means this pa/Honate accent? what art thou That founds thefe acclamation* in our ears > ^/^x Pardon me Princes, Huveioft a Father, ?W "^^^ of Father kih my heart O ! I fhall never fee my Father more. H as tane his kaveof me for age and a'^c. Olle»» What was thy Father? " -^icx. Ah me i what was a not? Nobie. EmpersHr of Germany. I| Koble, Rich, valiant, welNbelov'd ofall. The glory and ihe wifdom of bis age^ Chief Secretary toihe Emperour. (pollen. LoreMz.0 de Toledo, isht dcid} ^lex. Dead, ay me dead, ay me my life is dead. Strangely this night bereft of breath and fenls. And 1, poor I, am comforted in nothing, But that the Emperour laments with me^ As J exclame. fo he, he rings his hands» And mikcsme mad to fee his Majeliy Excruciate himfelf with endlefs Ibrrow. Colleyj, The happielt news that ever I did heir Thy Father was a vilhin murderer, Witty, not wife, Jov'd like a Scorpion, Grown rich by the impoverifhing of others. The ehiefeli caufeof all chefe mutinies, And C^ej^r's tutor to all villaoie. jiltx. None but an open lyar terms him (o* Ccl. What Boy, fo malepcrt? . . „ ^ Bohem. Good Co//?« bear with him, it was his FAther, Stitch-land ishlt^tA in L«?r^«^o*s Death. ^ Brand. Did ncTcr live a viler minded mafi. Exeunt . Manet Alex. Alex, Nor King, nor CW/«r/?^ fliouJd be privileged TocallmeBoVfandrayl upon my Father, Were I wchrfafflig ; But ia qermanj, A man muft be a Boy at 40. year?. And dires not draw his weapon at a Dog, Till being foundly box'd about the ears. His Lord and Malier gird him with a fword; The time will come I (hall be made a tnan. Till then 1*1 pine with thought of dire revenge. And lire in Hell untill I lakerCvcDgc. fi ACT. 1/1 ALPHONSUS ACT. II. 3Ei»rff Alphonfus, Richard Earl of CornvfiW, Meni7, Trter Priffcff Edwai-d, Bohemia, CoUcn, Bi-andenburw Attendants^and Pages wttha^rvord. Bohent. Behold here come the Princes hand in hand Pieas'd highly with the fcntenee as it fcem??. AlfhoTj. Princes and Pillars of the Monarchy, We do admire your wifdoms in this caufe, And do accept the King o( Bohemia, As worthy partner in the Governmenr. Alas my Lords, I flatly now confefs, I was alone too weak to underprop So great a burden as the Roman Empire, And hope to make you all admire the courfe TTiat we intend in this conjun<5^ion. Richard. That I was cali'd from SnglandmthcotiCcai Of all the feven Ele(5lors to this place, Your (qU^ beft know, who wrote for me to come. Twas no ambition mov'd me to the joarney , But pitty of your half declining State; Which being likely now to be repayr'd. By the united force of thefe two Kings, 1 rert content to fee yon fatisfied. Mentz,, Brave Earl, wondc r of Princely patience, I hope your grace will not mif-think of me. Who for your good, and for the Empires beft, Bethough t this means to fet the world at Peace, (upon, Edward. No doubt this means might have been thought Although yr ur Holinefs haddy'd in Prifon. Merits. Peac<*, peace young.Prince,you want experience; Your Uockle knows what cares accompany. And wail uprn the Crowns ofmigh[ieft Kings, And glad he is that he hath fhak'd it off. Sdward. Heark in your ear my Lord, hear me one word,' Arthcugh it were more than a million. Which thcfe two Kings beftow'd upon your orace, Minellnckle /^/rW^x million fav'd your life! Me^!t^. Youwere bcQ to fay, yonr Vockle brib'f me f"«"- Edpi'ard. I.TT.'^srour (?/Gcrmany, i$ Edrvard. I do but lay mine Vnckle fav'ci your life* You know Count Mavsfeldyoui feJJow Prifoner, Was by the Duke of Brnnfclnvfg put to death. Me?:tz,. Yon ate a Child my Lord, your words are wind. Edward. You are a Fox my Lord, and paft a Child. Bohem, My Lord of Cormvall^yonv great forwardneff, CrolTiog the Seas with aid of EngliOimen, Is more than wc can any way requite ; But this your admirable patience, In being pleas'd with our elcdion, Dcfervcs far more than thanks can fatiffie. In any thing comniand the Emperours, Who live to honour Richard Earl of (^ormvall. Alpho. Our deeds fhall make our Prorefiations good, Mean while, brave Princes, let us leave this place, And folace as with ;oy of this accord. Ertn Ifabella the Empref, Hedcwick the Vuke c/ Saxon's Daughter, afparelled Irke Fort^ie, drawn on a Glohe^ with a Cup tn her hand, wherein are Bay leaves ^ trheretipon are written the lots. A tram of Ladies following tttth (JMnJick^. Empref. Togratulate this unexpe«5^ed Peace, This glorious league confi m'd ai;ainft allhope» JoyfuT J fahlla doth prefent ihi"? Hiew, of Fortunes triumph, as the cultom is At Coronation of our Emperours ; If therefore every party b? well pleas'd, And ftand content with this arbiirimcnt, Tlren daign to do 2s your Progenitors, And draw in fequence Lots for Offices. Alfborj. This is an order here in Germany,^ For Prmces to di'port themfelves with all* Infign their hearts fo firmly areconioyn'J, Tbat thev will bear a 1 fortunes equally, . And that the world may know I fcorn no ftate. Or courfc of life to do the Empire good, I take my chance : My Fortune is to be the Forreftcr. Emp, Ifwe want Vcnfon cither red Qt fallow. Id ALPHONSU8 Wild bore or bear, youmud be fin'd my lord. Bohem. The Emperour*s Ta/fcr I. £wp. Your MajeiJy hach been ta(kd to lb ofr, Th.tyou have need of ima I i inlirurlions* Richard. I am the bo,vr,Si/K'r what is my durc»c? Emp, Tyr'd iikea Career, andj Ciownifii Bovvr, To bring a load of Wood inco the Kirchiii. Now for my fcif, Faith I am Chamber Maid, I know my charge; proceed unco ihe next* ' Alphon. Prince Edward ftandeth melancholy ftil/, Pleafe it your Grace, my Lord, to dra;v your lot. Emp. Nephew you muli be fotemn with the fad. And given to myrth in fportful Company, The German Princes when they will be lufty. Shake of all cares, and Clowns and they are Fallow?, Edward. Sweet Aunt, I do not know the Country "uife Yet would be ^lad to learn al faQiions. ^ ' Since I am nexc, good Fortune be my guide. Brand. A mol^ ingenuous countenance hath iMs Prince Worthy to be the King of E^^^U^d's Heir. * Edward. Be it no dilparagcmcnt to you my Lords i am yoar Emperour. * ^lpho». Sound trumpets, God favetheEmocrour. ColU». The world could never worfe have fitted me, 1 am nor old cnouoh to be the Cook. EmprcJ?. If you be Cook, there is no remedy But you muft drefs one Mefs of meat your (elf. Brar:den. I am Phyfician, Trier. I am Secretary. Mtntjj. lam thejefler. Edward.O cxcellcnt.'isyourHoliners the Vice? Fortune hach fitted you y'faich my Lord, You'l play the Ambndexter cunningly. ' McKtz,. Your Highnefs is to biccer \n your fens* ^/;>W Come hither ^lexn^der, CO comion thee. After the death of thy beloved Father. Whofe life was deer unco his Emperour, Thou iTiait make one in this folemnity. Yet e're thou draw, my felf wiii honour thee And as ihe cpftom is make thee a man.. Scan4 Em^erour rf Germany; j^ Stand ftiiFSir Boy, now com'ft thou to thy tryal ; Take this.and ihat^nd therewithal! thi j Svvord|[V^ givesK^ If while thou live, thou ever take the like» Icxander a Of me, or any man, I here pronounce Box on the Thou art a fehelm* other wife a man. ear or nv^. Now draw thy lot, and Fortune b^ chy /peed. Edward. Vnckle I pray why did be box the fellow ? Fowl Jubber as he is, to take fuch blows. Richard. Thus do the Princes maketheir Pages men. Edward. But that is /^rangcto inake a man with blowy. We fay in England that he is a man. That like a man dare meet his enemy. And in my judgement 'tis the founder tryal. Alex. Fortune hath made me Madhatl of the tryumphj. Alpho/j, Now what remains? Emfcre^. That Fortune draw her lot. She Of ens it^ and gives it to the Empere^to read. EmpreJ^. Sound trumpets, Fortune is your Emperefs. Alphon. This happens right ; for Fortune will bcQji€en» Now Emperouryoumnft unmask her face. And tell us how you like your Emperefs, In my opinion England breeds no fairer. Bohe. Fair Hedewtckjhc Duke of 5rf;f<7/?/ daughter. Young Prince o( England, you are bravely match'd. Edward. Tell me Iweet Aunt, is that this Saxon Princefs^ Whofe beauties fame made Edward crofs the Seas ? EmpereJ?. Nephew, it is; hath fame been prodiga/; Or overfparing in the Princeis prailc? Edward. Fame lacca/cthee, thoudid'l^ni^gardize* And fnintly found my loves perfedicns. Great Lady Fortune, and fail Emperers> Whom chance this day hath thrown into my arms^ More welconne tHan the Rcni.in Emperefs. [Edward k.f" Hcd . . fece ooDl). isaffl aeit> if I underftand it, That's as muci to lay, ai I'l do fo no more. Evtpr, True Nephew. Edrvard. ^yay Aunt pardoQ mel pray,I hope to kifs her «niny tboufand limes. Aid Bmperpur of Germany. i^ ^fhalllgotoherJtkeagreat Boy, and fay M do fo no more. Emvref?. I pray Cofin fay as T tell you. Edward. (i^neetge0(ratDlfnl»erge&0trafrf0 k^ i8ai0 nfm« mcrtsie^jtljacn. Hedew. (Dncifger ijotljgebojnerifarff tJimtfjerr wan ftl) bonte fo t)U cngWc^ fj^jccljen kt) toolt elwec if or toaljj etn flU f geben, lct> !joffe after fc^ foil ttnmm ^0 DfsUertien oafs BDle mic^ ^ritr^en foil. Edivard. What fays Oiej* jibho». O excellent young Prince look to your felf. She fwcars ^e '1 learn fome Engjifli for yoar fake. To make you undcrfUnd her when fhe chides. Edward. I'l teach her Englifh, fhe (hall teach me Dutch. ©neDfgC0tratoUn,&c. 5(7/jf»r. It is great piety that the Duke oi Saxon, Is abfcm at this joyful accident, I fee no rcifon if his Grace were here, But that the Marriage might be fokmniz'd, I think the Prince of A^*«/ Or heart wl 1 break with burd;:n oFmy thought?^ Nor am I yet lb young or fond withal), Cauflefs tofpend my gall, and fret my heart, ' T\^ not that he is dead/or all mu!f dye ; But that I live to hear his \iwts reproicb. O (acred Empercur.thefc ears have he^rd. What no.Sons cars cin unrevenged hear, The Princes all of them, bur fpccially. The Prince EIev%r ArchbiOiop oiCollcyi^ Revil'd him by the names ofmurderer. Arch villain, robber of the Empires fame. And ('<)i{^irs [utor in all wickednefs. And with a general voice applaus'd his death, As for a Ipecial good to Chriftcndome. yjlphon. Have they not reafon to applaud the deed Which they thcmfelve? haveplottedr* ah my Boy, Thou art too young to dive into their drift-r". ^lex. Yet old enoagh I hope to be reveng'd. ^tphor. What wilt ihou do, or whither wilt thou run ? yilcw Headlong to bring them death, then dye my felf. Alpho-fu Firft hear the reafon why I do miftruft them* Emperot^r of Germany. zi j4!ex. They had no realon lor my Father's deajfa, And I I'corn reafon till they aiJ be dead. ^/pho». Thou will not /corn my Counfel in revenoe? t/ilcx. My rage admits no CounfcI but revenoe. ^ uilfhon. Firft let me teli thee whom I do millruf?. jllex. Ycur Hiolinefs faid you did mi/lruf] t'lem alJ. zy^ipho. Yea ^lexaf7der^aU of [hem, and more than aJ] My mo(i efpeciall neere/i deareii friends. yilex. AH 's one to me, for know thou Emperour, Were it thy Father, Brother, or thine Emprels, Yea were 't thy klf, that did'lt confpirt his death, Thi>;:'ataJ hand lliculd take away thy Jife. zy^IphoM. Spoke li ke a Son, worthy fo dear a Father y Be Hill and hearken, I vviJi tell ihee aJJ, 1 he Duke of Saxo??--- yilex. 0,I thGU£;ht noJefs. Alphcn. Suppreis thy choJer, hearken to the reR. Saxon 1 lay lb wrought with flittering Me?u^^ ajVtcntz. with Bohetniat Triers and Bran.ier.burg-t I-or Collen and the ?al\^rave of the %l)ein Were principals with 5^Ac»in the Plot, That ill a ^^eneral meeting to that purpoie The kwzn I'eleded Emperours elek.%rs, Moll hainouDy concluded of the murder ; The reafon why they doom'd him unto death. Was his deep wifdom and /bund policy ; Knowing while he did live my ftatcwas firm. He being dead my hope mufl dye with him. Now AUxaKder will we be reveng'd Upon tf^is wicked whore o\ B.ibjloyt, This hideous monfier with the feven-fold head • "We muR with cunning level at the heart. With piercd and periflit all the body dyzs: Or ftrikc we orf her heads by one and one. Behoove th us to ufe dexterity, LeH fhe do tramp'e us under her feer. And tryumph in our honours overthrow. Jlex.^ Mad and amaz'd to hear this tragick doom, I do iubfcribe unto your found advice. ' ('tence Aiphcri, Then hear the re'n;thefefcvenoave but ihefen.' D ? A 22 ALPHONSUS A necrerhambputu in extaadon. And but I lov'd Lor e^z,e ^Amy lite t I never wonhi betlcay my dcarelt Wife. j4lex. What ? what the Emprcfs acccflfary to ? Alfhott. What caonot kindred do? her Brother Richsrd, Wopin)? thereby to be an Emperour, Gave her a dram that tent him to his grave, (tyilex. O my poor Fathe'r.vvert thou fuch an eye- fore. That 9, the greaicd Princes of the earth Muft be confederate in thy tragedy ? Bat why do I rcfpeft their mightinef"?, Who did not once refpcsft my Fathers life ? Your Majef^tnaytakeit asyouylea'e, ri be reveog'd upon your Empcrefs, On Englifh %tchard^ Saxon, and the Palforave, On BohemfCollcf7y/l there are two very bowrs Appointed for to help him in the AVood, Thcfe muli bcbrib'd or cunningly feduc'd, Infiead of helping him to murder him. Alf. VcrbHm fatts fapieMhit is enough. Fortune hach madcmc Marfhal of the fport* 1 hope to Matfhal tbcm to th' Devils Feaft. Plot you the jrc^> this will I execute, Dutch bowrs as towfaadtfchelms and gold to tempt them - Alphon. ' ris^right, about it thcn» but cnnninglf . Alex. Elfe let me lofc that good opinion Which by your Hii;hnefs I dcfire tohold> By Letters which I'l ftrew within the Wood, ri undermine the bowrs to murd«ir him, Nor (hill they know who fet them fo a work* Like a familiar will I fly aboarj Ami 24 ALPHONSUS And nimbly haunt chcir Ghofts in every nook. Exit. M(ir,et Alphonfus, ^Iphon. This one nayl helps 10 drive the other oor» 1 flew the Father, and bewitch the Sod, With power of words to be the in/^rumenc To rid my iocs wich danger of his life. How eafily can fubui age intice. Such credulous yo;ing novices to their death ? Huge wondtrs svili Al^honfiu jring lo ^di(s^ By the mad mind of thn enraged Boy; Even they which think rhcmfelves my greattft friend?. Shall fall by this deed yc* my Arch-enemies Shall turn to be my chief confederates. My foliitary walks may biecd Mpt^, rie therefore give my fc.'f ro Companie, As I intended nothing but tnc.'efports Yet hope to fend molf a.tor. int ;is Pageant, To Revel ii with Rh^dAnKim in i^dl. £x/i. Enter Richard Earl of Cornwall hl:^ a Clo-.v>t. Richard. How far Is Rich.i d now unlike the man That crol^ the Seas to win an h-nperie ? But as I plod it like a plumper Bowr, To fetch in Fewel for the Kitchin fire, So every one in his vocation. Labours to make the paflimes plaufible -, My Nephew Edward jas it through the Court, "With Pxinceis i/^f^/^nV^/^Emprefsofhis Fortune The demy C^far in his hunters fuic, Makes all the Court to Ring wiih Horns and Hounds, Co//f«cheCook beiiirs him in the Kitchin; Bat that which joyts me moii in all thefe I'ports, Is Mentz., to fee how he is made an Afs ? The common feorn and by-word of the Court; And every one to be the fame he fecms. Seems to forget to be the fame he is. Yet tomyroabs I cannot fuitmymind. Nor with my habit lliake dilTionour ol?. The fevfn Ele»5lorspromis'dmetbe Empire, The perjuc*d Bifliop Msntx, did fwcar no k(s Y€f :Emferdur of Germany, 2J Yet I have Teen it Hiar'tJ before my face, Whife my be.'t friends do hide cheir heads forfhame* I bear a (lievv of outward fml contend, But^rief thereof hath almoft kill'd my heart. Here re(^ liiee Richard ^i\^\vk upon a mean, To end thy life, or to repair ihinc honcur9 And vow ]KVs.r co Ire fair Eijgl.uids bounds. Till thou in yiix be Crowned Empercur. Ei:tcriwo Bowrs. Holla.mc thinks there ccmech Company, The Bowrs J tree that come to hew (he Wood^ Which I muli carry to the Kitchen Fire, Tie lye a while and JilJen to cheir talk. r.?i:er fians.v.v/ J.^rick two Dutch Bowrs. Jc. l^om^fcr ^?iii3 lt3o;e bill Doto, VoarumbbfC lotDfO tratrjfcU ?b tmt^tt botojc,bompt bfcr. ooct Dfcfe^ tjna icnner fclleucb bol^n. Rich, jcbbicncin^urll. 0;ieDnucbnfcbttbj fcbclma, \^% Bath. ^lato,flato, tofrVDfUpoto farftUch tractlcrcn. Richard having nothing in his hand but his wnip, defends himfclfawhile, and then fell's down, a? if he were dead : Rich. £)(5ot, nfmbradnefcefefnoefnebanoe. Jerick. £D cyccUent.bwticfe ^ tettiOt,bc<9toot» )lat.t)n0 fee. Isatbe W Co; gelt hzi^ (icb, tiolla \i\tx is all enongb. all faff, tjo^fs foj okb; atio 80 j (0 fo; xt;:,^^, tjno Dftt M)L(cbiMKtobaben: J(fr;Vj^puts the chain about his necV, Han?, ^oto fo iaans i>ai:bal0» gciKmirolebcttcbtsr. Jerick. 31a tm Ojccb, 5lt fern tte^ct bupCcb timbmcin baUfi 0(ft toUUcb tragcn. Hans. 2Dat oicb poffs tJcltcH le^ocit uat foUa nfmmer* mebJtbunDoUjfcbcim. Jerick. ijulat foUootomifbfcbchttljdtm.nfmbtjRf. Hans. ^atDtcbbunocrttonncnoltcll0, barricb Ml Qtfi^ lernen. Jerick. taUf uT) batocti oocr Uecben ? Hans. Bleb Voill rcDlicb bi^toen ; Jerick. j>i.xix VDolltui, Dar in inefn racfe* fla tO; They mufl have axc« made for the nonfl to fTght vvit'iall, and w.'iile one l^rikey, the other holds his back w'rhout defence. Hans: ^!'nb oo*tj oaa, brto &ar baflt twin ruck. Jerict J>^c^ amj^l: £)erceIlcm,Ugftoote Uar, min tsiftt ftb 91183 habcii gelttinofectt,bnOaUc mtt dnanoer. £) but* f(c frtfc^^tjpludts nan bin fcbcinburtfg Junckcr. T^lcy^ard rifes up again and fnatcbeth up the fellows hatchet tnat was llain. Rich.A'c Herculcj artra ^//o;,yQcpoJliey hath gone beyond ibemboih. ^u Emperour of Germany. 2 7 jirtr o(e feett Uno gcU tofeoer ,• Jenck. OTat btttu lutcoer labenDfg InojUen, fo m«g ict) meren, toat tutltu ftecl^en ooer ftalwen ? Ridiar.'. S>o totU Ubcn Richara . ^apt mfr Oan toer ftatt ofe b jfetfe geccbJfebcn ? ^f e ntcl^t (ionQern fagt Dfe Uiar^eft : Jerick. £D ttiefn ftomcr. giitcr, cMcr, peHrenger B^uncfecr, oar fit uat gck tjno bett toicoer, poto foil allea ftabcn, F.bec lDer^attDteb^fefifegefcb}feb0n,Dattoet tc^ bep mcfncr fcele rrttbt. Kich. ?Lfg 00) tttU. Itm U\f fag. ' The villain ivVvars , and deeply doih protdi^ He kno^vs noi who incired them to this, And T^ ir (cems the fcrowl imports no kCs. ^0 fterb ou mfc ficbelm. jcriuk. £) icb Uexb, atoe. atse, atoe oat oicb oer Diteff |)oie/ ^/ Richard kji^ tl^f Bowr. Enter Saxon and the PaHgTive. Saxon. i?p ofcl) ati lofcr Ocbehif, \faXt\x nzin gelellen to^t gc(cblagcn ? J^aiigr. Haft tjs oen fcbelmcn angrclffert Rich.nd. CaJJ you nic ibeUltC how dare you clien Being Princ:fs oifcr to lay hands on me? That is the Hani^mans Office here in Dutch-land. Saxon. But this is ftrange, our Bours can fpcak no Eng« lifln. What birtum more than a damn'd murderer ? That t! ou art lomuch we arewitneires. Rich. Can then thishabiraltcrmefomucFj, That I am call d a villain by my friends? Or Hiali I dare once to fufpc^-'t your graces. That for you could not make me Emperour, Pittyingmy forvovv through mine honour lolJ, Yon fei thefe flsvcs to rid me of my life, Tci far be fuch a thought from Richard^ $ heart. E * ^ T.r//. a8 ALPHONSUS rjil[. H0W now ? what do I licar prince Richard fpeak ? Rich. The fame : but wonder tbat he liwtii loTpcak. And had nor poh"cy heipt above iirength^ Thefe fturdy Iwain^ had rid me oFmy Jife. ^Sax. Fir be it from your Grace for to fufpefl v$. Rich. Alas, I know not whom I llioujd fufpeiS • But yet my heart cannot mifdoubr your Graces ? Saxon, How came your Highnels i;jto thisapparrel .^ Rich. We ai? the manner is drew lots for Oilice^, My hap was hardell: to be made a Carter, And by this letter which (omt villain wrote I wa-? betray'd, here to be murdered; But Heav'n which doth defend the Innocent, Arm'd me with flrenoch and policy tOi;ether That I efcap'd out of their treacherous i'nare! Palf. Were it well founded, I dare lay my iife^ TheSpanilh tyrant xncw of thisconfpiracie; Therefore the b.'cer lo dive into the depth Of this mo'i deviililli murderous compjoti As alfo fecrcf ly to be beliolders, Ofthe iong-willit for wedding of your dau^'hter W^ vvill diirobe thefe bowrs of their apparrel Clapping their ruflick cafes on our backs, And help your Hi'^AiUo^fs for to drive thec'arf. T' may be the traytor that did write theTe lines Milhkfng us for them will (htw himfelf. Richard. Prince Palatiy?? this p-ot doth pleafeme well, I make no doubt ifvve deal cunning, y. But we fhaiJ find the writer of this fcroul. Saxon. And in that hope I will difrobe this flave. Come Princes in the neighbouring thicket here, Wemavdifguifeourrelvcs, and talk at plcafure- Fye on him heavy iijbber how he weighs, Richard. The fin ofmurdcr hangs upon his foul, It is no meryail chen i^t\^ be heavy. Exeum . AC Mmperour pref-jihen theTa<^er, th^- S -cretary the Forrerter, the Pnyiipian, as for the Chambermaid and my felt, we will take ourp'acesat the neither end, the JvHer is to wait up, and live by the crums that fall from the tmperours trencher, But rosv I have Marfhal d yu to iht:tab^e» what remains?' Mentz.. Every fool can tell that, when mtn are /ct to dinner they commonly cxp'^tfl n eat. Edyvard. That's the beft ]d\ the fool made fince he came into his Oifice. Mar'Tial walk into the Kitchin, and lee how the Churfurfi of Co lien br ftirs himfc if. Exit. Alex. Mehtz.. Shalllgowith hiir. too?i love tobc imploy'd in the Kitchin. Ld rard. I prcthee go, that we may be rid of thy wicked ]c(ls. Mentz.. Have with ihee Marfhal, the fool rides thee. Sxit. on Alex. h({f;k^ E 3 Alphon. ^o ALPHONSUS AlphoH. isow by mine honour, my Lord OitMentz, plays tlie fool the worft that ever I faw. SdTvard. He do's all by contraries ; for I am fure he playd the witcman iike atool, and now he plays the fool wilcly. Alphon. Princes and C/;«r/:'me, When Chriftian Princes ;oynin amity, Schinck bowls of Reinfal and the pureftVVine, We'I fpend this evening luHieupfie Dutch, In honour of this unexpedcd league. Empref. Nay gentle Fjrrelier, diere you range amifs. His looks are fitly fuitcd to his thoughts. His glorious Emprcfs makes his heart tryumph. And hearts tryumphing makes his countenance (laid. In contemplation of his lives delight. Sdward. Good Aun t let me excufe my fclf in this, I am an Emperour but for a day, SheEmprefs ofmy heart while life doth Jaft; Then give me leave to ufe Imperial looks. Nay iri be an Emperour I'l take leave. And here I do pronounce it openly. What I have lately whifpcr'd in her ears, 1 love mine Emprefs more than Empery, I love her looks above my fortunes hope. (bowl, (i^bhon. Saving your looks dread Emperour td gdt a tlmo tne health of your fair Bride and Emprefs. Edward, ^rfn (^ot es foU mfr en ifcbc tijanfe Tefn, fo much Dutch have I learnt Hnce I aame into Cjermahy. Bran. When you have drunk a dozen of chefc bowlj. So can your Maje% with a full mouth, Trowl out high Dutch, till then ic (oxxnds not right, ^}antf 00 gelt nocl^ tim i\^% ^a^edat^ Edwird. ^afn CDot la(0 lauSfem Bohem. My Lord of Brandenburg fpoken like a jgOOfll Dutch Brother; But moft unlike a good Phyfician, You fbould coofider what he has to do, HisBfide will give you little thanks tonight. AlphoM. Ha, ha my Lord, now give me leave to laugh. Hcn2c4not therefore (hun one Beaker full. In Emfirour <^/Germany. jt In Saxon Land you know it is the ufe. That the fir(^ night ihe Bridegroom fpares the Bride. Bohem. 'Tis true indeed,that had I quite forootcen. Edward. Howundeifhnd I that ? uilfhon. That the firft night, TheBtide and Bridegroom never fleep together. £dxvard. That may well be,perchance they wake together. Bohem. Nay witliout (aJiacc they have feverai Bedsf Edward, I in one Chamber, that is moft Princely. ^Iphan. Not oaely feverai Beds, but feverai Chamber?, Locke fonndly coo, with Iron Bolts and Bars. Smpr, BeJeevemeNephevv, that's the cuibm here. Edward. O my good Aunt, the world is now gcown new. Old cuftoms ace but fuperfiitions. I 'm lure this day, this prefence all can witnefs, The high and miohcy prince th* .ArchbiOiopofO//^;;, Who now is bum in the skullery, Jovn'd us together in Si. 'Peters Church, And he that would disjovn us two to night, ' i wixt )di and earnelt be it proudly fpoken, ShaUeat a pieceofill-digeHing Iron. B i i je iviii t)otD Of0 tifc^t ben mee rc{)lapen< Hedc. H)abeS)utemfcb(^ottfur, Bfc^t^offed^nretiMieCffC Mis ton miv mf ft. bcgeran* Edipard. What fays (Ik- bcl^tlte mfc^ (DOt fwr? yllphoM. She fays God bicfs her from luch a deed. Edivard. Tufli Emprefs^clap thy hands upon thy head. And God will blefs thee, I have a Jacobs ftaff, Sha'l take the Elevation of ihe Pole ; For I have heard it fayd. the Dutch North ftar, Is a degree or two higher than ours, Bohem. Nay though we talk lets drink, and Emperour, l'\ tell you p'ainly what you muft truftunto, Can they decei e you of your Bride to night. They'll fureiy do't, therefore lo^k to yonr felf. Edivard. If flu' deceive me not, let all do their worft. yllphoK. Aff ire you Emperour fhe'l do her beftt. Edward. I think the Maids in (^ermany arsmad, E'rethey bemarryed they will notkifs. And being marryed will not go to Bed. Wc 3i A.LPH0NSU8 Yfe drink about. Ice's talk no more of this. Well warn'd half arm 'd our Englifh proverb fay jilphon. Holla Marfha!, what lays the Cook ? Bmer A cxandcr. Belike he thinks we have fed fo w..l already. That we difd^iin his fimplc Cookery. Alex.Viixh the Cook lays (p, that his Office was to dreft a mcfs ofmeac with that Wood which the Englifh Prince fliould brint' in, but he hath neither feen Dutch Wood nnr Eng- iilh Prince, therefore he dc/iresyou hold him excu^'d. jilphon. I wonder where Prince Richard l^ays fo long. Alex. Aa*t, pleafe your Majefly,hc*s come at length, AnJ with him has he brought a crew of Bowrs, A hipfe bqwr maikins kt(h as FJow'rs in May, With whom they mean to dance a Saxon round, 1 1 honour ofihe Bridegroom and his Bride. Edrvard. So has he made amends for his long tarrying. Ipiethee Mar/liali them into the prefence. siphon. Lives K^chard then ? I had thought th' hadft made him fure. Alex, O I could fear my flefh toihink upon 'c, He lives and kcrctly hath brought with him. The Palfgrave and the DuVe ofSaxome^ Clad like two Bowrs, e /en in the fame apparrel (him, Thar i/4»/ and Jf/'^'^^vvore when they went out to murder It now behooves us to be circu-nfpe.'K Alphon. It likes me not ; Away MarHial bring them. Exti. Alexander. I Jong to fee this fports concluhon. Bohem. Vi\ not a 'oveJy lio'u to fee this couple Sit fweetly billing like two Turtle Doves. Alphon. I promife you it fets my Teeth an Ed^e, That I murt take mine Emprefs in mine arms. Comehither Ifabel^ though thy roabs be homely. Thy face and countenance noids coloar dWl Enter Em^erettr of Germany. 3- Enter Alexander, Collen, Mentz, Richard, Soxony, Pall- grave, CoUen Cook, with a gaKKOK oj raw b^.conl ^^d Itnkj or puddings in a flatter, Richard, Pallorave Saxon, Mentz, likj Clowns wiih each of them a Critter with (^orances on their Jjeadt, Collen, Dread Empcrour and Emperefs fotr to day, I Your appcinied Cook un[ill co morrow, Have by the MarlTial lent my ]\xi\ excufe. And hope your Hi\t;hnelsi3 therewith conrenr, Our Carter lie. e for whom I now do /peak. Says that his Axletrce broke by t',e way. That is his anlvvcr, and for you fiiaJI not f^miHi, He and his fellow bovvrs of the next dorf), Have brougtit a fchinkel of good raw Bacon, And that's a common mest withus,unrod, Defiring you, you would not /'corn the fare, 'Twilmakei cupof Wineiaf-^enippiiate. Ed^vard. Welcome good fellovvs, we thank you for your prcfcnr. Richard. SofptMtvcffy op and let us rommersaunfcu. y^lex. Pleale it your Highnef»to dance with your Bride? Edward. Alas I cannot dance your (Jerwan dances. Bohcm . I do befeech your HighneJs mock us not, We Germans hive no changes in our dances> An Almain and an upfpring that is all. So dance the Princes, Burgcrs^and the Bovvr?. Brand. So daunc'd our Auncc/lors for thoufand year j Edrvard. It is i fign the Dutch are not newfangled. ric follow in the meafarc ; MarOial lead. Alexander andyitnxz have the fore dance with each of them a glafs offViKe tntheir hands^ then Edward and Hedewick, Palfgravc ^rid Emprefs, and two other couple, after T>rHm and Trumpt. The Palfgrave whifpers with the Emprcfs. Al\)hon, I think the Bowr is amorous of my Emprcfj. ^t%\ feOtUJ and ICfTcl xmiq.tXly when thou com'ft to houfc. (pollen. Now is your Graces time to flcal away, F Look j4 ALPHONSUS Look to'c or elfc you'l lie alone to night. Ed vard fl:als air ay the Bride. Alex, ('DnnkcthtothcPalfgrave,) ^eU&^toje. Palforave. &a(non, I cinnot tc/f, not ill, and yet methinks I am not well . Boh tot. Bwpirour of Gcrm-ariy. 35 JSoheni. Were k a poyfon 'tvv uld begin to work* j^lfhon. Notro,3ll poyfons do not work alike. Palf. If there were poyion in, which God forbid* The Emprefs and my fclr and ^yUexandcr^ Have caufe to fear as well as any other. Jlphofj. Why didft thou throw the Wine upon theeatth? Hadft thou but drunk, thou hadft fatisficd our minds. Falf. I will not be enforc't by Sp?nifli bands* ^Ipho», If all be well with us, that fchuce (hall f^rve* If not, the Spaniards blood will be revcng'd. Kich, Your Majefty is more afraid than hnrr# Bohem. For me I do not fear my felf a whit. let all be friends, and forward with our mirth, £nter Edward in his night'goron And hisjhirt. Eichard. Nephew,how now?is all well with you? Bohem. I lay my life the Prince has loft his bride, Edward. I hope not fo, Qie is but ftray'd a little. Alphon. Your Gracemuft not be angry though we laugh. Edward. If it had hapned by default of mine,. You might have worthily laught me to fcorn; But to be fo deceiv'd, fo over reach'd. Even as I meant to clafp her in mine arms. The grief is intollerable, not to be gucft^ Or comprehended by the thought ofany „ But by a man that hath been fo deceiv'd, And that's by no man living but my felf. Saxon. My Princely Son-in-Law God oive you joy, Edward. Of what my Princely Father? Saxon. O* my Daughter. Your new berroathcd Wife and Bed- fellow. Edward. I thank you Father, indeed I mult confcfs She is my Wife, but not my Bed-fellow. Saxon, How fo youn^ Prince? I faw you fteal her hence. And a?, me thought flic went fu!l willingly. Edward. Tis true, ! (kj'e her finely ftom amongft yon. And by the Arch Billiop o^Collens help. Got her alone into the Bridi-Chamber, Where havi no lockt the Door,' thoug'-c all vvas WCll. I could not fpeak bat pointed to the Bed, ^ ^ Fa She 3 Unlefs by force we break the Nets afunder. When he begins to cavil and pick quarrels, I will not truft him inihz leafi deoree. Emprefs. It may befeemme evilJ to mi^ruft My Lord and Bmperour ofio foul a fa A ; But love unco his honour and your lives* Makes mc with tears intreat your Excellencies To fly with fpeed out of his danf;erous reach. His clou'ly brow fo^^ceJls afnddain ftorm Of blood noc natural but prodigic us. F.rch, The CaiHe gates are (imi, how GhouJd we ty Bui But were they open> 1 would lofc my life, E'rc I would leave my Nep'iew to the flauofiter; He and his Bride were fure t<^ bear the brunt. Saxoyi, Could I^et out ot'doors, I'ld venture that And yet I hold their perfons dear enough, I would not doubt, but e're themornino Sun Should ha It' way run his courfe into the South. To compaH? and begirt bim in his Forts \\!\i\\ Saxon lanskniohtsand brunt-bearing ^rnVx-fr/, Who lye in Amhufcado not far hence. That he fhould come to Cornpofition, And with fafeconduil bring into our tents. Both Bride and Bridegroom, and all other friend?. EmpreJ^, My Chamber Window ftands upon the Wall '» And thence with eafe you may elcape away. Saxon. Prince Rtchard, yo\x will bear me Coiftpany? %ichard. I will my Lord, SdxofK An J you Prince Pdl!^ti»e? Palf, The Spanifh Tyrant harh me in fufpeil Of poyfoning him, VI therefore Ihy it out. To fly upon't were to accufe my felf. £wf,rej?. Ifneed require, Tie hide the PMLttinff, llntiJl to morrow, if you ftay no longer. Saxon. IfCodbewith us, e're tomorrow noon. We'll be with Eingns Ipread before the Walls, We leave dear pledges of our quick reiucn. Entf, May the Heavens profper your \\x\k intents. Exeunt. Er.ter Alphonfus. y4//?/77.ThIs dangerous pjoc was happily overheard. Here diJ(t thou lifien io a biefl'ed howr. Alexander, where do'ft thou hide thy felf? I've fought thee in each Corner of the Court, And now or never mult thou play the xn^n. ^Isx. And now or never muf^ your Highnefs riir. Treai'on Haih round encompaffed your fife. ^llphoyr, I have no leafure now to hear thy talk. Seeft thou this Kc^ ? ' Alex. Int-.^nds your Majefiy ihatllliould Hleal into the Piinees Chambers, F i And ;g ALPHONSUS A.nd fleeping fiab them in their Beds to night? That cannot be. uilphoff. wik than not hear me rpeak? ^lex. The Prince o( England, 5Avo»,and oiColUn, Are in the Emprcfs Chamber privily. jilphon. All this is nothing, they would murder m«, I come not there to nightjfeeli thoa this Kc> ? u^lrv. They mean to fly out at the Chamber Window, And raife an" Army to befecch your Grace, No w may your Highncls take tbem with the deed. Alphofi. The Prince o^H^Mes I hope is none of them. ^lex. Him and his Bride by force they will recover. Alphofj, What makes the eurfcd Palfgrave of the Rheh ? u4lcx. Him hath the Emprcfs taken to her charge. And m her Clofet means to hidebim /afe, Alphon. To hide him in her Clofei ? of bold deeds. The deareft charge that e're Hie undertook, Well let them bring their Cooipiot* *o aocnd, I'lc undermine to meet them in their works, Alex. Will not your Grace furprizc thcmc*rc they fly ? tAlphott. No, let them bring their purpcfe to effcit, I'lefall upon them atmybeft advantage, Secrt thou this Key ? there take it Alexander; Yet take it not unlefs thou be refolv'd ; Tufh I am fond to make a doubt of thee; Take it I lay, it dorh command all Doors, And will make open way to dire revenge* Alex. I know not what your Ma/efty doth mean. Alphon. Hie thee with fpecd into the inner Chamber^ Next to the GhappeU and there (halt thoa find The danty trembling Bride coutcht in her Bed, Having beguil'd her Bridegroom ofhishopesi Tafking her farcwel of Virginity, Which Hie to morrow night exDCvfti to lofe, By night ali Cats are gray, and in the dark* She will imbrace thee for the Prince nfi^yaUt, Thinking that he hath found her Chamber ouc, Fall to thy bafinefs and makeffw wor.^s. And having picas'd tliy fenfci with delight. Add Em^erour c/Gcrraany. ^§ And fildday beating vains with ftcaling joy. Make thence agcn before the break of day. What ftrangc events will fellow this device. We need not ftady oe^our foes fiiall find. How now ?faow ftand^ thou? haft thou not the heart? Alex, Should I not have the heart to do this dccd,^ I were a Baftard villain and no man; Her fwcetnefs, and the fweetnefs of revenge* Tickles my fenfcs in a double fenfc. And (o I wifii yonr Majefty good night. Alfhon, Godnight,rwectr' and caufclefs enmity, Twixt dejsrcft friends that arc my ftrongcft focJ, Wiil follow fuddainly upon this rape; I hope to live to fee* and laugh thereaf, And yet this peece of pra^icc is not alh The King o^Bohem though he little feci it, Bccaufein twenty hours it will network. Hath from my Knives point fuck'd his deadfy bane. Whereof I will be Icaft of all fufpeded ; For I will feign my fclf as fick as he. And blind mine enemies cyzs with deadly groanj ; Upon the Palfgrave and mine Empcrefs, Heavy fufpedt (ball light to bruze their bones j Though Saxon would not fufFer him to tafte. The deadly potion provided for him Hecannotfavehimffomth^ Sword of luflice. When all the world fhaH think that like a villain, He hath poyfon'd two great Eraperours with one draught; That deed is done, and by this time I hope, The other is a doing, zy^^exander I douSr it not will doit thorovvly. While the'^ things arc a brewing VI not fleepi But ludiinly break ope the Chamber doors, And ruHi upon my Emprcfs and the Palfgrave, HoIIi 40 ALPHO N SUS Holla vvher's the Captain of the Guard ? Etiter Captai/j^ and Sonldiers, Cap. What would your Majcfty ? Alphon, Take fix travants well artn'd andfollowe, They hrc^hjivith violence into the Chamhert and Alphonfus trayU the Emprefs by the hair. Enter Alphonfus,, EmpreJ^^ Souldiers^Uc Alphon. Come forth thou damned Witch, adulterous Whore, Foul fcandal to thy name, thy fex, thy blood, Emp, O Emperour, gencle Husband^pitty me. Alphon. Canft chou deny thou wert confederate. With my arch enemies that fought my blood? And like a Strumpet through thy Chamber Window, Haft with thineown hands helpt to jet them down, With an intent that they Hiould gather arms, Befiege my Court, and take awa> my life ? Emf, Ah my Alphonfus, Alphon. rhy