He never fail'd me; what have I deserv'd
To lose this good man's heart, or he his own?
Urs. The night doth waste, this passion ill becomes

you;
Provide against your danger.

K. Hen. Let it be so. Urswick, command straight Stanley to his chamber. 'Tis well we are i’ th' Tower: set a guard on him. Clifford, to bed; you must lodge here to-night ; We'll talk with you to-morrow. My sad soul Divines strange troubles.

Daw. [within.) Ho! the king, the king ! I must have entrance.

K. Hen. Dawbeney's voice; admit him.
What new combustions huddle next, to keep
Our eyes from rest ?—the news ?

Enter DAWBENEY.
Daw. Ten thousand Cornish,
Grudging to pay your subsidies, have gather'd
A head; led by a blacksmith and a lawyer,
They make for London, and to them is join'd
Lord Audley : as they march, their number daily
Increases; they are-

K. Hen. Rascals !-talk no more ;
Such are not worthy of my thoughts to-night.
To bed—and if I cannot sleep,--I'll wake.-
When counsels fail, and there's in man no trust,
Even then, an arm from heaven fights for the just.

Eaceunt.

ACT II. SCENE L

Edinburgh.-The Presence-Chamber in the Palace.' Enter above, the Countess of CRAWFORD, Lady KATHE

RINE, JANE, and other Ladies. Countess. Come, ladies, here's a solemn prepara

tion For entertainment of this English prince; The king intends grace more than ordinary ; ’T were pity now, if he should prove a counterfeit. Kath. Bless the young man, our nation would be

laugh'd at For honest souls through Christendom! my father Hath a weak stomach to the business, madam, But that the king must not be cross'd.

Countess. He brings A goodly troop, they say, of gallants with him : But very modest people, for they strive not To fame their names too much; their godfathers May be beholding to them, but their fathers Scarce owe them thanks: they are disguised princes," Brought up, it seems, to honest trades; no matter, They will break forth in season.

Jane. Or break out: For most of them are broken by report. [Music. The king!

Kath. Let us observe them and be silent. A Flourish.—Enter King James, HUNTLEY, CRAWFORD,

DALYELL, and other Noblemen. K. Ja. The right of kings, my lords, extends not

only

1

-they are disguised princes, &c.] The Countess is pleased to be facetious. It appears, however, from better authorities than those before us, that Perkin was very respectably, not to say honourably, attended on this occasion.-GIFFORD.

VOL. 1.-22

To the safe conservation of their own,
But also to the aid of such allies,
As change of time and state hath oftentimes
Hurl’d down from careful crowns, to undergo
An exercise of sufferance in both fortunes; -
So English Richard, surnam'd Coeur-de-Lion,
So Robert Bruce our royal ancestor,
Forced by the trial of the wrongs they felt,
Both o and found, supplies from foreign
Ings, -
To repossess their own; then grudge not, lords,
A much-distressed prince; king Charles of France,
And Maximilian of Bohemia, both
Have ratified his credit by their letters;
Shall we then be distrustful ? No; compassion
Is one rich jewel that shines in our crown;.
And we will have it shine there.
Hunt. Do your will, sir.
K. Ja. The young duke is at hand; Dalyell, from us
First greet him, and conduct him on ; then Crawford
Shall meet him next, and Huntley, last of all,
Present him to our arms.-(Exit DAL.]—Sound
• sprightly music,
While majesty encounters majesty. [Flourish.

Re-enter DALYELL, with PERKIN WARBECK, followed at a distance by FR1ON, HERON, SKEToN, AstLEY, and John A-WATER. CRAwford advances, and salutes PERKIN at the door, and afterward HUNTLEy, who presents him to the King ; they embrace; the Noblemen slightly salute his followers.

War. Most high, most mighty king !' that now there stands

Before your eyes, in presence of your peers,
A subject of the rarest kind of pity
That hath in any age touch'd noble hearts,
The vulgar story of a prince's ruin,
Hath made it too apparent : Europe knows,
And all the western world, what persecution
Hath raged in malice against us, sole heir
To the great throne of th' old Plantagenets.
How, from our nursery, we have been hurried
Unto the sanctuary, from the sanctuary
Forced to the prison, from the prison haled
By cruel hands, to the tormentor's fury,
Is register'd already in the volume
Of all men's tongues; whose true relation draws
Compassion, melted into weeping eyes
And bleeding souls: but our misfortunes since
Have rang'd a larger progress thro' strange lands,
Protected in our innocence by Heaven.
Edward the Fisth, our brother, in his tragedy,
Quench'd their hot thirst of blood, whose hire to mur.

ther
Paid them their wages of despair and horror;.
The softness of my childhood smiled upon
The roughness of their task, and robb’d them farther
Of hearts, to dare, or hands to execute.
Great king, they spared my life, the butchers spared

it! Return'd the tyrant, my unnatural uncle, A truth of my despatch; I was convey'd With secrecy and speed to Tournay; fosterd By obscure means, taught to unlearn myself: But as I grew in years, I grew in sense Of fear and of disdain; fear of the tyrant Whose power sway'd the throne then: when disdain Of living so unknown, in such a servile And abject lowness, prompted me to thoughts of recollecting who I was, I shook off My bondage, and made haste to let my aunt of Burgundy acknowledge me her kinsman;

Heir to the crown of England, snatch'd by Henry From Richard's head; a thing scarce known i'th'

world. K. Ja. My lord, it stands not with your counsel

now