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K. Hen. Forward, lords, To London. Fair, ere long, I shall present you With a glad object, peace, and Huntley's blessing.
London.—The Tower-hill. Enter Constable and Officers, WARBECK, URSWICK, and
LAMBERT SIMNEL as a falconer, followed by the rabble.
Const. Make room there! keep off, I require you; and none come within twelve foot of his majesty's new stocks, upon pain of displeasure. Bring forward the malefactors.-Friend, you must to this geer, no remedy.-Open the hole, and in with the legs, just in the middle hole; there, that hole. Keep off, or I'll commit you all! shall not a man in authority be obeyed? So, so, there; 't is as it should be :-[WARBECK is put in the stocks.)-put on the padlock, and give me the key. Off, I say; keep off! Urs. Yet, Warbeck, clear thy conscience: thou
hast tasted King Henry's mercy liberally; the law Has forfeited thy life; an equal jury Have doomed thee to the gallows. Twice most
wickedly, Most desperately hast thou escaped the Tower; Inveigling to thy party, with thy witchcraft, Young Edward, earl of Warwick, son to Clarence; Whose head must pay the price of that attempt;
1 Here, at all events, it might have been thought that this drama would have concluded; but such was not the nature of a Chronicle-history; and, after all, Ford's expanse of subject is but trivial compared with that of some of his predecessors. In the dedication of “Promos and Cassandra" (1578) its author (Whetstone), observing on the offences which some of his contemporaries committed against probability, says, “In this quality the Englishman is most vaine, indiscreete, and out of order: he first grounds his work on impossibilities, then in three howers ronnes he throwe the worlde, marryes, gets children, makes children men, men Lo conquer kingdoms, murder monsters, &c. &c."
Poor gentleman!-unhappy in his fate-
Šimn. You would be Dick the Fourth, very likely!
War. Baited to my death! Intolerable cruelty! I laugh at The duke of Richmond's practice on my fortunes ; Possession of a crown ne'er wanted heralds.
Simn. You will not know who I am ?
Urs. Lambert Simnel,
Simn. I would be earl of Warwick, toil'd and ruffled
It Your pedigree is publishd, &c.] “Thus it was. There was a townsman of Tournay, whose name was John Osbeck, a convert Jew, married to Catherine de Faro, whose business drew him to live, for a time, with his wife at London, in King Edward the IV.'s days. During which time he had a son by her; and being known in court, the king did him the honour to stand godfather to his child, and named him Peter. But after. ward proving a dainty and effeminate youth, he was commonly called by the diminutive of his name, Peterkin or Perkin.”- Bacon. The term land-loper, applied to him by simnel, is also from the historian. "" He (Perkin) had been from his childhood such a wanderer, or, as the king called him, such a land-loper, as it was extreme hard to hunt out his nest."
Eat from the king's purse, and enjoy the sweetness
neck ? So, then,
the gallant totters !--prithee, Perkin, Let my example lead thee; be no longer A counterfeit; confess, and hope for pardon. War. For pardon ? hold my heartstrings, while
contempt Of injuries, in scorn, may bid defiance
To this base man's foul language! Thou poor yermin, 1 How dar'st thou creep so near me ? thou an earl ! Why, thou enjoy'st as much of happiness As all the swing of slight ambition flew at. A dunghill was thy cradle. So a puddle, By virtue of the sunbeams, breathes a vapour To infect the purer air, which drops again Into the muddy womb that first exhaled it. Bread, and a slavish ease, with some assurance From the base beadle's whip, crown'd all thy hopes :
But, sirrah, ran there in thy veins one drop
Simn. He's past
Urs. Away, inform the king of his behaviour.
[Exit. Urs. If yet thou hast no pity of thy body, Pity thy soul !
Enter KATHERINE, JANE, DALYELL, and OXFORD.
Kath. Forbear me, sir,
War. Great miracle of constancy! my miseries •
Oxf. Sirrah, leave off your juggling, and tie up The devil that ranges in your tongue.
Urs. Thus witches,
Oxf. Remember, lady, who you are; come from That impudent impostor.
Kath. You abuse us :
For when the holy churchman join'd our hands,
War. Spite of tyranny
Oxf. The lord ambassador, Huntley, your father, madam, should he look on Your strange subjection, in a gaze so public, Would blush on your behalf, and wish his country Unleft, for entertainment to such sorrow.
Kath. Why art thou angry, Oxford ? I must be
War. Let it be then
War. Oh! with that