K. Hen. Forward, lords, To London. Fair, ere long, I shall present you With a glad object, peace, and Huntley's blessing.

[Exeunt."

SCENE III.

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-
And ruin'd by thy cunning! so a mongrel
May pluck the true stag down. Yet, yet, confess
Thy parentage; for yet the king has mercy.

Šimn. You would be Dick the Fourth, very likely!
Your pedigree is publish'd;' you are known
For Osbeck's son of Tournay, a loose runagate,
A land-loper; your father was a Jew,
Turn'd Christian merely to repair his miseries :
Where's now your kingship?

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,
Your predecessor in a dangerous uproar:
But, on submission, not alone received
To grace, but by the king vouchsafed his service.

Simn. I would be earl of Warwick, toil'd and ruffled
Against my master, leap'd to catch the moon,
Vaunted my name Plantagenet, as you do ;
An earl forsooth! whenas in truth I was,
As you are, a mere rascal; yet his majesty,
A prince composed of sweetness-Heaven protect

him !
Forgave me all my villanies, reprieved
The sentence of a shameful end, admitted
My surety of obedience to his service,
And I am now his falconer; live plenteously,

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
Of liberty and favour; sleep securely:
And is not this, now, better than to buffet
The hangman's clutches ? or to brave the cordage
Of a tough halter, which will break

your

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
1
Of such a royal blood as flows in mine,
Thou wouldst not change condition, to be second
In England's state, without the crown itself !
Coarse creatures are incapable of excellence ;
But let the world, as all to whom I am
This day a spectacle, to time deliver,
And, by tradition, fix posterity,
Without another chronicle than truth,
How constantly my resolution sufferd
A martyrdom of majesty!

Simn. He's past
Recovery; a bedlam cannot cure him.

Urs. Away, inform the king of his behaviour.
Simn. Perkin, beware the rope! the hangman's
coming.

[Exit. Urs. If yet thou hast no pity of thy body, Pity thy soul !

Enter KATHERINE, JANE, DALYELL, and OXFORD.
Jane. Dear lady!
Oxf. Whither will you,
Without respect of shame ?

Kath. Forbear me, sir,
And trouble not the current of my duty !-
Oh my lov'd lord ! can any scorn be yours
In which I have no interest ? some kind hand
Lend me assistance, that I may partake
Th' infliction of this penance. My life's dearest,
Forgive me; I have staid too long from tend'ring
Attendance on reproach, yet bid me welcome.

War. Great miracle of constancy! my miseries •
Were never bankrupt of their confidence
In worst afflictions, till this—now, I feel them.
Report and thy deserts, thou best of creatures,
Might to eternity have stood a pattern
For every virtuous wife, without this conquest.
Thou hast outdone belief ; yet may their ruin
In after-marriages be never pitied,
To whom thy story shall appear a fable!
Why wouldst thou prove so much unkind to greatness,
To glorify thy vows by such a servitude ?
I cannot weep; but trust me, dear, my heart
Is liberal of passion ; Harry Richmond,
A woman's faith hath robb’d thy fame of triumph !

Oxf. Sirrah, leave off your juggling, and tie up The devil that ranges in your tongue.

Urs. Thus witches,
Possess'd, even (to) their deaths deluded, say,
They have been wolves and dogs, and sail'd in egg

shells
Over the sea, and rid on fiery dragons ;
Pass'd in the air more than a thousand miles,
All in a night:—the enemy of mankind
Is powerful, but false ; and falsehood's confident.

Oxf. Remember, lady, who you are; come from That impudent impostor.

Kath. You abuse us :

For when the holy churchman join'd our hands,
Our vows were real then ; the ceremony
Was not in apparition, but in act.
Be what these people term thee, I am certain
Thou art my husband, no divorce in heaven
Has been sued out between us; 't is injustice
For any earthly power to divide us.
Or we will live, or let us die together.
There is a cruel mercy.

War. Spite of tyranny
We reign in our affections, blessed woman!
Read in my destiny the wreck of honour;
Point out, in my contempt of death, to memory,
Some miserable happiness ; since, herein,
Even when I fell, I stood enthroned a monarch
Of one chaste wife's troth, pure and uncorrupted.
Fair angel of perfection, immortality
Shall raise thy name up to an adoration,
Court every rich opinion of true merit,
And saint it in the calendar of virtue,
When I am turn'd into the self-same dust
Of which I was first form’d.

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
More peremptory in my duty.-Sir,
Impute it not unto immodesty,
That I presume to press you to a legacy,
Before we part for ever.

War. Let it be then
My heart, the rich remains of all my fortunes.
Kath. Confirm it with a kiss, pray.

War. Oh! with that
I wish to breathe my last ; upon thy lips,
1 Those equal twins of comeliness, I seal
The testament of honourable vows : [Kisses her.