War. None talk of sadness, we are on the way Which leads to victory; keep cowards thoughts With desperate sullenness! The lion faints not Lock'd in a grate, but, loose, disdains all force Which bars his prey, (and we are lion-hearted,) Or else no king of beasts.-[Another general shout within.]-Hark, how they shout;

Triumphant in our cause! bold confidence
Marches on bravely, cannot quake at danger.

Enter SKETON.

Sket. Save king Richard the Fourth! save thee King of hearts! The Cornish blades are men of mettle; have proclaimed through Bodnam, and the whole county, my sweet prince monarch of England: four thousand tall yeomen, with bow and sword, already vow to live and die at the foot of King Richard.

Enter ASTLEY.

Ast. The mayor, our fellow-counsellor, is servant for an emperor. Exeter is appointed for the rendezvous, and nothing wants to victory but courage and resolution. Sigillatum et datum decimo Septembris, anno Regni Regis primo, et cætera ; confirmatum est. All's cock-sure!

War. To Exeter! to Exeter, march on : Commend us to our people; we in person Will lend them double spirits; tell them so. Sket. and Ast. King Richard, king Richard! [Exeunt SKET. and AST.

War. A thousand blessings guard our lawful

arms!

A thousand horrors pierce our enemies' souls! Pale fear unedge their weapons' sharpest points, And when they draw their arrows to the head, Numbness shall strike their sinews! such advantage

Hath majesty in its pursuit of justice,

That on the proppers up of Truth's old throne,
It both enlightens counsel, and gives heart
To execution; whilst the throats of traitors
Lie bare before our mercy. O divinity
Of royal birth! how it strikes dumb the tongues
Whose prodigality of breath is bribed.

By trains to greatness! Princes are but men,
Distinguish'd in the fineness of their frailty;
Yet not so gross in beauty of the mind;
For there's a fire more sacred, purifies
The dross of mixture. Herein stand the odds,
Subjects are men on earth, kings men and gods.

[Exeunt.

Enter KATHERINE and JANE, in Riding-suits,
with one Servant.

Kath. It is decreed; and we must yield to fate,
Whose angry justice, though it threaten ruin,
Contempt, and poverty, is all but trial
Of a weak woman's constancy in suffering.
Here in a stranger's, and an enemy's land,
Forsaken and unfurnish'd of all hopes,
But such as wait on misery, I range
To meet affliction wheresoe'er I tread.
My train, and pomp of servants, is reduced
To one kind gentlewoman, and this groom.
Sweet Jane, now whither must we?

Jane. To your ships,

Dear lady, and turn home.

Kath. Home! I have none.

Fly thou to Scotland; thou hast friends will weep
For joy to bid thee welcome; but, oh Jane,
My Jane! my friends are desperate of comfort,
As I must be of them: the common charity,
Good people's alms, and prayers of the gentle,
Is the revenue must support my state.
As for my native country, since it once

8 St. Michael's Mount.] It appears that when Perkin marched on his ill-fated expedition, Lady Katherine was left at this place, from which she was now preparing to withdraw, on some rumours of her husband's want of success.

Saw me a princess in the height of greatness
My birth allow'd me; here I make a vow,
Scotland shall never see me, being fallen,
Or lessen'd in my fortunes. Never, Jane,
Never to Scotland more will I return.
Could I be England's queen, a glory, Jane,
I never fawn'd on, yet the king who gave me,
Hath sent me with my husband from his presence;
Deliver'd us suspected to his nation;

Render'd us spectacles to time and pity:
And is it fit I should return to such

As only listen after our descent

From happiness enjoy'd, to misery,

Expected, though uncertain? Never, never!
Alas, why dost thou weep? and that poor creature
Wipe his wet cheeks too? let me feel alone
Extremities, who know to give them harbour;
Nor thou nor he has cause: you may live safely.
Jane. There is no safety whilst your dangers,
madam,

Are every way apparent.

Serv. Pardon, lady;

I cannot choose but shew my honest heart;

You were ever my good lady.

Kath. Oh, dear souls,

Your shares in grief are too too much.

Dal. I bring,

Enter DALYell.

Fair princess, news of further sadness yet,

Than your sweet youth hath been acquainted with.

Kath. Not more, my lord, than I can welcome;

speak it,

The worst, the worst I look for.

Dal. All the Cornish,

At Exeter were by the citizens

Repulsed, encounter'd by the earl of Devonshire,
And other worthy gentlemen of the country.
Your husband march'd to Taunton, and was there
Affronted by king Henry's chamberlain ;o
The king himself in person, with his army
Advancing nearer, to renew the fight

On all occasions: but the night before
The battles were to join, your husband privately,
Accompanied with some few horse, departed
From out the camp, and posted none knows whi-
ther.

Kath. Fled without battle given?

Dal. Fled, but follow'd

By Dawbeney; all his parties left to taste
King Henry's mercy, for to that they yielded;
Victorious without bloodshed.

Kath. Oh, my sorrows!

If both our lives had proved the sacrifice

9 Affronted by King Henry's chamberlain.] i.e. met directly in front by Dawbeney. It is sufficiently clear from the exulting language of this wily monarch in the scene with Urswick, p. 95. that he had made himself sure of the overthrow of Warbeck, whom he had, by this time, environed with his agents: hence the disgraceful flight of the usurper, the recourse to the sanctuary of Bewley, and subsequent surrender. Bacon shrewdly observes, on this occasion, that the king was grown to be such a partner with Fortune, as no body could tell what actions the one, and what the other owned. It was generally believed, he adds, that Perkin "was betrayed, and that the king led him, at the time of his flight, in a line;" a fact to which he does not seem disposed to give credit.