SC. XXI. dau
Yorke. In Armes from Ireland comes Yorke amaine,
Ring belles aloud, bonfires perfume the ayre,
To entertaine faire Englands royall King.
Ah Sancta Maiesta, who would not buy thee deare?
Enter the Duke of Buckingham.
[5] But soft, who comes here Buckingham, what newes with him?
Buc. Yorke, if thou meane well, I greete thee so.
Yorke. Humphrey of Buckingham, welcome I sweare:
[♦] What comes thou in loue or as a Messenger?
Buc. I come as a Messenger from our dread Lord and soueraign,
10 Henry. To know the reason of these Armes in peace?
Or that thou being a subiect as I am,
Shouldst thus approach so neare with colours spred,
Whereas the person of the King doth keepe?
[♦] Yorke. A subiect as he is.
15 Oh how I hate these spitefull abiect termes,
But Yorke dissemble, till thou meete thy sonnes,
Who now in Armes expect their fathers sight,
[♦] And not farre hence I know they cannot be.
Humphrey Duke of Buckingham, pardon me,
20 That I answearde not at first, my mind was troubled,
I came to remoue that monstrous Rebell Cade,
And heaue proud Somerset from out the Court,
That basely yeelded vp the Townes in France.
Buc. Why that was presumption on thy behalfe,
[25] But if it be no otherwise but so,
[♦] The King doth pardon thee, and granst to thy request,
And Somerset is sent vnto the Tower.
Yorke. Vpon thine honour is it so?
Buc. Yorke, he is vpon mine honour.
30 York. Then before thy face, I here dismisse my troopes,
Sirs, meete me to morrow in saint Georges fields,
[♦] And there you shall receiue your paie of me. Exet souldiers.
Buc. Come York, thou shalt go speake vnto the King,
But see, his grace is comming to meete with vs.
Enter King Henry.
35 King. How now Buckingham, is Yorke friends with vs,
That thus thou bringst him hand in hand with thee?
Buc. He is my Lord, and hath dischargde his troopes
Which came with him, but as your grace did say,
To heaue the Duke of Somerset from hence,
40 And to subdue the Rebels that were vp.
King. Then welcome cousin Yorke, giue me thy hand,
And thankes for thy great seruice done to vs,
Against those traitorous Irish that rebeld.
Enter maister Eyden with Iacke Cades head.
[♦] Eyden. Long liue Henry in triumphant peace,
45 Lo here my Lord vpon my bended knees,
I here present the traitorous head of Cade,
That hand to hand in single fight I slue.
King. First thanks to heauen, & next to thee my friend,
That hast subdude that wicked traitor thus.
50 O let me see that head that in his life,
Did worke me and my land such cruell spight,
A visage sterne, cole blacke his curled locks,
Deepe trenched furrowes in his frowning brow,
Presageth warlike humors in his life.
55 Here take it hence and thou for thy reward,
Shalt be immediatly created Knight.
[♦] Kneele downe my friend, and tell me whats thy name?
Eyden. Alexander Eyden, if it please your grace,
A poore Esquire of Kent.
[60] King. Then rise vp sir Alexander Eyden knight,
And for thy maintenance, I freely giue
[♦] A thousand markes a yeare to maintaine thee,
Beside the firme reward that was proclaimde,
For those that could performe this worthie act,
[65] And thou shalt waight vpon the person of the king.
Eyden. I humbly thank your grace, and I no longer liue,
[♦] Then I proue iust and loyall to my king. (Exet.
Enter the Queene with the Duke of Somerset.
King. O Buckingham see where Somerset comes,
Bid him go hide himselfe till Yorke be gone.
70 Queene. He shall not hide himselfe for feare of Yorke,
But beard and braue him proudly to his face.
[♦] Yorke. Whose that, proud Somerset at libertie?
Base fearefull Henry that thus dishonor’st me,
By heauen, thou shalt not gouerne ouer me:
75 I cannot brooke that Traitors presence here,
Nor will I subiect be to such a King,
That knowes not how to gouerne nor to rule,
Resigne thy Crowne proud Lancaster to me,
That thou vsurped hast so long by force,
80 For now is Yorke resolu’d to claim his owne,
And rise aloft into faire Englands Throane.
Somer. Proud Traitor, I arest thee on high treason,
Against thy soueraigne Lord, yeeld thee false Yorke,
For here I sweare, thou shalt vnto the Tower,
85 For these proud words which thou hast giuen the king.
[♦] Yorke. Thou art deceiued, my sonnes shalbe my baile,
[♦] And send thee there in dispight of him.
Hoe, where are you boyes?
Queene. Call Clifford hither presently.