QUEEN MARY: A DRAMA.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE QUEEN MARY. PHILIP, King of Naples and Sicily, afterwards King of Spain. THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH. REGINALD POLE, Cardinal and Papal Legate. SIMON RENARD, Spanish Ambassador. LE SIEUR DE NOAILLES, French Ambassador. THOMAS CRANMER, Archbishop of Canterbury. SIR NICHOLAS HEATH, Archbishop of York; Lord Chancellor after Gardiner. EDWARD COURTENAY, Earl of Devon. LORD WILLIAM HOWARD, afterwards Lord Howard, and Lord High Admiral. LORD WILLIAMS OF THAME. LORD PAGET. LORD PETRE. STEPHEN GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester and Lord Chancellor. EDMUND BONNER, Bishop of London. THOMAS THIRLBY, Bishop of Ely. SIR THOMAS WYATT | SIR THOMAS STAFFORD | Insurrectionary Leaders. SIR RALPH BAGENHALL. SIR ROBERT SOUTHWELL. SIR HENRY BEDINGFIELD. SIR WILLIAM CECIL. SIR THOMAS WHITE, Lord Mayor of London. THE DUKE OF ALVA | THE COUNT DE FERIA | attending on Philip. PETER MARTYR. FATHER COLE. FATHER BOURNE. VILLA GARCIA. SOTO. CAPTAIN BRETT | ANTHONY KNYVETT | Adherents of Wyatt. PETERS, Gentleman of Lord Howard. ROGER, Servant to Noailles. WILLIAM, Servant to Wyatt.

STEWARD OF HOUSEHOLD to the Princess Elizabeth. OLD NOKES and NOKES. MARCHIONESS OF EXETER, Mother of Courtenay. LADY CLARENCE | LADY MAGDALEN DACRES | Ladies in Waiting to the Queen. ALICE | to the Princess Elizabeth. MAID OF HONOUR | JOAN | TIB | two Country Wives. Lords and other Attendants, Members of the Privy Council, Members of Parliament, Two Gentlemen, Aldermen, Citizens, Peasants, Ushers, Messengers, Guards, Pages, Gospellers, Marshalmen, etc.

QUEEN MARY.

ACT I.

SCENE I.—ALDGATE RICHLY DECORATED. CROWD. MARSHALMEN.

MARSHALMAN. Stand back, keep a clear lane! When will her Majesty pass, sayst thou? why now, even now; wherefore draw back your heads and your horns before I break them, and make what noise you will with your tongues, so it be not treason. Long live Queen Mary, the lawful and legitimate daughter of Harry the Eighth! Shout, knaves! CITIZENS. Long live Queen Mary! FIRST CITIZEN. That's a hard word, legitimate; what does it mean? SECOND CITIZEN. It means a bastard. THIRD CITIZEN. Nay, it means true-born. FIRST CITIZEN. Why, didn't the Parliament make her a bastard? SECOND CITIZEN. No; it was the Lady Elizabeth. THIRD CITIZEN. That was after, man; that was after. FIRST CITIZEN. Then which is the bastard? SECOND CITIZEN. Troth, they be both bastards by Act of Parliament and Council. THIRD CITIZEN. Ay, the Parliament can make every true-born man of us a bastard. Old Nokes, can't it make thee a bastard? thou shouldst know, for thou art as white as three Christmasses. OLD NOKES (dreamily). Who's a-passing? King Edward or King Richard? THIRD CITIZEN. No, old Nokes. OLD NOKES. It's Harry!

THIRD CITIZEN. It's Queen Mary. OLD NOKES. The blessed Mary's a-passing! [Falls on his knees. NOKES. Let father alone, my masters! he's past your questioning. THIRD CITIZEN. Answer thou for him, then thou'rt no such cockerel thyself, for thou was born i' the tail end of old Harry the Seventh. NOKES. Eh! that was afore bastard-making began. I was born true man at five in the forenoon i' the tail of old Harry, and so they can't make me a bastard. THIRD CITIZEN. But if Parliament can make the Queen a bastard, why, it follows all the more that they can make thee one, who art fray'd i' the knees, and out at elbow, and bald o' the back, and bursten at the toes, and down at heels. NOKES. I was born of a true man and a ring'd wife, and I can't argue upon it; but I and my old woman 'ud burn upon it, that would we. MARSHALMAN. What are you cackling of bastardy under the Queen's own nose? I'll have you flogg'd and burnt too, by the Rood I will. FIRST CITIZEN. He swears by the Rood. Whew! SECOND CITIZEN. Hark! the trumpets. [The Procession passes, MARY and ELIZABETH riding

side by side, and disappears under the gate. CITIZENS. Long live Queen Mary! down with all traitors! God save her Grace; and death to Northumberland! [Exeunt. Manent TWO GENTLEMEN. FIRST GENTLEMAN. By God's light a noble creature, right royal! SECOND GENTLEMAN. She looks comelier than ordinary to-day; but to my mind the Lady Elizabeth is the more noble and royal. FIRST GENTLEMAN. I mean the Lady Elizabeth. Did you hear (I have a daughter in her service who reported it) that she met the Queen at Wanstead with five hundred horse, and the Queen (tho' some say they be much divided) took her hand, call'd her sweet sister, and kiss'd not her alone, but all the ladies of her following. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Ay, that was in her hour of joy; there will be plenty to sunder and unsister them again: this Gardiner for one, who is to be made Lord Chancellor, and will pounce like a wild beast out of his cage to worry Cranmer. FIRST GENTLEMAN. And furthermore, my daughter said that when there rose a talk of the late rebellion, she spoke even of Northumberland

pitifully, and of the good Lady Jane as a poor innocent child who had but obeyed her father; and furthermore, she said that no one in her time should be burnt for heresy. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Well, sir, I look for happy times. FIRST GENTLEMAN. There is but one thing against them. I know not if you know. SECOND GENTLEMAN. I suppose you touch upon the rumour that Charles, the master of the world, has offer'd her his son Philip, the Pope and the Devil. I trust it is but a rumour. FIRST GENTLEMAN. She is going now to the Tower to loose the prisoners there, and among them Courtenay, to be made Earl of Devon, of royal blood, of splendid feature, whom the council and all her people wish her to marry. May it be so, for we are many of us Catholics, but few Papists, and the Hot Gospellers will go mad upon it. SECOND GENTLEMAN. Was she not betroth'd in her babyhood to the Great Emperor himself? FIRST GENTLEMAN. Ay, but he's too old. SECOND GENTLEMAN. And again to her cousin Reginald Pole, now Cardinal; but I hear that he too is full of aches and broken before his day.

FIRST GENTLEMAN. O, the Pope could dispense with his Cardinalate, and his achage, and his breakage, if that were all: will you not follow the procession? SECOND GENTLEMAN. No; I have seen enough for this day. FIRST GENTLEMAN. Well, I shall follow; if I can get near enough I shall judge with my own eyes whether her Grace incline to this splendid scion of Plantagenet. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—A ROOM IN LAMBETH PALACE.

CRANMER. To Strasburg, Antwerp, Frankfort, Zurich, Worms, Geneva, Basle—our Bishops from their sees Or fled, they say, or flying—Poinet, Barlow, Bale, Scory, Coverdale; besides the Deans Of Christchurch, Durham, Exeter, and Wells— Ailmer and Bullingham, and hundreds more; So they report: I shall be left alone. No: Hooper, Ridley, Latimer will not fly. Enter PETER MARTYR. PETER MARTYR. Fly, Cranmer! were there nothing else, your name Stands first of those who sign'd the Letters Patent That gave her royal crown to Lady Jane. CRANMER. Stand first it may, but it was written last: Those that are now her Privy Council, sign'd Before me: nay, the Judges had pronounced That our young Edward might bequeath the crown Of England, putting by his father's will. Yet I stood out, till Edward sent for me. The wan boy-king, with his fast-fading eyes Fixt hard on mine, his frail transparent hand, Damp with the sweat of death, and griping mine, Whisper'd me, if I loved him, not to yield His Church of England to the Papal wolf And Mary; then I could no more—I sign'd.

Nay, for bare shame of inconsistency, She cannot pass her traitor council by, To make me headless. PETER MARTYR. That might be forgiven. I tell you, fly, my Lord. You do not own The bodily presence in the Eucharist, Their wafer and perpetual sacrifice: Your creed will be your death. CRANMER. Step after step, Thro' many voices crying right and left, Have I climb'd back into the primal church, And stand within the porch, and Christ with me: My flight were such a scandal to the faith, The downfall of so many simple souls, I dare not leave my post. PETER MARTYR. But you divorced Queen Catharine and her father; hence, her hate Will burn till you are burn'd. CRANMER. I cannot help it. The Canonists and Schoolmen were with me. 'Thou shalt not wed thy brother's wife.'—'Tis written, 'They shall be childless.' True, Mary was born, But France would not accept her for a bride As being born from incest; and this wrought Upon the king; and child by child, you know, Were momentary sparkles out as quick Almost as kindled; and he brought his doubts And fears to me. Peter, I'll swear for him

He did believe the bond incestuous. But wherefore am I trenching on the time That should already have seen your steps a mile From me and Lambeth? God be with you! Go. PETER MARTYR. Ah, but how fierce a letter you wrote against Their superstition when they slander'd you For setting up a mass at Canterbury To please the Queen. CRANMER. It was a wheedling monk Set up the mass. PETER MARTYR. I know it, my good Lord. But you so bubbled over with hot terms Of Satan, liars, blasphemy, Antichrist, She never will forgive you. Fly, my Lord, fly! CRANMER. I wrote it, and God grant me power to burn! PETER MARTYR. They have given me a safe conduct: for all that I dare not stay. I fear, I fear, I see you, Dear friend, for the last time; farewell, and fly. CRANMER. Fly and farewell, and let me die the death. [Exit PETER MARTYR. Enter OLD SERVANT. O, kind and gentle master, the Queen's Officers Are here in force to take you to the Tower. CRANMER. Ay, gentle friend, admit them. I will go. I thank my God it is too late to fly. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.—ST. PAUL'S CROSS. FATHER BOURNE in the pulpit. A CROWD. MARCHIONESS OF EXETER, COURTENAY. The SIEUR DE NOAILLES and his man ROGER in front of the stage. Hubbub.

NOAILLES. Hast thou let fall those papers in the palace? ROGER. Ay, sir. NOAILLES. 'There will be no peace for Mary till Elizabeth lose her head.' ROGER. Ay, sir. NOAILLES. And the other, 'Long live Elizabeth the Queen!' ROGER. Ay, sir; she needs must tread upon them. NOAILLES. Well. These beastly swine make such a grunting here, I cannot catch what Father Bourne is saying. ROGER. Quiet a moment, my masters; hear what the shaveling has to say for himself. CROWD. Hush—hear! BOURNE.—and so this unhappy land, long divided in itself, and sever'd from the faith, will return into the one true fold, seeing that our gracious Virgin Queen hath—— CROWD. No pope! no pope! ROGER (to those about him, mimicking BOURNE).—hath sent for the holy legate of the holy father the Pope, Cardinal Pole, to give us all that holy absolution which—— FIRST CITIZEN. Old Bourne to the life! SECOND CITIZEN. Holy absolution! holy Inquisition! THIRD CITIZEN. Down with the Papist! [Hubbub. BOURNE.—and now that your good bishop, Bonner, who hath lain so long under bonds for the faith— [Hubbub.

NOAILLES. Friend Roger, steal thou in among the crowd, And get the swine to shout Elizabeth. Yon gray old Gospeller, sour as midwinter, Begin with him. ROGER (goes). By the mass, old friend, we'll have no pope here while the Lady Elizabeth lives. GOSPELLER. Art thou of the true faith, fellow, that swearest by the mass? ROGER. Ay, that am I, new converted, but the old leaven sticks to my tongue yet. FIRST CITIZEN. He says right; by the mass we'll have no mass here. VOICES OF THE CROWD. Peace! hear him; let his own words damn the Papist. From thine own mouth I judge thee—tear him down! BOURNE.—and since our Gracious Queen, let me call her our second Virgin Mary, hath begun to re-edify the true temple——, FIRST CITIZEN. Virgin Mary! we'll have no virgins here—we'll have the Lady Elizabeth! [Swords are drawn, a knife is hurled and sticks in the pulpit. The mob throng to the pulpit stairs. MARCHIONESS OF EXETER. Son Courtenay, wilt thou see the holy father Murdered before thy face? up, son, and save him! They love thee, and thou canst not come to harm.

COURTENAY (in the pulpit). Shame, shame, my masters! are you English-born, And set yourselves by hundreds against one? CROWD. A Courtenay! a Courtenay! [A train of Spanish servants crosses at the back of the stage. NOAILLES. These birds of passage come before their time: Stave off the crowd upon the Spaniard there. ROGER. My masters, yonder's fatter game for you Than this old gaping gurgoyle: look you there— The Prince of Spain coming to wed our Queen! After him, boys! and pelt him from the city. [They seize stones and follow the Spaniards. Exeunt on the other side MARCHIONESS OF EXETER and ATTENDANTS. NOAILLES (to ROGER). Stand from me. If Elizabeth lose her head— That makes for France. And if her people, anger'd thereupon, Arise against her and dethrone the Queen— That makes for France. And if I breed confusion anyway— That makes for France. Good-day, my Lord of Devon; A bold heart yours to beard that raging mob! COURTENAY. My mother said, Go up; and up I went. I knew they would not do me any wrong, For I am mighty popular with them, Noailles. NOAILLES. You look'd a king.

COURTENAY. Why not? I am king's blood. NOAILLES. And in the whirl of change may come to be one. COURTENAY. Ah! NOAILLES. But does your gracious Queen entreat you kinglike? COURTENAY. 'Fore God, I think she entreats me like a child. NOAILLES. You've but a dull life in this maiden court, I fear, my Lord? COURTENAY. A life of nods and yawns. NOAILLES. So you would honour my poor house to-night, We might enliven you. Divers honest fellows, The Duke of Suffolk lately freed from prison, Sir Peter Carew and Sir Thomas Wyatt, Sir Thomas Stafford, and some more—we play. COURTENAY. At what? NOAILLES. The Game of Chess. COURTENAY. The Game of Chess! I can play well, and I shall beat you there. NOAILLES. Ay, but we play with Henry, King of France, And certain of his court. His Highness makes his moves across the Channel, We answer him with ours, and there are messengers That go between us. COURTENAY. Why, such a game, sir, were whole years a playing. NOAILLES. Nay; not so long I trust. That all depends Upon the skill and swiftness of the players. COURTENAY. The King is skilful at it?

NOAILLES. Very, my Lord. COURTENAY. And the stakes high? NOAILLES. But not beyond your means. COURTENAY. Well, I'm the first of players, I shall win. NOAILLES. With our advice and in our company, And so you well attend to the king's moves, I think you may. COURTENAY. When do you meet? NOAILLES. To-night. COURTENAY (aside). I will be there; the fellow's at his tricks— Deep—I shall fathom him. (Aloud) Good morning, Noailles. [Exit COURTENAY. NOAILLES. Good-day, my Lord. Strange game of chess! a King That with her own pawns plays against a Queen, Whose play is all to find herself a King. Ay; but this fine blue-blooded Courtenay seems Too princely for a pawn. Call him a Knight, That, with an ass's, not a horse's head, Skips every way, from levity or from fear. Well, we shall use him somehow, so that Gardiner And Simon Renard spy not out our game Too early. Roger, thinkest thou that anyone Suspected thee to be my man? ROGER. Not one, sir. NOAILLES. No! the disguise was perfect. Let's away. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.—LONDON. A ROOM IN THE PALACE. ELIZABETH. Enter COURTENAY.

COURTENAY. So yet am I, Unless my friends and mirrors lie to me, A goodlier-looking fellow than this Philip. Pah! The Queen is ill advised: shall I turn traitor? They've almost talked me into it: yet the word Affrights me somewhat: to be such a one As Harry Bolingbroke hath a lure in it. Good now, my Lady Queen, tho' by your age, And by your looks you are not worth the having, Yet by your crown you are. [Seeing ELIZABETH. The Princess there? If I tried her and la—she's amorous. Have we not heard of her in Edward's time, Her freaks and frolics with the late Lord Admiral? I do believe she'd yield. I should be still A party in the state; and then, who knows— ELIZABETH. What are you musing on, my Lord of Devon? COURTENAY. Has not the Queen— ELIZABETH. Done what, Sir? COURTENAY. —made you follow The Lady Suffolk and the Lady Lennox?— You, The heir presumptive. ELIZABETH. Why do you ask? you know it. COURTENAY. You needs must bear it hardly. ELIZABETH. No, indeed! I am utterly submissive to the Queen. COURTENAY. Well, I was musing upon that; the Queen

Is both my foe and yours: we should be friends. ELIZABETH. My Lord, the hatred of another to us Is no true bond of friendship. COURTENAY. Might it not Be the rough preface of some closer bond? ELIZABETH. My Lord, you late were loosed from out the Tower, Where, like a butterfly in a chrysalis, You spent your life; that broken, out you flutter Thro' the new world, go zigzag, now would settle Upon this flower, now that; but all things here At court are known; you have solicited The Queen, and been rejected. COURTENAY. Flower, she! Half faded! but you, cousin, are fresh and sweet As the first flower no bee has ever tried. ELIZABETH. Are you the bee to try me? why, but now I called you butterfly. COURTENAY. You did me wrong, I love not to be called a butterfly: Why do you call me butterfly? ELIZABETH. Why do you go so gay then? COURTENAY. Velvet and gold. This dress was made me as the Earl of Devon To take my seat in; looks it not right royal? ELIZABETH. So royal that the Queen forbad you wearing it. COURTENAY. I wear it then to spite her. ELIZABETH. My Lord, my Lord;

I see you in the Tower again. Her Majesty Hears you affect the Prince—prelates kneel to you.— COURTENAY. I am the noblest blood in Europe, Madam, A Courtenay of Devon, and her cousin. ELIZABETH. She hears you make your boast that after all She means to wed you. Folly, my good Lord. COURTENAY. How folly? a great party in the state Wills me to wed her. ELIZABETH. Failing her, my Lord, Doth not as great a party in the state Will you to wed me? COURTENAY. Even so, fair lady. ELIZABETH. You know to flatter ladies. COURTENAY. Nay, I meant True matters of the heart. ELIZABETH. My heart, my Lord, Is no great party in the state as yet. COURTENAY. Great, said you? nay, you shall be great. I love you, Lay my life in your hands. Can you be close? ELIZABETH. Can you, my Lord? COURTENAY. Close as a miser's casket. Listen: The King of France, Noailles the Ambassador, The Duke of Suffolk and Sir Peter Carew, Sir Thomas Wyatt, I myself, some others, Have sworn this Spanish marriage shall not be. If Mary will not hear us—well—conjecture— Were I in Devon with my wedded bride,

The people there so worship me—Your ear; You shall be Queen. ELIZABETH. You speak too low, my Lord; I cannot hear you. COURTENAY. I'll repeat it. ELIZABETH. No! Stand further off, or you may lose your head. COURTENAY. I have a head to lose for your sweet sake. ELIZABETH. Have you, my Lord? Best keep it for your own. Nay, pout not, cousin. Not many friends are mine, except indeed Among the many. I believe you mine; And so you may continue mine, farewell, And that at once. Enter MARY, behind. MARY. Whispering—leagued together To bar me from my Philip. COURTENAY. Pray—consider— ELIZABETH (seeing the QUEEN). Well, that's a noble horse of yours, my Lord. I trust that he will carry you well to-day, And heal your headache. COURTENAY. You are wild; what headache? Heartache, perchance; not headache. ELIZABETH (aside to COURTENAY). Are you blind? [COURTENAY sees the QUEEN and exit. Exit MARY.