Queen Mary; and, Harold Part 12

_Enter one of_ WYATT'S MEN.

MAN. Sir Thomas, I've found this paper; pray your wors.h.i.+p read it; I know not my letters; the old priests taught me nothing.

WYATT (_reads_). 'Whosoever will apprehend the traitor Thomas Wyatt shall have a hundred pounds for reward.'

MAN. Is that it? That's a big lot of money.

WYATT. Ay, ay, my friend; not read it? 'tis not written Half plain enough. Give me a piece of paper!

[_Writes 'THOMAS WYATT' large_.

There, any man can read that. [_Sticks it in his cap_.

BRETT. But that's foolhardy.

WYATT. No! boldness, which will give my followers boldness.

_Enter_ MAN _with a prisoner_.

MAN. We found him, your wors.h.i.+p, a plundering o' Bishop Winchester's house; he says he's a poor gentleman.

WYATT. Gentleman! a thief! Go hang him. Shall we make Those that we come to serve our sharpest foes?

BRETT. Sir Thomas--

WYATT. Hang him, I say.

BRETT. Wyatt, but now you promised me a boon.

WYATT. Ay, and I warrant this fine fellow's life.

BRETT. Ev'n so; he was my neighbour once in Kent.

He's poor enough, has drunk and gambled out All that he had, and gentleman he was.

We have been glad together; let him live.

WYATT. He has gambled for his life, and lost, he hangs.

No, no, my word's my word. Take thy poor gentleman!

Gamble thyself at once out of my sight, Or I will dig thee with my dagger. Away!

Women and children!

_Enter a Crowd of_ WOMEN _and_ CHILDREN.

FIRST WOMAN. O Sir Thomas, Sir Thomas, pray you go away, Sir Thomas, or you'll make the White Tower a black 'un for us this blessed day.

He'll be the death on us; and you'll set the Divil's Tower a-spitting, and he'll smash all our bits o' things worse than Philip o' Spain.

SECOND WOMAN. Don't ye now go to think that we be for Philip o' Spain.

THIRD WOMAN. No, we know that ye be come to kill the Queen, and we'll pray for you all on our bended knees. But o' G.o.d's mercy don't ye kill the Queen here, Sir Thomas; look ye, here's little d.i.c.kon, and little Robin, and little Jenny--though she's but a side-cousin--and all on our knees, we pray you to kill the Queen further off, Sir Thomas.

WYATT. My friends, I have not come to kill the Queen Or here or there: I come to save you all, And I'll go further off.

CROWD. Thanks, Sir Thomas, we be beholden to you, and we'll pray for you on our bended knees till our lives' end.

WYATT. Be happy, I am your friend. To Kingston, forward!

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE IV.--ROOM IN THE GATEHOUSE OF WESTMINSTER PALACE.

MARY, ALICE, GARDINER, RENARD, LADIES.

GARDINER. Their cry is, Philip never shall be king.

MARY. Lord Pembroke in command of all our force Will front their cry and shatter them into dust.

ALICE. Was not Lord Pembroke with Northumberland?

O madam, if this Pembroke should be false?

MARY. No, girl; most brave and loyal, brave and loyal.

His breaking with Northumberland broke Northumberland.

At the park gate he hovers with our guards.

These Kentish ploughmen cannot break the guards.

_Enter_ MESSENGER.

MESSENGER. Wyatt, your Grace, hath broken thro' the guards And gone to Ludgate.

GARDINER. Madam, I much fear That all is lost; but we can save your Grace.

The river still is free. I do beseech you, There yet is time, take boat and pa.s.s to Windsor.

MARY. I pa.s.s to Windsor and I lose my crown.

GARDINER. Pa.s.s, then, I pray your Highness, to the Tower.

MARY. I shall but be their prisoner in the Tower.

CRIES _without_. The traitor! treason! Pembroke!

LADIES. Treason! treason!

MARY. Peace.

False to Northumberland, is he false to me?

Bear witness, Renard, that I live and die The true and faithful bride of Philip--A sound Of feet and voices thickening hither--blows-- Hark, there is battle at the palace gates, And I will out upon the gallery.

LADIES. No, no, your Grace; see there the arrows flying.

MARY. I am Harry's daughter, Tudor, and not fear.

[_Goes out on the gallery_.