Henry the Second, King of England, with the death of Rosamond a tragedy, acted at the Theatre-Royal, by Their Majesties servants.

Henry the Second, King of ENGLAND. (Book 1)

ACT. I. SCENE I. (Book 1)

Enter Sussex, Verulam, and Aumerle.

Veru.

YOU do mistake the Cause, and your Opinions Too easily comply with what you wish; Like young Physicians, pass a hasty Judgment, Thinking the Patient's well, because his looks Are seeming healthy, streak'd with chearful Red, While some unnat'ral Fire preys on his Heart, And drinks up all the moisture of his Life.

Sussex.

Excuse our Unexperience, and direct us How we may solve the Error of our Thoughts.

Veru.

My Age, and long Attendance on the King, Makes me no Stranger to the Mystery. But would to Heav'n it ne'er had been my Fate, Since I've beheld the Troubles of my Master, And want the Pow'r to ease his Misery!

Aumer.

I thought this sudden Alteration Proceeded from some Change of Government; Believ'd the head-strong Normans By Innovation wrought these Fits of Spleen.

Veru.

Like a Disease it has been growing on him For many years; and now 'tis fix'd so fast, So deeply in him, he cannot shake it off. Love wrought the Change at first, And with its Magick quite o'r-power'd his Reason, Blinded all his Senses, Till he sunk quick into the Gulph of Wedlock. From the unlucky moment that he joyn'd

With Eleanor, the Repudiated Leavings Of the French King, Lewis, his mortal Foe, Strife and Disorder has o'er-spread the Realm: Our sad Divisions speak our coming Mischief.

Aumer.

From whence must rise this Danger, You seem so very apprehensive of?

Veru.

Here, in his Court at Oxford; here, in his Bed and Bosom; His jealous Wife, and disobedient Sons. Is there a day's cessation from Debate; An intermission from their Wilds of Nature? When will it cease? Not while the Mother's fondness Upholds their fiery Youth, smiles on their Insolence, Clapping their Cheeks, to shew how she approves it.

Sussex.

Is then the Lion's Voice so soon forgot? 'Twas not long since they trembled at the sound, And their Knees shook with terror of the Accent.

Aum.

The haughty Queen was forc'd to rein her Heart, And one might read her Passion in her Tears.

Sussex.

Most of that Sex, Whene'er they fail of wish'd Success, Their Blood turns Gall, and flashes through their Eyes: And if a Showr does fall—

Veru.

'Tis the hot Stream of Anger boyling o'er, Which shews how much the Spleen and Mother governs. I'll tell you what befel of late, And then give me your Censures.

Aum.

We attend you.

Ver.

I have observ'd the Crowd of fawning Wretches, Which servilely attend the Queen's Appartment, Watching the early op'ning of the Door, To shew their forward Zeal.

Sussex.

The Fathers and the Priests you mean.

Ver.

You hit me right. These holy, pious, seeming godly Men, Swarm not for nothing: Either there's Revenge Or Int'rest stirring, when Church-mens diligence Haunt Majesty so much. I have observ'd how grosly they have flatter'd, Yet she hath swallow'd up their nauseous Phrases Fast as their utt'rance, while they prais'd her Person, Or loaded with Hyperbole's her Son.

Aum.

You speak of what is natural to Women.

Veru.

But when they'd gain'd attention, and wrought her To admiration, then the Fane was turn'd, And their soul Breath pointed against the King. Then Becket's Death, that Patron of Rebellion, That Traytor to the King and all his Int'rest,

Was introduc'd; and with such doleful Accents, As if the Life o'th' Church expir'd in His. Here Henry was forgot, her Lord and Monarch; Instead of punishing the sawcy Gown-man, She mourn'd the Fall of the aspiring Prelate; Would cast her Eyes, almost eclips'd with Tears, On the young Race of Heroes standing by, Insinuating their Father was too Guilty.

Sussex.

Nay, they are always ripe for Mischief, Whene'er the Power o'th' Crown checks that o'th' Church; And the World knows too well, if they had Power.

Veru.

If they had Power! Why, have they not, my Lord? Divide the Globe, and you will find a Third Are Men in Orders, or the Slaves to them. I tell you, Sirs, they are a dreadful Host; And should the Pulpit sound to an Alarm, I question much whether our Hercules Could cope this Hydra. 'Tis a horrid Tale They have possess'd th'unthinking Crowd withall, Concerning Becket's Death.

Aum.

Wou'd the whole Tribe had met the Traytor's Fate, Since they aspire to fetter Monarchy, Nay the Nobility must sink with him.

Sussex.

Whil'st ev'ry Pedant which can gain the Rochet Must Lord it o'er us, we shall be like Beasts Pegg'd on the Common, there to graze our Round, And must be thankful, though the Soyl's our own.

Aum.

Surely at last the Royal Soul will rouze, And free Himself and People from the Yoke▪ Oh how I covet such a Jubilee!

V••rul.

I find we centre in Opinion, and shall be Glad to joyn in such a Cause.—— W'are interrupted, the Court breaks in upon us.

Enter Sir Thomas Vaughan.

Sussex.

Sir Thomas Vaughan! Now dare I pawn My Life, some Petticoat Embassy.

Aum.

That old Gentleman.

Sussex.

Ay, Sir, upon my word the best of his Qualifications consist in acting the part Of Mercury to our Iupiter.

Veru.

That's of old Date.

Sussex.

But may be renew'd again, If Majesty have occasion.—Let us observe.

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

This is the second time I have been s••nt of this Er∣rand; pray Heav'n I'm more successful than I have been, I shall go

near to be discarded my Office else. One would not imagine what Pains, Care and Understanding are required to make a complete Pimp.

Sussex.

Very pretty!

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

None but this Virgin of Honour will down with Ma∣jesty. She's a fine Woman, that's the truth on't; but a Pox of her Chastity: what a damnable pother she makes to preserve that, which half the Women in the Town would be glad to be rid of! Had she been my Kinswoman now, I had been made for ever. There's no Court-Bribe in the World like a Female-Relation, for a speedy Ad∣vancement.

Aum.

Suppose, after all our suspicions, it should Be Love that has wrought this Alteration In the King.

Sussex.

I suspect it shrewdly.

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

I am damnable afraid the Termagant Queen should come to the knowledge of it, she has such a plaguy number of Spies abroad. Well, Sir Thomas, you are in, and must e'en through; 'tis too late to repent. Send thee good luck, old Boy.——Basta! Who's there?

Sees 'em.

Verul.

Friends.

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

Not Eve-droppers I hope. Ha! my good Lord Ve∣rulam, your Lordship's most humble Servant.

Sussex.

What, in a Sweat, Man?

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

A little warm, my Lord. Who would be a Courtier, that has any regard for his Carcas? This toiling and moiling does not agree with my Age; I must e'en leave it off, and betake to my Prayers in time.

Veru.

What, a Favourite, and talk of leaving the Court?

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

I a Favourite! your Lordship's most humble Servant. But I take all things in good part from my Friends.

Aum.

Have you seen the King to day?

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

I just parted with him; he's a very honest Gentleman, the most accomplish'd, gallant, sweetest natur'd person in Europe: He has found out something extraordinary in me, for which I am eternally engag'd to him▪

Sussex.

Y'are dispos'd to be merry.

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

I wou'd I cou'd: But the King's Melancholly strange∣ly discomposes me. Poor Prince! never was Mortal so afflicted.

Veru.

Nothing that's new, I hope.

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

The Devil and all of Mischief. Yonder Knaves have been at it o' t'other side of the Water, helter skelter; fight Dog, fight Bear; nothing but Mutiny, Mutiny.—Gad, if the King wou'd fol∣low my Advice, we'd mawl 'em.

Sussex.

What, you mean the Religious Fathers?—

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

Religious d'ye call 'em? I don't know what Religion they have, but they have very good Livings: They have made a fine piece of Work of their Religion.

Veru.

About what?

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

Why about the Gentleman at Canterbury, that had his Brains beat out to inform his Judgment.

Sussex.

The Prelate Becket?

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

Ay, ay: They have dignify'd and distinguish'd him from the infamous Title of a Traytor, to the spiritual one of a Saint.

Veru.

You should speak more respectfully of the Cloathing.

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

Why Black never blushes, you know, say what you will on't.

Veru.

Would you have us be without 'em?

Sir Tho. Vaug.

Why when were they ever with us? Did you ever know them joyn with the People, unless 'twas a Mischief of their own making? We may groan under Misery and Slavery, grumble and complain; but, if the Churches Rights be not invested, they tell us, We must bear it, and submit to the Higher Powers. But if a single Egg of their Tyths were crack'd, and not made good to 'em, you should hear them bellow against Power and Dominion, make the Cause of the Church the disquiet of Heav'n; tell you, Horror and Plagues will come from above; that the just Divine Wrath will punish your Sacrilege: So destroy you themselves, to preserve you from Judg∣ments.

Sussex.

Sure they have done thee some mortal injury.

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

Let 'em forbear the King then, and Peace follows; for they're so constantly teizing him about their Religion, the Man can't enjoy himself for 'em: besides, should they biggotize the King to ad∣mire Abstinence and Chastity, poor Sir Thomas is kick'd out; for Praying and Pimping can never agree—Ads me! my Lords, I for∣got to tell you the News; The King's reconcil'd to the Prince▪ who must go to Normandy; and the Queen's pleas'd. There's a Miracle, my Lords! The Queen's pleas'd! Nay, she's pleas'd with me, that she has not spoke to this Month! Such a Favour she has done me!

Sussex.

What is't?

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

Your Servant.

Veru.

Pray what is't?

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

You'll tell on't.

Aum.

Think better of us.

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

If the King should know on't▪

Veru.

Never for us.

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

Last night at Supper—

Sussex.

What then?

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

Nothing, only the Queen's pleas'd, that's all▪ Again your Servant, my Lords, your Servant.

Exit.

Veru.

The Prince to France! this is a sudden motion I know the Provinces are Malecontent, Apt for Commotion, ready for Rebellion: But they require a sharp and steddy hand, One of Experience—Ha! the King alone!

Withdraw▪

Enter King Henry.

King.

Oh Love! Oh Rosamond! Why do I name That Cruel Maid? But yet alas! I must Spight of my fix'd Resolves; She grasps my Heart, And turns it with each motion of her Eyes: If there were hopes; Why, Am I not a King? But what are Kings in Love? Like Lyons Chain'd We Roar, but cannot reach what we would Prey on: Why else, ye Gods, do ye with-hold your Bounty? Or is this single Beauty thought too much For a Reward of all my Sufferings? If so you think, Take back this Crown and Dignity you gave, Confine me to some Corner of the Earth Where abject Poverty does make aboad; Bless me with Rosamond; and even there I'll thank your Providence for the Exchange: But, Oh! I Rave, and must recall my Sences, Bus'ness comes forward, cursed bus'ness haunts me. With what a weight does that poor Monarch move, That's Clogg'd with Bus'ness, and perplex'd with Love!

Enter Verulam, Sussex, and Aumerle.

Veru.

Your Majesty!

King.

Thou art the only Man of all the World I coveted to see; Come near me Verulam, I shall have need of your assistance shortly, Your Counsel now.

Veru.

You doubly Honour me.

King.

Upon mature Advice, I have resolv'd To send my Eldest Son to Normandy; And, to engage his Duty, will Invest him With▪ all the Royal Dignities belonging To both the Dukedoms; since he longs for Power, I'll Load him with the Weight of Government.

Veru.

None better can direct the Rounds of State Than Sacred Majesty; It is in you From vast Experience grown to certain Judgment. Yet——

King.

Let me tell thee Verulam, I have examin'd, with the strictest care, What Consequences may attend this Act; You must allow Youth are most prone to Covet What is debar'd 'em: Give 'em full possession

They soon grow weary of the Toy they Long'd for. But to prevent all danger, 'tis Resolv'd That you attend him; the Commission's ready: I know thy Loyalty admits no scruple.

Veru.

I'm all obedience to your Royal pleasure.

Enter Prince Henry, Attendants.

Runs to the King and Kneels.

King.

All is forgot: Thy Fathers Memory

Takes him up.

Bears thy good Deeds in sight; but ne're looks backwards.

Prince.

You are all Goodness, Tenderness and Mercy.

King.

I know 'tis want of Action caus'd the Surfeit, The Riots, and the Luxuries o'th' Court; But now an opportunity's at hand To Wash away the Stains of Idleness. Read that.

Gives him a Letter.

Prince.

This Purports that the Normans are in Arms.

King.

It does.

Prince.

Are they so Pamper'd with their fullness, Sir? These wresty Slaves, like Horses wanting use, Must be kept to it, Rid hard, and exercis'd; Must feel the Bit and Curb, to let 'em know They're under Government.

King.

Why thou hast spoke it, and shall see it done: For from this moment do I constitute Thee equal sharer with me in my Sceptre▪

Prince.

My Royal Father.

King.

I have said the Word; Hence be Convinc'd, A Parents Love can bear, forget, forgive, And wait the gentle Season when Penitence Shall spring; and showr a Blessing That may encourage Virtue as it grows.

Prince.

My thanks to Heav'n and you; Oh! you have made, New-moulded up this Mass, and breath'd a Soul That longs for Action, and the toil of War: If I not strive to merit this great Blessing, If I not Honourably discharge the Trust, Endeavour Nobly; may I sink with shame As great as my worst Foes would wish, Best Friends lament: For France my Father, Where I will season this my Infant Sword, To Dedicate to you who taught it Glory.

King.

This sounds well Harry, as it should be Boy; And I foresee Englands good Genius Dancing In thy Spirit, and pleas'd with the young Mars It has begot. My Lord of Verulam.

Veru.

Your Majesty?

King.

Here, as a Pledge of Love, Accept this Man; I give him As a Guardian Angel to thee: His Courage shall assist and strengthen thine, His Judgment in the Field shall guide thy boldness; And if Fate should approach thee, clap between ye: His Care shall lessen thy Fatigue in War; In Peace his Diligence shall give thee Pleasure.

Prince.

Sir, you are mine; your Character is great, And I will shew how I esteem its worth In choosing your Opinion.

Enter Queen, Abbot, Fryers, Attendants.

Queen.

Oh Barbarous King! was there no other way To reach my heart, but thus to snatch him from me? Look on him well, Are these young tender Limbs Fit to endure the hardships of a Camp, The Cares of War, and Dangers that attend it? It shall not, must not be and I alive. Oh Harry! hang upon thy Mothers Love, And shun thy Father's Cruelty.

King.

Well, Madam, have you done? Are you at ease? Has the fierce Whirlwind of your Passion vent? If not, Enlarge after your wonted method.

Queen.

Ingrateful King, Do you upbraid my fondness! Think'st thou this Breast is hardned like thy own? I bore him, bred him, felt the rack of Nature; Many long Winter Nights have watcht his slumbers, When the sad hand of Sickness was upon him; While you, encompass'd round with all your Friends, Forgot my Care, and the poor Infant's danger. He minds me not: Oh wretched Majesty! See Reverend Fathers, Is this humane usage?

Prince.

Let me beseech you, Madam, calm this Passion: The King designs my Greatness.

Queen.

Deluded Fool, away; Fly, fly betimes To Sanctuary, where these good Mens assistance May break the Philtre, and dissolve the Magick Which blinds thy sense, and sets thee mad for Glory: Behold, this Holy Man, thy careful Tutor, Whose studious diligence first taught thee Knowledge, With Art and Patience clear'd thy erring Soul, And made it Master of Imperial Wisdom; Take his Advice: Be deaf to the harsh King's, Which would destroy thee, by removing thee.

King.

Contemn her fondness, and consult thy Honour

This Passion flows from an unruly Will: I tell thee, Harry, all the Sex are thus, And Contradiction's their Original Sin; For Woman was the first in Disobedience. When they were molded first into a Form, And the Almighty lik'd the great Design, Pleas'd with the Work, withdrew; and in th'Interval The Fall'n Angel crept unseen and view'd it; Saw that Man's Happiness would be complete, And from his Gall a drop of Spleen dash'd in, Which sowr'd the whole Creation: 'Tis that affects her now; give it but scope, And when she sees it moves us not, 'twill down.

Prince.

If to my Mother's Will I should submit, Glory will shun me, Honour flie me, And all Brave Men contemn me.

Abbot.

Most Gracious Majesty, vouchsafe attention To the humble Speech of your poor Beadsman: I am bound in duty to offer my assistance, And to mediate where persons of such near Affinity Have different Passions which o'ercloud the Soul, Soyling Perfection. See your Royal Partner o'erwhelm'd with Tears, From the harsh words you've utter'd! That Noble Graft bury'd in deep amazement Oh! Let this Discord end in Harmony! Lull the harsh Note, and raise her up to Life.

King.

Who asks Advice from you, my Rev'rend Sir? Who sent for you to make up Royal Breaches? Because you are th'Examiner of her Sins, Must you pretend Dominion o'er my Actions? Go to; We know ye: Preach to those who do not, And let their Ignorance support your Cunning; Thou Pandor of the Court!

Abbot.

Your trusty Knight there

Points to Sir T. Vau.

Becomes the Title better.

King.

Ha! what said you?

Abbot.

This Accusation does not suit my Function, Nor well become the Mouth of Dignity: If We, the Pillars of the Holy Church, Are thus calumniated, 'tis easie guessing what Will follow: You set an ill Example.

King.

You seldom shew us good ones. Come come I know you better than your selves, Your proud, ambitious, haughty, daring Tempers: The God you Idolize is Int'rest; Which to obtain you'd bridle all Mankind, And ride 'em to the Devil.

Queen.

Oh Blasphemy!

Abbot.

Alas poor Queen! how must he use your Goodness, If he reviles the Church thus! Atheists would blush at this.

King.

Is there no way to Heav'n without these Fellows? Try me, and judge me, Oh thou awful Pow'r, If I not reverence and adore thy Laws! But why through such hard hands are they deliver'd? How is't you make us Kings, whil'st these prescribe us? Our Actions must be govern'd by their Consciences, Our own has no Pre-eminence nor Judgment.

Abbot.

Reason is weak, where Passion is so strong: Your Arbitrary Power would tire the World, Did not Heav'n bless you with our Guiding Virtues.

King.

Yet, with your leaves, Kings may indulge themselves, Violate Laws, Disfranchize all their Subjects, Provided that your Government's untouch'd: But, should we look A-squint upon the Failures of the Church, The holy Rooks and Daws betake to wing, And fill the Air with Clamor. Hence! Be gone, on forfeit of your Lives!

Abbot.

He shall pay dear for this. Come, Brothers, let's to Councel.

Exit Abbot, Priests.

Sir Tho. Vaugh.

That's to Mischief. Now will the Church fall in a Fever, And want his Blood for a Cordial.

King.

Now, Eleanor, to you: Beware these Men; Thou'rt but a Tool to them, to fashion me, And work my Actions suitable to theirs. Shock not thy Husband's Pow'r, to strengthen them; For, credit me, I know their inward Cunning: They call'd my Father in, to serve their Int'rest; And, when he had nobly ventur'd Life and Pow'r, Remov'd th'Oppressions under which they groan'd, They grew so weary of Security, They wou'd have chang'd again. Observe this, Boy▪ Seem with the Church to joyn, Hearken and weigh whatever they design, But never let their Knowledge fathom thine.

Queen.

But why must he to th'War? Oh! Can you love, and put him into danger?

King.

Hear me; And what I say, I hope, will make impression: If to divest my self, and place on him▪ A Sov'reign Pow'r, be not the Marks of Love, Then I have none: If to advance my Son

Into an equal share of Empire with me, Be not Affection, what then is Affection?

Queen.

But yet—

King.

Come, Eleanor, be calm, cease all suspicion; And if I sally'd out in rash expressions, Wink at my Failings; For, Oh my Queen! The Cares that tend upon a Crown are great, And do sometimes distract.

Queen.

Is there no danger of his Life?

King.

None that I know of. My Lord of Verulam I joyn to his assistance: But if the Sceptre be too ponderous, I'll aid the Prince till strength shall reach his Arm, And be a Shield 'twixt him and all Invaders.

Prince.

Dear Madam, hear the King, let him prevail; You would not have me stay and weild a Distaff, When Honours Trumpet sounds so brave a Charge, When all my Royal Father's great Intentions Aim only at th'increasing of my Glory.

Queen.

It shall be so: But, my dear Child, take care; Oh Verulam! be watchful in the War; The Comfort of my Life lies all in him.

King.

I bless thee from my Soul, and wish thee well.

Prince.

How I'll deserve that Blessing, time shall tell. If I return, Conquest and Peace I'll bring; If not, just Fame shall, to my Glory, sing, I suffer'd for my Country and my King.

Exeunt omnes.

The End of the First Act.