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 pass to Windsor.
MARY. I pass to Windsor and I lose my crown.
GARDINER. Pass, 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]
The guards are all driven in, skulk into corners
Like rabbits to their holes. A gracious guard
Truly; shame on them! they have shut the gates!
Enter SIR ROBERT SOUTHWELL.
SOUTHWELL. The porter, please your Grace, hath shut the gates
On friend and foe. Your gentlemen-at-arms,
If this be not your Grace's order, cry
To have the gates set wide again, and they
With their good battleaxes will do you right
Against all traitors.
MARY. They are the flower of England; set the gates wide.
[Exit SOUTHWELL]
Enter COURTENAY.
COURTENAY. All lost, all lost, all yielded! A barge, a barge!
The Queen must to the Tower.
MARY. Whence come you, sir?
COURTENAY. From Charing Cross; the rebels broke us there,
And I sped hither with what haste I might
To save my royai cousin.
MARY. Where is Pembroke?
COURTENAY. I left him somewhere in the thick of it.
MARY. Left him and fled; and thou that would'st be King,
And hast nor heart nor honour. I myself
Will down into the battle and there bide
The upshot of my quarrel, or die with those
That are no cowards and no Courtenays.
COURTENAY. I do not love your Grace should call me coward.
Enter another MESSENGER
MESSENGER. Over, your Grace, all crush'd; the brave Lord William
Thrust him from Ludgate, and the traitor flying
To Temple Bar, there by Sir Maurice Berkeley
Was taken prisoner.
MARY. To the Tower with him!
MESSENGER. 'Tis said he told Sir Maurice there was one
Cognisant of this, and party thereunto,
My Lord of Devon.
MARY. To the Tower with him!
COURTENAY. O la, the Tower, the Tower, always the Tower,
I shall grow into it -- I shall be the Tower.
MARY. Your Lordship may not have so long to wait. Remove him!
COURTENAY. La, to whistle out my life,
And carve my coat upon the walls again!
[Exit COURTENAY guarded]
MESSENGER. Also this Wyatt did confess the Princess
Cognisant thereof, and party thereunto.
MARY. What? whom -- whom did you say?
MESSENGER. Elizabeth, Your Royal sister.
MARY. To the Tower with her!
My foes are at my feet and I am Queen.
[GARDINER and her LADIES kneel to her.]
GARDINER (rising). There let them lie, your foot stool! (Aside) Can I strike
Elizabeth? -- not now and save the life
Of Devon: if I save him, he and his
Are bound to me-may strike hereafter. (Aloud.)
Madam, what Wyatt said, or what they said he said,
Cries of the moment and the street --
MARY. He said it.
GARDINER. Your courts of justice will determine that.
RENARD (advancing). I trust by this your Highness will allow
Some spice of wisdom in my telling you,
When last we talk'd, that Philip would not come
Till Guildford Dudley and the Duke of Suffolk,
And Lady Jane had left us.
MARY. They shall die.
RENARD. And your so loving sister?
MARY. She shall die.
My foes are at my feet, and Philip King.
[Exeunt]