| ACT III. |
|
|
|
|
|
| SCENE—SMITHFIELD. |
1sd |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS (meeting JOHN BALL.) |
|
|
|
| You look disturb'd, my father?
|
1 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Piers,
I am so. |
2 |
| Jack Straw has forced the Tower:
seized the Archbishop, |
3 |
| And beheaded him. |
4 |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
|
|
| The
curse of insurrection! |
5 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Aye, Piers! our nobles level
down their vassals— |
6 |
| Keep them at endless labour
like their brutes, |
7 |
| Degrading every faculty by servitude: |
8 |
| Repressing all the energy of
the mind. |
9 |
| We must not wonder then, that
like wild beasts, |
10 |
| When they have burst their chains,
with brutal rage |
11 |
| They revenge them on their tyrants. |
12 |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
|
|
| This
Archbishop! |
13 |
| He was oppressive to his humble
vassals: |
14 |
| Proud, haughty, avaricious.— |
15 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| A
true high-priest! |
16 |
| Preaching humility with his
mitre on! |
17 |
| Praising up alms and Christian
charity |
18 |
| Even whilst his unforgiving
hand distress'd |
19 |
| His honest tenants. |
20 |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
|
|
| He deserv'd his fate then. |
21 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Justice can never link with
cruelty. |
22 |
| Is there among the catalogue
of crimes |
23 |
| A sin so black that only Death
can expiate? |
24 |
| Will Reason never rouse her
from her slumbers, |
25 |
| And darting thro' the veil her
eagle eye, |
26 |
| See in the sable garment of
the law |
27 |
| Revenge conceal'd? —This high priest has
been haughty— |
28 |
| He has oppress'd his vassals:
tell me, Piers, |
29 |
| Does his Death remedy the ills
he caused? |
30 |
| Were it not better to repress
his power |
31 |
| Of doing wrong—that so
his future life |
32 |
| Might expiate the evils of the
past, |
33 |
| And benefit mankind? |
34 |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
|
|
| But
must not vice |
35 |
| Be punished? |
36 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Is
not punishment revenge? |
37 |
| The momentary violence of anger |
38 |
| May be excus'd: the indignant
heart will throb |
39 |
| Against oppression, and the
outstretch'd arm |
40 |
| Resent its injured feelings:
the Collector |
41 |
| Insulted Alice, and roused the
keen emotions |
42 |
| Of a fond father. Tyler murder'd
him. |
43 |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
| Murder'd!—a most harsh word. |
44 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Yes,
murder'd him: |
44 |
| His mangled feelings prompted
the bad act, |
45 |
| And Nature will almost commend
the deed |
46 |
| That Justice blames: but will
the awaken'd feelings |
47 |
| Plead with their heart-emoving eloquence |
48 |
| For the cool deliberate murder
of Revenge? |
49 |
| Would you, Piers, in your calmer
hour of reason |
50 |
| Condemn an erring brother to
be slain? |
51 |
| Cut him at once from all the
joys of life, |
52 |
| All hopes of reformation! to
revenge |
53 |
| The deed his punishment cannot
recall? |
54 |
| My blood boil'd in me at the
fate of Tyler, |
55 |
| Yet I revenged not. |
56 |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
|
|
| Oh
my Christian father! |
57 |
| They would not argue thus humanely
on us, |
58 |
| Were we within their power. |
59 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| I
know they would not! |
60 |
| But we must pity them that they
are vicious, |
61 |
| Not imitate their vice. |
62 |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
|
|
| Alas,
poor Tyler! |
63 |
| I do repent me much that I stood
back, |
64 |
| When he advanced fearless in
rectitude |
65 |
| To meet these royal assassins. |
66 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Not
for myself, |
67 |
| Tho' I have lost an honest virtuous
friend, |
68 |
| Mourn I the death of Tyler:
he was one |
69 |
| Gifted with the strong energy
of mind, |
70 |
| Quick to perceive the right,
and prompt to act |
71 |
| When Justice needed: he would
listen to me |
72 |
| With due attention, yet not
yielding lightly |
73 |
| What had to him seem'd good;
severe in virtue |
74 |
| He awed the ruder people whom
he led |
75 |
| By his stern rectitude. |
76 |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
|
|
| Witness
that day |
77 |
| When they destroy'd the palace of the Gaunt; |
78 |
| And hurl'd the wealth his avarice
had amass'd, |
79 |
| Amid the fire: the people, fierce
in zeal, |
80 |
| Threw in the flames the wretch
whose selfish hand |
81 |
| Purloin'd amid the tumult. |
82 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| I
lament |
83 |
| The death of Tyler, for my country's
sake. |
84 |
| I shudder lest posterity enslav'd |
85 |
| Should rue his murder!—who
shall now control |
86 |
| The giddy multitude, blind to
their own good, |
87 |
| And listening with avidity to
the tale |
88 |
| Of courtly falsehood! |
89 |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
|
|
| The
King must perform |
90 |
| His plighted promise. |
91 |
|
|
|
|
| (Cry without) —The Charter!—the
Charter! |
92 |
|
|
| (Enter Mob and Herald.)
|
|
|
|
|
|
| TOM MILLER. |
|
|
|
| Read it out—read it out. |
93 |
|
|
|
|
| HOB. |
|
|
|
| Aye, aye, let's hear the Charter. |
94 |
|
|
|
|
| HERALD. |
|
|
|
| Richard Plantagenet, by the
grace of God, |
95 |
| King of England, Ireland, France,
Scotland, |
96 |
| and the town of Berwick upon
Tweed, to all |
97 |
| whom it may concern, These presents, |
98 |
| Whereas our loving subjects
have complained |
99 |
| to us of the heavy burdens they
endure, |
100 |
| particularly from our late enacted
|
101 |
| poll-tax; and whereas they have
risen in |
102 |
| arms against our officers, and
demanded the |
103 |
| abolition of personal slavery,
vassalage, and |
104 |
| manorial rights; we, ever ready
in our sovereign |
105 |
| mercy to listen to the petitions
of our |
106 |
| loving subjects, do annul all
these grievances. |
107 |
|
|
|
|
| MOB. |
|
|
|
| Huzza! long live the king! |
108 |
|
|
|
|
| HERALD. |
108sd |
|
|
| And do of our royal mercy, grant
a free |
109 |
| pardon to all who may have been
anyways |
110 |
| concerned in the late insurrections.
All this |
111 |
| shall be faithfully performed
on our royal |
112 |
| word. So help us God. |
113 |
| God
save the King. |
114 |
|
|
|
|
| (Loud and repeated shouts.)
|
|
|
|
|
|
| HERALD. |
|
|
|
| Now then depart in quiet to
your homes. |
115 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Nay, my good friend—the
people will remain |
116 |
| Embodied peaceably, till Parliament |
117 |
| Confirm the royal charter: tell
your king so: |
118 |
| We will await the Charter's
confirmation, |
119 |
| Meanwhile comporting ourselves
orderly |
120 |
| As peaceful citizens, not risen
in tumult, |
121 |
| But to redress their evils. |
122 |
|
|
|
|
| Exit Herald, &c.
HOB, PIERS, and |
122sd |
| JOHN BALL, remain.
|
|
|
|
|
|
| HOB. |
|
|
|
| 'Twas
well order'd. |
123 |
| I place but little trust in
courtly faith. |
124 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| We must remain embodied; else
the king |
125 |
| Will plunge again in royal luxury;
|
126 |
| And when the storm of danger
is past over, |
127 |
| Forget his promises. |
128 |
|
|
|
|
| HOB. |
|
|
|
| Aye,
like an aguish sinner, |
129 |
| He'll promise to repent when
the fit's on him, |
130 |
| When well recover'd, laugh at
his own terrors. |
131 |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
|
|
| Oh ! I am grieved that we must
gain so little! |
132 |
| Why are not all these empty
ranks abolish'd; |
133 |
| King, slave, and lord, "ennobl'd
into MAN?" |
134 |
| Are we not equal all?—have
you not told me |
135 |
| Equality is the sacred right
of man, |
136 |
| Inalienable, tho' by force withheld?
|
137 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Even so: but Piers, my frail
and fallible judgment |
138 |
| Knows hardly to decide if it
be right, |
139 |
| Peaceably to return; content
with little, |
140 |
| With this half restitution of
our rights, |
141 |
| Or boldly to proceed through
blood and slaughter, |
142 |
| Till we should all be equal
and all happy. |
143 |
| I chose the milder way:—perhaps
I erred. |
144 |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
|
|
| I fear me—by the mass,
the unsteady people |
145 |
| Are flocking homewards! how
the multitude |
146 |
| Diminishes! |
147 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Go
thou, my son, and stay them. |
148 |
| Carter, do you exert your influence. |
149 |
| All depends on their stay: my
mind is troubl'd, |
150 |
| And I would fain compose my
thoughts for action. |
151 |
|
|
|
(Exeunt HOB and PIERS.) |
|
|
|
| Father of mercies! I do fear
me much |
151 |
| That I have err'd: thou gav'st
my ardent mind |
152 |
| To pierce the mists of superstitious
falsehood;— |
153 |
| Gav'st me to know the truth.
I should have urg'd it |
154 |
| Thro' every opposition: now,
perhaps, |
155 |
| The seemly voice of pity has
deceiv'd me, |
156 |
| And all this mighty movement
ends in ruin! |
157 |
| I fear me, I have been like
the weak leech, |
158 |
| Who, sparing to cut deep, with
cruel mercy |
159 |
| Mangles his patient without
curing him. |
160 |
|
|
| (Great tumult.) |
|
|
|
| What means this tumult? hark!
the clang of arms! |
161 |
| God of eternal justice! the
false monarch |
162 |
| Has broke his plighted vow! |
163 |
|
|
|
|
| Enter PIERS, wounded.
|
|
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
|
|
| Fly, fly, my father—the
perjur'd king—fly! fly! |
164 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Nay, nay, my child—I dare
abide my fate, |
165 |
| Let me bind up thy wounds. |
166 |
|
|
|
|
| PIERS. |
|
|
|
| 'Tis
useless succour, |
167 |
| They seek thy life; fly, fly,
my honour'd father. |
168 |
| Fain would I die in peace to
hope thee safe. |
169 |
| I shall soon join thee, Tyler!—they
are murdering |
170 |
| Our unsuspecting brethren: half
unarm'd, |
171 |
| Trusting too fondly to the tyrant's
vows, |
172 |
| They were dispersing:—the
streets swim with blood. |
173 |
| O! save thyself. |
174 |
|
|
|
|
| Enter Soldiers. |
|
|
|
|
|
| SOLDIER. |
|
|
|
| This is that old seditious heretic. |
175 |
|
|
|
|
| (Seizes JOHN BALL.) |
175sd |
|
|
|
|
| SECOND SOLDIER. |
|
|
|
| And here the young spawn of
rebellion; |
176 |
| My orders ar'n't to spare him. |
177 |
|
|
| (Stabs PIERS.) |
|
|
|
| Come, you old stirrer-up of
insurrection, |
178 |
| You bell-wether of the mob—you
ar'n't to die |
179 |
| So easily. |
180 |
|
|
|
|
| (They lead off JOHN
BALL—the tumult |
180sd |
| increases—Mob fly across
the Stage— |
|
| the Troops pursue them—loud
cries and |
|
| shouts.) |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| SCENE—WESTMINSTER HALL. |
|
|
|
| KING, WALWORTH, PHILPOT, SIR
JOHN TRESILIAN, &c. |
|
|
|
|
|
| WALWORTH. |
|
|
|
| My liege, 'twas wisely order'd
to destroy |
181 |
| The dunghill rabble, but take
prisoner |
182 |
| That old seditious priest: his
strange wild notions |
183 |
| Of this equality, when well
exposed, |
184 |
| Will create ridicule, and shame
the people |
185 |
| Of their late tumults. |
186 |
|
|
|
|
| SIR JOHN TRESILIAN. |
|
|
|
| Aye,
there's nothing like |
187 |
| A fair free open trial, where
the king |
188 |
| Can chuse his jury and appoint
his judges. |
189 |
|
|
|
|
| KING. |
|
|
|
| Walworth, I must thank you for
my deliverance; |
190 |
| 'Twas a bold deed to stab him
in the parley! |
191 |
| Kneel down, and rise a knight, Sir William Walworth. |
192 |
|
|
|
|
| Enter Messenger.
|
|
|
|
|
|
| MESSENGER. |
|
|
|
| I left them hotly at it. Smithfield
smoked |
193 |
| With the rebels' blood:
your troops fought loyally, |
194 |
| There's not a man of them will
lend an ear |
195 |
| To pity. |
196 |
|
|
|
|
| SIR WILLIAM WALWORTH. |
|
|
|
| Is
John Ball secur'd? |
197 |
|
|
|
|
| MESSENGER. |
|
|
|
| They
have seiz'd him. |
198 |
|
|
|
|
| Enter Guards with
JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
|
|
| GUARD. |
|
|
|
| We've brought the old villain. |
199 |
|
|
|
|
| SECOND GUARD. |
|
|
|
| An
old mischief-maker— |
200 |
| Why there's fifteen hundred
of the mob are kill'd, |
201 |
| All thro' his preaching! |
202 |
|
|
|
|
| SIR JOHN TRESILIAN. |
|
|
|
| Prisoner! are you the arch-rebel,
John Ball? |
203 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| I am John Ball; but I am not
a rebel. |
204 |
| Take ye the name, who, arrogant
in strength, |
205 |
| Rebel against the people's sovereignty. |
206 |
|
|
|
|
| SIR JOHN TRESILIAN. |
|
|
|
| John Ball, you are accus'd of
stirring up |
207 |
| The poor deluded people to rebellion; |
208 |
| Not having the fear of God and
of the king |
209 |
| Before your eyes; of preaching
up strange notions |
210 |
| Heretical and treasonous; such
as saying |
211 |
| That kings have not a right
from heaven to govern; |
212 |
| That all mankind are equal;
and that ranks |
213 |
| And the distinctions of society, |
214 |
| Aye, and the sacred rights of
property |
215 |
| Are evil and oppressive:—plead
you guilty |
216 |
| To this most heavy charge? |
217 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| If
it be guilt— |
218 |
| To preach what you are pleas'd
to call strange notions. |
219 |
| That all mankind as brethren
must be equal; |
220 |
| That privileg'd orders of society |
221 |
| Are evil and oppressive; that
the right |
222 |
| Of property is a juggle to deceive
|
223 |
| The poor whom you oppress;—I
plead me guilty. |
224 |
|
|
|
|
| SIR JOHN TRESILIAN. |
|
|
|
| It is against the custom of
this court |
225 |
| That the prisoner should plead
guilty. |
226 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Why
then put you |
227 |
| The needless question?—Sir
Judge, let me save |
228 |
| The vain and empty insult of
a trial. |
229 |
| What I have done, that I dare
justify. |
230 |
|
|
|
|
| SIR JOHN TRESILIAN. |
|
|
|
| Did you not tell the mob they
were oppress'd, |
231 |
| And preach upon the equality
of man; |
232 |
| With evil intent thereby to
stir them up |
234 |
| To tumult and rebellion? |
235 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| That
I told them |
236 |
| That all mankind are equal,
is most true: |
237 |
| Ye came as helpless infants
to the world: |
238 |
| Ye feel alike the infirmities
of nature; |
239 |
| And at last moulder into common
clay. |
240 |
| Why then these vain distinctions!—bears
not the earth |
241 |
| Food in abundance?—must
your granaries |
242 |
| O'erflow with plenty, while
the poor man starves? |
243 |
| Sir Judge, why sit you there
clad in your furs? |
244 |
| Why are your cellars stor'd
with choicest wines? |
245 |
| Your larders hung with dainties,
while your vassal, |
246 |
| As virtuous, and as able too
by nature, |
247 |
| Tho' by your selfish tyranny
depriv'd |
248 |
| Of mind's improvement, shivers
in his rags, |
249 |
| And starves amid the plenty
he creates. |
250 |
| I have said this is wrong, and
I repeat it— |
251 |
| And there will be a time when
this great truth |
252 |
| Shall be confess'd—be felt
by all mankind. |
253 |
| The electric truth shall run
from man to man, |
254 |
| And the blood-cemented pyramid
of greatness |
255 |
| Shall fall before the flash! |
256 |
|
|
|
|
| SIR JOHN TRESILIAN |
|
|
|
| Audacious
rebel! |
257 |
| How darest thou insult this
sacred court, |
258 |
| Blaspheming all the dignities
of rank? |
259 |
| How could the Government be
carried on |
260 |
| Without the sacred orders of
the king, |
261 |
| And the nobility? |
262 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Tell
me, Sir Judge, |
263 |
| What does the government avail
the peasant? |
264 |
| Would not he plow his field
and sow the corn, |
265 |
| Aye, and in peace enjoy the
harvest too: |
266 |
| Would not the sunshine and the
dews descend, |
267 |
| Tho' neither King nor Parliament
existed? |
268 |
| Do your Court Politics ought
matter him? |
269 |
| Would he be warring even unto
the death |
270 |
| With his French neighbours?—Charles
and |
271 |
| Richard contend; |
272 |
| The people fight and suffer:—think
ye, Sirs, |
273 |
| If neither country had been
cursed with a chief, |
274 |
| The peasants would have quarrell'd? |
275 |
|
|
|
|
| KING. |
|
|
|
| This
is treason! |
276 |
| The patience of the court has
been insulted— |
277 |
| Condemn the foul mouth'd, contumacious
rebel. |
278 |
|
|
|
|
| SIR JOHN TRESILIAN. |
|
|
|
| John Ball, whereas you are accused
before us |
279 |
| Of stirring up the people to
rebellion, |
280 |
| And preaching to them strange
and dangerous doctrines; |
281 |
| And whereas your behavior to
the court |
282 |
| Has been most insolent and contumacious; |
283 |
| Insulting Majesty—and since
you have pleaded |
284 |
| Guilty to all these charges;
I condemn you |
285 |
| To death: you shall be hanged
by the neck, |
286 |
| But not till you are dead—your
bowels opened— |
287 |
| Your heart torn out and burnt
before your face— |
288 |
| Your traitorous head be sever'd
from your body— |
289 |
| Your body quartered, and exposed
upon |
290 |
| The city gates—a terrible
example— |
291 |
| And the Lord God have mercy
on your soul! |
292 |
|
|
|
|
| JOHN BALL. |
|
|
|
| Why be it so. I can smile at
your vengeance, |
293 |
| For I am arm'd with rectitude
of soul. |
294 |
| The truth, which all my life
I have divulg'd |
295 |
| And am now doom'd in torment
to expire for, |
296 |
| Shall still survive—the
destin'd hour must come, |
297 |
| When it shall blaze with sun-surpassing
splendor, |
298 |
| And the dark mists of prejudice
and falsehood |
299 |
| Fade in its strong effulgence.
Flattery's incense |
300 |
| No more shall shadow round the
gore-dyed throne; |
301 |
| That altar of oppression, fed
with rites, |
302 |
| More savage than the Priests of Moloch taught, |
303 |
| Shall be consumed amid the fire
of Justice; |
304 |
| The ray of truth shall emanate
around, |
305 |
| And the whole world be lighted! |
306 |
|
|
|
|
| KING. |
|
|
|
| Drag him hence— |
307 |
| Away with him to death! order
the troops |
308 |
| Now to give quarter and make
prisoners— |
309 |
| Let the blood-reeking sword
of war be sheathed, |
310 |
| That the law may take vengeance
on the rebels. |
311 |
|
|
| THE END. |
311sd |
