Queen.
Protectour of the Realm!—It must not be.—

Suff.
And yet,—how long, have We endur'd his Sway!

Queen.
Is not the King of Years to rule?—Beside;—
It turns to My Dishonour:—And, my Father,
In all his Letters, chides my mean Submission.—
Must I be Gloucester's Pupil, too?—Oh, Suffolk!
If Thou doest love me;—If Thou lov'st Thy self;
As thou hast seated me on England's Throne,
Let me not be control'd:—Assist,—resolve,
To rescue me from such Disgrace!

Suff.
By those bright Charms,
That heavenly Form, which captivates my Soul;
Your Suffolk will employ his utmost Skill,
His whole Endeavours; risque his Life and Fame,
To humble haughty Gloucester to your Nod!—
And those fair Hands shall hold the Reins of Empire.

Queen.
Then, shall my Suffolk share the Rule with Me!—
A Rule, too turbulent for Henry's Meekness.

Suff.
But,—should Duke Humfrey see the King;—

Queen.
I know—
His Presence overaws him.—Leave, to Me,
That Care.

Suff.
Mean time, will I advise with Beaufort;
Whose working Brain is bent on Gloucester's Ruin:
Not, for Your Service, Madam;—nor, the King's;—
But, to destroy the Man, who Twice accus'd him,
And Studies to defeat his whole Ambition.

Queen.
Fear not his towering Hopes.—When the Time comes,
We shall exclude him from Saint Peter's Chair.

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