Dutch.
O, Gloucester!—Lord of my Desires!—My Glory!—
Oh,—wherefore should'st Thou visit Thy Dishonour?—
Fain would I hide my Shame from Thee!—Be gone;
And leave me to my Penance.

Duke.
  No,—Eleanor:
Sooner, would I submit to the Indignity!
  Think'st thou, that Gloucester's Wife shall be expos'd?—
A Spectacle to gaping Crouds;—the Mock
Of every vulgar Tongue!—

Dutch.
My dearest Lord;
For Your loved Sake, I wish, it might not be!

Duke.
For Thy lov'd Sake, it shall not:—Come,—what may!
  Audacious Prelates!—Ministers of Rome!—
Most wicked Agents to the infernal Foe!—
Could I have suspected you of such Presumption,
You never should have judg'd Her Innocence.—
But, I defy your infamous Tribunal!
Upheld by Frauds, and superstitious Fears.—
Are there not Crimes, sufficient, in the World;
But You must raise fantastick Trespasses,
And tyrannize by Fables?—Foul Delusions!

Dutch.
If, to be zealous in the Search of Truth;
If, to abhorr foul Errours, be a Crime;
Then, is my heavy Condemnation just:—
If Heaven thinks otherwise;—Heaven be my Comfort!

Duke.
Enough, my Love.—For better Purposes
Reserve thy Tears.—Thy Vertue is thy Guilt.—
But; I will turn it to their own Confusion.
  A waxen Image,—to destroy the King!—
No;—base Impostors!—Your pernicious Counsels,
Rome's gainful Superstitions, are His Bane;
The People's Grievance, and the King's Reproach.
  Sweet Eleanor,—dismiss thy needless Grief.—
Thou shalt not suffer.

Dutch.
But,—the Church injoins it.—
And, who shall dare oppose What They decree?

Duke.
Oppose Iniquity?—Impiety?—and Craft?—
And Pride?—And Insolence; beyond Support!—
Are there no Free,—no Righteous, English Spirits?—
Has the Protectour, then, no Power? No Friends?—
What?—Give thee up,—a Sacrifice to Falsehood!
And be the Scoff of Beaufort; and of Suffolk;
And, of that Queen;—indigent Reiner's Daughter!—
Judge not, so meanly, of thy Gloucester's Love.

Dutch.
Alas, my Lord; your Love and your high Courage
Make you o'erlook the Dangers, I foresee!

  The Punishing of Me is but a Snare
For Gloucester's Life.—Should You, to rescue me,
Exert your Power, and summon all your Friends;
Your Enemies, combin'd, will call it Treason.

Duke.
It is thy Tenderness creates these Fears!—
Fenced with Integrity, I live secure:
My Loyalty admits of no Suspicion.

Dutch.
So, did you judge of Me.

Duke.
Perfidious Wretches!—
They promis'd to acquit thee.—But, no more.—
I will protect thee, still.—The noblest Peers,
Whose Wives and Daughters are, in Thee, dishonour'd,
Are, All, concern'd; and will avenge this Outrage.
  Ere now, thou had'st been set at Liberty;
But that, it seems, I am deny'd Admittance
To the King, my Nephew!—That dowerless Queen
Has taken him to her Keeping.

Dutch.
Be assur'd,
Beaufort and She, Both in Contrivance subtle,
Have plotted, deep, against your envied Power:—
And,—That destroy'd;—Who answers for your Life?—
Oh, did you know the Terrours of my Heart,
You would not tempt the Malice of your Foes!

Duke.
I tempt it not.—But, I am stung,—to Death!—
And, how shall I divest my self of Feeling?—
Say, injur'd Innocence!—What can I, more?

Dutch.
Let your Resentment sleep.—The patient Mind,
By yielding, overcomes.—This shamefull Penance
Will turn, hereafter, to our lasting Praise;
When Men shall speak of Eleanor's Submission,
And Gloucester's brave Forbearance!—Both, alike,
Preferring England's Quiet, to their Own.

Duke.
Excellent Woman!—How doest Thou perswade!

Dutch.
This is no Time for Rage;—nor private Grudgings.—
The People's Discontents, the King's Affairs,
The Nation's Weal, require your cool Advice.

Duke.
O, Eleanor!—In Vertue finish'd;—Wise,
Beyond thy Sex!—Well doest Thou caution me.

Dutch.
Let them enjoy their poor Revenge, a While.—
Conscious of no Offence,—Why should I grieve?
Where Guilt is absent, there can be no Shame.

Duke.
But,—if I live,—I will repay their Malice.—
Fellow;—What would'st thou?— Enter an Officer.

Dutch.
Good my Lord;—speak gently.—
He comes to lead me forth, to—

Duke.
Hence,—Miscreant!

Dutch.
I do beseech you!—Use your Moderation.

Duke.
Begone!—The Duke of Gloucester warns thee hence:—
The Lord Protectour warns thee;—on thy Life!

Dutch.
Stay, Officer:—I come.—The Duke forgets—
Sweet Heaven, appease him, now!—My Lord,—

Duke.
I say,
Thou shalt not goe;—till I appoint the Time.—
Nay;—Never, will I suffer thee to goe!—
Nor, shalt thou, Here, abide.—I am determin'd!—
If, it be Rashness;—Let me, then, be rash;—
Let me desperate!—in thy Defence.—
The People,—All, will justify my Conduct.

Dutch.
O, my lov'd Gloucester!—Oh, recall your Reason.—

We stand upon a Precipice!—Thus, kneeling,
Do I supplicate.—Preserve your self;—and Me:—
Preserve the King;—Preserve the publick Peace:—
And, make not Me the Cause of civil Discord.

Duke.
Rise, then,—Thou gentle Calmer of my Breast;
Balm of my wounded Soul!—I am resign'd.—
I will incur no Blame.—Goe, then!—But;—when
This Penance is perform'd;—Thou must away!—
  Yet,—shall the Sea, not long, divide our Loves.
Thou shalt return:—Or, I will hasten after.

Dutch.
Mean Time,—Adieu.—Each Night,—
Each lonely Hour,—will I not cease to pray
For England's Happiness and Gloucester's Safety.

Duke.
Heaven have thee in Protection!—This Embrace,—

Dutch.
And—This;—my Lord!—

Duke.
Oh,—Eleanor!—

Dutch.
Nay,—do not grieve.—

Duke.
Do Thou
Not grieve.—

Dutch.
Once more,—Adieu.

Duke.
Oh,—stay!—And, take—
The tenderest Rapture of my Soul,—to cherish!—

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