&blquo;Pet.

&blquo;Here 'a comes, methinks, and the queen with him: I'll be the first, sure.&brquo;

&blquo;2 P.

&blquo;Come back, fool; this is the duke of Suffolk, and not my lord protector.&brquo;

&blquo;Suf.

&blquo;How now, fellow? would'st any thing with me?&brquo;

&blquo;1 P.

&blquo;I pray, my lord, pardon me! I took ye for my lord protector.&brquo;

&blquo;Que.

&blquo;For my lord protector! are your supplications to his lordship? Let me see them: What is thine?&brquo;

&blquo;1 P.

&blquo;Mine is, an't please your grace, against John Goodman, my lord cardinal's man, for keeping my house, and lands, and wife and all, from me.&brquo;

&blquo;Suf.

&blquo;Thy wife too? that is some wrong, indeed.— What's yours?—[taking another.] what's here! [reads.] Against the duke of Suffolk, for enclosing the commons of Melford.—How now, Sir knave?&brquo;

&blquo;2 P.

&blquo;Alas, Sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township.&brquo;

&blquo;Pet. [giving his Petition.]

&blquo;Against my master Thomas Horner, for saying, That the duke of York was rightful heir to the crown.&brquo;

&blquo;Que.

&blquo;What say'st thou? Did the duke of York say, he was rightful heir to the crown?&brquo;

&blquo;Pet.

&blquo;That my mistress was? No, forsooth: my master said, That he was; and that the king was an usurper.&brquo;

&blquo;Suf.

&blquo;Who is there?—[Enter Servants.] Take this fellow in, and send for his master with a pursuivant presently:—we'll hear more of your matter before the king.&brquo;

&blquo;Que.
&blquo;And as for you, that love to be protected
&blquo;Under the wings of our protector's grace,
&blquo;Begin your suits anew, and sue to him. [tears the Petitions.
&blquo;Away, base cullions!—Suffolk, let them go.

&blquo;1 P.
&blquo;Come, let's be gone. [Exeunt Petitioners.

* ^noteQue.
My lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise,
Is this the fashion in the court of England!
Is this the government of Britain's isle,
And this the royalty of Albion's king?

What, shall king Henry be a pupil still,
Under the surly Gloster's governance?
Am I a queen in title and in style,
And must be made a subject to a duke?
I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours
Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love,
And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France;
I thought, king Henry had resembl'd thee,
In courage, courtship, and proportion:
But all his mind is bent to holiness,
&blquo;To number Ave-Maries on his beads:
&blquo;His champions are—the prophets, and apostles;
&blquo;His weapons, holy saws of sacred writ;
&blquo;His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves
&blquo;Are brazen images of canoniz'd saints.
I would, the college of the cardinals
Would choose him pope, and carry him to Rome,
And set the triple crown upon his head;
That were a state fit for his holiness.

Suf.
Madam, be patient; as I was cause
Your highness came to England, so will I
In England work your grace's full content.

Que.
Beside the haught protector, have we Beaufort,
The imperious churchman; Somerset, Buckingham,
And grumbling York: and not the least of these,
But can do more in England than the king.

Suf.
And he of these, that can do most of all,
Cannot do more in England than the Nevils:
Salisbury, and Warwick, are no simple peers.

Que.
Not all these lords do vex me half so much,
As that proud dame, the lord protector's wife.
She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies,
More like an empress, than duke Humphrey's wife;
Strangers in court do take her for the queen:
She bears a duke's revenues on her back,
And in her heart she scorns our poverty:
Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her?
Contemptuous base-born callot as she is* ^note,

She vaunted 'mongst her minions t'other day,
The very train of her worst wearing-gown
Was better worth than all my father's lands,
'Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter.

Suf.
Madam, myself have lim'd a bush for her;
And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds,
That she will light to listen to their lays,
And never mount to trouble you again.
So, let her rest: And, madam, list to me;
For I am bold to counsel you in this.
Although we fancy not the cardinal,
Yet must we join with him, and with the lords,
'Till we have brought duke Humphrey in disgrace:
As for the duke of York,—this late complaint
Will make but little for his benefit:
So, one by one, we'll weed them all at last,
And you yourself shall steer the happy helm. Enter King Henry; York, and Somerset, talking with him; Duke of Gloster, and Dutchess, Cardinal Beaufort, Buckingham, Salisbury, and Warwick.

Kin.
For my part, noble lords, I care not which;
Or Somerset, or York, all's one to me.

Yor.
If York have ill demean'd himself in France,
Then let him be deny'd the regentship.

Som.
If Somerset be unworthy of the place,
Let York be regent, I will yield to him.

War.
Whether your grace be worthy, yea, or no,
Dispute not that; York is the worthier.

Car.
Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak.

War.
The cardinal's not my better in the field.

Buc.
All in this presence are thy betters, Warwick.

War.
Warwick may live to be the best of all.

Sal.
Peace, son;—and shew some reason, Buckingham,
Why Somerset should be prefer'd in this.

Que.
Because the king, forsooth, will have it so.

Glo.
Madam, the king is old enough himself
To give his censure: these are no women's matters.

Que.
If he be old enough, what needs your grace
To be protector of his excellence?

Glo.
Madam, I am protector of the realm;
And, at his pleasure, will resign my place.

Suf.
Resign it then, and leave thine insolence.
Since thou wert king, (as who is king, but thou?)
The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck:
The dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas;
And all the peers and nobles of the realm
Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty.

Car.
The commons hast thou rack'd; the clergy's bags
Are lank and lean with thy extortions.

Som.
Thy sumptuous buildings, and thy wife's attire,
Have cost a mass of publick treasury.

Buc.
Thy cruelty in execution,
Upon offenders, hath exceeded law,
And left thee to the mercy of the law* ^note.

Que.
Thy sale of offices, and towns in France,—
If they were known, as the suspect is great,—
Would make thee quickly hop without thy head. [Exit Gloster.
Give me my fan; What, minion, can you not? [gives the Dutchess a Box on the Ear† ^note.
I cry you mercy, madam; was it you?

Dut.
Was't I? yea, I it was, proud Frenchwoman:
Could I come near your beauty with my nails,
I'd set my ten commandments in your face‡ ^note.

Kin.
Sweet aunt, be quiet; 'twas against her will.

Dut.
Against her will, good king? look to't in time;
She'll hamper thee, and dandle thee like a baby:
Though in this place most master wears no breeches,
She shall not strike dame Eleanor unreveng'd. [Exit Dutchess.

Buc.
Lord cardinal, I will follow Eleanor;
And listen after Hùmphrey, how he proceeds:
She's tickl'd now; her fume can need no spurs,
She'll gallop fast enough to her destruction. [Exit Buckingham.

Re-enter Gloster.

Glo.
Now, lords, my choler being over-blown
With walking once about the quadrangle,
I come to talk of commonwealth affairs.
As for your spiteful false objections,
Prove them, and I lye open to the law:
But Heav'n in mercy so deal with my soul,
As I in duty love my king and country!
But, to the matter that we have in hand:—
I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man
To be your regent in the realm of France.

Suf.
Before we make election, give me leave
To shew some reason, of no little force,
That York is most unmeet of any man.

Yor.
I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet.
First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride:
Next, if I be appointed for the place,
My lord of Somerset will keep me here,
Without discharge, money or furniture,
'Till France be won into the dauphin's hands:
Last time, I danc'd attendance on his will,
'Till Paris was besieg'd, famish'd, and lost.

&blquo;War.
&blquo;That can I witness; and a fouler fact
&blquo;Did never traitor in the land commit.

&blquo;Suf.
&blquo;Peace, head-strong Warwick!

&blquo;War.
&blquo;Image of pride, why should I hold my peace? &blquo;Enter Servants of Suffolk, bringing in the Armorer, and his Man.

&blquo;Suf.
&blquo;Because here is a man accus'd of treason:
&blquo;Pray Heav'n the duke of York excuse himself.

&blquo;Yor.
&blquo;Doth any one accuse York for a traitor?

&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;What mean'st thou, Suffolk; tell me? What are these?

&blquo;Suf.
&blquo;Please it your majesty, this is the man
&blquo;That doth accuse his master of high treason:
&blquo;His words were these;—that Richard, duke of York,
&blquo;Was rightful heir unto the English crown;
&blquo;And that your majesty was an usurper.

&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Say, man, were these thy words?

&blquo;Arm.

&blquo;An't shall please your majesty, I never said

nor thought any such matter: Heav'n is my witness, I am falsely accus'd by the villain.&brquo;

&blquo;Pet.

&blquo;By these ten bones, my lords, he did speak them to me in the garret one night, as we were scouring my lord of York's armour.&brquo;

&blquo;York.
&blquo;Base dunghil villain, and mechanical,
&blquo;I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech:
&blquo;I do beseech your royal majesty,
&blquo;Let him have all the rigour of the law.

&blquo;Arm.

&blquo;Alas, my lord, hang me, if ever I spake the words. My accuser is my prentice; and when I did correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow upon his knees he would be even with me: I have good witness of this; therefore, I beseech your majesty, do not cast away an honest man for a villain's accusation.&brquo;

Kin.
Uncle, what shall we say to this in law?

Glo.
This do, my lord, if I may be the judge.
Let Somerset be regent o'er the French,
Because in York this breeds suspicion:
And let these have a day appointed them
For single combat, in convenient place;
For he hath witness of his servant's malice:
This is the law, and this duke Humphrey's doom.

Som.
I humbly thank your royal majesty.

Arm.
And I accept the combat willingly.

Pet.

Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for Heav'n's sake, pity my case! the sight of my master prevaileth against me. O, Lord have mercy upon me! I shall never be able to fight a blow: O Lord, my heart!

Glo.
Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be hang'd.

Kin.
Away with them to prison: and the day
Of combat shall be the last of the next month.—
Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent away* ^note. [Exeunt.

&blquo;SCENE IV. The same. Gloster's Garden. &blquo;A Table set out, and Things proper for the Incantation. &blquo;Enter Hume, Bolingbrook, Southwel, and Mother Jourdain.

&blquo;Hum.

&blquo;Come, my masters; the dutchess, I tell you, expects performance of your promises.&brquo;

&blquo;Bol.

&blquo;Master Hume, we are therefore provided: Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms?&brquo;

&blquo;Hum.

&blquo;Ay; What else? fear you not her courage.&brquo;

&blquo;Bol.

&blquo;I have heard her reported to be a woman of an invincible spirit: But it shall be convenient, master Hume, that you be by her aloft, while we be busy below; and so, I pray you, go in Heav'n's name, and leave us.—&brquo;

Mother Jourdain, be you prostrate, and grovel on the earth:—John Southwel, read you; and let us to our work.

&blquo;Dut.
&blquo;Well said, my masters; and welcome all.
&blquo;Come, to this geer; the sooner the better.

&blquo;Bol.
&blquo;Patience, good lady; wizards know their times:
&blquo;Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night,
&blquo;The time of night when Troy was set on fire;
&blquo;The time when scritch-owls cry, and ban-dogs howl* ^note,
&blquo;And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves,
&blquo;That time best fits the work we have in hand.
&blquo;Madam, sit you, and fear not; whom we raise,
&blquo;We will make fast within a hallow'd verge. &blquo;Here they do the Ceremonies belonging, and make the &blquo;circle: Bolingbrook, or Southwel, reads, Conjuro &blquo;te, &c. It thunders and lightens terribly; then the Spirit riseth.

&blquo;Spi.
&blquo;Adsum.

&blquo;Jou.
&blquo;Asmath,
&blquo;By the eternal God, whose name and power† ^note

&blquo;Thou trembl'st at, answer that I shall ask;
&blquo;For, 'till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from hence.

&blquo;Spi.
&blquo;Ask what thou wilt:—That I had said and done!

&blquo;Bol.
&blquo;First, of the King; [reading out of a Paper.] What shall become of him?

&blquo;Spi.
&blquo;The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose;
&blquo;But him out-live, and die a violent death. &blquo;[Southwel writes the Answer.

&blquo;Bol.
&blquo;What fate awaits the duke of Suffolk?

&blquo;Spi.
&blquo;By Water shall he die, and take his end.

&blquo;Bol.
&blquo;What shall befal the duke of Somerset?

&blquo;Spi.
&blquo;Let him shun castles;
  &blquo;Safer shall he be on sand,
  &blquo;Than where castles mounted stand.
&blquo;Have done, for more I hardly can endure.

&blquo;Bol.
&blquo;Descend to darkness, and the burning lake;
&blquo;False fiend, avoid! [Thunder. Spirit descends. &blquo;A Noise of breaking in. Enter York, and Buckingham, hastily; Guard, and Others, with them.

&blquo;Yor.
&blquo;Lay hands upon these traitors, and their trash.—
&blquo;Beldame, I think, we watch'd you to an inch.—
&blquo;What, madam, are you there? the king and commonweal
&blquo;Are deep indebted for this piece of pains;
&blquo;My lord protector will, I doubt it not,
&blquo;See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts.

&blquo;Dut.
&blquo;Not half so bad as thine to England's king,
&blquo;Injurious duke; that threat'st where is no cause.

&blquo;Buc.
&blquo;True, madam, none at all. What call you this? [shewing her the Papers.
&blquo;Away with them; let them be clap'd up close,
&blquo;And kept asunder:—You, madam, shall with us;—
&blquo;Stafford, take her to thee. [Exeunt some to the Dut.
&blquo;We'll see your trinkets here forth-coming all;
&blquo;Away. [Exeunt others, with Bol. Sou. &c.

&blquo;Yor.
&blquo;Lord Buckingham, methinks, you watch'd her well:
&blquo;A pretty plot, well chose to build upon!
&blquo;Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ.
&blquo;What have we here? [taking the Papers, and reading.

  &blquo;The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose;
&blquo;But him out-live, and die a violent death.
&blquo;Why, this is just,—
&blquo;Aio te, Æacida, Romanos vincere posse.
&blquo;Well, to the rest:

Q. What fate awaits the duke of Suffolk?

A. By Water shall he die, and take his end.

Q. What shall befal the duke of Somerset?

A. Let him shun castles;

&blquo;Buc.
&blquo;Your grace shall give me leave, my lord of York,
&blquo;To be the post, in hope of his reward.

&blquo;Yor.
&blquo;At your pleasure, my good lord.—Who's within there, ho! Enter a Servant.
&blquo;Invite my lords of Salisbury, and Warwick,
&blquo;To sup with me to-morrow night.—Away. [Exeunt* ^note. ACT II. SCENE I. Saint Alban's. Entrance of the town. Enter King, Queen, Gloster, Cardinal, and Suffolk; with Attendants, and Falconers, hallooing.

Queen.
Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook,
I saw not better sport these seven years' day:
Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high;
And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.

Kin.
But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,
And what a pitch she flew above the rest!—
To see how Heav'n in all his creatures works!
Yea, man and birds, are fain of climbing high.

Suf.
No marvel, an it like your majesty,
My lord protector's hawks do tower so well;
They know, their master loves to be aloft,
And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.

Glo.
My Lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind,
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.

Car.
I thought as much, he'd be above the clouds.

Glo.
Ay, my lord cardinal; How think you by that?
Were it not good, your grace could fly to heaven?

Kin.
The treasury of everlasting joy!

Car.
Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts
Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart;
Pernicious protector, dangerous peer,
That smooth'st it so with king and common-weal.

Glo.
What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown so peremptory?
Tantæne animis cælestibus iræ? churchmen so hot?
Good uncle, hide such malice; with such holiness,
Can you not do it?

Suf.
No malice, Sir; no more than well becomes
So good a quarrel, and so bad a peer.

Glo.
As who, my lord?

Suf.
Why, as yourself, my lord;
An't like your lordly lord-protectorship.

Glo.
Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.

Que.
And thy ambition, Gloster.

Kin.
I pr'ythee, peace, good queen!
And whet not on these too too furious peers
For blessed are the peace-makers on earth.

&blquo;Car.
&blquo;Let me be blessed for the peace I make,
&blquo;Against this proud protector, with my sword.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;'Faith, holy uncle, 'would 'twere come to that.

&blquo;Car.
&blquo;Marry, when thou dar'st. [Aside.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Make up no factious numbers for the matter,
&blquo;In thine own person answer thy abuse. [Aside.

&blquo;Car.
&blquo;Ay, where thou dar'st not peep; an if thou dar'st,

&blquo;This evening, on the east side of the grove. [Aside.

&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;How now, my lords?

&blquo;Car.
&blquo;Believe me, cousin Gloster,
&blquo;Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,
&blquo;We had had more sport.—Come with thy two-hand sword. [Aside.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;True, uncle, are ye avis'd? The east side of the grove?
&blquo;Cardinal, I am with you. [Aside.

&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Why, how now, uncle Gloster?

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord.—
&blquo;Now, by Heav'n's mother, priest, I'll shave your crown for this,
&blquo;Or all my fence shall fail. [Aside.

&blquo;Car.
&blquo;Medice teipsum;
&blquo;Protector, see to't well, protect yourself.

&blquo;Kin.
The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords.
&blquo;How irksome is this musick to my heart!
&blquo;When such strings jar, what hope of harmony?
&blquo;I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife* ^note. &blquo;Enter one of the Town, crying out, A Miracle!

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;What means this noise?—Fellow, what miracle
&blquo;Dost thou proclaim?

&blquo;Tow.
&blquo;A miracle, a miracle!

&blquo;Suff.
&blquo;Come to the king, tell him what miracle.

&blquo;Tow.
&blquo;Forsooth, a blind man at saint Alban's shrine,
&blquo;Within this half hour, hath receiv'd his sight;
&blquo;A man, that ne'er saw in his life before.

&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Now Heav'n be prais'd! that to believing souls
&blquo;Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair. &blquo;Enter a great Multitude, bearing Sympcox between two in a Chair, his Wife with him; the Mayor of Saint Alban's, and his Brethren, following in Procession.

&blquo;Car.
&blquo;Here are the townsmen on procession,
&blquo;Come to present your highness with the man.

&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Great is his comfort in this earthly vale,
&blquo;Though by his sight his sin be multiply'd.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Stand by, my masters, bring him near the king,
&blquo;His highness' pleasure is to talk with him.

&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance,
&blquo;That we for thee may glorify the Lord.
&blquo;What, hast thou been long blind, and now restor'd?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;Born blind, an't please your grace.

&blquo;Wife.
&blquo;Ay, indeed, was he.

&blquo;Suf.
&blquo;What woman is this?

&blquo;Wife.
&blquo;His wife, an't like your worship.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Had'st thou been his mother, thou couldst have better told.

&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Where wert thou born?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;At Berwick in the north, an't like your grace.

&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Poor soul! Heav'n's goodness hath been great to thee:
&blquo;Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass,
&blquo;But still remember what the Lord hath done.

&blquo;Que.
&blquo;Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou here by chance,
&blquo;Or of devotion, to this holy shrine?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;Heav'n knows, of pure devotion; being call'd
&blquo;A hundred times, and oftener, in my sleep
&blquo;By good saint Alban: who said,—Saunder, come;
&blquo;Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.

&blquo;Wife.
&blquo;Most true, forsooth; and many time and oft
&blquo;Myself have heard a voice to call him so.

&blquo;Car.
&blquo;What, art thou lame?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;Ay, Heav'n almighty help me!

&blquo;Suf.
&blquo;How cam'st thou so?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;A fall off of a tree.

&blquo;Wife.
&blquo;A plum-tree, master.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;How long hast thou been blind?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;O, born so, master* ^note.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;What, and would'st climb a tree?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;But that in all my life, when I was a youth.

&blquo;Wife.
&blquo;Too true; and bought his climbing very dear.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Mass, thou lov'dst plums well, that would'st venture so.

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some damsons,
&blquo;And made me climb, with danger of my life.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;A subtle knave; but yet it shall not serve.—
&blquo;Let me see thine eyes: wink now; now open them:
&blquo;In my opinion, yet thou see'st not well.

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;Yes, master, clear as day; I thank God, and saint Alban.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Say'st thou me so? What colour is this cloak of?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;Red, master; red as blood.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Why, that's well said:
&blquo;What colour is my gown of?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;Black, forsooth;
&blquo;Coal-black as jet.

&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Why then, thou know'st what colour jet is of?

&blquo;Suf.
&blquo;And yet, I think, jet did he never see.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;But cloaks, and gowns, before this day a many.

&blquo;Wife.
&blquo;Never, before this day, in all his life.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Tell me, sirrah, what's my name?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;Alas, master, I know not.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;What's his name?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;I know not.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Nor his?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;No, indeed, master.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;What's thine own name?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you; master.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lying'st knave
&blquo;In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind,
&blquo;Thou might'st as well know all our names, as thus
&blquo;To name the several colours we do wear.
&blquo;Sight may distinguish colours; but suddenly
&blquo;To nominate them all, it is impossible.—
&blquo;My lords, saint Alban here hath done a miracle;
&blquo;Would ye not think his cunning to be great,
&blquo;That could restore this cripple to his legs again?

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;O, master, that you could!

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;My masters of Saint Alban's,
&blquo;Have you not beadles in your town, and things,
&blquo;Call'd whips?

&blquo;May.
&blquo;Yes, my good lord, if't please your grace.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Then send for one presently.

&blquo;May.
&blquo;Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight. &blquo;[Exit an Attendant.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Now fetch me a stool hither by and by.—
&blquo;Now, sirrah, [Stool set out.
&blquo;If you do mean to save yourself from whipping,
&blquo;Leap me over this stool, and run away.

&blquo;Sim.
&blquo;Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone:
&blquo;You go about to torture me in vain. &blquo;Re-enter Attendant, with the Beadle.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Well, Sir, we must have you find your legs.—
&blquo;Sirrah beadle, whip him 'till he leap over that same stool.

&blquo;Bea.

&blquo;I will, my lord.—Come on, sirrah; off with your doublet quickly.&brquo;

&blquo;Sim.

&blquo;Alas, master, what shall I do? I am not able to stand.&brquo;

&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;O Heav'n, seest thou this, and bear'st so long?

&blquo;Que.
&blquo;It made me laugh, to see the villain run.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Follow the knave; and take this drab away.

&blquo;Wife.
&blquo;Alas, Sir, we did it for pure need.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;Let them be whipt through every market town,
&blquo;'Till they do come to Berwick, whence they came. &blquo;[Exeunt Wife, Beadle, Mayor, &c.

&blquo;Car.
&blquo;Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day.

&blquo;Suf.
&blquo;True; made the lame to leap, and fly away.

&blquo;Glo.
&blquo;But you have done more miracles than I;
&blquo;You, in a day, my lord, made whole towns fly.

Enter Buckingham.

Kin.
What tidings with our cousin Buckingham?

Buc.
Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold.
A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent,—
Under the countenance and confederacy
Of lady Eleanor, the protector's wife,
The ring-leader and head of all this rout,—
Have practis'd dang'rously against your state,
Dealing with witches, and with conjurers:
Whom we have apprehended in the fact;
Raising up wicked spirits from under ground,
Demanding of king Henry's life and death,
And other of your highness' privy council,
As more at large your grace shall understand.

Car.
And so, my lord protector, by this means
Your lady is forth-coming yet at London.
This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's edge;
'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour.

Glo.
Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my heart:
Sorrow and grief hath vanquish'd all my powers;
And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to thee
Or to the meanest groom.

Kin.
O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones;
Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby!

Que.
Gloster, see here the tainture of thy nest;
And, look, thyself be faultless, thou wert best.

Glo.
Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal,
How I have lov'd my king, and common-weal:
And, for my wife, I know not how it stands;
Sorry I am to hear what I have heard:
Noble she is; but, if she have forgot
Honour, and virtue, and convers'd with such
As, like to pitch, defile nobility,
I banish her my bed, and company;
And give her, as a prey, to law, and shame,
That hath dishonour'd Gloster's honest name† ^note.

Kin.
Well, for this night, we will repose us here:
To-morrow, toward London, back again,

To look into this business thoroughly,
And call these foul offenders to their answers;
And poise the cause in justice' equal scales,
Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails. SCENE II. London. Duke of York's Garden. Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick.

Yor.
Now my good lords of Salisbury and Warwick,
Our simple supper ended, give me leave,
In this close walk, to satisfy myself,
In craving your opinion of my title,
Which is infallible, to England's crown.

Sal.
My lord, I long to hear it at the full.

War.
Sweet York, begin: and, if thy claim be good,
The Nevils are thy subjects to command.

Yor.
Then thus:—
Edward the third, my lords, had seven sons:
The first, Edward the black prince, prince of Wales;
The second, William of Hatfield; and the third,
Lionel, duke of Clarence; next to whom,
Was John of Gaunt, the duke of Lancaster:
The fifth, was Edmond Langley, duke of York;
The sixth, was Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloster;
William of Windsor was the seventh, and last.
Edward, the black Prince, dy'd before his father;
And left behind him Richard, his only son,
Who, after Edward the third's death, reign'd king:
'Till Henry Bolingbrook, duke of Lancaster,
The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt,
Crown'd by the name of Henry the fourth,
Seiz'd on the realm; depos'd the rightful king:
Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she came,
And him to Pomfret; where, as you both know,
Harmless king Richard trait'rously was murder'd‡ ^note.

War.
Father, the duke hath surely told the truth;
Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown.

Yor.
Which now they hold by force, and not by right;

For Richard, the first son's heir, being dead,
The issue of the next son should have reign'd.

Sal.
But William of Hatfield dy'd without an heir.

Yor.
The third son, duke of Clarence, (from whose line
I claim the crown) had issue—Philippe, a daughter;
Who marry'd Edmond Mortimer, earl of March:
Edmond had issue—Roger earl of March;
Roger had issue—Edmond, Anne, and Eleanor.

Sal.
This Edmond, in the reign of Bolingbrook,
As I have read, lay'd claim unto the crown;
And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king,
Who kept him in captivity, 'till he dy'd.
But, to the rest.

Yor.
His eldest sister, Anne,
My mother, being heir unto the crown,
Marry'd Richard, earl of Cambridge; who was son
To Edmond Langley, Edward the third's fifth son.
By her I claim the kingdom: she then was heir
To Roger, earl of March; who was the son
Of Edmond Mortimer; who marry'd Philippe,
Sole daughter unto Lionel, duke of Clarence:
So, if the issue of the elder son
Succeed before the younger, I am king§ ^note.

War.
What plain proceeding is more plain than this?
Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt,
The fourth son; but York claims it from the third.
'Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign:
It fails not yet; but flourishes in thee,
And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock.—
Then, father Salisbury, kneel we both together;
And, in this private plot, be we the first,
That shall salute our rightful sovereign
With honour of his birth-right to the crown.

Both.
Long live our sovereign Richard, England's king!

Yor.
We thank you, lords. But I am not your king,
'Till I be crown'd; and that my sword be stain'd
With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster:

And that's not suddenly to be perform'd;
But with advice, and silent secrecy.
Do you, as I do, in these dangerous days;
Wink at the duke of Suffolk's insolence,
At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition,
At Buckingham, and all the crew of them,
'Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock,
That virtuous prince, the good duke Humphrey:
'Tis that they seek; and they, in seeking that,
Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy.

Sal.
My lord, break off; we know your mind at full.

War.
My heart assures me, that the earl of Warwick
Shall one day make the duke of York a king.

Yor.
And, Nevil, this I do assure myself,—
Richard shall live to make the earl of Warwick
The greatest man in England, but the king. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The same. A Hall of Justice. Trumpets. Enter King Henry, and Queen, Duke of Gloster, York, Suffolk, Salisbury, and divers others: then, Enter officers, &c. bringing in the Dutchess of Gloster, Hume, Southwel, Bolingbrook, and Mother Jourdain.

Kin.
Stand forth, dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloster's wife:
In sight of Heav'n, and us, your guilt is great;
Receive the sentence of the law, for sins
Such as by Heav'n's book are adjudg'd to death.—
You four, from hence to prison back again;
From thence, unto the place of execution:
The witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes,
And you three shall be strangl'd on the gallows.—
You, madam, for you are more nobly born,
Despoiled of your honour in your life,
Shall, after three days' open penance done,
Live in your country here, in banishment,
With sir John Stanley, in the isle of Man.

Dut.
Welcome is banishment, welcome were my death.

Glo.
Eleanor, the law, thou see'st, hath judged thee;
I cannot justify whom the law condemns.— [Exeunt Officers, with Dutchess, and the other Prisnoers.

Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age
Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground!
'Beseech your majesty, give me leave to go;
Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease.

Kin.
Stay, Humphrey duke of Gloster: ere thou go,
Give up thy staff; Henry will to himself
Protector be; and Heav'n shall be my hope,
My stay, my guide, and lanthorn to my feet:
And go in peace, Humphrey; no less belov'd,
Than when thou wert protector to thy king.

Que.
I see no reason, why a king of years
Should be to be protected like a child:
Give up your staff, Sir, and the king his realm.

Glo.
My staff?—here, noble Henry, is my staff:
As willingly do I the same resign,
As e'er thy father Henry made it mine;
And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it,
As others would ambitiously receive it.
Farewel, good king: When I am dead and gone,
May honourable peace attend thy throne! [Exit.

Que.
Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret queen;
And Humphrey, duke of Gloster, scarce himself,
That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once,—
His lady banish'd, and a limb lopt off,
This staff of honour raught:—There let it stand,
Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand.

Suf.
Thus droops this lofty pine, and hangs his sprays;
Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days.

Yor.
Lords, let him go.—Please it your majesty,
This is the day appointed for the combat;
And ready are the appellant and defendant,
The armourer and his man, to enter the lists,
So please your highness to behold the sight.

Que.
Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefóre
Left I the court, to see this quarrel try'd.

Kin.
O' Heav'n's name, see the lists and all things fit;
&blquo;Here let them end it, and Heav'n defend the right!

&blquo;Yor.
&blquo;I never saw a fellow worse bested,
&blquo;Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant,
&blquo;The servant of this armourer, my lords.

&blquo;Drums. Enter, on one Side, the Armourer, and certain of his Neighbours, drinking to him so much, that he is drunk; and he enters bearing his Staff, with a Sand bag fasten'd to it; Drum before him: On the other Side, Enter his Man, and Prentices drinking to him; bearing a like Staff; Drum likewise before him.

&blquo;1. N.

&blquo;Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of sack; and fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough.&brquo;

&blquo;2. N.

&blquo;And here, neighbour, here's a cup of charneco.&brquo;

&blquo;3. N.

&blquo;And here's a pot of good double-beer, neighbour: drink, and fear not your man.&brquo;

&blquo;Arm.

&blquo;Let it come, i'faith, and I'll pledge you all; And a fig for Peter!&brquo;

&blquo;1. P.

&blquo;Here, Peter, I drink to thee; and be not afraid.&brquo;

&blquo;2. P.

&blquo;Be merry, Peter, and fear not your master: fight for credit of the prentices.&brquo;

&blquo;Pet.

&blquo;I thank you all: drink, and pray for me, I pray you; for, I think, I have taken my last draught in this world—Here, Robin, and if I die, I give thee my apron;—and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer: —and here, Tom, take all the money that I have.— O Lord bless me, I pray Heav'n! for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learned so much fence already.&brquo;

&blquo;Sal.

&blquo;Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. Sirrah, what's thy name?&brquo;

&blquo;Pet.

&blquo;Peter, forsooth.&brquo;

&blquo;Sal.

&blquo;Peter! what more?&brquo;

&blquo;Pet.

&blquo;Thump.&brquo;

&blquo;Sal.

&blquo;Thump! then see thou thump thy master well.&brquo;

&blquo;Arm.

&blquo;Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man's instigation, to prove him a knave, and myself an honest man: and touching the duke of York,— I will take my death, I never meant him any ill, nor the king, nor the queen; And therefore, Peter, have at thee with a down-right blow.&brquo;

&blquo;Yor.
&blquo;Dispatch;—this knave's tongue begins to double,—
&blquo;Sound trumpets, 'larum to the combatants.

&blquo;Alarum. They fight; and Peter strikes down his Master.

&blquo;Arm.

&blquo;Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess treason.&brquo;

&blquo;Yor.

&blquo;Take away his weapon:—Fellow, thank God, and the good wine in thy master's way.&brquo;

&blquo;Pet.

&blquo;O Heav'n! have I overcome mine enemy in this presence? O Peter, thou hast prevail'd in right!&brquo;

&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Go, take away that traitor from our sight;
&blquo;For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt:
&blquo;And Heav'n, in justice, hath reveal'd to us
&blquo;The truth and innocence of this poor fellow,
&blquo;Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully.—
&blquo;Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. [Flourish. Exeunt* ^note. SCENE IV. The same. A Street. Enter Gloster, and Servants, all in Mourning.

Glo.
Thus, sometimes, hath the brightest day a cloud;
And, after summer, evermore succeeds
Bare winter, with his wrathful nipping cold:
So cares and joys go round, as seasons fleet.—
Sirs, what's o'clock?

Ser.
Ten, my lord.

Glo.
Ten is the hour that was appointed me,
To watch the coming of my punish'd dutchess:
Uneath† ^note may she endure the flinty streets,
To tread them with her tender feeling feet.
Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook ‡ ^note
The abject people, gazing on thy face,
With envious looks still laughing at thy shame;
That erst did follow thy proud chariot-wheels,
When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets.
But, soft! I think, she comes; and I'll prepare,
My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries.

Enter the Dutchess of Gloster, bare-foot, and a white Sheet about her, with Papers pin'd upon her Back, and a Taper burning in her Hand; accompany'd with the Sheriffs of London, Sir John Stanley, and Officers with Bills and Halberts.

Ser.
So please your grace, we'll take her from the sheriff.

Glo.
No, stir not for your lives, let her pass by.

Dut.
Come you, my lord, to see my open shame?
Now thou dost penance too. Look, how they gaze!
See, how the giddy multitude do point,
And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee!
Ah, Gloster, hide thee from their hateful looks;
And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame,
And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine.

Glo.
Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.

Dut.
Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget myself:
For whilst I think I am thy marry'd wife,
And thou a prince, protector of this land,
Methinks, I should not thus be led along,
Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back;
And follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice
To see my tears, and hear my deep-set groans.
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet;
And, when I start, the envious people laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.
Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke?
Trow'st thou, that e'er I'll look upon the world;
Or count them happy, that enjoy the sun?
No; dark shall be my light, and night my day;
To think upon my pomp, shall be my hell.
Sometime I'll say, I am duke Humphrey's wife;
And he a prince, and ruler of the land:
Yet so he rul'd, and such a prince he was,
As he stood by, whilst I, his forlorn dutchess,
Was made a wonder, and a pointing-stock,
To every idle rascal follower.
But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame;
Nor stir at nothing, 'till the axe of death
Hang over thee, as (sure) it shortly will:
For Suffolk,—he that can do all in all,—

With her, that hateth thee, and hates us all,—
And York, and impious Beaufort that false priest,
Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings,
And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee:
But fear not thou, until thy foot be snar'd,
Nor never seek prevention of thy foes* ^note.

Glo.
Ah, Nell, forbear; thou aimest all awry;
I must offend, before I be attainted:
And had I twenty times so many foes,
And each of them had twenty times their power,
All these could not procure me any scathe† ^note,
So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless.
Would'st have me rescue thee from this reproach?
Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away,
And I in danger for the breach of law.
Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell:
I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience;
This few-days' wonder will be quickly worn. Enter a Herald.

Her.

I summon your grace to his majesty's parliament, holden at Bury the first of the next month.

Glo.
And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before!
This is close dealing.—Well, I will be there. [Exit Herald.
My Nell, I take my leave:—and, master sheriff,
Let not her penance exceed the king's commission.

She.
An't please your grace, here my commission stays:
And Sir John Stanley is appointed now
To take her with him to the isle of Man.

Glo.
Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here?

Sta.
So am I given in charge, may't please your grace.

Glo.
Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray
You use her well: the world may laugh again;
And I may live to do you kindness, if
You do it her. And so, Sir John, farewel.

Dut.
What, gone, my lord; and bid me not farewel?

Glo.
Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak. [Exeunt Gloster, and Servants.

Dut.
Art thou gone too? All comfort go with thee!
For none abides with me: my joy is—death;
Death, at whose name I oft have been afear'd,
Because I wish'd this world's eternity.—
Stanley, I pry'thee, go, and take me hence;
I care not whither, for I beg no favour,
Only convey me where thou art commanded.

&blquo;Sta.
&blquo;Why, madam, that is to the isle of Man;
&blquo;There to be us'd according to your state.

&blquo;Dut.
&blquo;That's bad enough, for I am but reproach:
&blquo;And shall I then be us'd reproachfully?

&blquo;Sta.
&blquo;Like to a dutchess, and duke Humphrey's lady,
&blquo;According to that state you shall be us'd.

&blquo;Dut.
&blquo;Sheriff, farewel, and better than I fare;
&blquo;Although thou hast been conduct of my shame.

&blquo;She.
&blquo;It is my office; madam, pardon me.

&blquo;Dut.
&blquo;Ay, ay, farewel; thy office is discharg'd.—
&blquo;Come, Stanley, shall we go?

Sta.
Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet,
And go we to attire you for our journey.

Dut.
My shame will not be shifted with my sheet:
No, it will hang upon my richest robes,
And shew itself, attire me how I can* ^note.
Go, lead the way; I long to see my prison. [Exeunt† ^note. ACT III. SCENE I. Bury. A Room in the Abbey. Enter King Henry, and Queen, Cardinal Beaufort, York, Suffolk, Buckingham, and Others.

King.
I Muse, my lord of Gloster is not come:
'Tis not his wont‡ ^note to be the hindmost man,
Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now.

Que.
Can you not see? or will you not observe
The strangeness of his alter'd countenance?

With what a majesty he bears himself;
How insolent of late he is become,
How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself?
We know the time, since he was mild and affable;
And, if we did but glance a far-off look,
Immediately he was upon his knee,
That all the court admir'd him for submission:
But meet him now, and be it in the morn,
When every one will give the time of day,
He knits his brow, and shews an angry eye,
And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee,
Disdaining duty that to us belongs.
&blquo;Small curs are not regarded, when they grin;
&blquo;But great men tremble, when the lion roars;
&blquo;And Humphrey is no little man in England.
First, note, that he is near you in descent;
And, should you fall, he is the next will mount:
Me seemeth then, it is no policy,—
Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears,
And his advantage following your decease,—
That he should come about your royal person,
Or be admitted to your highness' council:
&blquo;By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts;
&blquo;And, when he please to make commotion,
&blquo;'Tis to be fear'd, they all will follow him.
&blquo;Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted;
&blquo;Suffer them now, and they'll o'er-grow the garden,
&blquo;And choak the herbs for want of husbandry.
&blquo;The reverent care, I bear unto my lord,
&blquo;Made me collect these dangers in the duke:
&blquo;If it be fond, call it a woman's fear;
&blquo;Which fear if better reasons can supplant,
&blquo;I will subscribe, and say—I wrong'd the duke.—
My lord of Suffolk,—Buckingham,—and York,—
Reprove my allegation, if you can;
Or else conclude my words effectual† ^note.

Suf.
Well hath your highness seen into this duke;
And, had I first been put to speak my mind,
I think, I should have told your grace's tale.
&blquo;The dutchess, by his subornation,
&blquo;Upon my life, began her devilish practices:
&blquo;Or if he were not privy to those faults,
&blquo;Yet the repeating of his high descent,
&blquo;As—next the king, he was successive heir,
&blquo;And such high vaunts of his nobility,
&blquo;Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick dutchess,
&blquo;By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall.
Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deepest;
And in his simple shew he harbours treason.
The fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb.
No, no, my sovereign; Gloster is a man
Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.

Car.
Did he not, contrary to form of law,
Devise strange deaths for small offences done?

Yor.
And did he not, in his protectorship,
Levy great sums of money through the realm,
For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it?
By means whereof, the towns each day revolted.

Buc.
Tut! these are petty faults to faults unknown,
Which time will bring to light in smooth duke Humphrey.

Kin.
My lords, at once; the care you have of us,
To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot,
Is worthy praise: But shall I speak my conscience?
Our kinsman Gloster is as innocent
From meaning treason to our royal person,
As is the sucking lamb, or harmless dove:
The duke is virtuous, mild; and too well given,
To dream on evil, or to work my downfal.

Que.
Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance?
Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrow'd,
For he's disposed as the hateful raven:
Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him,
For he's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf.
Who cannot steal a shape, that means deceit?
Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all
Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.

Enter Somerset.

Som.
All health unto my gracious sovereign!

Kin.
Welcome, lord Somerset. What news from France?

Som.
That all your interest in those territories
Is utterly bereft you; all is lost.

Kin.
Cold news, lord Somerset: But Heav'n's will be done!

Yor.
Cold news for me; for I had hope of France,
As firmly as I hope for fertile England.
Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud,
And caterpillars eat my leaves away:
But I will remedy this geer ere long,
Or sell my title for a glorious grave. [Aside. Enter Gloster.

Glo.
All happiness unto my lord the king!
Pardon, my liege, that I have stay'd so long.

Suf.
Nay, Gloster, know, that thou art come too soon,
Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art:
I do arrest thee of high treason here.

Glo.
Well, Suffolk, yet thou shalt not see me blush,
Nor change my countenance for this arrest;
A heart unspotted is not easily daunted.
The purest spring is not so free from mud,
As I am clear from treason to my sovereign:
Who can accuse me? wherein am I guilty?

Yor.
'Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of France,
And, being protector, stay'd the soldiers' pay;
By means whereof, his highness hath lost France.

Glo.
Is it but thought so? What are they, that think it?
I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay,
Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.
So help me Heav'n, as I have watch'd the night,—
Ay, night by night,—in studying good for England!
That doit that e'er I wrested from the king,
Or any groat I hoarded to my use,
Be brought against me at my trial-day!
No; many a pound of mine own proper store,
Because I would not tax the needy commons,

Have I dispursed to the garrisons,
And never ask'd for restitution‡ ^note.

Car.
It serves you well, my lord, to say so much.

Glo.
I say no more than truth, so help me Heav'n.

Yor.
In your protectorship, you did devise
Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of,
That England was defam'd by tyranny.

Glo.
Why, 'tis well known, that, whilst I was protector,
Pity was all the fault that was in me;
For I should melt at an offender's tears,
And lowly words were ransom for their fault.
Unless it were a bloody murtherer,
Or foul felonious thief, that fleec'd poor passengers,
I never gave them condign punishment:
Murther, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd
Above the felon, or what trespass else† ^note.

Suf.
My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answer'd:
But mightier crimes are lay'd unto your charge,
Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.
I do arrest you in his highness' name;
And here commit to my lord cardinal
To keep, until your further time of trial.

Kin.
My lord of Gloster, 'tis my special hope,
That you will clear yourself from all suspect;
My conscience tells me, you are innocent.

Glo.
Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous!
Virtue is choak'd with foul ambition,
And charity chac'd hence by rancor's hand;
Foul subornation is predominant,
And equity exil'd your highness' land.
I know, their complot is to have my life;
And, if my death might make this island happy,
And prove the period of their tyranny,

I would expend it with all willingness:
But mine is made the prologue to their play;
For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril,
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.
&blquo;Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice,
&blquo;And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate;
&blquo;Sharp Buckingham unburthens with his tongue
&blquo;The envious load that lies upon his heart;
&blquo;And dogged York, that reaches at the moon,
&blquo;Whose over-weening arm I have pluck'd back,
&blquo;By false accuse doth level at my life:—
And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest,
Causeless have lay'd disgraces on my head;
And, with your best endeavour, have stirr'd up
My liefest liege to be mine enemy:—
&blquo;Ay, all of you have lay'd your heads together,
&blquo;Myself had notice of your conventicles,
&blquo;And all to make away my guiltless life:
&blquo;I shall not want false witness to condemn me,
&blquo;Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt;
&blquo;The ancient proverb will be well effected,—
&blquo;A staff is quickly found to beat a dog† ^note.

Car.
My liege, his railing is intolerable:
If those, that care to keep your royal person
From treason's secret knife, and traitors' rage,
Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,
And the offender granted scope of speech,
'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.

Suf.
Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here,
With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd,
As if she had suborned some to swear
False allegations to o'er-throw his state?

Que.
But I can give the loser leave to chide.

Glo.
Far truer spoke, than meant: I lose, indeed;—
Beshrew the winners, for they play me false!—
And well such losers may have leave to speak.

Buc.
He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day:—
Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner.

Car.
Sirs, take away the duke, and guard him sure. [to some Attendants.

Glo.
Ah, thus king Henry throws away his crutch* ^note,
Before his legs be firm to bear his body:
Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side,
And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first.
Ah, that my fear were false; ah, that it were!
For, good king Henry, thy decay I fear. [Exeunt Attendants, with Gloster.

Kin.
My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best,
Do, or undo, as if ourself were here.

Que.
What, will your highness leave the parliament?

Kin.
Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with grief,
Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes;
My body round engirt with misery;
For what's more miserable than discontent?—
Ah! uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see
The map of honour, truth, and loyalty;
And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come,
That e'er I prov'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith.
What louring star now envies thy estate,
That these great lords, and Margaret our queen,
Do seek subversion of thy harmless life?
Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong:
And as the butcher takes away the calf,
And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays,
Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house;
Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence.
&blquo;And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
&blquo;Looking the way her harmless young one went,
&blquo;And can do nought but wail her darling's loss:
&blquo;Even so myself bewail good Gloster's case
&blquo;With sad unhelpful tears; and with dim'd eyes
&blquo;Look after him, and cannot do him good;
&blquo;So mighty are his vowed enemies.

His fortunes I will weep; and, 'twixt each groan,
Say—Who's a traitor? Gloster he is none† ^note. [Exit.

Que.
Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams.
Henry my lord is cold in great affairs,
Too full of foolish pity: and Gloster's shew
Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting passengers;
Or as the snake, rowl'd on a flow'ring bank,
With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a child,
That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent.
Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I,
(And yet, herein, I judge mine own wit good)
This Gloster should be quickly rid the world,
To rid us from the fear we have of him.

Car.
That he should die, is worthy policy;
But yet we want a colour for his death:
'Tis meet, he be condemn'd by course of law.

Suf.
But, in my mind, that were no policy:
The king will labour still to save his life,
The commons haply rise to save his life;
And yet we have but trivial argument,
More than mistrust, that shews him worthy death.

Yor.
So that, by this, you would not have him die.

Suf.
Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I.

Yor.
'Tis York that hath more reason for his death.—
But, my lord cardinal,—and you, my lord of Suffolk,—
Say as you think, and speak it from your souls,—
Wer't not all one, an empty eagle were set
To guard the chicken from a hungry kite,
As place duke Humphrey for the king's protector?

Que.
So the poor chicken should be sure of death.

Suf.
Madam, 'tis true: and wer't not madness then,
To make the fox surveyor of the fold?
Who being accus'd a crafty murtherer,
His guilt should be but idly posted over,

Because his purpose is not executed:
No; let him die, in that he is a fox,
By nature prov'd an enemy to the stock,
Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood;
As Humphrey's prov'd by reasons to my liege.
And do not stand on quillets, how to slay him:
Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety,
Sleeping, or waking, 'tis no matter how,
So he be dead; for that is good deceit,
Which mates him first, that first intends deceit.

Que.
Thrice noble Suffolk, resolutely spoke.

Suf.
Not resolute, except so much were done;
For things are often spoke, and seldom meant:
But, that my heart accordeth with my tongue,—
Seeing the deed is meritorious,
And to preserve my sovereign from his foe,—
Say but the word, and I will be his priest.

Car.
But I would have him dead, my lord of Suffolk,
Ere you can take due orders for a priest:
Say, you consent, and censure well the deed,
And I'll provide his executioner,
I tender so the safety of my liege* ^note.

Suf.
Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing.

Que.
And so say I.

Yor.
And I: and now we three have spoke it,
It skills not greatly who impugns our doom. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain,
To signify—that rebels there are up,
And put the Englishmen unto the sword:
Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime,
Before the wound do grow uncurable;
For, being green, there is great hope of help.

Car.
A breach, that craves a quick expedient stop.
What counsel give you in this weighty cause?

Yor.
That Somerset be sent as regent thither:
'Tis meet, that lucky ruler be employ'd;
Witness the fortune he hath had in France.

Som.
If York, with all his far-set policy,
Had been the regent there instead of me,
He never would have stay'd in France so long.

Yor.
No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done:
I rather would have lost my life betimes,
Than bring a burthen of dishonour home,
By staying there so long, 'till all were lost.
Shew me one scar character'd on thy skin:
Men's flesh preserv'd so whole, do seldom win.

Que.
Nay then, this spark will prove a raging fire,
If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with:—
No more, good York;—sweet Somerset, be still;—
Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there,
Might happily have prov'd far worse than his.

Yor.
What, worse than nought? nay, then a shame take all!

Som.
And, in the number, thee, that wishest shame!

Car.
My lord of York, try what your fortune is.
The uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms,
And temper clay with blood of Englishmen:
To Ireland will you lead a band of men,
Collected choicely, from each county some,
And try your hap against the Irishmen?

Yor.
I will, my lord, so please his majesty.

Suf.
Why, our authority is his consent;
And, what we do establish, he confirms:
Then, noble York, take thou his task in hand.

Yor.
I am content; Provide me soldiers, lords,
Whiles I take order for mine own affairs.

Suf.
A charge, lord York, that I will see perform'd.
But now return we to the false duke Humphrey.

Car.
No more of him; for I will deal with him,
That, henceforth, he shall trouble us no more.
And so break off; the day is almost spent:—
Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that.

Yor.
My lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days,
At Bristol I expect my soldiers;
For there I'll ship them all for Ireland.

Suf.
I'll see it truly done, my lord of York. [Exeunt all but York.

Yor.
Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts,
And change misdoubt to resolution:
Be that thou hop'st to be; or what thou art
Resign to death, it is not worth the enjoying:
Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean born man,
And find no harbour in a royal heart.
Faster than spring-time showers, comes thought on thought;
And not a thought, but thinks on dignity.
My brain, more busy than a labouring spider,
Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
Well, nobles, well; 'tis politicly done,
To send me packing with an host of men:
I fear me, you but warm the starved snake,
Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your hearts.
'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me:
I take it kindly; yet, be well assur'd,
You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.
Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
I will stir up in England some black storm,
&blquo;Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven, or hell:
&blquo;And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage,
&blquo;Until the golden circuit on my head,
&blquo;Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams,
&blquo;Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.
And, for a minister of my intent,
I have seduc'd a head-strong Kentishman,
John Cade of Ashford,
To make commotion, as full well he can,
Under the title of John Mortimer.
In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade
Oppose himself against a troop of kerns;
And fought so long, 'till that his thighs with darts
Were almost like a sharp quill'd porcupine:
And, in the end being rescu'd, I have seen him
Caper upright, like to a wild Morisco,
Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells.
&blquo;Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kern,
&blquo;Hath he conversed with the enemy;

&blquo;And undiscover'd come to me again,
&blquo;And given me notice of their villanies.
This devil here shall be my substitute;
&blquo;For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,
&blquo;In face, in gait, in speech he doth resemble:
&blquo;By this I shall perceive the commons' minds,
&blquo;How they affect the house and claim of York.
&blquo;Say, he be taken, rack'd, and tortured;
&blquo;I know, no pain, they can inflict upon him,
&blquo;Will make him say—I mov'd him to those arms:
Say, that he thrive, (as 'tis great like he will)
Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength,
And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd:
For, Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put apart, the next for me* ^note. [Exit. SCENE II. The same. Another Room. Enter certain Murtherers, hastily.

1 M.
Run to my lord of Suffolk; let him know,
We have dispatch'd the duke, as he commanded.

2 M.
O, that it were to do!—What have we done?
Didst ever hear a man so penitent? Enter Suffolk.

1 M.
Here comes my lord.

Suf.
Now, sirs,
Have you dispatch'd this thing?

1 M.
Ay, my good lord, he's dead.

Suf.
Why, that's well said. Go, get you to my house;
I will reward you for this venturous deed.
The king and all the peers are here at hand:—
Have you lay'd fair the bed? are all things well,
According as I gave directions?

1 M.
Yes, my good lord.

Suf.
Away, be gone. [Exeunt Murtherers.

Enter King, Queen, Cardinal, Somerset, Lords, and others.

Kin.
Go, call our uncle to our presence straight:
Say, we intend to try his grace to-day,
If he be guilty, as 'tis published.

Suf.
I'll call him presently, my noble lord. [Exit.

Kin.
Lords, take your places; and, I pray you all,
Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloster,
Than from true evidence, of good esteem,
He be approv'd in practice culpable.

Que.
Heav'n forbid, any malice should prevail,
That faultless may condemn a nobleman!
Pray Heav'n, he may acquit him of suspicion!

Kin.
I thank thee, Meg; these words content me much.— Re-enter Suffolk, hastily.
How now? why look'st thou pale? why trembl'st thou?
Where is our uncle? what's the matter, Suffolk?

Suf.
Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloster is dead.

Que.
Marry, Heav'n forefend!

Car.
Heav'n's secret judgment:—I did dream to-night,
The duke was dumb, and could not speak a word* ^note. [King swoons.

Que.
How fares my lord?—Help, lords! the king is dead.

&blquo;Som.
&blquo;Rear up his body; wring him by the nose.

Que.
Run, go, help, help!—O, Henry, ope thine eyes!

Suf.
He doth revive again;—madam, be patient.

Kin.
O merciful Heav'n!

Que.
How fares my gracious lord?

Suf.
Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, comfort!

Kin.
What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me?
Came he right now to sing a raven's note,
Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers;

And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
Can chase away the first-conceived sound?
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words.
Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say;
Their touch affrights me, as a serpent's sting.
Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight!
Upon thy eye-balls murd'rous tyranny
Sits, in grim majesty, to fright the world.
Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding:—
Yet do not go away: come, basilisk,
And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight:
For in the shade of death I shall find joy;
In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead* ^note.

Que.
Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus?
Although the duke was enemy to him,
Yet he, most christian-like, laments his death:
And for myself,—foe as he was to me,
Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans,
Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life,
I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans,
Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs,
And all to have the noble duke alive.
What know I how the world may deem of me?
For it is known we were but hollow friends;
It may be judg'd, I made the duke away:
So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded,
And princes courts be fill'd with my reproach.
This get I by his death: Aye me unhappy!
To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!

Kin.
Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched man!

Que.
Be woe for me, more wretched than he is† ^note.
What, dost thou turn away, and hide thy face?
&blquo;I am no loathsome leper, look on me.

&blquo;What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf?
&blquo;Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn queen.
Is all thy comfort shut in Gloster's tomb?
Why, then dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy:
Erect his statue then, and worship it,
&blquo;And make my image but an alehouse sign.
Was I, for this, nigh wreck'd upon the sea;
And twice by aukward wind from England's bank
Drove back again unto my native clime?
What boded this, but well fore-warning wind
Did seem to say,—Seek not a scorpion's nest,
Nor set no footing on this unkind shore?
&blquo;What did I then, but curs'd the gentle gusts,
&blquo;And he that loos'd them forth their brazen caves;
&blquo;And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore,
&blquo;Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock?
&blquo;Yet Æolus would not be a murtherer,
&blquo;But left that hateful office unto thee:
&blquo;The pretty vaulting sea refus'd to drown me;
&blquo;Knowing that thou would'st have me drown'd on shore
&blquo;With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness:
&blquo;The splitting rocks cowr'd in the sinking sands,
&blquo;And would not dash me with their ragged sides;
&blquo;Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they,
&blquo;Might in thy palace perish Margaret.
As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from thy shore the tempest beat us back,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm:
And when the dusky sky began to rob
My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view,
I took a costly jewel from my neck,—
A heart it was, bound in with diamonds,—
And threw it towards thy land; the sea receiv'd it;
And so, I wish'd, thy body might my heart:
&blquo;And even with this, I lost fair England's view,
&blquo;And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart;
&blquo;And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles,
&blquo;For losing ken of Albion's wished coast.
&blquo;How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue
&blquo;(The agent of thy foul inconstancy)
&blquo;To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did,

&blquo;When he, to madding Dido, would unfold
&blquo;His father's acts commenc'd in burning Troy?
&blquo;Am I not witch'd like her? or thou not false like him?
Aye me, I can no more! Die, Margaret;
For Henry weeps, that thou dost live so long* ^note. [Noise within. Commons are seen pressing towards the door, with Salisbury keeping them back. Enter Warwick.

War.
It is reported, mighty sovereign,
That good duke Humphrey trait'rously is murther'd
By Suffolk's and the cardinal Beaufort's means.
The commons, like an angry hive of bees
That want their leader, scatter up and down,
And care not who they sting in his revenge:
Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny,
Until they hear the order of his death.

Kin.
That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true;
But how he dy'd, God knows, not Henry:
Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,
And comment then upon his sudden death.

War.
That shall I do, my liege:—Stay, Salisbury,
With the rude multitude, 'till I return. [Exit, to an inner Room.

Kin.
O thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts;
My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul,
Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life!
† ^noteIf my suspect be false, forgive me, heav'n;
For judgment only doth belong to thee!
Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips
With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain
Upon his face an ocean of salt tears;
To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk,
And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling:
But all in vain are these mean obsequies;

And, to survey his dead and earthy image,
What were it but to make my sorrow greater? A door is thrown open, and Gloster discovered dead upon his bed, Warwick, and others, by him.

War.
Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body.

Kin.
That is to see how deep my grave is made:
For, with his soul, fled all my worldly solace;
And, seeing him, I see my death in life.

War.
As surely as my soul intends to live
With that dread King, that took our state upon him
To free us from his father's wrathful curse,
I do believe that violent hands were lay'd
Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke.

Suf.
A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue:
What instance gives lord Warwick for his vow?

War.
See, how the blood is settl'd in his face!
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,
Of ashy semblance, meager, pale, and bloodless,
Being all descended to the lab'ring heart;
Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy;
Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er returneth
To blush and beautify the cheek again.
But, see, his face is black, and full of blood;
His eye-balls farther out than when he liv'd,
Staring full ghastly like a strangl'd man:
His hair up-rear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling;
His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd
And tug'd for life, and was by strength subdu'd.
Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking;
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged,
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd.
It cannot be, but he was murther'd here;
The least of all these signs were probable* ^note.

Suf.
Why, Warwick, who should do the duke to death?

Myself, and Beaufort, had him in protection;
And we, I hope, sir, are no murtherers.

War.
But both of you were vow'd duke Humphrey's foes;
And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep:
'Tis like, you would not feast him like a friend;
And 'tis well seen, he found an enemy.

Que.
Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen;
As guilty of duke Humphrey's timeless death.

War.
Who finds the heifer dead, and bleeding fresh,
And sees fast by a butcher with an axe,
But will suspect, 'twas he that made the slaughter?
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest,
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite soar with unbloody'd beak?
Even so suspicious is this tragedy.

Que.
Are you the butcher, Suffolk? where's your knife?
Is Beaufort term'd a kite? where are his talons?

Suf.
I wear no knife, to slaughter sleeping men;
But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease,
That shall be scour'd in his rancorous heart,
That slanders me with murder's crimson badge:—
Say, if thou dar'st, proud lord of Warwickshire,
That I am faulty in duke Humphrey's death. [Exeunt Car. Som. and others.

War.
What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him?

Que.
He dares not calm his contumelious spirit,
Nor cease to be an arrogant controller,
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.

&blquo;War.
&blquo;Madam, be still; with reverence may I say it;
&blquo;For every word, you speak in his behalf,
&blquo;Is slander to your royal dignity.

&blquo;Suf.
&blquo;Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour!
&blquo;If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much,
&blquo;Thy mother took into her blameful bed
&blquo;Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock
&blquo;Was graft with crab-tree slip; whose fruit thou art,
&blquo;And never of the Nevils' noble race.

&blquo;War.
&blquo;But that the guilt of murther bucklers thee,
&blquo;And I should rob the death's-man of his fee,

&blquo;Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,
&blquo;And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild,
&blquo;I would, false murd'rous coward, on thy knee
&blquo;Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech,
&blquo;And say—it was thy mother that thou mean'st,
&blquo;That thou thyself wast born in bastardy:
&blquo;And, after all this fearful homage done,
&blquo;Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell,
&blquo;Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men.

&blquo;Suf.
&blquo;Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy blood,
&blquo;If from this presence thou dar'st go with me.

&blquo;War.
&blquo;Away, even now, or I will drag thee hence:
&blquo;Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee,
&blquo;And do some service to duke Humphrey's ghost* ^note. [Exeunt Suf. and War.

Kin.
What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted?
Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just;
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted† ^note.

Que.
What noise is this? [Noise within. Re-enter Suffolk and Warwick.

Kin.
Why, how now, lords? your wrathful weapons drawn
Here in our presence? dare you be so bold?—
Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?

Suf.
The trait'rous Warwick, with the men of Bury,
Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. Enter Salisbury.

Sal.
Sirs, stand apart, the king shall know your mind. [To the Commons, entering.
Dread lord, the commons send you word by me,—
Unless lord Suffolk straight be done to death,

Or banished fair England's territories,
They will by violence tear him from your palace,
And torture him with grievous ling'ring death.
They say, by him the good duke Humphrey dy'd;
They say, in him they fear your highness' death:
And meer instinct of love and loyalty,—
Free from a stubborn opposite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking,—
Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
They say, in care of your most royal person,
That, if your highness should intend to sleep,
And charge—that no man should disturb your rest,
In pain of your dislike, or pain of death;
Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict,
Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue,
That slily glided towards your majesty,
It were but necessary you were wak'd;
Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal:
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, whe'r you will, or no,
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is;
With whose envenomed and fatal sting,
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
They say, is shamefully bereft of life* ^note.

Com. [Within.]
An answer from the king, my lord of Salisbury.

Suf.
'Tis like, the commons, rude unpolish'd hinds,
Could send such message to their sovereign.
But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd,
To shew how quaint an orator you are:
But all the honour Salisbury hath won,
Is—that he was the lord embassador,
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king.

Com. [Within.]
An answer from the king, or we will all break in.

Kin.
Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me,
I thank them for their tender loving care:
And had I not been cited so by them,
Yet did I purpose as they do entreat;
For, sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy
Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means.
And therefore,—by his majesty I swear,
Whose far unworthy deputy I am,—
He shall not breathe infection in this air
But three days longer, on the pain of death. [Exit Salisbury.

Que.
O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk!

Kin.
Ungentle queen, to call him gentle Suffolk.
No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him,
Thou wilt but add encrease unto my wrath.
Had I but said, I would have kept my word;
But, when I swear, it is irrevocable:—
If, after three days space, thou here be'st found
On any ground that I am ruler of,
The world shall not be ransom for thy life.—
Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me;
I have great matters to impart to thee. [Exeunt King, Warwick, Lords, &c.

Que.
Mischance, and sorrow, go along with you!
Heart's discontent, and sour affliction,
&blquo;Be play-fellows to keep you company!
&blquo;There's two of you, the devil make a third!
And three-fold vengeance tend upon your steps* ^note!

Suf.
Cease, gentle queen, these execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.

Que.
Fie, coward woman, and soft-hearted wretch!
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies?

Suf.
A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse them?
Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,
I would invent as bitter searching terms,
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear,
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth,

With full as many signs of deadly hate,
As lean-fac'd envy in her loathsome cave:
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words;
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint;
My hair be fixt on end, as one distract;
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban.
And even now my burthen'd heart would break,
Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste!
Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees!
Their chiefest prospect, murth'ring basilisks!
Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings!
Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss;
And boding scritch-owls make the concert full!
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell* ^note—

Que.
Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st thyself;
And these dread curses—like the sun 'gainst glass,
Or like an over-charged gun,—recoil,
And turn the force of them upon thyself.

Suf.
You bad me ban, and will you bid me leave?
Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,
Well could I curse away a winter's night,
Though standing naked on a mountain top,
Where biting cold would never let grass grow,
And think it but a minute spent in sport.

Que.
O, let me intreat thee cease! Give me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournful tears;
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,
To wash away my woful monuments.
O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand;
That thou might'st think on these lips, by the seal,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee!
So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;
'Tis but surmis'd whilst thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
I will repeal thee, or, be well assur'd,
Adventure to be banished myself:
And banished I am, if but from thee.

Go, speak not to me; even now be gone.
O, go not yet! even thus two friends condemn'd
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves,
Lother a hundred times to part than die.
Yet now farewel; and farewel life with thee.

Suf.
Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,
Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee.
'Tis not the land I care for, wer't thou hence;
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company:
For where thou art, there is the world itself,
With every several pleasure in the world;
And where thou art not, desolation.
I can no more: Live thou to joy thy life;
Myself no joy in nought, but that thou liv'st† ^note. Enter a Gentleman, hastily.

Que.
Whither goes Vaux so fast? what news, I pr'ythee?

Gen.
To signify unto his majesty,
That cardinal Beaufort is at point of death:
For suddenly a grievous sickness took him,
That makes him gasp and stare, and catch the air,
Blaspheming heav'n, and cursing men on earth.
Sometime, he talks as if duke Humphrey's ghost
Were by his side; sometime he calls the king,
And whispers to his pillow, as to him,
The secrets of his over-charged soul:
And I am sent to tell his majesty,
That even now he cries aloud for him.

Que.
Go, tell this heavy message to the king. [Ex. Gen.
Ay me! what is this world? what news are these?
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,
Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure?
Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
And with the southern clouds contend in tears;
Theirs for the earth's encrease, mine for my sorrows?

Now, get thee hence; the king, thou know'st, is coming;
If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.

Suf.
If I depart from thee, I cannot live:
And in thy sight to die, what were it else,
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?
Here could I breathe my soul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe,
Dying with mother's dug‡ ^note between it's lips:
Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad,
And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes,
To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth;
So should'st thou either turn my flying soul,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body,
And then it liv'd in sweet Elyzium.
To die by thee, were but to die in jest;
From thee to die, were torture more than death:
O, let me stay, befal what may befal.

Que.
Away! though parting be a fretful corrosive,
It is applied to a deathful wound.
To France, sweet Suffolk: Let me hear from thee;
For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe,
I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out&verbar2; ^note.

Suf.
I go.

Que.
And take my heart with thee along.

Suf.
A jewel lock'd into the woful'st cask
That ever did contain a thing of worth.
Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we;
This way fall I to death.

Que.
This way for me. [Exeunt, severally. SCENE III. The same. Another Room. The Cardinal in his bed; Attendants by him. Enter King, Warwick, Salisbury, and others.

Kin.
How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.

Car.
If thou be'st Death, I'll give thee England's treasure,
Enough to purchase such another island,
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.

Kin.
Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,
Where death's approach is seen so terrible!

War.
Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.

Car.
Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Dy'd he not in his bed? where should he die?
Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no?
O! torture me no more, I will confess.
Alive again? then shew me where he is;
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.
Comb down his hair: look, look, it stands upright,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul.
Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him* ^note.

Kin.
O thou eternal Mover of the heavens,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
O, beat away the busy medling fiend,
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,
And from his bosom purge this black despair‡ ^note!

War.
See, how the pangs of death do make him grin.

Sal.
Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.

Kin.
Peace to his soul, if heav'n's good pleasure be!—
Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,
Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.—
He dies, and makes no sign:—O heav'n, forgive him!

War.
So bad a death argues a monstrous life.

Kin.
Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.—
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;
And let us all to meditation† ^note. [Exeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I. Kent. The sea shore. Firing heard at Sea. After that, a Boat appears, and puts ashore a Captain, a Master, a Master's Mate, Walter Whitmore, and others; and with them, as prisoners, Suffolk, and other Gentlemen.

Captain.
The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day
Is crept into the bosom of the sea;
And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades
That drag the tragic melancholy night;
Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings
Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws
Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air:
Therefore, bring forth the soldiers of our prize;
For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs,
Here shall they make their ransom on the sand,
Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore* ^note.—
Master, this prisoner freely give I thee;—
And thou that art his mate, make boot of this;—
The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share.

1 G.
What is my ransom, master? let me know.

Mas.
A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.

Mat.
And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.

Cap.
What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns,
And bear the name and port of gentlemen?—
Cut both the villains' throats;—for die you shall;
The lives of those which we have lost in fight,
Cannot be pois'd with such a petty sum.

1 G.
I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life.

2 G.
And so will I, and write home for it straight.

Whi.
I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard,
And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die; [to Suf.
And so should these, if I might have my will.

Cap.
Be not so rash, take ransom, let him live.

Suf.
Look on my George, I am a gentleman;
Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.

Whi.
And so am I; my name is—Walter Whitmore.
How now? why start'st thou? what, doth death affright?

Suf.
Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death.
A cunning man did calculate my birth,
And told me—that by Water I should die* ^note:
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded;
Thy name is—Gualtier, being rightly sounded.

Whi.
Gualtier, or Walter, which it is, I care not:
Ne'er yet did base dishonour blur our name,
But with our sword we wip'd away the blot;
Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge,
Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defac'd,
And I proclaim'd a coward through the world. [Is laying hands on Suffolk, to bear him off.

Suf.
Stay, Whitmore, for thy prisoner is a prince,
The duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.

Cap.
The duke of Suffolk, muffl'd up in rags!

Suf.
Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke;
Jove sometime went disguis'd, and why not I?

Cap.
But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be.

Suf.
Obscure and lowly swain, king Henry's blood,
The honourable blood of Lancaster,
Must not be shed by such a jady groom.
Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand, and held my stirrop,
And bare-head plodded by my foot-cloth mule,
And thought thee happy when I shook my head?
How often hast thou waited at my cup,
Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board,
When I have feasted with queen Margaret?
Remember it, and let it make thee crest-faln;

Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride:
How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood,
And duly waited for my coming forth?
This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf,
And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue.

Whi.
Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain?

Cap.
First, let my words stab him, as he hath me.

Suf.
Base slave! thy words are blunt, and so art thou.

Cap.
Convey him hence, and on our long-boat's side
Strike off his head.

Suf.
Thou dar'st not for thine own.

Cap.
Yes, Pole.

Suf.
Pole?

Cap.
Pole? ay, Pole;
&blquo;Nay, kennel, puddle, sink; whose filth and dirt
&blquo;Troubles the silver spring where England drinks.
&blquo;Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth,
&blquo;For swallowing the treasure of the realm:
&blquo;Thy lips, that kiss'd the queen, shall sweep the ground;
&blquo;And thou, that smil'dst at good duke Humphrey's death,
&blquo;Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain,
&blquo;Who, in contempt, shall hiss at thee again:
&blquo;And wedded be thou to the hags of hell,
&blquo;For daring to affy a mighty lord
&blquo;Unto the daughter of a worthless king,
&blquo;Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem.
&blquo;By devilish policy art thou grown great,
&blquo;And, like ambitious Sylla, over-gorg'd
&blquo;With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart.
&blquo;By thee, Anjou and Maine were sold to France:
&blquo;The false revolting Normans, thorough thee,
&blquo;Disdain to call us lord; and Picardy
&blquo;Hath slain their governors, surpris'd our forts,
&blquo;And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home.
&blquo;The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all,—
&blquo;Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain,—
&blquo;As hating thee, are rising up in arms:
&blquo;And now the house of York—thrust from the crown,
&blquo;By shameful murther of a guiltless king,
&blquo;And lofty proud encroaching tyranny,—
&blquo;Burns with revenging fire; whose hopeful colours

&blquo;Advance our half-fac'd sun, striving to shine,
&blquo;Under the which is writ—Invitis nubibus.
&blquo;The commons here in Kent are up in arms:
&blquo;And, to conclude, reproach, and beggary,
&blquo;Is crept into the palace of our king,
&blquo;And all by thee:—Away, convey him hence* ^note.

Suf.
O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder
Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges!
Small things make base men proud: &blquo;this villain here,
&blquo;Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more
&blquo;Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate.
&blquo;Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives.
&blquo;It is impossible, that I should die
&blquo;By such a lowly vassal as thyself.
&blquo;Thy words move rage, and not remorse, in me:
&blquo;I go of message from the queen to France;
&blquo;I charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel† ^note.

Cap.
Walter,—

Whi.
Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.

Suf.
Gelidus timor occupat artus:—'tis thee I fear.

Whi.
Thou shalt have cause to fear, before I leave thee.
What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop?

1. G.
My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair.

Suf.‡ ^note
Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough,
Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour.
Far be it, we should honour such as these
With humble suit: no, rather let my head
Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to any,
Save to the God of heaven, and to my king;
And sooner dance upon a bloody pole,
Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom.
Know, true nobility is exempt from fear:—
More can I bear, than you dare execute.

Cap.
Hale him away, and let him talk no more.

Suf.
Come, soldiers, [presenting himself to them.] shew what cruelty ye can,
That this my death may never be forgot.—
Great men oft die by vile Bezonians:
A Roman sworder and banditto slave
Murther'd sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand
Stab'd Julius Cæsar; savage islanders,
Pompey the great; and Suffolk dies by pirates. [Exit, with Whitmore, and Others.

Cap.
And as for these whose ransom we have set,—
It is our pleasure, one of them depart:—
Therefore come you with us, and let him go. [Exeunt all but the first Gentleman. Re-enter Whitmore, with Suffolk's Body.

Whi.
There let his head and lifeless body lie, [Throwing it down.
Until the queen his mistress bury it. [Exit.

1. G.
O barbarous and bloody spectacle!
His body will I bear unto the king:
If he revenge it not, yet will his friends;
So will the queen, that living held him dear. [Exit, with the body. &blquo;SCENE II. The same. Black-heath* ^note. &blquo;Enter George Bevis, and John Holland.

&blquo;Geo.

&blquo;Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; they have been up these two days.&brquo;

&blquo;John.

&blquo;They have the more need to sleep now then.&brquo;

&blquo;Geo.

&blquo;I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the common-wealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.&brquo;

&blquo;John.

&blquo;So he had need, 'tis thread-bare. Well, I say, it was never merry world in England, since gentlemen came up.&brquo;

&blquo;Geo.

&blquo;O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handicrafts-men.&brquo;

&blquo;John.

&blquo;The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.&brquo;

&blquo;Geo.

&blquo;Nay more, the king's council are no good workmen.&brquo;

&blquo;John.

&blquo;True; And yet it is said—Labour in thy vocation: which is as much as to say,—let the magistrates be labouring men; and therefore should we be magistrates† ^note.&brquo;

&blquo;Geo.

&blquo;Thou hast hit it: for there's no better sign of a brave mind, than a hard hand.&brquo;

&blquo;John.

&blquo;I see them! I see them! There's Best's son, the tanner of Wingham;&brquo;

&blquo;Geo.

&blquo;He shall have the skins of our enemies, to make dog's leather of.&brquo;

&blquo;John.

&blquo;And Dick the butcher;&brquo;

&blquo;Geo.

&blquo;Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity's throat cut like a calf.&brquo;

&blquo;John.

&blquo;And Will the weaver:&brquo;

&blquo;Geo.

&blquo;Argo, their thread of life is spun.&brquo;

&blquo;John.

&blquo;Come, come, let's fall in with them: for our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes.&brquo;