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.

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