K. Henry.
I muse, my lord of Gloster is not come:
'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man,
Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now.

Q. Mar.
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.
Small curs are not regarded, when they grin;
But great men tremble, when the lion roars;
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.
^{2 note}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.
By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts;
And, when he please to make commotion,
'Tis to be fear'd, they all will follow him.
Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted;
Suffer them now, and they'll o'er-grow the garden,
And choak the herbs for want of husbandry.
The reverent care, I bear unto my lord,
Made me collect these dangers in the duke.
If it be fond, call it a woman's fear;
Which fear if better reasons can supplant,
I will subscribe, and say—I wrong'd the duke.
My lords of Suffolk,—Buckingham,—and York,—
Reprove my allegation, if you can;
Or else conclude my words effectual.

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 ^{3 note}your grace's tale.
The dutchess, by his subornation,
Upon my life, began her devilish practices:
Or if he were not privy to those faults,
Yet, by reputing of his high descent^{4 note}
,
(As next the king, he was successive heir,)
And such high vaunts of his nobility,
Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick dutchess,
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?

York.
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.

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

K. Henry.
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 downfall.

Q. Mar.
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!

K. Henry.
Welcome, lord Somerset. What news from France?

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

K. Henry.
Cold news, lord Somerset: But God's will be done!

York.
^{5 note}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 ^{6 note}

Glo.
All happiness unto my lord the king!
Pardon, my liege, that I have staid 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 9Q0817 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?

York.
'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 God, 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.

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

Glo.
I say no more than truth, so help me God!

York.
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, whiles 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 murderer,
Or foul felonious thief, that fleec'd poor passengers,
I never gave them condign punishment:
Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd
Above the felon, or what trespass else.

Suf.
My lord, ^{7 note}these faults are easy, quickly answer'd:
But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge,
Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.
I do arrest you in his highness' name;
And here commit you to my lord cardinal
To keep, until your further time of trial.

K. Henry.
My lord of Gloster, 'tis my special hope,

That you will clear yourself from ^{8 note}
all suspicion;
My conscience tells me, you are innocent.

Glo.
Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous!
Virtue is choak'd with foul ambition,
And charity chas'd hence by rancour'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.
Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice,
And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate;
Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue
The envious load that lies upon his heart;
And dogged York, that reaches at the moon,
Whose over-weening arm I have pluck'd back,
By false accuse doth level at my life:—
And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest,
Causeless have laid disgraces on my head;
And, with your best endeavour, have stirr'd up
My ^{9 note}

The ancient proverb will be well effected,—
A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.

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'erthrow his state?

Q. Mar.
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.

Buck.
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.

Glo.
Ah, thus king Henry throws away his crutch,
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. [Exit guarded.

K. Henry.
My lords, what to your wisdom seemeth best,
Do, or undo, as if ourself were here.

Q. Mar.
What, will your highness leave the parliament?

K. Henry.
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 low'ring 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:
^{1 note}

Q. Mar.
^{2 note}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, roll'd on a flowering 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 my 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.

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

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

York.
^{3 note}

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?

Q. Mar.
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 murderer,
His guilt should be but idly posted over,
Because his purpose is not executed.
^{4 note}

Q. Mar.
Thrice-noble Suffolk, 'tis 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 ^{6 note}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, ^{7 note}and censure well the deed,
And I'll provide his executioner,
I tender so the safety of my liege.

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

Q. Mar.
And so say I.

York.
And I: and now we three have spoke it,
^{8 note}

Post.
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 incurable;
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?

York.
That Somerset be sent a 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-fet policy,

Had been the regent there instead of me,
He never would have staid in France so long.

York.
No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done:
I rather would have lost my life betimes,
Than bring a burden 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.

Q. Mar.
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.

York.
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?

York.
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 this task in hand.

York.
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 event.

York.
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.

York.
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 the labouring spider,
Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
Well, nobles, well; 'tis politickly 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 mad-man's hands.
Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
I will stir up in England some black storm,
Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven, or hell:
And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage
Until the golden circuit on my head,
Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams,
Do calm the fury of this ^{9 note}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 ^{1 note}