Suf.
As by your high imperial majesty
I had in charge at my depart for ^note France,
As procurator to your excellence,
To marry Princess Margaret for your grace,
So, in the famous ancient city Tours,
In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil,
The Dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretagne and ^{note note} Alençon,
Seven earls, twelve barons and twenty reverend bishops,
I have perform'd my task and was espoused:
And humbly now upon my bended knee,
In sight of England and her lordly peers,
Deliver up my title in the queen
To your most gracious hands ^note, that are the substance

Of that great shadow I did represent;
The happiest gift that ever marquess gave,
The fairest queen that ever king received.

King.
Suffolk, arise. Welcome, Queen Margaret:
I can express no kinder sign of love
Than this kind kiss. O Lord, that lends ^note me life,
Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!
For thou hast given me in this beauteous face
A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.

Queen.
Great King of England and my gracious lord,
The mutual conference that my mind hath had,
By day, by night, waking and in my dreams,
In courtly company or at my beads,
With you, mine alder-liefest ^note sovereign,
Makes me the bolder to salute my king
With ruder terms, such as my wit affords
And over-joy of heart doth minister.

King.
Her sight did ravish; but her grace in speech,
Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty,
Makes ^note me from wondering fall to weeping ^note joys;
Such is the fulness of my heart's content.
Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love.

All [kneeling ^note].
Long live Queen Margaret, England's happiness!

Queen.
We thank you all. [Flourish.

Suff.
My lord protector, so it please your grace,
Here are the articles of contracted peace
Between our sovereign and the French king Charles,
For eighteen months concluded by consent.

Glou. [Reads]

‘Imprimis, It is agreed between the French king Charles, and William de la Pole, Marquess of Suffolk, ambassador for Henry King of England, that the said Henry shall espouse the Lady Margaret, daughter unto Reignier King of Naples, Sicilia and Jerusalem, and crown her Queen of England ere the thirtieth ^note of May next

ensuing. Item, that the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine ^note shall be released and delivered to the king her father’— ^note

King.
Uncle, how now!

Glou.
Pardon me, gracious lord;
Some sudden qualm hath struck me at ^note the heart
And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further.

King.
Uncle of Winchester, I pray, read on.

Car. [Reads ^note]

‘Item, It is further agreed between them, ^note that the duchies ^note of Anjou and Maine shall be released and delivered over to the king her father, and she sent over of the King of England's own proper cost and charges, without having any ^note dowry.’

King.
They please us well. Lord marquess, kneel ^note down:
We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk,
And gird ^note thee with the sword. Cousin of York,
We here discharge your grace from being regent
I' the ^note parts of France, till term of eighteen months
Be full expired. Thanks, uncle Winchester,
Gloucester, York, Buckingham, Somerset ^note,
Salisbury, and Warwick;
We thank you all for ^note this great favour done,
In entertainment to my princely queen.
Come, let us in, and with all speed provide
To see her coronation be perform'd. [Exeunt ^note King, Queen, and Suffolk. ^note

Glou.
Brave peers of England, pillars of the state,
To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief,

Your grief, the common grief of all the land.
What! did my brother Henry spend his youth,
His valour, coin and people, in the wars?
Did he so often lodge in open field,
In winter's cold and summer's parching heat,
To conquer France, his true inheritance?
And did my brother Bedford toil his wits,
To keep by policy what Henry got?
Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham,
Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick,
Received deep scars in France and Normandy?
Or hath mine uncle Beaufort ^note and myself,
With all the learned council of the realm,
Studied so long, sat in the council-house
Early and late, debating to and fro
How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe,
And had his highness in his infancy
Crowned ^note in Paris in despite of foes?
And shall these labours and these honours die?
Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance,
Your deeds of war and all our counsel die?
O peers of England, shameful is this league!
Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame,
Blotting your names from books of memory,
Razing the characters of your renown,
Defacing monuments of conquer'd France,
Undoing all, as all had never been!

Car.
Nephew, what means this passionate discourse,
This peroration ^note with such circumstance?
For France, 'tis ours; and we will keep it still.

Glou.
Ay, uncle, we will keep it, if we can;
But now it is impossible we should:
Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast ^note,

Hath given the duchy ^note of Anjou and Maine
Unto the poor King Reignier, whose large style
Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.

Sal.
Now, by the death of Him that died for all,
These counties were the keys of Normandy.
But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?

War.
For grief that they are past recovery:
For, were there hope to conquer them again,
My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears.
Anjou and Maine! myself did win them both;
Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer:
And are the cities, that I got with wounds ^note,
Deliver'd up again with peaceful words?
Mort Dieu! ^note

York.
For Suffolk's duke, may he be suffocate,
That dims the honour of this warlike isle! ^note
France should have torn and rent my very heart,
Before I would have yielded to this league.
I never read but England's kings have had
Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives;
And our King Henry gives away his own,
To match with her that brings no vantages.

Glou.
A proper jest, and never heard before,
That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth
For costs and charges in transporting her!
She should have stayed in France and starved ^note in France,
Before—

Car.
My lord of Gloucester, now ye grow too hot:
It was the pleasure of my lord the king.

Glou.
My lord of Winchester, I know your mind;
'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike,
But 'tis my presence that doth trouble ye.
Rancour will out: proud prelate, in thy face
I see thy fury: if I longer stay,

We shall begin our ancient bickerings.
Lordings, farewell; and say, when I am gone,
I prophesied France will be lost ere long. [Exit.

Car.
So, there goes our protector in a rage.
Tis known to you he is mine enemy,
Nay, more, an enemy unto you all,
And no great friend, I fear me, to the king.
Consider, lords, he is the next of blood,
And heir apparent to the English crown:
Had Henry got an empire by his marriage,
And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west ^note,
There's reason he should be displeased at it.
Look to it, lords; let not his smoothing words
Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect.
What though the common people favour him,
Calling him ‘Humphrey, the good Duke of Gloucester,’
Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice,
‘Jesu maintain your royal excellence!’
With ‘God preserve the good Duke Humphrey!’
I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss,
He will be found a dangerous protector.

Buck.
Why should he, then, protect our sovereign,
He being of age to govern of himself?
Cousin of Somerset, join you with me,
And all together ^note, with the Duke of Suffolk,
We'll quickly hoise ^note Duke Humphrey from his seat.

Car.
This weighty business will not brook delay;
I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently. [Exit.

Som.
Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey's pride
And greatness of his place be grief to us,
Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal:
His insolence is more intolerable
Than all the princes in the land beside:
If Gloucester be displaced, he'll be protector.

Buck.
Or thou or I, Somerset, ^note will be protector ^note,

Despite Duke Humphrey or the cardinal. [Exeunt ^note Buckingham and Somerset.

Sal.
Pride went ^note before, ambition follows him ^note.
While these do labour for their own preferment,
Behoves it us to labour for the realm.
I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Gloucester
Did bear him like a noble gentleman.
Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal,
More like a soldier than a man o' the church,
As stout and proud as he were lord of all,
Swear like a ruffian and demean himself
Unlike the ruler of a commonweal.
Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age,
Thy deeds, thy plainness and thy housekeeping,
Hath ^note won the greatest favour of the commons,
Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey:
And, brother ^note York, thy acts in Ireland,
In bringing them to civil discipline,
Thy late exploits done in the heart of France,
When thou wert regent for our sovereign,
Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the people:
Join we together, for the public good,
In what we can, to bridle and suppress
The pride of Suffolk and the cardinal,
With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition;
And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds,
While they do tend the ^note profit of the land.

War.
So God help Warwick, as he loves the land,
And ^note common profit of his country!

York. [Aside ^note]
And so says York, for he hath greatest cause. ^note

Sal.
Then let's make haste ^note away ^note, and look unto the main. ^note

War.
Unto the main! O father, Maine is lost ^note;
That Maine which by main force Warwick did ^note win,
And would have kept so long as breath did last!
Main chance, father, you meant; but I meant Maine,
Which I will win from France, or else be slain ^note. [Exeunt Warwick and Salisbury. ^{note note}

York.
Anjou and Maine are given to the French;
Paris is lost; the state of Normandy
Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone:
Suffolk concluded on the articles,
The peers agreed, and Henry was well pleased
To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter.
I cannot blame them all: what is't to them?
'Tis thine ^note they give away, and not their own.
Pirates may make cheap pennyworths ^note of their pillage
And purchase friends and give to courtezans,
Still revelling like lords till all be gone;
While as the silly owner of the goods
Weeps over them and wrings his hapless ^note hands
And shakes his head and trembling stands aloof,
While all is shared and all is borne away,
Ready to starve ^note and dare ^note not touch his own:
So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue,
While his own lands are bargain'd for and sold.
Methinks the realms of England, France and Ireland
Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood
As did the fatal brand Althæa burn'd

Unto the prince's heart of Calydon.
Anjou and Maine both given unto the French!
Cold news for me, for I had hope of France,
Even as I have of fertile England's soil ^note.
A day will come when York shall claim his own;
And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts
And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey,
And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown,
For that's the golden mark I seek to hit:
Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right,
Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head,
Whose church-like humours fits ^note not for a crown.
Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve:
Watch thou and wake when others be asleep,
To pry into the secrets of the state;
Till Henry, surfeiting in ^note joys of love, ^note
With his new bride and England's dear-bought queen,
And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars:
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose,
With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed;
And in ^note my standard bear the arms of York,
To grapple with the house of Lancaster;
And, force perforce, I'll make him yield the crown,
Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down. [Exit. ^note Scene II. [Footnote: The Duke of Gloucester's house. ^note Enter Duke Humphrey and his wife Eleanor.

Duch.
Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn,
Hanging the head at ^note Ceres' plenteous load?

Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows,
As frowning at the favours of the world?
Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth,
Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight?
What seest thou there? King Henry's diadem,
Enchased with all the honours of the world?
If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face,
Until thy head be circled with the same.
Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.
What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine;
And, having both together heaved it up,
We'll both together lift our heads to heaven,
And never more abase our sight so low
As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.

Glou.
O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord,
Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts.
And may that thought, when I imagine ill
Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry,
Be my last breathing in this mortal world!
My troublous dream this night doth ^note make me sad.

Duch.
What dream'd my lord? tell me, and I'll requite it
With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream.

Glou.
Methought this staff, mine office-badge ^note in court,
Was broke in twain; by whom I have forgot,
But, as I think, it was by the cardinal;
And on the pieces of the broken wand
Were placed the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset,
And William de la Pole, first duke of Suffolk.
This was my ^note dream: what it doth bode, God knows.

Duch.
Tut, this was nothing but an argument
That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester's grove
Shall lose his head for his presumption.
But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke:
Methought I sat in seat of majesty
In the cathedral church of Westminster,

And in that chair where kings and queens are ^note crown'd;
Where ^note Henry and dame ^note Margaret kneel'd to me
And on my head did set the diadem.

Glou.
Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright:
Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtured ^note Eleanor,
Art thou not second woman in the realm,
And the protector's wife, beloved of him?
Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command,
Above the reach or compass of thy thought?
And wilt thou still be hammering treachery,
To tumble down thy husband and thyself
From top of honour to disgrace's feet?
Away from me, and let me hear no more!

Duch.
What, what, my lord! are you so choleric
With Eleanor, for telling but her dream?
Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself,
And not be check'd.

Glou.
Nay, be not angry; I am pleased again. Enter Messenger.

Mess.
My lord protector, 'tis his highness' pleasure
You do prepare to ride unto Saint ^note Alban's,
Where as ^note the king and queen do mean to hawk.

Glou.
I go. Come, Nell, thou ^note wilt ride with us?

Duch.
Yes, my good lord, I'll follow presently. [Exeunt ^note Gloucester and Messenger.
Follow I must; I cannot go before,
While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind.
Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,
I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks
And smooth my way upon their headless necks;
And, being a woman, I will not be slack

To play my part in Fortune's pageant.
Where are you there? Sir John! ^note nay, fear not, man,
We are alone; here's none but thee ^note and I. Enter Hume.

Hume.
Jesus preserve your royal majesty!

Duch.
What say'st thou? majesty! ^note I am but grace.

Hume.
But, by the grace of God, and Hume's advice,
Your grace's title shall be multiplied.

Duch.
What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet conferr'd
With Margery Jourdain ^note, the cunning witch,
With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer?
And will they undertake to do me good?

Hume.
This they have promised, to show your highness
A spirit raised from depth of under-ground,
That shall make answer to such questions
As by your grace shall be propounded him.

Duch.
It is enough; I'll think upon the questions:
When from Saint Alban's we do make return,
We'll see these things effected to the full.
Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man,
With thy confederates in this weighty cause. [Exit.

Hume.
Hume must make merry with the duchess' gold;
Marry, and shall. But, how now, Sir John Hume!
Seal up your lips, and give no words but ^note mum:
The business asketh silent secrecy.
Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch:
Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil.
Yet have I gold flies from another coast;
I dare not say, from the rich cardinal
And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk,
Yet I do find it so; for, to be plain,
They, knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring ^note humour,

Have hired me to undermine the duchess
And buz these conjurations in her brain.
They say ‘A crafty knave does need no broker;’
Yet am I Suffolk ^note and the cardinal's broker.
Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near
To call them both a pair of crafty knaves.
Well, so it stands; and thus, I fear, at last
Hume's knavery will be duchess' wreck ^note,
And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall:
Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all. [Exit. ^note Scene III. [Footnote: The palace. ^note Enter three or four Petitioners, Peter ^note, the Armourer's man, being one.

First Petit.

My masters, let's stand close: my lord protector will come this way by and by, and then we may deliver our supplications in the quill ^note.

Sec. Petit.

Marry, the Lord protect him, for he's a good man! Jesu bless him!