Hume.

Come, my Masters, the Dutchess, I tell you, expects performance of your Promises.

Bulling.

Master Hume, we are therefore provided: Will her Ladyship behold and hear our Exorcisms?

Hume.

Ay, what else? Fear you not her Courage.

Bulling.

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 busie below; and so, I pray you, go in God's Name, and leave us.

Mother Jordan, be prostrate, and grovel on the Earth; John Southwel, read you, and let us to our work.

Elean.

Well said, my Masters, and welcome to all: To this geer, the sooner the better.

Bulling.
Patience, good Lady, Wizards know their times:
Deep Night, dark Night, the silent of the Night,
The time of Night when Troy was set on Fire,
The times when Screech-owls cry, and Ban-dogs howl;
When Spirits walk, and Ghosts break up their Graves;
That time fits best the work we have in hand.

Madam, fit you, and fear not; whom we raise
We will make fast within a hallow'd Verge. [Here they do the Ceremonies belonging, and make the Circle, Bullingbrook, or Southwel reads, Conjuro te, &c. It Thunders and Lightens terribly; then the Spirit riseth.

Spirit.
Adsum.

M. Jord.
Asmath, by the eternal God,
Whose Name and Power thou tremblest at,
Answer that I ask: For 'till thou speak,
Thou shalt not pass from hence.

Spirit.
Ask what thou wilt. That I had said, and done!

Bulling.
First of the King: What shall of him become.

Spirit.
The Duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose:
But him out-live, and die a violent Death. [As the Spirit speaks they write the answer.

Bulling.
What Fates await the Duke of Suffolk?

Spirit.
By Water shall he die, and take his End.

Bulling.
What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?

Spirit.
Let him shun Castles.
Safer shall he be upon sandy Plains,
Than there where lofty Castles mounted stand.
Have done, for more I hardly can endure.

Bulling.
Descend to Darkness, and the burning Lake:
False Fiend avoid. [Thunder and Lightning. Spirit descends. Enter the Duke of York, and the Duke of Buckingham, with their Guard, and break in.

York.
Lay Hands upon these Traitors and their trash:
Beldam, I think we watch'd you at an Inch.
What, Madam, are you there? The King and Common-weal
Are deep indebted for this piece of Pains;
My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not,
See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts.

Elean.
Not half so bad as thine to England's King,
Injurious Duke, that threatn'st where's no cause.

Buck.
True, Madam, none at all: What call you this?
Away with them, let them be clap'd up close,
And kept asunder: You, Madam, shall with us.
Stafford, take her to thee.
We'll see your Trinkets here forth-coming all.
Away. [Exeunt Guard with Jordan, Southwel, &c.

York.
Lord Buckingham, methinks you watch'd her well;
A pretty Plot, well chosen to build upon.
Now, pray my Lord, let's see the Devil's Writ.
What have we here? [Reads.
The Duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose;
But him out-live, and die a violent Death.
Why, this is Just, Aio te Æacidem Romanos vincere posse.
Well, to the rest:
Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk?
By Water shall he die, and take his End.
What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?
Let him shun Castles,
Safer shall he be upon sandy Plains,
Than there where lofty Castles mounted stand.
Come, come, my Lords,
These Oracles are hardly attain'd,
And hardly understood.
The King is now in progress towards St. Albans,
With him the Husband of this lovely Lady:
Thither go these News,
As fast as Horse can carry them:
A sorry breakfast for my Lord Protector.

Buck.
Your Grace shall give me leave, my Lord of York.
To be the Post, in hope of his Reward.

York.
At your pleasure, my good Lord.
Who's within there, hoe? Enter a Serving-man.
Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick
To sup with me to morrow Night. Away. [Exeunt. Enter King Henry, Queen, Protector, Cardinal, and Suffolk, with Faulkners hollowing.

Q. Mar.
Believe me Lords, for flying at the Brook,
I saw no 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.

K. Henry.
But what a point, my Lord, your Faulcon made,
And what a pitch she flew above the rest:
To see how God in all his Creatures works,
Yea Man and Birds are fain of climbing high.

Suf.
No marvel, and it like your Majesty,
My Lord Protector's Hawks do towre so well;

They know their Master loves to be aloft,
And bears his Thoughts above his Faulcon'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 would be above the Clouds.

Glo.
Ay, my Lord Cardinal, how think you by that?
Were it not good, your Grace could fly to Heaven?

K. Henry.
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 Commonweal.

Glo.
What, Cardinal!
Is your Priesthood grown so peremptory?
Tantæne animis Cœlestibus iræ? Churchmen so hot?
Good Uncle, hide such Malice:
With such Holiness can you 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 you, my Lord,
An't like your Lordly Lord Protectorship.

Glo.
Why, Suffolk, England knows thine Insolence.

Q. Mar.
And thy Ambition, Glo'ster.

K. Henry.
I prethee peace, good Queen,
And whet not on these too too furious Peers,
For blessed are the Peace-makers on Earth.

Car.
Let me be blessed for the Peace I make,
Against this proud Protector, with my Sword.

Glo. Aside.
Faith, Holy Uncle, would 'twere come to that.

Car. Aside.
Marry, when thou dar'st.

Glo. Aside.
Make up no factious numbers for that matter,
In thine own Person answer thy Abuse.

Car. Aside.
Ay, where thou dar'st not peep:
And if thou dar'st, this Evening,
On the East side of the Grove.

K. Henry.
How now, my Lords?

Car.
Believe me, Cousin Glo'ster,
Had not your Man put up the Fowl so suddenly,
We had had more sport—
Come with thy two Hand-Sword. [Aside to Glo.

Glo.
True, Uncle, are ye advis'd?—
The East side of the Grove:
Cardinal, I am with you. [Aside.

K. Henry.
Why how now, Uncle Glo'ster?

Glo.
Talking of Hawking, nothing else, my Lord.—
Now by God's Mother, Priest,
I'll shave your Crown for this,
Or all my fence shall fail. [Aside.

Car. Aside.]
Medice cura teipsum, Protector see too't well, protect your self.

K. Henry.
The Winds grow high,
So do your Stomachs, Lords.
How irksome is this Musick to my Heart?
When such Strings jar, what hope of Harmony?
I pray, my Lords, let me compound this strife. Enter One, crying A Miracle.

Glo.
What means this Noise?
Fellow, what Miracle do'st thou proclaim?

One.
A Miracle, a Miracle.

Suf.
Come to the King, and tell him what Miracle.

One.
Forsooth, a blind Man at St. Alban's Shrine,
Within this half hour hath receiv'd his sight,
A Man that ne'er saw in his life before.

K. Henry.
Now God be prais'd, that to believing Souls
Gives Light in Darkness, Comfort in Despair. Enter the Mayor of St. Albans, and his Brethren, bearing Simpcox between two in a Chair, Simpcox's Wife following.

Car.
Here come the Townsmen on procession,
To present your Highness with the Man.

K. Henry.
Great is his comfort in this Earthly Vale,
Although by his sight his Sin be multiplied.

Glo.
Stand by, my Masters, bring him near the King,
His Highness pleasure is to talk with him.

K. Henry.
Good-fellow, tell us here the Circumstance,
That we for thee may glorifie the Lord.
What, hast thou been long blind, and now restor'd?

Simp.

Born blind, and't please your Grace.

Wife.

Ay, indeed was he.

Suf.

What Woman is this?

Wife.

His Wife, and't please your Worship.

Glo.

Hadst thou been his Mother, thou couldst have better told.

K. Henry.

Where wert thou born?

Simp.

At Berwick in the North, and't like your Grace.

K. Henry.
Poor Soul,
God's goodness hath been great to thee:
Let never Day nor Night unhallowed pass,
But still remember what the Lord hath done.

Queen.
Tell me, Good-fellow,
Cam'st thou here by Chance, or of Devotion,
To this holy Shrine?

Simp.
God knows of pure Devotion,
Being call'd a hundred times, and oftner,
In my sleep, by good Saint Alban:
Who said; Simon, come, come offer at my Shrine,
And I will help thee.

Wife.
Most true, forsooth;
And many a time and oft my self have heard a Voice,
To call him so.

Card.
What, art thou lame?

Simp.
Ay, God Almighty help me.

Suf.
How cam'st thou so?

Simp.

A fall off a Tree.

Wife.

A Plum-tree, Master.

Glo.
How long hast thou been blind?

Simp.
O born so, Master.

Glo.
What, and would'st climb a Tree?

Simp.

But that in my Life, when I was a Youth.

Wife.
Too true, and bought his climbing very dear.

Glo.

Mass, thou lov'dst Plums well, that wouldst venture so.

Simp.

Alas, good Master, my Wife desired some Damsons, and made me climb, with danger of my Life.

Glo.
A subtile Knave, but yet it shall not serve:
Let me see thine Eyes, wink now, now open them,
In my opinion, yet thou seest not well.

Simp.

Yes, Master, clear as day, I thank God and Saint Alban.

Glo.

Say'st thou me so; what Colour is this Cloak of?

Simp.

Red, Master, red as Blood.

Glo.

Why that's well said: What colour is my Gown of?

Simp.
Black, forsooth, coal-black, as Jet.

K. Henry.
Why then, thou know'st what colour Jet is of?

Suf.
And yet, I think, Jet he did never see.

Glo.
But Cloaks and Gowns, before this day, a many.

Wife.

Never before this day, in all his Life.

Glo.
Tell me, Sirrah, what's my Name?

Simp.

Alas Master, I know not.

Glo.

What's his Name?

Simp.

I know not.

Glo.

Nor his?

Simp.

No indeed, Master.

Glo.

What's thine own Name?

Simp.

Saunder Simpcox, and if it please you, Master.

Glo.
Then Saunder, sit there,
The lyingst Knave in Christendom.
If thou hadst been born blind,
Thou might'st as well have known all our Names,
As thus to know the several Colours we do wear.
Sight may distinguish Colours:
But suddenly to nominate them all,
It is impossible.
My Lords, Saint Alban here hath done a Miracle:
And would ye not think that Cunning to be great,
That could restore this Cripple to his Legs again?

Simp.
O Master, that you could?

Glo.
My Masters of Saint Albans,
Have you not Beadles in your Town,
And things call'd Whips?

Mayor.
Yes, my Lord, if it please your Grace.

Glo.
Then send for one presently.

Mayor.
Sirrah, go fetch the Beadle hither straight. [Exit.

Glo.
Now fetch me a Stool hither by and by.

Now Sirrah, if you mean to save your self from Whipping, leap me over this Stool, and run away.

Simp.
Alas Master, I am not able to stand alone:
You go about to torture me in vain. Enter a Beadle with Whips.

Glo.
Well Sir, we must have you find your Legs.
Sirrah Beadle, whip him 'till he leap over that same Stool.

Bead.
I will, my Lord,
Come on Sirrah, off with your Doublet, quickly.

Simp.

Alas, Master, what shall I do? I am not able to stand.

K. Henry.
O God, seest thou this, and bearest so long!

Queen.
It made me laugh, to see the Villain run.

Glo.
Follow the Knave, and take this Drab away.

Wife.

Alas, Sir, we did it for pure need.

Glo.
Let him be whipt through every Market Town,
'Till they come to Berwick, from whence they came. [Exit Beadle.

Car.
Duke Humphry has done a Miracle to day.

Suf.
True, made the Lame to leap, and fly away.

Glo.
But you have done more Miracles than I;
You made in a Day, my Lord, whole Towns to fly. Enter Buckingham.

K. Henry.
What Tidings with our Cousin Buckingham?

Buck.
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 dangerously 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. [Aside to Glo'ster.

Glo.
Ambitious Church-man, leave to afflict my Heart:
Sorrow and Grief have vanquish'd all my Powers;
And vanquish'd as I am, I yield to thee,
Or to the meanest Groom.

K. Henry.
O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones,
Heaping confusion on their own Heads thereby?

Queen.
Glo'ster, see here the Tainture of thy Nest,
And look thy self be faultless, thou wert best.

Glo.
Madam, for my self, to Heav'n I do appeal,
How I have lov'd my King, and Commonwealth:
And for my Wife, I know not how it stands,
Sorry am I 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 dishonoured Glo'ster's honest Name.

K. Henry.
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. [Exeunt. Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick.

York.
Now, my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick,
Our simple Supper ended, give me leave,
In this close Walk to satisfie my self,
In craving your Opinion of my Title,
Which is infallible to England's Crown.

Salis.
My Lord, I long to hear it thus at full.

War.
Sweet York begin; and if thy Claim be good,
The Nevils are thy Subjects to command.

York.
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 Edward Langley, Duke of York;
The sixth, Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Glo'ster;
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 Bullingbroke, 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 all you know,
Harmless King Richard was murthered traiterously.

War.
Father, the Duke hath told the truth;
Thus got the House of Lancaster the Crown.

York.
Which now they hold by force, aad 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.

York.
The third Son, Duke of Clarence,
From whose Line I claim the Crown,
Had issue Philip, a Daughter,
Who married 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 Bullingbrook,
As I have read, laid claim unto the Crown,
And, but for Owen Glendour, had been King;
Who kept him in Captivity, 'till he dy'd.
But, to the rest.

York.
His eldest Sister, Anne,
My Mother, being Heir unto the Crown,
Married Richard Earl of Cambridge,
Who was Son to Edmond Langley,
Edward the third's fifth Son's Son;
By her I claim the Kingdom:
She then was Heir to Roger, Earl of March,
Who was the Son of Edmond Mortimer,
Who married Philip, sole Daughter
Unto Lionel, Duke of Clarence.
So, if the Issue of the eldest Son
Succeed before the younger, I am King.

War.
What plain proceeding is more plain than this?
Henry doth claim the Crown from John of Gaunt,
The fourth Son; York claims it from the th rd:
Till Lionel's Issue fail, he should not Reign.

It fails not yet, but flourisheth in thee,
And in thy Sons, fair Slips of such a Stock.
Then Father Salisbury, kneel we together,
And in this private Plot be we the first,
That shall salute our rightful Soveraign
With honour of his Birth-right to the Crown.

Both.
Long live our Soveraign Richard, England's King.

York.
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 Beauford'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 Humphry:
'Tis that they seek; and they, in seeking that,
Shall find their Deaths, if York can prophesie.

Sal.

My Lord, here break we 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.

York.
And Nevil, this I do assure my self,
Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick
The greatest Man in England, but the King. [Exeunt. Sound Trumpets. Enter King Henry, and State, with Guard, to banish the Dutchess.

K. Henry.
Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham,
Glo'ster's Wife:
In sight of God, and us, your Guilt is great,
Receive the sentence of the Law for sin,
Such as by God'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 burn'd to Ashes,
And you three shall be strangled on the Gallows.
You Madam, for you are more nobly born,
Despoyled 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.

Elean.

Welcome is Banishment, welcome were my Death.

Glo.
Eleanor, the Law thou seest hath judged thee;
I cannot justifie, whom the Law condemns.
Mine Eyes are full of Tears, my Heart of Grief.
Ah Humphry, this dishonour in thine Age,
Will bring thy Head with sorrow to the Ground.
I beseech your Majesty give me leave to go;
Sorrow would solace, and mine Age would ease.

K. Henry.
Stay Humphry, Duke of Glo'ster;
E'er thou go, give up thy Staff,
Henry will to himself Protector be,
And God shall be my Hope, my Stay, my Guide,
And Lanthorn to my Feet.
And go in peace, Humphry, no less belov'd,
Than when thou wert Protector to thy King.

Q. Mar.
I see no reason, why a King of years
Should be to be protected like a Child:
God and King Henry govern England's Realm:
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 Glo'ster.

Q. Mar.
Why now is Henry King, and Margaret Queen.
And Humphry, Duke of Glo'ster, 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 best it fits to be, in Henry's Hand.

Suf.
Thus droops this lofty Pine, and hangs his sprayes,
Thus Eleanor's Pride dies in her younger days.

York.
Lords, let him go. Please it your Majesty,
This is the day appointed for the Combate,

And ready are the Appellant and Defendant,
The Armourer and his Man, to enter the Lists,
So please your Highness to behold the Fight.

Q. Mar.
Ay, good my Lord; for purposely therefore
Left I the Court, to see this Quarrel try'd.

K. Henry.
A God's Name see the Lists and all things fit,
Here let them end it, and God defend the right.

York.
I never saw a Fellow worse bestead,
Or more afraid to fight, than is the Appellant,
The Servant of this Armourer, my Lords. Enter at one Door the Armorer and his Neighbours, drinking to him so much, that he is drunk; and he enters with a Drum before him, and his Staff with a Sand-bag fastned to it; and at the other Door his Man, with a Drum and a Sand-bag, and Prentices drinking to him.

1 Neigh.

Here, Neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a Cup of Sack; and fear not, Neighbour, you shall do well enough.

2 Neigh.

And here, Neighbour, here's a Cup of Charneco.

3 Neigh.

And here's a Pot of good double Beer, Neighbour; drink, and fear not your Man.

Arm.

Let it come i'faith, and I'll pledge you all, and a Fig for Peter.

1 Pren.

Here Peter, I drink to thee, and be not afraid.

2 Pren.

Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy Master; fight for the credit of the Prentices.

Peter.

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, if I die, I give thee my Apron; and Will, thou shalt have my Hammer; and here, Tom, take all the Mony that I have. O Lord bless me, I pray God, for I am never able to deal with my Master, he hath learn'd so much to fence already.

Sal.
Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows.
Sirrah, what's thy Name?

Peter.
Peter, forsooth.

Sal.
Peter? what more?

Peter.
Thump.

Sal.
Thump? Then see thou thump thy Master well.

Arm.

Masters, I am come hither as it were upon my Man's Instigation, to prove him a Knave, and my self 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 downright Blow.

York.
Dispatch, this Knave's Tongue begins to double.
Sound Trumpets, Alarum to the Combatants. [They fight, and Peter strikes him down.

Arm.

Hold Peter, hold; I confess, I confess Treason.

York.

Take away his Weapon: Fellow, thank God, and the good Wine in thy Master's way.

Peter.

O God, have I overcome mine Enemy in this presence? O Peter, thou hast prevail'd in right.

K. Henry.
Go, take hence that Traitor from our sight,
For by his death we do perceive his guilt.
And God in Justice hath reveal'd to us
The Truth and Innocence of this poor Fellow,
Which he had thought to have murther'd wrongfully.
Come Fellow, follow us for thy Reward. [Exeunt. Enter Duke Humphry and his Men, in Mourning Cloaks.

Glo.
Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a Cloud;
And after Summer, evermore succeeds
Barren Winter, with his wrathful nipping Cold;
So Cares and Joys abound, as Seasons fleet.
Sirs, what's a Clock?

Serv.
Ten, my Lord.

Glo.
Ten is the hour that was appointed me,
To watch the coming of my punish'd Dutchess:
Unneath may she endure the flinty Streets,
To tread them with her tender-feeling Feet.
Sweet Nell, ill can thy Noble Mind a-brook
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 thro' the Streets.
But soft, I think she comes, and I'll prepare
My Tear-stain'd Eyes, to see her Miseries. Enter the Dutchess in a white Sheet, and a Taper burning in her Hand, with a Sheriff and Officers.

Serv.
So please your Grace, we'll take her from the Sheriff.

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

Elean.
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 Glo'ster, hide thee from their hateful Looks,
And in thy Closet pent up, rue my Shame,
And ban our Enemies, both mine and thine.

Glo.
Be patient, gentle Nell, forget this Grief.

Elean.
Ah Glo'ster, teach me to forget my self:
For whilst I think I am thy married 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 Humphry, can I bear this shameful Yoak?
Trowest 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 Humphry'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 Beauford, that false Priest,
Have all lim'd Bushes to betray thy Wings,
And fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee:
But fear thou not until thy Foot be snar'd,
Nor ever seek prevention of thy Foes.

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,
So long as I am Loyal, True, and Crimeless.
Wouldst have me rescue thee from this Reproach?
Why yet thy Scandal were not wip'd away,
But I in danger for the breach of Law.
Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell:
I pray thee sort thy Heart to patience,
These 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 this next Month.

Glo.
And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before?
This is close dealing. Well, I will be there;
My Nell, I take my leave: And Master Sheriff,
Let not her Penance exceed the King's Commission.

Sher.
And't please your Grace, here my Commission stays:
And Sir John Stanly is appointed now,
To take her with him to the Isle of Man.

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

Stanly.
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.

Elean.
What gone, my Lord, and bid me not farewel.

Glo.
Witness my Tears, I cannot stay to speak. [Exit Gloucester.

Elean.
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.
Stanly, I prethee go, and take me hence,
I care not whither, for I beg no Favour;
Only convey me where thou art commanded.

Stan.
Why Madam, that is to the Isle of Man,
There to be us'd according to your State.

Elean.
That's bad enough, for I am but Reproach:
And shall I then be us'd reproachfully?

Stan.
No; like a Dutchess, and Duke Humphry's Lady,
According to that State you shall be us'd.

Elean.
Sheriff farewel, and better, than I, fare,
Although thou hast been Conduct of my Shame.

Sher.
It is my Office, and, Madam, pardon me.

Elean.
Ay, ay, farewel, thy Office is discharg'd.
Come Stanly, shall we go?

Stan.
Madam, your Penance done,
Throw off this Sheet,
And go we to attire you for our Journey.

Elean.
My Shame will not be shifted with my Sheet:
No, it will hang upon my richest Robes,
And shew it self, attire me how I can.
Go, lead the way, I long to see my Prison. [Exeunt. Enter King Henry, Queen. Cardinal, Suffolk, York, Buckingham, Salisbury and Warwick, to the Parliament.

K. Henry.
I muse my Lord of Glo'ster 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 ye 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 Humphry 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.
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 Lord 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 your Grace's Tale.
The Dutchess, by his Subornation,
Upon my Life began her devilish Practices:
Or if he were not privy to these Faults,
Yet by repeating of this high Descent,
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 deep.
And in his simple shew he harbours Treason.
The Fox barks not when he would steal the Lamb.
No, no, my Sovereign, Glo'ster 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 Mony through the Realm,
For Soldiers pay in France, and never sent it?
By means of which the Towns each day revolted.

Buck.
Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown,
Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphry.

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 Glo'ster 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.

Q. Mar.
Ah! what's more dangerous, than this fond affiance?
Seems he a Dove? His Feathers are but borrow'd,
For he is disposed as the hateful Raven.
Is he a Lamb? His Skin was 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 our Interest in those Territories,
Is utterly bereft you; all is lost.

K. Henry.
Cold News Lord Somerset; but God's Will be done.

York.
Cold News for me; for I had hope of France,
As firmly as I hop'd for fertile England.
Thus are my Blossoms blasted in the Bud,
And Caterpillars eat my Leaves away.
But I will remedy this gear e'er long,
Or sell my Title for a glorious Grave. [Aside. Enter Gloucester.

Glo.
All happiness unto my Lord the King:
Pardon, my Liege, that I have staid so long.

Suf.
Nay, Glo'ster, 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?

York.
'Tis thought, my Lord,
That you took Bribes of France,
And being Protector, staid 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 never 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 my own proper store,
Because I would not tax the needy Commons,
Have I disbursed 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 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.

Suf.
My Lord, these faults are easie, quickly answer'd:
But mightier Crimes are laid unto your Charge,
Whereof you cannot easily purge your self.
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 Glo'ster, 'tis my special hope,
That you will clear your self from 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 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.
Beauford's red sparkling Eyes blab his Heart's malice,
And Suffolk's cloudy Brow his stormy hate;
Sharp Buckingham unburthens with his Tongue
The envious load that lyes 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 liefest Liege to be mine Enemy:
Ay, all of you have laid your Heads together,
My self had notice of your Conventicles,
And all to make away my guiltless Life.
I shall not want false Witness to condemn me,
Nor store of Treasons to augment my Guilt:
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 Traitor's 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 Clarkly coucht?
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'd 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.

K. Henry.
My Lords, what to your Wisdom seemeth best,
Do or undo, as if our self 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 my Eyes;
My Body round engirt with Misery;
For what's more miserable than Discontent?
Ah Uncle, Humphry, in thy Face I see
The Map of Honour, Truth, and Loyalty:
And yet, good Humphry, is the hour to come,
That e'er I prov'd thee false, or fear'd thy Faith.
What lowring Star now envies thy estate?
That these great Lords, and Margaret our Queen,
Do seek subversion of thy harmless Life,
That 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 remorsless have they born him hence:
And as the Dam runs lowing up and down,
Looking the way her harmless young one went,
And can do nought but wail her Darling's loss;
Even so my self bewails good Glo'ster's case,
With sad unhelpful Tears; and with dim'd Eyes,
Look after him, and cannot do him good:
So mighty are his vowed Enemies.
His Fortunes I will weep, and 'twixt each Groan,
Say, who's a Traitor? Glo'ster he is none. [Exit.

Q. Mar.
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 Glo'ster's shew
Beguiles him, as the mournful Crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting Passengers:
Or as the Snake, roll'd in a flowry 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 Glo'ster 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.
'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 Humphry 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 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 Flock,
Before his Chaps be stain'd with Crimson Blood,
As Humphry prov'd by Reasons to my Liege.
And do not stand on Quillets how to slay him:
Be it by Ginns, by Snares, by Subtilty.

Sleeping, or waking, 'tis no matter how,
So he be dead; for that is good deceit
Which mates him first, that first intends deceit.

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 I will be his Priest.

Car.
But I would have him dead, my Lord of Suffolk,
E'er 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.

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,
It skills not greatly who impugns our doom. Enter a Post.

Post.
Great Lords, from Ireland am I come ama in
To signifie 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 the lucky Ruler be imploy'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 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 burthen of Dishonour home,
By staying there so long, 'till all were lost.
Shew me one Scar character'd on thy Skin:
Mens 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 haply have prov'd far worse than his.

York.
What, worse than naught? 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.
Th' 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 Country 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 Humphry.

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. Manet 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 th' 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 busie 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.
Whilst 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 mad-brain'd Flaw.
And for a Minister of my intent,
I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentish Man,
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 rescued, I have seen
Him caper upright, like a wild Morisco,
Shaking the bloody Darts, as he his Bells.
Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty Kern,
Hath he conversed with the Enemy,
And undiscovered come to me again,
And given me notice of their Villanies.
This Devil, here, shall be my Substitute;
For that John Mortimer, which is now dead,
In Face, in Gate, in Speech he doth resemble.
By this I shall perceive the Commons Mind,
How they affect the House and Claim of York.
Say he be taken, rack'd and tortured;
I know no pain they can inflict upon him,
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 Humphry being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put a-part; the next for me. [Exit. Enter two or three running over the Stage, from the Murther of Duke Humphry.

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

2.
Oh that it were to do: What have we done?
Didst ever hear a Man so penitent? Enter Suffolk.

1.
Here comes my Lord.

Suf.
Now, Sirs, have you dispatcht this thing?

1.
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 laid fair the Bed? are all things well,
According as I gave Directions?

1.
Yes, my good Lord.

Suf.
Away, be gone. [Exeunt. Enter King Henry, the Queen, Cardinal, Suffolk, Somerset, with Attendants.

K. Henry.
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.

K. Henry.
Lords take your Places; and I pray you all
Proceed no straiter 'gainst our Uncle Glo'ster,
Than from true evidence of good esteem,
He be approv'd in practice culpable.

Q. Mar.
God forbid any Malice should prevail,
That faultless may condemn a Nobleman:
Pray God he may acquit him of Suspicion.

K. Henry.
I thank thee Nell, these Words content me much. Enter Suffolk.
How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou?
Where is our Unkle? what's the matter, Suffolk?

Suf.
Dead in his Bed, my Lord, Glo'ster is dead.

Q. Mar.
Marry God forfend.

Car.
God's secret Judgment: I did dream to Night,
The Duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. [K. swoons.

Q. Mar.
How fares my Lord? Help Lords, the King is dead.

Som.
Rear up his Body, wring him by the Nose.

Q. Mar.
Run, go, help, help: Oh Henry, ope thine Eyes.

Suf.
He doth revive again, Madam be patient.

K. Henry.
Oh Heavenly God!

Q. Mar.
How fares my gracious Lord?

Suf.
Comfort my Sovereign, gracious Henry comfort.

K. Henry.
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 poyson 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 murderous 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 Glo'ster's dead.

Q. Mar.
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 my self, Foe as he was to me,
Might liquid Tears, or heart-offending Groans,
Or blood-consuming sighs recal his Life;
I would be blind with weeping, sick with Groans,
Look pale as Pimrose, 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 filled with Reproach:
This get I by his death: Aye me unhappy,
To be a Queen, and crown'd with Infamy.

K. Henry.
Ah woe is me for Glo'ster, wretched Man.

Q. Mar.
Be woe for me, more wretched than he is.
What, dost thou turn away and hide thy Face?

I am no loathsome Leper, look on me.
What, art thou like an Adder waxen deaf?
Be poysonous too, and kill thy forlorn Queen.
Is all thy Comfort shut in Glo'ster's Tomb?
Why then Dame Margaret was ne'er thy Joy.
Erect his Statue, and do worship to it,
And make my Image but an Ale-house sign.
Was I for this nigh wreckt upon the Sea,
And twice by aukward Wind from England's Bank
Drove back again unto my Native Clime?
What boaded this? but well fore-warning Wind
Did seem to say, Seek not a Scorpion's Nest,
Nor set a footing on this unkind Shoar,
What did I then? but curst the gentle gusts,
And he that loos'd them from their Brazen Caves,
And bid them blow towards England's blessed shoar,
Or turn our Stern upon a dreadful Rock:
Yet Æolus would not be a Murtherer,
But left that hateful Office unto thee.
The pretty vaulting Sea refus'd to drown me,
Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown'd on shoar
With Tears as salt as Sea, through thy unkindness.
The splitting Rocks cower'd in the sinking Sands,
And would not dash me with their ragged sides,
Because thy flinty Heart, more hard than they,
Might in thy Palace perish Margaret:
As far as I could ken thy Chalky Cliffs,
When from thy shoar 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 the 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:
And even with this I lost fair England's view,
And bid mine Eyes be packing with my Heart,
And call'd them blind and dusky Spectacles,
For losing ken of Albion's wished Coast.
How often have I tempted Suffolk's Tongue
(The Agent of thy foul Inconstancy)

To sit and watch me, as Ascanius did,
When he to madding Dido would unfold
His Father's Acts, commenc'd in burning Troy,
Am I not witcht like her? or thou not false like him?
Ah me, I can no more: Dye Margaret,
For Henry weeps, that thou didst live so long. Noise within. Enter Warwick, and many Commons.

War.
It is reported, mighty Sovereign,
That good Duke Humphry traiterously is murther'd
By Suffolk, and the Cardinal Beauford'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.
My self have calm'd their spleenful Mutiny,
Until they hear the order of his Death.

K. Henry.
That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true,
But how he died, God knows, not Henry:
Enter his Chamber, view his breathless Corps,
And comment then upon his sudden Death.

War.
That I shall do, my Liege: Stay, Salisbury,
With the rude Multitude, 'till I return.

K. Henry.
O thou that judgest all things, stay my Thoughts;
My Thoughts, that labour to persuade my Soul,
Some violent Hands were laid on Humphry's Life:
If my suspect be false, forgive me God,
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. [Bed with Glo'ster's Body put forth.
And to survey his dead and earthly Image:
What were it but to make my Sorrow greater?

War.
Come hither, gracious Sovereign, view this Body.

K. Henry.
That is to see how deep my Grave is made:
For with his Soul fled all my worldly solace;
For seeing him, I see my Life is Death,

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 laid
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 settled in his Face.
Oft have I seen a timely parted Ghost,
Of ashy semblance, meager, pale, and bloodless,
Being all descended to the labouring 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 further out, than when he lived,
Staring full gastly, like a strangled Man;
His Hair up rear'd, his Nostrils stretch'd with strugling,
His Hands abroad display'd, as one that graspt
And tugg'd for Life, and was by strength subdued.
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 lodged:
It cannot be but he was murdered here,
The least of all these signs were probable.

Suf.
Why Warwick, who should do the Duke to death?
My self and Beauford had him in protection,
And we, I hope, Sirs, are no Murtherers.

War.
But both of you have vow'd Duke Humphry's death;
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.

Q. Mar.
Then you belike suspect these Noblemen,
As guilty of Duke Humphry's timeless death.

War.
Who finds the Heifer dead, and bleeding fresh,
And sees fast by a Butcher with an Ax,
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 unbloodied Beak?
Even so suspicious is this Tragedy.

Q. Mar.
Are you the Butcher, Suffolk? where's the Knife?
Is Beauford term'd a Kite? where are his Tallons?

Suf.
I wear no Knife, to slaughter sleeping Men,
But here's a 'vengeful Sword, rusted with ease,
That shall be scoured in his rancorous Heart,
That slanders me with Murther's Crimson Badge.
Say, if thou dar'st, proud Lord of Warwickshire,
That I am faulty in Duke Humphry's death.

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

Q. Mar.
He dare not calm his contumelious Spirit,
Nor cease to be an arrogant Controller,
Tho' Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.

War.
Madam be still; with reverence may I say,
For every word you speak in his behalf,
Is slander to your Royal Dignity.

Suf.
Blunt-witted Lord, ignoble in demeanour,
If ever Lady wrong'd her Lord so much,
Thy Mother took into her blameful Bed
Some stern untutor'd Churl; and noble Stock
Was graft with Crab-tree slip, whose Fruit thou art,
And never of the Nevil's Noble Race.

War.
But that the guilt of Murther bucklers thee,
And I should rob the Deaths-man of his Fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand Shames,
And that my Sovereign's presence makes me mild,
I would, false murd'rous Coward, on thy Knee
Make thee beg pardon for thy passed Speech,
And say, it was thy Mother that thou meant'st;
That thou thy self wast born in Bastardy:
And after all this fearful Homage done,
Give thee thy hire, and send thy Soul to Hell,
Pernicious Blood sucker of sleeping Men.

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

War.
Away even now, or I will drag thee hence,
Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee,
And do some service to Duke Humphry's Ghost. [Exeunt.

K. Henry.
What stronger Breast-plate than a Heart untainted?
Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his Quarrel just;
And he but naked, though lockt up in Steel,
Whose Conscience with Injustice is corrupted. [A noise within.

Q. Mar.
What noise is this? Enter Suffolk and Warwick, with their Weapons drawn.

K. Henry.
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.
Dread Lord, the Commons send you word by me,
Unless Lord Suffolk straight be put to death,
Or banished fair England's Territories,
They will by violence tear him from your Palace,
And torture him with grievous lingring death.
They say, by him the good Duke Humphry dy'd;
They say, in him they fear your Highness death;
And mere 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 strange Edict,
Where there is a Serpent seen with forked Tongue,
That slyly glided towards your Majesty,
It were but necessary you were wak'd;
Lest being suffer'd in that harmless slumber,
The mortal Worm might make the Sleep Eternal:
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you whe're you will or no,
From such fell Serpents as false Suffolk is;
With whose invenomed and fatal sting,
Your loving Uncle, twenty times his worth,
They say, is shamefully bereft of Life.

Commons within.
An Answer from the King, my Lord of Salisbury.

Suf.
'Tis like the Commons, rude unpolisht Hinds,
Could send such Message to their Sovereign:
But you, my Lord, were glad to be employ'd,

To shew how queint an Orator you are.
But all the honour Salisbury hath won,
Is, that he was the Lord Ambassador
Sent from a sort of Tinkers to the King.

Within.

An answer from the King, or we will all break in.

K. Henry.
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 sure my Thoughts do hourly prophesie
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.

Q. Mar.
Oh Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk.

K. Henry.
Ungentle Queen, to call him gentle Suffolk.
No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him,
Thou wilt but add increase 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 Ransome for thy Life.
Come Warwick, come good Warwick, go with me;
I have great matters to impart to thee. [Exit.

Q. Mar.
Mischance and Sorrow go along with you,
Hearts Discontent, and four Affliction,
Be Play-fellows to keep you company:
There's two of you, the Devil made a third,
And three-fold Vengeance tend upon your steps.

Suf.
Cease, gentle Queen, these Execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.

Q. Mar.
Fie coward Woman, and soft-hearted wretch,
Hast thou not Spirit to curse thine Enemy?

Suf.

A Plague upon them; wherefore shoud I curse them?

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,
Mine Hair be fixt an 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, murd'ring Basilisks,
Their softest Touch, as smart as Lizards stings,
Their Musick, frightful as the Serpents hiss,
And boading Screech-Owls, make the Consort full.
And the foul Terrors in dark-seated Hell—

Q. Mar.
Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st thy self,
And these dread Curses, like the Sun 'gainst Glass,
Or like an overcharged Gun, recoil,
And turn the force of them upon thy self.

Suf.
You bade 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.

Q. Mar.
Oh, let me intreat thee cease, give me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournful Tears;
Nor let the Rain of Heav'n wet this place,
To wash away my woful Monuments.
Oh, could this kiss be printed in thy Hand,
That thou might'st think upon these 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 surmiz'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 my self:
And banished I am, if but from thee
Go, speak not to me; even now be gone—
Oh go not yet—Even thus, two Friends condemn'd
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand Leaves,

Loather 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, wert thou hence,
A Wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly Company,
For where thou art, there is the World it self,
With every several Pleasure in the World:
And where thou art not, Desolation.
I can no more—Live thou to joy thy Life;
My self no Joy in ought, but that thou liv'st. Enter Vaux.

Q Mar.

Whither goes Vaux so fast? what News, I prithee?

Vaux.
To signifie unto his Majesty,
That Cardinal Beauford is at the point of death:
For suddenly a grievous Sickness took him,
That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the Air,
Blaspheming God, and cursing Men on Earth.
Sometimes he talks, as if Duke Humphry's Ghost
Were by his side; sometimes 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.

Q. Mar.
Go tell this heavy Message to the King. [Exit.
Ay me! what is this World? what News are these?
But wherefore grieve I at an hours 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 Earths increase; 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 between its 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 shouldst thou either turn my flying Soul,
Or I should breathe it so into thy Body,
And then it lives in sweet Elysium.
To die by thee, were but to die in jest,
From thee to die, were torture more than death;
Oh let me stay, befal what may befal.

Q. Mar.
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.

Suf.
I go.

Q. Mar.
And take my Heart with thee.

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

Q. Mar.
This way for me. [Exeunt severally. Enter King Henry, Salisbury, and Warwick, to the Cardinal in Bed.

K. Henry.

How fares my Lord? Speak Beauford to thy Soveraign.

Car.
If thou beest Death, I'll give thee England's Treasure,
Enough to purchase such another Island,
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.

K. Henry.
Ah, what a sign it is of evil Life,
Where Death's approach is seen so terrible!

War.
Beauford, it is thy Soveraign 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 where they will or no?
Oh 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:
Combe down his Hair; look, look, it stands upright,

Like Lime-twigs set to catch my winged Soul:
Give me some drink, and bid th' Apothecary
Bring the strong Poison that I bought of him.

K. Henry.
O thou eternal Mover of the Heav'ns,
Look with a gentle Eye upon this Wretch,
Oh beat away the busie medling Fiend,
That lays strong Siege unto this Wretch's Soul,
And from his Bosom purge this black despair.

War.
See how the Pangs of death do make him grin.

Sal.
Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.

K. Henry.
Peace to his Soul, if God's good pleasure be.
Lord Card'nal, if thou think'st on Heav'n's bliss,
Hold up thy Hand, make signal of thy hope.
He dies, and makes no Sign: Oh God forgive him.

War.
So bad a Death argues a monstrous Life.

K. Henry.
Forbear to judge, for we are Sinners all.
Close up his Eyes, and draw the Curtain close,
And let us all to Meditation. [Exeunt. Alarum. Fight at Sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter Captain, Whitmore, and other Pirates, with Suffolk and others Prisoners.

Cap.
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 Tragick melancholy Night:
Who with their drowsie, slow, and flagging Wings
Cleap dead Mens Graves; and from their misty Jaws,
Breath 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 discoloured shore.
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 Gen.
What is my Ransom, Master, let me know.

Mast.
A thousand Crowns, or else lay down your Head.

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

Whit.
What, think you much to pay 2000 Crowns,
And bear the Name and Port of Gentlemen?

Cut both the Villains Throats, for die you shall:
Nor can those lives which we have lost in fight,
Be counter-pois'd with such a petty Sum.

1 Gent.
I'll give it, Sir, and therefore spare my Life,

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

Whit.
I lost mine Eye in laying the prize aboard,
And therefore to revenge it, shalt thou die, [To Suffolk.
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.

Whit.
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:
Yet let not this make thee be Bloody-minded,
Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly sounded.

Whit.
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.

Suf.
Stay Whitmore, for thy Prisoner is a Prince,
The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.

Whit.
The Duke of Suffolk, muffled up in Rags!

Suf.
Ay, but these Rags are no part of the Duke.

Cap.
But Jove was never slain as thou shalt be,
Obscure and lowsie Swain—King Henry's Blood!

Suf.
The honourable Blood of Lancaster
Must not be shed by such a jaded Groom:
Hast thou not kiss'd thy Hand, and held my Stirrop?
Bare-headed 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 heave feasted with Queen Margaret?
Remember it, and let it make thee Crest-fal'n,
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.

Whit.
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 thy own.

Cap.
Poole, Sir Poole? Lord?
Ay kennel—puddle—sink, whose filth and dirt
Troubles the Silver Spring, where England drinks:
Now will I dam up this thy yawning Mouth,
For swallowing up the Treasure of the Realm.
Thy Lips that kiss'd the Queen, shall sweep the Ground:
And thou that smild'st at good Duke Humphry's Death,
Against the senseless Winds shalt grin in vain,
Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again.
And wedded be thou to the Hags of Hell,
For daring to affie a mighty Lord
Unto the Daughter of a worthless King,
Having nor Subject, Wealth, nor Diadem:
By devilish policy art thou grown great,
And like ambitious Sylla over-gorg'd,
With gobbets of thy Mother's bleeding Heart.
By thee Anjou and Main were sold to France.
The false revolting Normans, through thee,
Disdain to call us Lord, and Picardie
Hath slain their Governors, surpriz'd our Forts.
And sent the ragged Soldiers wounded home:
The Princely Warwick, and the Nevils all,
Whose dreadful Swords were never drawn in vain,
As hating thee, are rising up in Arms.
And now the House of York thrust from the Crown,
By shameful murther of a guiltless King,
And lofty proud incroaching Tyranny,
Burns with revenging Fire, whose hopeful colours
Advance our half-fac'd Sun, striving to shine;
Under the which is writ, Invitis nubibus.

The Commons here in Kent are up in Arms,
And to conclude, Reproach and Beggary
Is crept into the Palace of our King,
And all by thee; away, convey him hence.

Suf.
O that I were a God, to shoot forth Thunder
Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges:
Small things make base Men proud. This Villain here,
Being Captain of a Pinnace, threatens more
Than Bargullus, the strong Illyrian Pirate.
Drones suck not Eagles Blood, but rob Bee-hives.
It is impossible that I should die
By such a lowly Vassal as thy self.
Thy words move Rage, and not Remorse in me:
I go of Message from the Queen to France:
I charge thee waft me safely cross the Channel.

Cap.

Water; W. come Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy dea h.

Suf.

Gelidus timor occupat artus; it is thee I fear.

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

1 Gent.
My gracious Lord intreat him; speak him fair.

Suf.
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 Heav'n, and to my King;
And sooner dance upon a bloody Pole,
Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar Groom.
True Nobility is exempt from fear:
More can I bear, than you dare execute.

Cap.
Hale him away, and let him talk no more;
Come Soldiers, shew what Cruelty ye can.

Suf.
That this my Death may never be forgot.
Great Men oft die by vile Bezonians
A Roman Sworder, and Bandetto Slave
Murder'd sweet Tully. Brutus Bastard hand
Stab'd Julius Cæsar. Savage Islanders
Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by Pirats. [Exit Walter Whitmore with Suffolk.

Cap.
And as for these, whose Ransome we have set,
It is our pleasure one of them depart;
Therefore come you with us, and let him go. [Ex. Captain and the rest. Manet the first Gent. Enter Whitmore with the Body.

Whit.
There let his Head and liveless Body lye,
Until the Queen his Mistress bury it. [Exit Whitmore.

1 Gent.
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. Enter Bevis, and John Holland.

Bevis.

Come and get thee a Sword, though made of a Lath; they have been up these two Days.

Hol.

They have the more need to sleep now then.

Bevis.

I tell thee, Jack Cade the Clothier means to dress the Commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new Nap upon it.

Hol.

So he had need, 'tis thread-bare. Well, I say, it was never a merry World in England, since Gentlemen came up.

Bevis.

O miserable Age! Virtue is not regarded in Handycrafts Men.

Hol.

The Nobility think scorn to go in Leather Aprons.

Bevis.

Nay more, the King's Council are no good Workmen.

Hol.

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.

Bevis.

Thou hast hit it; for there's no better sign of a brave Mind, than a hard Hand.

Hol.

I see them, I see them; there's Best's Son, the Tanner of Wingham.

Bevis.

He shall have the Skins of our Enemies, to make Dog's Leather of.

Hol.

And Dick the Butcher.

Bevis.

Then is Sin struck down like an Ox, and Iniquities Throat cut like a Calf.

Hol.

And Smith the Weaver.

Bevis.

Argo, their thread of Life is spun.

Hol.

Come, come, let's fall in with them.