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

York. And so says York, for he hath greatest cause. Sal. Then let's make haste away, and look unto the main. War. Unto the main! O, father, Maine is lost; That Maine, which by main force Warwick did 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. [Exeunt WARWICK and SALISBURY. 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 they give away, and not their own.
Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage,
And purchase friends, and give to courtesans,
Still revelling, like lords, till all be gone;
While as the silly owner of the goods

Weeps over them, and wrings his hapless hands,
And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof,
While all is shared, and all is borne away;
Ready to starve, and dare not touch his own;
So York must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue,
While his own lands are bargained for, and sold.
Methinks the realms of England, France, and Ireland,
Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood,
As did the fatal brand Althea burned,
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.

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 his sceptre in his childish fist,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head,
Whose church-like humors fit 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 joys of love,
With his new bride, and England's dear-bought queen,
And Humphrey with the peers be fallen at jars;
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose,

With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed;
And in 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 pulled fair England down. [Exit.

SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Duke of Gloster's House.

Enter GLOSTER and the Duchess.

Duch. Why droops my lord, like over-ripened corn,
Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load?
Why doth the great duke Humphrey knit his brows,
As frowning at the favors of the world?
Why are thine eyes fixed 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 honors 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.

Glo. 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 make me sad.

Duch. What dreamed my lord? Tell me, and I'll requite it

With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream.

Glo. Methought this staff, mine office-badge 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 Edmond duke of Somerset,

And William de la Poole, first duke of Suffolk.
This was my dream; what it doth bode, God knows.
Duch. Tut, this was nothing but an argument,
That he that breaks a stick of Gloster'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 crowned;
Where Henry, and dame Margaret, kneeled to me,
And on my head did set the diadem.

Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright:
Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtured 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 honor 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 checked.

Glo. Nay, be not angry; I am pleased again.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord proteetor, 'tis his highness' pleasure,
You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans,
Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk.

Glo. I go.-Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us?
Duch. Yes, good my lord, I'll follow presently.
[Exeunt GLOSTER and Messenger.

Follow I must, I cannot go before,
While Gloster 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! Nay, fear not, man,
We are alone; here's none but thee, and I.

Enter HUME.
Hume. Jesu preserve your royal majesty!

Duch. What say'st thou, majesty! 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 conferred With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch; And Roger Bolingbroke, the conjuror? 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 Albans 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 Duchess.

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-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 humor,
Have hired me to undermine the duchess,
And buzz these conjurations in her brain.
They say, A crafty knave does need no broker;
Yet am I Suffolk 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 the duchess' wreck;
And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall.
Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all.

[Exit.

SCENE III. The same. A Room in the Palace.

Enter PETER, and others, with petitions.

1 Pet. 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.

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

Enter SUFFOLK and QUEEN MARGARET.

1 Pet. Here a' comes, methinks, and the queen with him. I'll be the first, sure.

2 Pet. Come back, fool; this is the duke of Suffolk, and not my lord protector.

Suff. How now, fellow? wouldst any thing with me? 1 Pet. I pray, my lord, pardon me! I took ye for my lord protector.

Q. Mar. [Reading the superscription.] To my lord protector! Are your supplications to his lordship? Let me see them. What is thine?

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

Suff. Thy wife too? That is some wrong indeed.-What's yours?-What's here? [Reads.] Against the duke of Suffolk, for inclosing the commons of Melford.-How now, sir knave?

2 Pet. Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township.

Peter. [Presenting his petition.] Against my master, Thomas Horner, for saying, that the duke of York was rightful heir to the crown.

Q. Mar. What say'st thou? Did the duke of York say, he was rightful heir to the crown?

Peter. That my master was? No, forsooth: my master said, that he was; and that the king was an usurper.

Suff. Who is there? [Enter Servants.]-Take this fellow in, and send for his master with a pursuivant presently.We'll hear more of your matter before the king.

[Exeunt Servants, with PETER. Q. Mar. And as for you, that love to be protected Under the wings of our protector's grace, Begin your suits anew, and sue to him. [Tears the petition. Away, base cullions!-Suffolk, let them go.

All. Come, let's be gone.

[Exeunt Petitioners.

Q. Mar. My lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise, Is this the fashion in the court of England? Is this the government of Britain's isle, And this the royalty of Albion's king? What, shall king Henry be a pupil still, Under the surly Gloster's governance? Am I a queen in title and in style,