pray God! for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learnt so much 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.

Hor. Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man's instigation, to prove him a knave, and myself an honest man: and touching the duke of York, will take my death, 1 never meant him any ill, nor the king, nor the queen: And, therefore, Peter, have at thee with a downright blow, as Bevis of Southampton fell upon Ascapart.

York. Despatch :-this knave's tongue begins to double.

Sound trumpets, alarum to the combatants. [Alarum. They fight, and Peter strikes down his Master.

Hor. Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess [Dies.

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 enemies in this presence? O Peter, thou hast prevail'd in right!

K. Hen. 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 murder'd wrong-
fully.-

Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.

[Exeunt. SCENE IV. The same. A Street. Enter Gloster and Servants, in mourning

Cloaks.

streets.

But, soft! I think, she comes; and I'll prepare My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries.

Enter the Duchess of Gloster, in a white sheet, with papers pinned upon her back, her feet bare, and a taper burning in her hand: Sir John Stanley, 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. Duch. Come you, my lord, to see my open shame 7

Now thou dost penance too. Look, how they 1 gaze !

See, how the giddy multitude do point,

And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on

thee !

Ab, Gloster, hide thee from their hateful looks;
And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame,
And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine.
Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.

1

Duch. Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget myself:
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-fet groans,
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet;
And, when I start, the envicus people laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.
Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke?
Trow'st thou, that e'er I'll look upon the world;
Or count them happy, that enjoy the sun?
No; dark shall be my light, and night my day;
To think upon my pomp shall be my hell.
Sometime I'll say, I am Duke Humphrey's wife;
And he a prince, and ruler of the land:
Yet so he rul'd, and such a prince he was,
As he stood by, whilst I, his forlorn duchess,
Was made a wonder, and a pointing stock,
To every idle rascal follower.
But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame;
Nor stir at nothing, till the axe of death
Hang over thee, as, sure, it shortly will.
For Suffolk, he that can do all in all,-
With her, that hateth thee, and hates us all,-
And York, and impious Beaufort, that false
priest,

Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings,
And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle
But fear not thou, until thy foot be snar'd,
Nor never seek prevention of thy foes.

thee:

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. Would'st have me rescue thee from this reproach ?

But I in danger for the breach of law.
Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away,
I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience;
Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell:
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.

[Exit Herald.

My Nell, I take my leave :-and master Sheriff, Let not her penance exceed the king's commis

sion.

Sher. An't please your grace, here my com. missions stays:,

And Sir John Stanley is appointed now.
To take her with him to the Isle of Man.
Glo. Must you, Sir John, protect my lady
here ?

Stan. 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, farewell. Duch. What

farewell gone, my lord; and bid me not Glo. Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak. [Exeunt Gloster and Servants. Duch. Art thou gone too? All comfort go with thee!

For none abides with me; my joy is-death:
Death, at whose name I oft have been afear'd,
Because I wish'd this world's eternity.-
Stanley, I pr'ythee, 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;

Upon my life, began her devilish practices:

proach:

And shall I then be us'd reproachfully?
Stan. Like to a duchess, and Duke Humphrey's
lady,

According to that state you shall be used.
Duch. Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare;
Although thou hast been conduct of my shame!
Sher. It is my office; and, madam, pardon me.
Duch. Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is dis-
charg'd.

Come, Stanley, shall we go?

Yet by reputing of his high descent,
(As next the king he was successive heir,)
And such high vaunts of his nobility,
Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess,
By wicked means, to frame our sovereign's fall.
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep;
And in his simple show he harbours treason.
The fox barks not, when he would steal the

lamb.

No, no, my sovereign; Gloster is a man Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.

And go we to attire you for our journey.

Devise strange deaths for small offences done? York. And did he not, in his protectorship,

sheet;

No, it will hang upon my richest robes,
And show itself, attire me how I can.
Go, lead the way; I long to see my prison.

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

serve

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 him-
self?

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 shows an angry eye,
And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee,
Disdaining duty that to us belongs.
Small curs are not regarded, when they grin:
But great men tremble, when the lion roars:
And Humphrey is no little man in England.
First, note, that he is near you in descent;
And should you fall he is the next will mount.
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-
V rooted;

Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden,

And choke 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.
Suff. 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 duchess, by his subornation,

For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it? By means whereof, the towns each day re volted.

Buck. Tut! these are petty faults to faults un

known,

Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey.

K. Hen. My lords, at once: The care you have of us,

To mow down thorus that would annoy our foot,

Is

worthy praise: But shall I speak my con

science?

Our kineman Gloster is as innocent
From meaning treason to our royal person,
As is the sucking lamb, or harmless dove:
The duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given,
To dream on evil, or to work my downfail.

Q. Mar. Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance?

Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrow'd,
For he's disposed as the hateful raven.
Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him,
For he's inclin'd as are the ravenous wolves.
Who cannot steal a shape, that means deceit 7
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. Hen. Welcome, Lord Somerset.
What

Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.
So help me God, as I have watch'd the night,-
Ay, night by night,-in studying good for Eng.
Jand!

That doit that e'er I wrested from the king,
Or any groat I hoarded to my use,

Be brought against me at my trial day!
No! many a pound of mine own proper store,
Because I would not tax the needy commons,
Have I dispersed to the garrisons,
And never ask'd for restitution.

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

Glo. I say no more than truth, so help me God! York. In your protectorship, you did devise Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of, That England was defam'd by tyranny.

Glo. Why, 'tis well known, that whiles I was protector,

Pity was all the fault that was in me;
For I should melt at an offender's tears,
And lowly words were ransom for their fault.
Unless it were a bloody murderer,

Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor pas

sengers,

I never gave them condign punishment:
Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd
Above the felon, or what trespass else.
Suff. My lord, these faults are easy, quickly
answer'd:

But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge,
Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.
I do arrest you in his highness' name;
And here commit you to my lord cardinal
To keep, until your further time of trial.
K. Hen. My lord of Gloster, 'tis my special
hope,

That you will clear yourself from all suspects;
My conscience tells me, you are innocent.
Glo. Ah, gracious lord, these days are dan-
gerous!

Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition,

And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand;
Foul subornation is predominant,
And equity exil'd your highness' land.
I know, their complot is to have my life;
And, if my death might make this island happy,
And prove the period of their tyranny,
I would expend it with all willingness:
But mine is made the prologue to their play;
For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril,
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.
Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's
malice,

And Suffolk's cloudy brow, his stormy hate;
Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue
The envious load that lies upon his heart:
And dogged York, that reaches at the moon,
Whose overweening 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,
Myself 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 affected,
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.
Suff Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here,
With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd,
As if she had suborned some to swear
False allegations to o'erthrow his state?

Q. Mar. But I can give the loser leave to chide.

Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were! For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear. [Exeunt Attendants, with Gloster, K. Hen. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best,

Do, or undo, as if ourself were here.

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

K. Hen. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with grief,

Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes;
My body round engirt with misery;
For what's more miserable than discontent ?-
Ah, uncle Humphrey ! in thy face I see
The map of honour, truth, and loyalty!
And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come,
That e'er I prov'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith
What low'ring star now envies thy estate,
That these great lords, and Margaret our queen,
Do seek subversion of thy harmless life?
Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man

wrong;

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, remorseless, have they borne 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 myself bewails good Gloster's case,
With sad unhelpful tears; and with dimm'd eyes
Look after him, and cannot do him good;
So mighty are his vow'd enemies.

His fortunes I will weep; and, 'twixt each groan,
Say-Who's a traitor, Gloster he is none. Erit
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 Gloster's show
Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting passengers:
Or as the snake, roll'd in a flowering bank,
With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a
child,

That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent.
Believe me, lords, were none more wise than 1,
(And yet, herein, I judge mine own wit good,
This Gloster should be quickly rid the world,
To rid us from the fear we have of him.

Car. That he should die, is worthy policy;
But yet we want a colour for his death:
'Tis meet, he be condemn'd by course of law.
Suff. 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 we yet-have but trivial argument,
More than mistrust, that shows him worthy
death.

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

Suff. 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,

SCENE II. Bury. A Room in the Palace.

Enter certain Murderers hastily.

1 Mur. Run to my lord of Suffolk; let him know,

We have despatch'd the duke, as he commanded. 2 Mur. O, that it were to do 1-What have we done?

Didst ever hear a man so penitent 7

Enter Suffolk.

1 Mur. Here comes my lord. Suff. Now, sirs, have you Despatch'd this thing? 1 Mur. Ay, my good lord, he's dead. Suff. 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 Mur. Tis, my good lord. Suff. Away, be gone! [Exeunt Murderers.

Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Cardinal Beaufort, Somerset, Lords, and others.

K. Hen. Go, call our uncle to our presence straight:

Say, we intend to try his grace to-day,
If he be guilty, as 'tis published.
Suff. I'll call him presently, my noble lord.

[Exit.

K. Hen. Lords, take your places -And, I pray you all,

Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloster,
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. Hen. I thank thee, Margaret; these words content me much.

Re-enter Suffolk.

How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou?

Where is our uncle? what is the matter, Suffolk? Suff. Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloster is dead.

Q. Mar. Marry, God forefend ! Car, God's secret judgment:-I did dream to-night,

The duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. [The King 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!-0 Henry, ope thine eyes!

Suff. He doth revive again;-Madam, be pa

tient.

K. Hen. O heavenly God!

Q. Mar. How fares my gracious lord? Suff. Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, comfort!

K. Hen. What, doth my lord of Suffolk comtort me?

Came he right now to sing a raven's note,
Whose dismal tun.e 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 poison 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 eyeballs murderous tyranny
Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world.
Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wound-
ing:-

Yet do not go away;-Come basillsk,

And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight:
For in the shade of death I shall find joy:
In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead!
Q. Mar. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk
thus ?

Although the duke was enemy to him,
Yet he, most christianlike, laments his death;
And for myself-foe as he was to me,
Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans,
Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life,

I would be blind with weeping, sick with

groans,

Look pale as primrose, 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 fill'd with my reproach
This get I by his death: Ah me, unhappy!
To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!
K. Hen. Ah, wo is me for Gloster, wretched
man!

Q. Mar. Be wo for me, more wretched than
he is.
What, dost thou turn away, and hide thy face?
I am no loathsome leper, 1 ok on me.
What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf?
Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn queen.
Is all thy comfort shut in Gloster's tomb?
Erect his statue then, and worship it,
Why, then dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy;

And make my image but an ale-house sign.
Was I, for this, nigh wreck'd upon the sea;
And twice by awkward wind from England's
bank

Drove back again unto my native elime?
What boded this, but well forewarning wind
Nor set no footing on this unkind shore ?
Did seem to say,-Seek not a scorpion's nest,
What did I then, but curse the gentle gusts,
And he that loos'd them from their brazen caves;
And bid them blow towards England's blessed

shore,

Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock ?
Yet olus would not be a murderer,
But left that hateful office unto thee:
The pretty vaulting sea refus'd to drown me;
Knowing, that thou would'st have me drown'd
on shore,

With tears as salt as sea through thy unkind

ness:

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 the shore 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 thy land's view,
I took a costly jewel from my neck,-
A heart it was, bound in with d amonds,-
And threw it towards thy land-the sea re-
ceiv'd it:

And so, I wish'd, thy body might my heart:
And even with this, I lost fair England's view,
And hid 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 inconstanev)
To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did,
When he to madding Dido would unfold
His father's acts, commenc'd in burning Troy ?
Am I not witch'd like her? or thou not falsc
like him?

Ah me, I can no more! Die, Margaret!.
For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long.