Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold. A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent,— Under the count'nance and confederacy Of lady Eleanor, the protector's wife, The ringleader 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. [Aside to GLO.] And so, my lord protector, by this means

Your lady is forthcoming yet at London. This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's edge; 'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour.

Glo. Ambitious churchman, 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. Hen. O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones,

Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby! Q. Mar. Gloster, see here the tainture of thy nest;

And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best.

Glo. Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal, How I have lov'd my king, and commonweal: And, for my wife, I know not how it stands; Sorry I am 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 dishonour'd Gloster's honest name.

K. Hen. 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 pre-
vails.
[Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE II.-LONDON.

The DUKE OF YORK'S Garden.

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 satisfy myself,

In craving your opinion of my title,
Which is infallible, to England's crown.

Sal. My lord, I long to hear it 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 Edmund Langley, duke of York;

The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, duke of
Gloster;

William of Windsor was the seventh, and last.
Edward, the Black Prince, died before his father;
And left behind him Richard, his only son;
Who, after Edward the third's death, reign'd as
king;

Till Henry Bolingbroke, 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

York. The third son, duke of Clarence, (from whose line

I claim the crown) had issue-Philippe, a daughter,
Who married Edmund Mortimer, earl of March:
Edmund had issue-Roger, earl of March;
Roger had issue-Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor.

Sal. This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke,
As I have read, laid claim unto the crown;
And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king,
Who kept him in captivity till he died.
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 Edmund Langley, Edward the third's fifth son.
By her I claim the kingdom: she was heir
To Roger, earl of March; who was the son
Of Edmund Mortimer; who married Philippe,
Sole daughter unto Lionel, duke of Clarence:
So, if the issue of the elder 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 third.
Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign:
It fails not yet, but flourishes 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 sovereign
With honour of his birthright to the crown.
Both. Long live our sov'reign 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 Beaufort'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 Humphrey:

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?

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, 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.
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 envious 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 thee:
But fear not thou, until thy foot be snar'd,
Nor never 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.

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;
There to be us'd according to your state.
Duch. That's bad enough, for I am but re-
proach,-

And shall I, then, be us'd reproachfully?

Stan. Like to a duchess, and duke Humphrey's According to that state you shall be us'd.

[lady;

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 discharg'd.Come, Stanley, shall we go?

Stan. Madam, your penance done, throw off this And go we to attire you for our journey. [sheet, Duch. My shame will not be shifted with my

sheet:

Ay, night by night,-in studying good for England!

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

Be brought against me at my trial-day!

No; many a pound of mine own proper store,
Because I would not tax the needy commons,
Have I dispursèd 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 fleeced poor passengers,
I never gave them condign punishment:
Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd
Above the felon, or what trespass else.

Suf. My lord, 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 farther 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 dangerous! 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 sov'reign 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 effected,-
A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.

Car. My liege, his railing is intolerable:
If those that care to keep your royal person
From treason's secret knife, and traitors' rage,
Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,

And the offender granted scope of speech,
'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.

Suf. Hath he not twit our sov'reign lady here, With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd, As if she had subornèd 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.

[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 naught 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 vowèd enemies.

His fortunes I will weep; and, 'twixt each groan,
Say "Who's a traitor, Gloster 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 Gloster's show
Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting passengers;
Or as the snake, roll'd in a flow'ring bank,
With shining chequer'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 mine own wit good,)
This Gloster should be quickly rid the world,
To rid us from the fear we have of him.