And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof, While all is shar'd, and all is borne away; *Ready to starve, and dare not touch his own. So York must sit, and fret, and bite his tougue, * While his own lands are bargain'd for, and sold. Methinks, the realms of England, France, and Ireland,

*Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood, As did the fatal brand Althea burn'd.

* Unto the Prince's heart of Calydon.
Anjou and Maine, both given unto the French!
Cold news for me; for I had hope of France,
Even as I have of fertile England's soil.

And 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 bold the scepter in his childish fist,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head,

Whose church - like humours fit not for a crown.
Then, York, be still a while, 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 fall'n at jars :
Then will I raise aloft the milk - white rose,
With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd;
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 pull'd fair England down.
[Exit.

The same.

SCENE II.

A Room in the Duke of Gloster's house.

Enter GLOSTER and the Duchess.

Duch. Why droops my Lord, like over-ipen'd corn,

Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load? * Why doth the great Duke Humphrey kuit his

brows,

As frowning at the favours of the world? * Why are thine eyes fix'd to the fullen earth, Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? What see'st thou there? King Henry's diadem, * Enchas'd with all the honours of the world? If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face,

* Until thy head be circled with the same.

*

Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold:What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine: And, having both together heav'd 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 dream'd 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 plac'd 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 crown'd;

Where Henry, and dame Margaret, kneel'd to me, And on my head did set the diadem.

Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright: Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur'd Eleanor! Art thou not second woman in the realm; And the Protector's wife, belov'd of him?

★

Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command, *Above the reach or compass of thy thought? And wilt thou still be hammering treachery, To tumble down thy husband, and thyself, From top of honour to disgrace's feet? Away from me, and let me hear no more. 'Duch. What, what, my Lord! are you so cholerick

With Eleanor, for telling but her dream? Next time, I'll keep my dreams unto myself, And not be check'd.

Glo. Nay, be not angry, I am pleas'd again.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My Lord Protector, '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, my good Lord, I'll follow presently.
[Exeunt GLOSTER and Messenger.

Follow I most, 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 fortuna's pageant.

Where are you there? Sir John! nay, fear. not, man,

We are alone; here's none but thee, and I.

Enter HUM E.

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 multiply'd.

Duch. What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet conferr'd

With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch;
And Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer?
And will they undertake to do me good?
'Hume. This they have promised,

your Highness

to show

A spirit rais'd from depth of under ground,
That shall make answer to such questions,

As

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,

Hume?

Sir John

'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 humour,
Have hired me to undermine the Duchess,
And buz these conjurations in her brain.

They say, a crafty knave does need no bróker; * 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.

VOL. XI.