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. And day will come, when York shall claim his own; Whose church - like humours fit not for a crown. Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love, With his new bride, and England's dear bought And Humphrey with the Peers be fall'n at jars : 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 Duch. What dream'd my Lord? tell me, and 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' You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans, 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; your Highness to show A spirit rais'd from depth of under ground, As As by your Grace shall be propounded him. When from saint Albans we do make return, 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, 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. |