Project Gutenberg’s Etext of Shakespeare’s The second Part of Henry the Sixt

Executive Director’s Notes:

In addition to the notes below, and so you will NOT think all the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they are presented herein:

Barnardo.  Who’s there?
Fran.  Nay answer me:  Stand & vnfold
your selfe

Bar.  Long liue the King

***

As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words or letters they had often packed into a “cliche”. . .this is the original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u, above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .

The answer is that they may have packed “liue” into a cliche at a time when they were out of “v"’s. . .possibly having used “vv” in place of some “w"’s, etc.  This was a common practice of the day, as print was still quite expensive, and they didn’t want to spend more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.

You will find a lot of these kinds of “errors” in this text, as I have mentioned in other times and places, many “scholars” have an extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a very high place in the “canon” of Shakespeare.  My father read an assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the purpose.  To the best of my knowledge he read all those available . . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes, that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous for signing his name with several different spellings.

So, please take this into account when reading the comments below made by our volunteer who prepared this file:  you may see errors that are “not” errors. . . .

So. . .with this caveat. . .we have not changed the canon errors, here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare’s The second Part of Henry the Sixt.

Michael S. Hart
Project Gutenberg
Executive Director

***

Scanner’s Notes:  What this is and isn’t.  This was taken from a copy of Shakespeare’s first folio and it is as close as I can come in ASCII to the printed text.

The elongated S’s have been changed to small s’s and the conjoined ae have been changed to ae.  I have left the spelling, punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed text.  I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the Geneva Bible and Shakespeare’s First Folio and have unified spellings according to this template), typo’s and expanded abbreviations as I have come across them.  Everything within brackets [] is what I have added.  So if you don’t like that you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer Shakespeare.

Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual differences between various copies of the first folio.  So there may be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between this and other first folio editions.  This is due to the printer’s habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then continuing the printing run.  The proof run wasn’t thrown away but incorporated into the printed copies.  This is just the way it is.  The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different First Folio editions’ best pages.

If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel free to email me those errors.  I wish to make this the best etext possible.  My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com and davidr@inconnect.com.  I hope that you enjoy this.

David Reed

The second Part of Henry the Sixt

with the death of the Good Duke Hvmfrey

Actus Primus.  Scoena Prima.

Flourish of Trumpets:  Then Hoboyes.

Enter King, Duke Humfrey, Salisbury, Warwicke, and Beauford on the one side.  The Queene, Suffolke, Yorke, Somerset, and Buckingham, on the other.

Suffolke.  As by your high Imperiall Maiesty,
I had in charge at my depart for France,
As Procurator to your Excellence,
To marry Princes Margaret for your Grace;
So in the Famous Ancient City, Toures,
In presence of the Kings of France, and Sicill,
The Dukes of Orleance, Calaber, Britaigne, and Alanson,
Seuen Earles, twelue Barons, & twenty reuerend Bishops
I haue perform’d my Taske, and was espous’d,
And humbly now vpon my bended knee,
In sight of England, and her Lordly Peeres,
Deliuer vp my Title in the Queene
To your most gracious hands, that are the Substance
Of that great Shadow I did represent:
The happiest Gift, that euer Marquesse gaue,
The Fairest Queene, that euer King receiu’d

King.  Suffolke arise.  Welcome Queene Margaret,
I can expresse no kinder signe of Loue
Then this kinde kisse:  O Lord, that lends me life,
Lend me a heart repleate with thankfulnesse:
For thou hast giuen me in this beauteous Face
A world of earthly blessings to my soule,
If Simpathy of Loue vnite our thoughts

Queen.  Great King of England, & my gracious Lord,
The mutuall conference that my minde hath had,
By day, by night; waking, and in my dreames,
In Courtly company, or at my Beades,
With you mine Alder liefest Soueraigne,
Makes me the bolder to salute my King,
With ruder termes, such as my wit affoords,
And ouer ioy of heart doth minister

King.  Her sight did rauish, but her grace in Speech,
Her words yclad with wisedomes Maiesty,
Makes me from Wondring, fall to Weeping ioyes,
Such is the Fulnesse of my hearts content.
Lords, with one cheerefull voice, Welcome my Loue

All kneel.  Long liue Qu[eene].  Margaret, Englands happines

Queene.  We thanke you all.

Florish

Suf.  My Lord Protector, so it please your Grace,
Heere are the Articles of contracted peace,
Betweene our Soueraigne, and the French King Charles,
For eighteene moneths concluded by consent

Glo.  Reads.  Inprimis, It is agreed betweene the French K[ing].  Charles, and William de la Pole Marquesse of Suffolke, Ambassador for Henry King of England, That the said Henry shal espouse the Lady Margaret, daughter vnto Reignier King of Naples, Sicillia, and Ierusalem, and Crowne her Queene of England, ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing.  Item, That the Dutchy of Aniou, and the County of Main, shall be released and deliuered to the King her father

King.  Vnkle, how now?
Glo.  Pardon me gracious Lord,
Some sodaine qualme hath strucke me at the heart, And dim’d mine eyes, that I can reade no further

King.  Vnckle of Winchester, I pray read on

Win.  Item, It is further agreed betweene them, That the Dutchesse of Aniou and Maine, shall be released and deliuered ouer to the King her Father, and shee sent ouer of the King of Englands owne proper Cost and Charges, without hauing any Dowry

King.  They please vs well.  Lord Marques kneel down,
We heere create thee the first Duke of Suffolke,
And girt thee with the Sword.  Cosin of Yorke,
We heere discharge your Grace from being Regent
I’th parts of France, till terme of eighteene Moneths
Be full expyr’d.  Thankes Vncle Winchester,
Gloster, Yorke, Buckingham, Somerset,
Salisburie, and Warwicke.
We thanke you all for this great fauour done,
In entertainment to my Princely Queene.
Come, let vs in, and with all speede prouide
To see her Coronation be perform’d.

Exit King, Queene, and Suffolke.

Manet the rest.

Glo.  Braue Peeres of England, Pillars of the State,
To you Duke Humfrey must vnload his greefe:
Your greefe, the common greefe of all the Land.
What? did my brother Henry spend his youth,
His valour, coine, and people in the warres?
Did he so often lodge in open field:
In Winters cold, and Summers parching heate,
To conquer France, his true inheritance?
And did my brother Bedford toyle his wits,
To keepe by policy what Henrie got:
Haue you your selues, Somerset, Buckingham,
Braue Yorke, Salisbury, and victorious Warwicke,
Receiud deepe scarres in France and Normandie:
Or hath mine Vnckle Beauford, and my selfe,
With all the Learned Counsell of the Realme,
Studied so long, sat in the Councell house,
Early and late, debating too and fro
How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe,
And hath his Highnesse in his infancie,
Crowned in Paris in despight of foes,
And shall these Labours, and these Honours dye?
Shall Henries Conquest, Bedfords vigilance,
Your Deeds of Warre, and all our Counsell dye?
O Peeres of England, shamefull is this League,
Fatall this Marriage, cancelling your Fame,
Blotting your names from Bookes of memory,
Racing the Charracters of your Renowne,
Defacing Monuments of Conquer’d France,
Vndoing all as all had neuer bin

Car.  Nephew, what meanes this passionate discourse?
This preroration with such circumstance:
For France, ’tis ours; and we will keepe it still

Glo.  I Vnckle, we will keepe it, if we can:
But now it is impossible we should.
Suffolke, the new made Duke that rules the rost,
Hath giuen the Dutchy of Aniou and Mayne,
Vnto the poore King Reignier, whose large style
Agrees not with the leannesse of his purse

Sal.  Now by the death of him that dyed for all,
These Counties were the Keyes of Normandie:
But wherefore weepes Warwicke, my valiant sonne?
War.  For greefe that they are past recouerie.
For were there hope to conquer them againe,
My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no teares.
Aniou and Maine?  My selfe did win them both:
Those Prouinces, these Armes of mine did conquer,
And are the Citties that I got with wounds,
Deliuer’d vp againe with peacefull words?
Mort Dieu

Yorke.  For Suffolkes Duke, may he be suffocate,
That dims the Honor of this Warlike Isle:
France should haue torne and rent my very hart,
Before I would haue yeelded to this League.
I neuer read but Englands Kings haue had
Large summes of Gold, and Dowries with their wiues,
And our King Henry giues away his owne,
To match with her that brings no vantages

Hum.  A proper iest, and neuer heard before,
That Suffolke should demand a whole Fifteenth,
For Costs and Charges in transporting her:
She should haue staid in France, and steru’d in France
Before —
Car.  My Lord of Gloster, now ye grow too hot,
It was the pleasure of my Lord the King

Hum.  My Lord of Winchester I know your minde.
’Tis not my speeches that you do mislike:
But ’tis my presence that doth trouble ye,
Rancour will out, proud Prelate, in thy face
I see thy furie:  If I longer stay,
We shall begin our ancient bickerings:
Lordings farewell, and say when I am gone,
I prophesied, France will be lost ere long.

Exit Humfrey.

Car.  So, there goes our Protector in a rage:
’Tis knowne to you he is mine enemy:
Nay more, an enemy vnto you all,
And no great friend, I feare me to the King;
Consider Lords, he is the next of blood,
And heyre apparant to the English Crowne:
Had Henrie got an Empire by his marriage,
And all the wealthy Kingdomes of the West,
There’s reason he should be displeas’d at it:
Looke to it Lords, let not his smoothing words
Bewitch your hearts, be wise and circumspect.
What though the common people fauour him,
Calling him, Humfrey the good Duke of Gloster,
Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voyce,
Iesu maintaine your Royall Excellence,
With God preserue the good Duke Humfrey:
I feare me Lords, for all this flattering glosse,
He will be found a dangerous Protector

Buc.  Why should he then protect our Soueraigne?
He being of age to gouerne of himselfe.
Cosin of Somerset, ioyne you with me,
And altogether with the Duke of Suffolke,
Wee’l quickly hoyse Duke Humfrey from his seat

Car.  This weighty businesse will not brooke delay,
Ile to the Duke of Suffolke presently.

Exit Cardinall.

Som.  Cosin of Buckingham, though Humfries pride
And greatnesse of his place be greefe to vs,
Yet let vs watch the haughtie Cardinall,
His insolence is more intollerable
Then all the Princes in the Land beside,
If Gloster be displac’d, hee’l be Protector

Buc.  Or thou, or I Somerset will be Protectors,
Despite Duke Humfrey, or the Cardinall.

Exit Buckingham, and Somerset.

Sal.  Pride went before, Ambition followes him.
While these do labour for their owne preferment,
Behooues it vs to labor for the Realme.
I neuer saw but Humfrey Duke of Gloster,
Did beare him like a Noble Gentleman:
Oft haue I seene the haughty Cardinall,
More like a Souldier then a man o’th’ Church,
As stout and proud as he were Lord of all,
Sweare like a Ruffian, and demeane himselfe
Vnlike the Ruler of a Common-weale.
Warwicke my sonne, the comfort of my age,
Thy deeds, thy plainnesse, and thy house-keeping,
Hath wonne the greatest fauour of the Commons,
Excepting none but good Duke Humfrey.
And Brother Yorke, thy Acts in Ireland,
In bringing them to ciuill Discipline:
Thy late exploits done in the heart of France,
When thou wert Regent for our Soueraigne,
Haue made thee fear’d and honor’d of the people,
Ioyne we together for the publike good,
In what we can, to bridle and suppresse
The pride of Suffolke, and the Cardinall,
With Somersets and Buckinghams Ambition,
And as we may, cherish Duke Humfries deeds,
While they do tend the profit of the Land

War.  So God helpe Warwicke, as he loues the Land,
And common profit of his Countrey

Yor.  And so sayes Yorke,
For he hath greatest cause

Salisbury.  Then lets make hast away,
And looke vnto the maine

Warwicke.  Vnto the maine?
Oh Father, Maine is lost,
That Maine, which by maine force Warwicke did winne,
And would haue 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 slaine.

Exit Warwicke, and Salisbury.  Manet Yorke.

Yorke.  Aniou and Maine are giuen to the French,
Paris is lost, the state of Normandie
Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone:
Suffolke concluded on the Articles,
The Peeres agreed, and Henry was well pleas’d,
To change two Dukedomes for a Dukes faire daughter.
I cannot blame them all, what is’t to them?
’Tis thine they giue away, and not their owne.
Pirates may make cheape penyworths of their pillage,
And purchase Friends, and giue to Curtezans,
Still reuelling like Lords till all be gone,
While as the silly Owner of the goods
Weepes ouer them, and wrings his haplesse hands,
And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloofe,
While all is shar’d, and all is borne away,
Ready to sterue, and dare not touch his owne.
So Yorke must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue,
While his owne Lands are bargain’d for, and sold:
Me thinkes the Realmes of England, France, & Ireland,
Beare that proportion to my flesh and blood,
As did the fatall brand Althaea burnt,
Vnto the Princes heart of Calidon:
Aniou and Maine both giuen vnto the French?
Cold newes for me:  for I had hope of France,
Euen as I haue of fertile Englands soile.
A day will come, when Yorke shall claime his owne,
And therefore I will take the Neuils parts,
And make a shew of loue to proud Duke Humfrey,
And when I spy aduantage, claime the Crowne,
For that’s the Golden marke I seeke to hit:
Nor shall proud Lancaster vsurpe my right,
Nor hold the Scepter in his childish Fist,
Nor weare the Diadem vpon his head,
Whose Church-like humors fits not for a Crowne.
Then Yorke be still a-while, till time do serue:
Watch thou, and wake when others be asleepe,
To prie into the secrets of the State,
Till Henrie surfetting in ioyes of loue,
With his new Bride, & Englands deere bought Queen,
And Humfrey with the Peeres be falne at iarres:
Then will I raise aloft the Milke-white-Rose,
With whose sweet smell the Ayre shall be perfum’d,
And in my Standard beare the Armes of Yorke,
To grapple with the house of Lancaster,
And force perforce Ile make him yeeld the Crowne,
Whose bookish Rule, hath pull’d faire England downe.

Exit Yorke.

Enter Duke Humfrey and his wife Elianor.

Elia.  Why droopes my Lord like ouer-ripen’d Corn,
Hanging the head at Ceres plenteous load?
Why doth the Great Duke Humfrey knit his browes,
As frowning at the Fauours of the world?
Why are thine eyes fixt to the sullen earth,
Gazing on that which seemes to dimme thy sight?
What seest thou there?  King Henries Diadem,
Inchac’d with all the Honors of the world?
If so, Gaze on, and grouell on thy face,
Vntill thy head be circled with the same.
Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious Gold.
What, is’t too short?  Ile lengthen it with mine,
And hauing both together heau’d it vp,
Wee’l both together lift our heads to heauen,
And neuer more abase our sight so low,
As to vouchsafe one glance vnto the ground

Hum.  O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost loue thy Lord,
Banish the Canker of ambitious thoughts:
And may that thought, when I imagine ill
Against my King and Nephew, vertuous Henry,
Be my last breathing in this mortall world.
My troublous dreames this night, doth make me sad

Eli.  What dream’d my Lord, tell me, and Ile requite it
With sweet rehearsall of my mornings dreame?
Hum.  Me thought this staffe mine Office-badge in
Court
Was broke in twaine:  by whom, I haue forgot,
But as I thinke, it was by’th Cardinall,
And on the peeces of the broken Wand
Were plac’d the heads of Edmond Duke of Somerset,
And William de la Pole first Duke of Suffolke.
This was my dreame, what it doth bode God knowes

Eli.  Tut, this was nothing but an argument,
That he that breakes a sticke of Glosters groue,
Shall loose his head for his presumption.
But list to me my Humfrey, my sweete Duke:
Me thought I sate in Seate of Maiesty,
In the Cathedrall Church of Westminster,
And in that Chaire where Kings & Queens wer crownd,
Where Henrie and Dame Margaret kneel’d to me,
And on my head did set the Diadem

Hum.  Nay Elinor, then must I chide outright:
Presumptuous Dame, ill-nurter’d Elianor,
Art thou not second Woman in the Realme?
And the Protectors wife belou’d of him?
Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command,
Aboue the reach or compasse of thy thought?
And wilt thou still be hammering Treachery,
To tumble downe thy husband, and thy selfe,
From top of Honor, to Disgraces feete?
Away from me, and let me heare no more

Elia.  What, what, my Lord?  Are you so chollericke
With Elianor, for telling but her dreame?
Next time Ile keepe my dreames vnto my selfe,
And not be check’d

Hum.  Nay be not angry, I am pleas’d againe.
Enter Messenger.

Mess.  My Lord Protector, ’tis his Highnes pleasure,
You do prepare to ride vnto S[aint].  Albons,
Where as the King and Queene do meane to Hawke

Hu.  I go.  Come Nel thou wilt ride with vs?

Ex[it].  Hum[frey]

Eli.  Yes my good Lord, Ile follow presently.
Follow I must, I cannot go before,
While Gloster beares this base and humble minde.
Were I a Man, a Duke, and next of blood,
I would remoue these tedious stumbling blockes,
And smooth my way vpon their headlesse neckes.
And being a woman, I will not be slacke
To play my part in Fortunes Pageant.
Where are you there?  Sir Iohn; nay feare not man,
We are alone, here’s none but thee, & I.
Enter Hume.

Hume.  Iesus preserue your Royall Maiesty

Elia.  What saist thou?  Maiesty:  I am but Grace

Hume.  But by the grace of God, and Humes aduice,
Your Graces Title shall be multiplied

Elia.  What saist thou man?  Hast thou as yet confer’d
With Margerie Iordane the cunning Witch,
With Roger Bollingbrooke the Coniurer?
And will they vndertake to do me good?
Hume.  This they haue promised to shew your Highnes
A Spirit rais’d from depth of vnder ground,
That shall make answere to such Questions,
As by your Grace shall be propounded him

Elianor.  It is enough, Ile thinke vpon the Questions:
When from Saint Albones we doe make returne,
Wee’le see these things effected to the full.
Here Hume, take this reward, make merry man
With thy Confederates in this weightie cause.

Exit Elianor

Hume.  Hume must make merry with the Duchesse Gold:
Marry and shall:  but how now, Sir Iohn Hume?
Seale vp your Lips, and giue no words but Mum,
The businesse asketh silent secrecie.
Dame Elianor giues Gold, to bring the Witch:
Gold cannot come amisse, were she a Deuill.
Yet haue I Gold flyes from another Coast:
I dare not say, from the rich Cardinall,
And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolke;
Yet I doe finde it so:  for to be plaine,
They (knowing Dame Elianors aspiring humor)
Haue hyred me to vnder-mine the Duchesse,
And buzze these Coniurations in her brayne.
They say, A craftie Knaue do’s need no Broker,
Yet am I Suffolke and the Cardinalls Broker.
Hume, if you take not heed, you shall goe neere
To call them both a payre of craftie Knaues.
Well, so it stands:  and thus I feare at last,
Humes Knauerie will be the Duchesse Wracke,
And her Attainture, will be Humphreyes fall:
Sort how it will, I shall haue Gold for all.
Enter.

Enter three or foure Petitioners, the Armorers Man being one.

1.Pet.  My Masters, let’s stand close, my Lord Protector will come this way by and by, and then wee may deliuer our Supplications in the Quill

2.Pet.  Marry the Lord protect him, for hee’s a good man, Iesu blesse him.  Enter Suffolke, and Queene.

Peter.  Here a comes me thinkes, and the Queene with him:  Ile be the first sure

2.Pet.  Come backe foole, this is the Duke of Suffolk, and not my Lord Protector

Suff.  How now fellow:  would’st any thing with me?
1.Pet.  I pray my Lord pardon me, I tooke ye for my
Lord Protector

Queene.  To my Lord Protector?  Are your Supplications
to his Lordship?  Let me see them:  what is thine?
1.Pet.  Mine is, and’t please your Grace, against Iohn
Goodman, my Lord Cardinals Man, for keeping my House, and Lands, and Wife and all, from me

Suff.  Thy Wife too? that’s some Wrong indeede.
What’s yours?  What’s heere?  Against the Duke of
Suffolke, for enclosing the Commons of Melforde.  How now, Sir Knaue?
2.Pet.  Alas Sir, I am but a poore Petitioner of our
whole Towneship

Peter.  Against my Master Thomas Horner, for saying, That the Duke of Yorke was rightfull Heire to the Crowne

Queene.  What say’st thou?  Did the Duke of Yorke
say, hee was rightfull Heire to the Crowne?
Peter.  That my Mistresse was?  No forsooth:  my Master
said, That he was, and that the King was an Vsurper

Suff.  Who is there?
Enter Seruant.

Take this fellow in, and send for his Master with a Purseuant presently:  wee’le heare more of your matter before the King.

Enter.

Queene.  And as for you that loue to be protected
Vnder the Wings of our Protectors Grace,
Begin your Suites anew, and sue to him.

Teare the Supplication.

Away, base Cullions:  Suffolke let them goe

All.  Come, let’s be gone.
Enter.

Queene.  My Lord of Suffolke, say, is this the guise?
Is this the Fashions in the Court of England?
Is this the Gouernment of Britaines Ile?
And this the Royaltie of Albions King?
What, shall King Henry be a Pupill still,
Vnder the surly Glosters Gouernance?
Am I a Queene in Title and in Stile,
And must be made a Subiect to a Duke?
I tell thee Poole, when in the Citie Tours
Thou ran’st a-tilt in honor of my Loue,
And stol’st away the Ladies hearts of France;
I thought King Henry had resembled thee,
In Courage, Courtship, and Proportion:
But all his minde is bent to Holinesse,
To number Aue-Maries on his Beades:
His Champions, are the Prophets and Apostles,
His Weapons, holy Sawes of sacred Writ,
His Studie is his Tilt-yard, and his Loues
Are brazen Images of Canonized Saints.
I would the Colledge of the Cardinalls
Would chuse him Pope, and carry him to Rome,
And set the Triple Crowne vpon his Head;
That were a State fit for his Holinesse

Suff.  Madame be patient:  as I was cause
Your Highnesse came to England, so will I
In England worke your Graces full content

Queene.  Beside the haughtie Protector, haue we Beauford
The imperious Churchman; Somerset, Buckingham,
And grumbling Yorke:  and not the least of these,
But can doe more in England then the King

Suff.  And he of these, that can doe most of all,
Cannot doe more in England then the Neuils:
Salisbury and Warwick are no simple Peeres

Queene.  Not all these Lords do vex me halfe so much,
As that prowd Dame, the Lord Protectors Wife:
She sweepes it through the Court with troups of Ladies,
More like an Empresse, then Duke Humphreyes Wife:
Strangers in Court, doe take her for the Queene:
She beares a Dukes Reuenewes on her backe,
And in her heart she scornes our Pouertie:
Shall I not liue to be aueng’d on her?
Contemptuous base-borne Callot as she is,
She vaunted ‘mongst her Minions t’ other day,
The very trayne of her worst wearing Gowne,
Was better worth then all my Fathers Lands,
Till Suffolke gaue two Dukedomes for his Daughter

Suff.  Madame, my selfe haue lym’d a Bush for her,
And plac’t a Quier of such enticing Birds,
That she will light to listen to the Layes,
And neuer mount to trouble you againe.
So let her rest:  and Madame list to me,
For I am bold to counsaile you in this;
Although we fancie not the Cardinall,
Yet must we ioyne with him and with the Lords,
Till we haue brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace.
As for the Duke of Yorke, this late Complaint
Will make but little for his benefit:
So one by one wee’le weed them all at last,
And you your selfe shall steere the happy Helme.
Enter.

Sound a Sennet.

Enter the King, Duke Humfrey, Cardinall, Buckingham, Yorke,
Salisbury,
Warwicke, and the Duchesse.

King.  For my part, Noble Lords, I care not which,
Or Somerset, or Yorke, all’s one to me

Yorke.  If Yorke haue ill demean’d himselfe in France,
Then let him be denay’d the Regentship

Som.  If Somerset be vnworthy of the Place,
Let Yorke be Regent, I will yeeld to him

Warw.  Whether your Grace be worthy, yea or no,
Dispute not that, Yorke is the worthyer

Card.  Ambitious Warwicke, let thy betters speake

Warw.  The Cardinall’s not my better in the field

Buck.  All in this presence are thy betters, Warwicke

Warw.  Warwicke may liue to be the best of all

Salisb.  Peace Sonne, and shew some reason Buckingham
Why Somerset should be preferr’d in this?
Queene.  Because the King forsooth will haue it so

Humf.  Madame, the King is old enough himselfe
To giue his Censure:  These are no Womens matters

Queene.  If he be old enough, what needs your Grace
To be Protector of his Excellence?
Humf.  Madame, I am Protector of the Realme,
And at his pleasure will resigne my Place

Suff.  Resigne it then, and leaue thine insolence.
Since thou wert King; as who is King, but thou?
The Common-wealth hath dayly run to wrack,
The Dolphin hath preuayl’d beyond the Seas,
And all the Peeres and Nobles of the Realme
Haue beene as Bond-men to thy Soueraigntie

Card.  The Commons hast thou rackt, the Clergies Bags
Are lanke and leane with thy Extortions

Som.  Thy sumptuous Buildings, and thy Wiues Attyre
Haue cost a masse of publique Treasurie

Buck.  Thy Crueltie in execution
Vpon Offendors, hath exceeded Law,
And left thee to the mercy of the Law

Queene.  Thy sale of Offices and Townes in France,
If they were knowne, as the suspect is great,
Would make thee quickly hop without thy Head.

Exit Humfrey.

Giue me my Fanne:  what, Mynion, can ye not?

She giues the Duchesse a box on the eare.

I cry you mercy, Madame:  was it you?
Duch.  Was’t I? yea, I it was, prowd French-woman:
Could I come neere your Beautie with my Nayles,
I could set my ten Commandements in your face

King.  Sweet Aunt be quiet, ’twas against her will

Duch.  Against her will, good King? looke to’t in time,
Shee’le hamper thee, and dandle thee like a Baby:
Though in this place most Master weare no Breeches,
She shall not strike Dame Elianor vnreueng’d.

Exit Elianor.

Buck.  Lord Cardinall, I will follow Elianor,
And listen after Humfrey, how he proceedes:
Shee’s tickled now, her Fume needs no spurres,
Shee’le gallop farre enough to her destruction.

Exit Buckingham.

Enter Humfrey.

Humf.  Now Lords, my Choller being ouer-blowne,
With walking once about the Quadrangle,
I come to talke of Common-wealth Affayres.
As for your spightfull false Obiections,
Proue them, and I lye open to the Law:
But God in mercie so deale with my Soule,
As I in dutie loue my King and Countrey.
But to the matter that we haue in hand:
I say, my Soueraigne, Yorke is meetest man
To be your Regent in the Realme of France

Suff.  Before we make election, giue me leaue
To shew some reason, of no little force,
That Yorke is most vnmeet of any man

Yorke.  Ile tell thee, Suffolke, why I am vnmeet.
First, for I cannot flatter thee in Pride:
Next, if I be appointed for the Place,
My Lord of Somerset will keepe me here,
Without Discharge, Money, or Furniture,
Till France be wonne into the Dolphins hands:
Last time I danc’t attendance on his will,
Till Paris was besieg’d, famisht, and lost

Warw.  That can I witnesse, and a fouler fact
Did neuer Traytor in the Land commit

Suff.  Peace head-strong Warwicke

Warw.  Image of Pride, why should I hold my peace?
Enter Armorer and his Man.

Suff.  Because here is a man accused of Treason,
Pray God the Duke of Yorke excuse himselfe

Yorke.  Doth any one accuse Yorke for a Traytor?
King.  What mean’st thou, Suffolke? tell me, what are
these?
Suff.  Please it your Maiestie, this is the man
That doth accuse his Master of High Treason;
His words were these:  That Richard, Duke of Yorke, Was rightfull Heire vnto the English Crowne, And that your Maiestie was an Vsurper

King.  Say man, were these thy words?
Armorer.  And’t shall please your Maiestie, I neuer sayd
nor thought any such matter:  God is my witnesse, I am falsely accus’d by the Villaine

Peter.  By these tenne bones, my Lords, hee did speake them to me in the Garret one Night, as wee were scowring my Lord of Yorkes Armor

Yorke.  Base Dunghill Villaine, and Mechanicall,
Ile haue thy Head for this thy Traytors speech:
I doe beseech your Royall Maiestie,
Let him haue all the rigor of the Law

Armorer.  Alas, my Lord, hang me if euer I spake the words:  my accuser is my Prentice, and when I did correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow vpon his knees he would be euen with me:  I haue good witnesse of this; therefore I beseech your Maiestie, doe not cast away an honest man for a Villaines accusation

King.  Vnckle, what shall we say to this in law?
Humf.  This doome, my Lord, if I may iudge:
Let Somerset be Regent o’re the French,
Because in Yorke this breedes suspition;
And let these haue a day appointed them
For single Combat, in conuenient place,
For he hath witnesse of his seruants malice:
This is the Law, and this Duke Humfreyes doome

Som.  I humbly thanke your Royall Maiestie

Armorer.  And I accept the Combat willingly

Peter.  Alas, my Lord, I cannot fight; for Gods sake pitty my case:  the spight of man preuayleth against me.  O Lord haue mercy vpon me, I shall neuer be able to fight a blow:  O Lord my heart

Humf.  Sirrha, or you must fight, or else be hang’d

King.  Away with them to Prison:  and the day of Combat, shall be the last of the next moneth.  Come Somerset, wee’le see thee sent away.

Flourish.  Exeunt.

Enter the Witch, the two Priests, and Bullingbrooke.

Hume.  Come my Masters, the Duchesse I tell you expects performance of your promises

Bulling.  Master Hume, we are therefore prouided:  will
her Ladyship behold and heare our Exorcismes?
Hume.  I, what else? feare you not her courage

Bulling.  I haue heard her reported to be a Woman of an inuincible spirit:  but it shall be conuenient, Master Hume, that you be by her aloft, while wee be busie below; and so I pray you goe in Gods Name, and leaue vs.

Exit Hume.

Mother Iordan, be you prostrate, and grouell on the Earth; Iohn Southwell reade you, and let vs to our worke.  Enter Elianor aloft.

Elianor.  Well said my Masters, and welcome all:  To this geere, the sooner the better

Bullin.  Patience, good Lady, Wizards know their times:
Deepe Night, darke Night, the silent of the Night,
The time of Night when Troy was set on fire,
The time when Screech-owles cry, and Bandogs howle,
And Spirits walke, and Ghosts breake vp their Graues;
That time best fits the worke we haue in hand.
Madame, sit you, and feare not:  whom wee rayse,
Wee will make fast within a hallow’d Verge.

Here doe the Ceremonies belonging, and make the Circle, Bullingbrooke or Southwell reades, Coniuro te, &c.  It Thunders and Lightens terribly:  then the Spirit riseth.

Spirit.  Ad sum

Witch.  Asmath, by the eternall God,
Whose name and power thou tremblest at,
Answere that I shall aske:  for till thou speake,
Thou shalt not passe from hence

Spirit.  Aske what thou wilt; that I had sayd, and done

Bulling.  First of the King:  What shall of him become?
Spirit.  The Duke yet liues, that Henry shall depose:
But him out-liue, and dye a violent death

Bulling.  What fates await the Duke of Suffolke?
Spirit.  By Water shall he dye, and take his end

Bulling.  What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?
Spirit.  Let him shun Castles,
Safer shall he be vpon the sandie Plaines,
Then where Castles mounted stand.
Haue done, for more I hardly can endure

Bulling.  Discend to Darknesse, and the burning Lake:  False Fiend auoide.

Thunder and Lightning.  Exit Spirit.

Enter the Duke of Yorke and the Duke of Buckingham with their
Guard, and
breake in.

Yorke.  Lay hands vpon these Traytors, and their trash:
Beldam I thinke we watcht you at an ynch.
What Madame, are you there? the King & Commonweale
Are deepely indebted for this peece of paines;
My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not,
See you well guerdon’d for these good deserts

Elianor.  Not halfe so bad as thine to Englands King,
Iniurious Duke, that threatest where’s no cause

Buck.  True Madame, none at all:  what call you this?
Away with them, let them be clapt vp close,
And kept asunder:  you Madame shall with vs.
Stafford take her to thee.
Wee’le see your Trinkets here all forth-comming.
All away.
Enter.

Yorke.  Lord Buckingham, me thinks you watcht her well:
A pretty Plot, well chosen to build vpon.
Now pray my Lord, let’s see the Deuils Writ.
What haue we here?

Reades.

The Duke yet liues, that Henry shall depose:
But him out-liue, and dye a violent death.
Why this is iust, Aio aeacida Romanos vincere posso.
Well, to the rest:
Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolke?
By Water shall he dye, and take his end.
What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?
Let him shunne Castles,
Safer shall he be vpon the sandie Plaines,
Then where Castles mounted stand.
Come, come, my Lords,
These Oracles are hardly attain’d,
And hardly vnderstood.
The King is now in progresse towards Saint Albones,
With him, the Husband of this louely Lady:
Thither goes these Newes,
As fast as Horse can carry them:
A sorry Breakfast for my Lord Protector

Buck.  Your Grace shal giue me leaue, my Lord of York,
To be the Poste, in hope of his reward

Yorke.  At your pleasure, my good Lord.
Who’s within there, hoe?
Enter a Seruingman.

Inuite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick
To suppe with me to morrow Night.  Away.

Exeunt.

Enter the King, Queene, Protector, Cardinall, and Suffolke, with
Faulkners
hallowing.

Queene.  Beleeue me Lords, for flying at the Brooke,
I saw not better sport these seuen yeeres day:
Yet by your leaue, the Winde was very high,
And ten to one, old Ioane had not gone out

King.  But what a point, my Lord, your Faulcon made,
And what a pytch she flew aboue the rest:
To see how God in all his Creatures workes,
Yea Man and Birds are fayne of climbing high

Suff.  No maruell, and it like your Maiestie,
My Lord Protectors Hawkes doe towre so well,
They know their Master loues to be aloft,
And beares his thoughts aboue his Faulcons Pitch

Glost.  My Lord, ’tis but a base ignoble minde,
That mounts no higher then a Bird can sore:
Card.  I thought as much, hee would be aboue the
Clouds

Glost.  I my Lord Cardinall, how thinke you by that?
Were it not good your Grace could flye to Heauen?
King.  The Treasurie of euerlasting Ioy

Card.  Thy Heauen is on Earth, thine Eyes & Thoughts
Beat on a Crowne, the Treasure of thy Heart,
Pernitious Protector, dangerous Peere,
That smooth’st it so with King and Common-weale

Glost.  What, Cardinall?
Is your Priest-hood growne peremptorie?
Tantæne animis Coelestibus iræ, Church-men so hot?
Good Vnckle hide such mallice:
With such Holynesse can you doe it?
Suff.  No mallice Sir, no more then well becomes
So good a Quarrell, and so bad a Peere

Glost.  As who, my Lord?
Suff.  Why, as you, my Lord,
An’t like your Lordly Lords Protectorship

Glost.  Why Suffolke, England knowes thine insolence

Queene.  And thy Ambition, Gloster

King.  I prythee peace, good Queene,
And whet not on these furious Peeres,
For blessed are the Peace-makers on Earth

Card.  Let me be blessed for the Peace I make
Against this prowd Protector with my Sword

Glost.  Faith holy Vnckle, would’t were come to that

Card.  Marry, when thou dar’st

Glost.  Make vp no factious numbers for the matter,
In thine owne person answere thy abuse

Card.  I, where thou dar’st not peepe:
And if thou dar’st, this Euening,
On the East side of the Groue

King.  How now, my Lords?
Card.  Beleeue me, Cousin Gloster,
Had not your man put vp the Fowle so suddenly,
We had had more sport.
Come with thy two-hand Sword

Glost.  True Vnckle, are ye aduis’d?
The East side of the Groue:
Cardinall, I am with you

King.  Why how now, Vnckle Gloster?
Glost.  Talking of Hawking; nothing else, my Lord.
Now by Gods Mother, Priest, Ile shaue your Crowne for this,
Or all my Fence shall fayle

Card.  Medice teipsum, Protector see to’t well, protect your selfe

King.  The Windes grow high,
So doe your Stomacks, Lords:
How irkesome is this Musick to my heart?
When such Strings iarre, what hope of Harmony?
I pray my Lords let me compound this strife.
Enter one crying a Miracle

Glost.  What meanes this noyse?
Fellow, what Miracle do’st thou proclayme?
One.  A Miracle, a Miracle

Suffolke.  Come to the King, and tell him what Miracle

One.  Forsooth, a blinde man at Saint Albones Shrine, Within this halfe houre hath receiu’d his sight, A man that ne’re saw in his life before

King.  Now God be prays’d, that to beleeuing Soules Giues Light in Darknesse, Comfort in Despaire.  Enter the Maior of Saint Albones, and his Brethren, bearing the man betweene two in a Chayre.

Card.  Here comes the Townes-men, on Procession,
To present your Highnesse with the man

King.  Great is his comfort in this Earthly Vale,
Although by his sight his sinne be multiplyed

Glost.  Stand by, my Masters, bring him neere the King,
His Highnesse pleasure is to talke with him

King.  Good-fellow, tell vs here the circumstance,
That we for thee may glorifie the Lord.  What, hast thou beene long blinde, and now restor’d?
Simpc.  Borne blinde, and’t please your Grace

Wife.  I indeede was he

Suff.  What Woman is this?
Wife.  His Wife, and’t like your Worship

Glost.  Hadst thou been his Mother, thou could’st haue better told

King.  Where wert thou borne?
Simpc.  At Barwick in the North, and’t like your
Grace

King.  Poore Soule,
Gods goodnesse hath beene great to thee:
Let neuer Day nor Night vnhallowed passe,
But still remember what the Lord hath done

Queene.  Tell me, good-fellow,
Cam’st thou here by Chance, or of Deuotion,
To this holy Shrine?
Simpc.  God knowes of pure Deuotion,
Being call’d a hundred times, and oftner,
In my sleepe, by good Saint Albon:
Who said; Symon, come; come offer at my Shrine,
And I will helpe thee

Wife.  Most true, forsooth:
And many time and oft my selfe haue heard a Voyce,
To call him so

Card.  What, art thou lame?
Simpc.  I, God Almightie helpe me

Suff.  How cam’st thou so?
Simpc.  A fall off of a Tree

Wife.  A Plum-tree, Master

Glost.  How long hast thou beene blinde?
Simpc.  O borne so, Master

Glost.  What, and would’st climbe a Tree?
Simpc.  But that in all my life, when I was a youth

Wife.  Too true, and bought his climbing very deare

Glost.  ’Masse, thou lou’dst Plummes well, that would’st venture so

Simpc.  Alas, good Master, my Wife desired some
Damsons, and made me climbe, with danger of my
Life

Glost.  A subtill Knaue, but yet it shall not serue:  Let me see thine Eyes; winck now, now open them, In my opinion, yet thou seest not well

Simpc.  Yes Master, cleare as day, I thanke God and Saint Albones

Glost.  Say’st thou me so:  what Colour is this Cloake
of?
Simpc.  Red Master, Red as Blood

Glost.  Why that’s well said:  What Colour is my
Gowne of?
Simpc.  Black forsooth, Coale-Black, as Iet

King.  Why then, thou know’st what Colour Iet is
of?
Suff.  And yet I thinke, Iet did he neuer see

Glost.  But Cloakes and Gownes, before this day, a many

Wife.  Neuer before this day, in all his life

Glost.  Tell me Sirrha, what’s my Name?
Simpc.  Alas Master, I know not

Glost.  What’s his Name?
Simpc.  I know not

Glost.  Nor his?
Simpc.  No indeede, Master

Glost.  What’s thine owne Name?
Simpc.  Saunder Simpcoxe, and if it please you, Master

Glost.  Then Saunder, sit there,
The lying’st Knaue in Christendome.
If thou hadst beene borne blinde,
Thou might’st as well haue knowne all our Names,
As thus to name the seuerall Colours we doe weare.
Sight may distinguish of Colours:
But suddenly to nominate them all,
It is impossible.
My Lords, Saint Albone here hath done a Miracle:
And would ye not thinke it, Cunning to be great,
That could restore this Cripple to his Legges againe

Simpc.  O Master, that you could?
Glost.  My Masters of Saint Albones,
Haue you not Beadles in your Towne,
And Things call’d Whippes?
Maior.  Yes, my Lord, if it please your Grace

Glost.  Then send for one presently

Maior.  Sirrha, goe fetch the Beadle hither straight.  Enter.

Glost.  Now fetch me a Stoole hither by and by.  Now Sirrha, if you meane to saue your selfe from Whipping, leape me ouer this Stoole, and runne away

Simpc.  Alas Master, I am not able to stand alone:  You goe about to torture me in vaine.  Enter a Beadle with Whippes.

Glost.  Well Sir, we must haue you finde your Legges.  Sirrha Beadle, whippe him till he leape ouer that same Stoole

Beadle.  I will, my Lord.
Come on Sirrha, off with your Doublet, quickly

Simpc.  Alas Master, what shall I doe?  I am not able to stand.

After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leapes ouer the Stoole, and runnes away:  and they follow, and cry, A Miracle.

King.  O God, seest thou this, and bearest so long?
Queene.  It made me laugh, to see the Villaine runne

Glost.  Follow the Knaue, and take this Drab away

Wife.  Alas Sir, we did it for pure need

Glost.  Let the[m] be whipt through euery Market Towne, Till they come to Barwick, from whence they came.
Enter.

Card.  Duke Humfrey ha’s done a Miracle to day

Suff.  True:  made the Lame to leape and flye away

Glost.  But you haue done more Miracles then I:
You made in a day, my Lord, whole Townes to flye.
Enter Buckingham.

King.  What Tidings with our Cousin Buckingham?
Buck.  Such as my heart doth tremble to vnfold:
A sort of naughtie persons, lewdly bent,
Vnder the Countenance and Confederacie
Of Lady Elianor, the Protectors Wife,
The Ring-leader and Head of all this Rout,
Haue practis’d dangerously against your State,
Dealing with Witches and with Coniurers,
Whom we haue apprehended in the Fact,
Raysing vp wicked Spirits from vnder ground,
Demanding of King Henries Life and Death,
And other of your Highnesse Priuie Councell,
As more at large your Grace shall vnderstand

Card.  And so my Lord Protector, by this meanes
Your Lady is forth-comming, yet at London.
This Newes I thinke hath turn’d your Weapons edge;
’Tis like, my Lord, you will not keepe your houre

Glost.  Ambitious Church-man, leaue to afflict my heart:
Sorrow and griefe haue vanquisht all my powers;
And vanquisht as I am, I yeeld to thee,
Or to the meanest Groome

King.  O God, what mischiefes work the wicked ones?
Heaping confusion on their owne heads thereby

Queene.  Gloster, see here the Taincture of thy Nest,
And looke thy selfe be faultlesse, thou wert best

Glost.  Madame, for my selfe, to Heauen I doe appeale,
How I haue lou’d my King, and Common-weale:
And for my Wife, I know not how it stands,
Sorry I am to heare what I haue heard,
Noble shee is:  but if shee haue forgot
Honor and Vertue, and conuers’t with such,
As like to Pytch, defile Nobilitie;
I banish her my Bed, and Companie,
And giue her as a Prey to Law and Shame,
That hath dis-honored Glosters honest Name

King.  Well, for this Night we will repose vs here:
To morrow toward London, back againe,
To looke into this Businesse thorowly,
And call these foule Offendors to their Answeres;
And poyse the Cause in Iustice equall Scales,
Whose Beame stands sure, whose rightful cause preuailes.

Flourish.  Exeunt.

Enter Yorke, Salisbury, and Warwick.

Yorke.  Now my good Lords of Salisbury & Warwick,
Our simple Supper ended, giue me leaue,
In this close Walke, to satisfie my selfe,
In crauing your opinion of my Title,
Which is infallible, to Englands Crowne

Salisb.  My Lord, I long to heare it at full

Warw.  Sweet Yorke begin:  and if thy clayme be good,
The Neuills are thy Subiects to command

Yorke.  Then thus:
Edward the third, my Lords, had seuen Sonnes:
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 Iohn of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster;
The fift, was Edmond Langley, Duke of Yorke;
The sixt, was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloster;
William of Windsor was the seuenth, and last.
Edward the Black-Prince dyed before his Father,
And left behinde him Richard, his onely Sonne,
Who after Edward the third’s death, raign’d as King,
Till Henry Bullingbrooke, Duke of Lancaster,
The eldest Sonne and Heire of Iohn of Gaunt,
Crown’d by the Name of Henry the fourth,
Seiz’d on the Realme, depos’d the rightfull King,
Sent his poore Queene to France, from whence she came,
And him to Pumfret; where, as all you know,
Harmelesse Richard was murthered traiterously

Warw.  Father, the Duke hath told the truth;
Thus got the House of Lancaster the Crowne

Yorke.  Which now they hold by force, and not by right:
For Richard, the first Sonnes Heire, being dead,
The Issue of the next Sonne should haue reign’d

Salisb.  But William of Hatfield dyed without an
Heire

Yorke.  The third Sonne, Duke of Clarence,
From whose Line I clayme the Crowne,
Had Issue Phillip, a Daughter,
Who marryed Edmond Mortimer, Earle of March:
Edmond had Issue, Roger, Earle of March;
Roger had Issue, Edmond, Anne, and Elianor

Salisb.  This Edmond, in the Reigne of Bullingbrooke,
As I haue read, layd clayme vnto the Crowne,
And but for Owen Glendour, had beene King;
Who kept him in Captiuitie, till he dyed.
But, to the rest

Yorke.  His eldest Sister, Anne,
My Mother, being Heire vnto the Crowne,
Marryed Richard, Earle of Cambridge,
Who was to Edmond Langley,
Edward the thirds fift Sonnes Sonne;
By her I clayme the Kingdome:
She was Heire to Roger, Earle of March,
Who was the Sonne of Edmond Mortimer,
Who marryed Phillip, sole Daughter
Vnto Lionel, Duke of Clarence.
So, if the Issue of the elder Sonne
Succeed before the younger, I am King

Warw.  What plaine proceedings is more plain then this?
Henry doth clayme the Crowne from Iohn of Gaunt,
The fourth Sonne, Yorke claymes it from the third:
Till Lionels Issue fayles, his should not reigne.
It fayles not yet, but flourishes in thee,
And in thy Sonnes, faire slippes of such a Stock.
Then Father Salisbury, kneele we together,
And in this priuate Plot be we the first,
That shall salute our rightfull Soueraigne
With honor of his Birth-right to the Crowne

Both.  Long liue our Soueraigne Richard, Englands
King

Yorke.  We thanke you Lords:
But I am not your King, till I be Crown’d,
And that my Sword be stayn’d
With heart-blood of the House of Lancaster:
And that’s not suddenly to be perform’d,
But with aduice and silent secrecie.
Doe you as I doe in these dangerous dayes,
Winke at the Duke of Suffolkes insolence,
At Beaufords Pride, at Somersets Ambition,
At Buckingham, and all the Crew of them,
Till they haue snar’d the Shepheard of the Flock,
That vertuous Prince, the good Duke Humfrey:
’Tis that they seeke; and they, in seeking that,
Shall finde their deaths, if Yorke can prophecie

Salisb.  My Lord, breake we off; we know your minde at full

Warw.  My heart assures me, that the Earle of Warwick
Shall one day make the Duke of Yorke a King

Yorke.  And Neuill, this I doe assure my selfe,
Richard shall liue to make the Earle of Warwick
The greatest man in England, but the King.

Exeunt.

Sound Trumpets.  Enter the King and State, with Guard, to banish the Duchesse.

King.  Stand forth Dame Elianor Cobham,
Glosters Wife:
In sight of God, and vs, your guilt is great,
Receiue the Sentence of the Law for sinne,
Such as by Gods Booke are adiudg’d to death.
You foure from hence to Prison, back againe;
From thence, vnto the place of Execution:
The Witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes,
And you three shall be strangled on the Gallowes.
You Madame, for you are more Nobly borne,
Despoyled of your Honor in your Life,
Shall, after three dayes open Penance done,
Liue in your Countrey here, in Banishment,
With Sir Iohn Stanly, in the Ile of Man

Elianor.  Welcome is Banishment, welcome were my
Death

Glost.  Elianor, the Law thou seest hath iudged thee,
I cannot iustifie whom the Law condemnes:
Mine eyes are full of teares, my heart of griefe.
Ah Humfrey, this dishonor in thine age,
Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground.
I beseech your Maiestie giue me leaue to goe;
Sorrow would sollace, and mine Age would ease

King.  Stay Humfrey, Duke of Gloster,
Ere thou goe, giue vp thy Staffe,
Henry will to himselfe Protector be,
And God shall be my hope, my stay, my guide,
And Lanthorne to my feete:
And goe in peace, Humfrey, no lesse belou’d,
Then when thou wert Protector to thy King

Queene.  I see no reason, why a King of yeeres
Should be to be protected like a Child,
God and King Henry gouerne Englands Realme:
Giue vp your Staffe, Sir, and the King his Realme

Glost.  My Staffe?  Here, Noble Henry, is my Staffe:
As willingly doe I the same resigne,
As ere thy Father Henry made it mine;
And euen as willingly at thy feete I leaue it,
As others would ambitiously receiue it.
Farewell good King:  when I am dead, and gone,
May honorable Peace attend thy Throne.

Exit Gloster.

Queene.  Why now is Henry King, and Margaret Queen,
And Humfrey, Duke of Gloster, scarce himselfe,
That beares so shrewd a mayme:  two Pulls at once;
His Lady banisht, and a Limbe lopt off.
This Staffe of Honor raught, there let it stand,
Where it best fits to be, in Henries hand

Suff.  Thus droupes this loftie Pyne, & hangs his sprayes,
Thus Elianors Pride dyes in her youngest dayes

Yorke.  Lords, let him goe.  Please it your Maiestie,
This is the day appointed for the Combat,
And ready are the Appellant and Defendant,
The Armorer and his Man, to enter the Lists,
So please your Highnesse to behold the fight

Queene.  I, good my Lord:  for purposely therefore
Left I the Court, to see this Quarrell try’de

King.  A Gods Name see the Lysts and all things fit,
Here let them end it, and God defend the right

Yorke.  I neuer saw a fellow worse bestead, Or more afraid to fight, then is the Appellant, The seruant of this Armorer, my Lords.  Enter at one Doore the Armorer and his Neighbors, drinking to him so much, that hee is drunke; and he enters with a Drumme before him, and his Staffe, with a Sand-bagge fastened to it:  and at the other Doore his Man, with a Drumme and Sand-bagge, and Prentices drinking to him.

1.Neighbor.  Here Neighbour Horner, I drinke to you in a Cup of Sack; and feare not Neighbor, you shall doe well enough

2.Neighbor.  And here Neighbour, here’s a Cuppe of Charneco

3.Neighbor.  And here’s a Pot of good Double-Beere Neighbor:  drinke, and feare not your Man

Armorer.  Let it come yfaith, and Ile pledge you all, and a figge for Peter

1.Prent.  Here Peter, I drinke to thee, and be not afraid

2.Prent.  Be merry Peter, and feare not thy Master, Fight for credit of the Prentices

Peter.  I thanke you all:  drinke, and pray for me, I pray you, for I thinke I haue taken my last Draught in this World.  Here Robin, and if I dye, I giue thee my Aporne; and Will, thou shalt haue my Hammer:  and here Tom, take all the Money that I haue.  O Lord blesse me, I pray God, for I am neuer able to deale with my Master, hee hath learnt so much fence already

Salisb.  Come, leaue your drinking, and fall to blowes.
Sirrha, what’s thy Name?
Peter.  Peter forsooth

Salisb.  Peter? what more?
Peter.  Thumpe

Salisb.  Thumpe?  Then see thou thumpe thy Master well

Armorer.  Masters, I am come hither as it were vpon my Mans instigation, to proue him a Knaue, and my selfe an honest man:  and touching the Duke of Yorke, I will take my death, I neuer meant him any ill, nor the King, nor the Queene:  and therefore Peter haue at thee with a downe-right blow

Yorke.  Dispatch, this Knaues tongue begins to double.  Sound Trumpets, Alarum to the Combattants.

They fight, and Peter strikes him downe.

Armorer.  Hold Peter, hold, I confesse, I confesse Treason

Yorke.  Take away his Weapon:  Fellow thanke God, and the good Wine in thy Masters way

Peter.  O God, haue I ouercome mine Enemies in this presence?  O Peter, thou hast preuayl’d in right

King.  Goe, take hence that Traytor from our sight,
For by his death we doe perceiue his guilt,
And God in Iustice hath reueal’d to vs
The truth and innocence of this poore fellow,
Which he had thought to haue murther’d wrongfully.
Come fellow, follow vs for thy Reward.

Sound a flourish.  Exeunt.

Enter Duke Humfrey and his Men in Mourning Cloakes.

Glost.  Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a Cloud:
And after Summer, euermore succeedes
Barren Winter, with his wrathfull nipping Cold;
So Cares and Ioyes abound, as Seasons fleet.
Sirs, what’s a Clock?
Seru.  Tenne, my Lord

Glost.  Tenne is the houre that was appointed me,
To watch the comming of my punisht Duchesse:
Vnneath may shee endure the Flintie Streets,
To treade them with her tender-feeling feet.
Sweet Nell, ill can thy Noble Minde abrooke
The abiect People, gazing on thy face,
With enuious Lookes laughing at thy shame,
That erst did follow thy prowd Chariot-Wheeles,
When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets.
But soft, I thinke she comes, and Ile prepare
My teare-stayn’d eyes, to see her Miseries.
Enter the Duchesse in a white Sheet, and a Taper burning in her
hand, with
the Sherife and Officers.

Seru.  So please your Grace, wee’le take her from the
Sherife

Gloster.  No, stirre not for your liues, let her passe by

Elianor.  Come you, my Lord, to see my open shame?
Now thou do’st Penance too.  Looke how they gaze,
See how the giddy multitude doe point,
And nodde their heads, and throw their eyes on thee.
Ah Gloster, hide thee from their hatefull lookes,
And in thy Closet pent vp, rue my shame,
And banne thine Enemies, both mine and thine

Glost.  Be patient, gentle Nell, forget this griefe

Elianor.  Ah Gloster, teach me to forget my selfe:
For whilest I thinke I am thy married Wife,
And thou a Prince, Protector of this Land;
Me thinkes I should not thus be led along,
Mayl’d vp in shame, with Papers on my back,
And follow’d with a Rabble, that reioyce
To see my teares, and heare my deepe-fet groanes.
The ruthlesse Flint doth cut my tender feet,
And when I start, the enuious people laugh,
And bid me be aduised how I treade.
Ah Humfrey, can I beare this shamefull yoake?
Trowest thou, that ere Ile looke vpon the World,
Or count them happy, that enioyes the Sunne?
No:  Darke shall be my Light, and Night my Day.
To thinke vpon my Pompe, shall be my Hell.
Sometime Ile say, I am Duke Humfreyes 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, whilest I, his forlorne Duchesse,
Was made a wonder, and a pointing stock
To euery idle Rascall follower.
But be thou milde, and blush not at my shame,
Nor stirre at nothing, till the Axe of Death
Hang ouer thee, as sure it shortly will.
For Suffolke, he that can doe all in all
With her, that hateth thee and hates vs all,
And Yorke, and impious Beauford, that false Priest,
Haue all lym’d Bushes to betray thy Wings,
And flye thou how thou canst, they’le tangle thee.
But feare not thou, vntill thy foot be snar’d,
Nor neuer seeke preuention of thy foes

Glost.  Ah Nell, forbeare:  thou aymest all awry.
I must offend, before I be attainted:
And had I twentie times so many foes,
And each of them had twentie times their power,
All these could not procure me any scathe,
So long as I am loyall, true, and crimelesse.
Would’st haue me rescue thee from this reproach?
Why yet thy scandall were not wipt away,
But I in danger for the breach of Law.
Thy greatest helpe is quiet, gentle Nell:
I pray thee sort thy heart to patience,
These few dayes wonder will be quickly worne.
Enter a Herald.

Her.  I summon your Grace to his Maiesties Parliament,
Holden at Bury, the first of this next Moneth

Glost.  And my consent ne’re ask’d herein before?
This is close dealing.  Well, I will be there.
My Nell, I take my leaue:  and Master Sherife,
Let not her Penance exceede the Kings Commission

Sh.  And’t please your Grace, here my Commission stayes:
And Sir Iohn Stanly is appointed now,
To take her with him to the Ile of Man

Glost.  Must you, Sir Iohn, protect my Lady here?
Stanly.  So am I giuen in charge, may’t please your
Grace

Glost.  Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray
You vse her well:  the World may laugh againe,
And I may liue to doe you kindnesse, if you doe it her.
And so Sir Iohn, farewell

Elianor.  What, gone my Lord, and bid me not farewell?
Glost.  Witnesse my teares, I cannot stay to speake.

Exit Gloster.

Elianor.  Art thou gone to? all comfort goe with thee,
For none abides with me:  my Ioy, is Death;
Death, at whose Name I oft haue beene afear’d,
Because I wish’d this Worlds eternitie.
Stanley, I prethee goe, and take me hence,
I care not whither, for I begge no fauor;
Onely conuey me where thou art commanded

Stanley.  Why, Madame, that is to the Ile of Man,
There to be vs’d according to your State

Elianor.  That’s bad enough, for I am but reproach:
And shall I then be vs’d reproachfully?
Stanley.  Like to a Duchesse, and Duke Humfreyes Lady,
According to that State you shall be vs’d

Elianor.  Sherife farewell, and better then I fare,
Although thou hast beene Conduct of my shame

Sherife.  It is my Office, and Madame pardon me

Elianor.  I, I, farewell, thy Office is discharg’d:
Come Stanley, shall we goe?
Stanley.  Madame, your Penance done,
Throw off this Sheet,
And goe we to attyre you for our Iourney

Elianor.  My shame will not be shifted with my Sheet:
No, it will hang vpon my richest Robes,
And shew it selfe, attyre me how I can.
Goe, leade the way, I long to see my Prison.

Exeunt.

Sound a Senet.  Enter King, Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke, Yorke,
Buckingham,
Salisbury, and Warwicke, to the Parliament.

King.  I muse my Lord of Gloster is not come:
’Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man,
What e’re occasion keepes him from vs now

Queene.  Can you not see? or will ye not obserue
The strangenesse of his alter’d Countenance?
With what a Maiestie he beares himselfe,
How insolent of late he is become,
How prowd, how peremptorie, and vnlike himselfe.
We know the time since he was milde and affable,
And if we did but glance a farre-off Looke,
Immediately he was vpon his Knee,
That all the Court admir’d him for submission.
But meet him now, and be it in the Morne,
When euery one will giue the time of day,
He knits his Brow, and shewes an angry Eye,
And passeth by with stiffe vnbowed Knee,
Disdaining dutie that to vs belongs.
Small Curres are not regarded when they grynne,
But great men tremble when the Lyon rores,
And Humfrey is no little Man in England.
First note, that he is neere you in discent,
And should you fall, he is the next will mount.
Me seemeth then, it is no Pollicie,
Respecting what a rancorous minde he beares,
And his aduantage following your decease,
That he should come about your Royall Person,
Or be admitted to your Highnesse Councell.
By flatterie hath he wonne 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-rooted,
Suffer them now, and they’le o’re-grow the Garden,
And choake the Herbes for want of Husbandry.
The reuerent care I beare vnto my Lord,
Made me collect these dangers in the Duke.
If it be fond, call it a Womans feare:
Which feare, if better Reasons can supplant,
I will subscribe, and say I wrong’d the Duke.
My Lord of Suffolke, Buckingham, and Yorke,
Reproue my allegation, if you can,
Or else conclude my words effectuall

Suff.  Well hath your Highnesse seene into this Duke:
And had I first beene put to speake my minde,
I thinke I should haue told your Graces Tale.
The Duchesse, by his subornation,
Vpon my Life began her diuellish practises:
Or if he were not priuie to those Faults,
Yet by reputing of his high discent,
As next the King, he was successiue Heire,
And such high vaunts of his Nobilitie,
Did instigate the Bedlam braine-sick Duchesse,
By wicked meanes to frame our Soueraignes fall.
Smooth runnes the Water, where the Brooke is deepe,
And in his simple shew he harbours Treason.
The Fox barkes not, when he would steale the Lambe.
No, no, my Soueraigne, Glouster is a man
Vnsounded yet, and full of deepe deceit

Card.  Did he not, contrary to forme of Law,
Deuise strange deaths, for small offences done?
Yorke.  And did he not, in his Protectorship,
Leuie great summes of Money through the Realme,
For Souldiers pay in France, and neuer sent it?
By meanes whereof, the Townes each day reuolted

Buck.  Tut, these are petty faults to faults vnknowne,
Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humfrey

King.  My Lords at once:  the care you haue of vs,
To mowe downe Thornes that would annoy our Foot,
Is worthy prayse:  but shall I speake my conscience,
Our Kinsman Gloster is as innocent,
From meaning Treason to our Royall Person,
As is the sucking Lambe, or harmelesse Doue:
The Duke is vertuous, milde, and too well giuen,
To dreame on euill, or to worke my downefall

Qu.  Ah what’s more dangerous, then this fond affiance?
Seemes he a Doue? his feathers are but borrow’d,
For hee’s disposed as the hatefull Rauen.
Is he a Lambe? his Skinne is surely lent him,
For hee’s enclin’d as is the rauenous Wolues.
Who cannot steale a shape, that meanes deceit?
Take heed, my Lord, the welfare of vs all,
Hangs on the cutting short that fraudfull man.
Enter Somerset

Som.  All health vnto my gracious Soueraigne

King.  Welcome Lord Somerset:  What Newes from
France?
Som.  That all your Interest in those Territories,
Is vtterly bereft you:  all is lost

King.  Cold Newes, Lord Somerset:  but Gods will be done

Yorke.  Cold Newes for me:  for I had hope of France,
As firmely as I hope for fertile England.
Thus are my Blossomes blasted in the Bud,
And Caterpillers eate my Leaues away:
But I will remedie this geare ere long,
Or sell my Title for a glorious Graue.
Enter Gloucester.

Glost.  All happinesse vnto my Lord the King:
Pardon, my Liege, that I haue stay’d so long

Suff.  Nay Gloster, know that thou art come too soone,
Vnlesse thou wert more loyall then thou art:
I doe arrest thee of High Treason here

Glost.  Well Suffolke, thou shalt not see me blush,
Nor change my Countenance for this Arrest:
A Heart vnspotted, is not easily daunted.
The purest Spring is not so free from mudde,
As I am cleare from Treason to my Soueraigne.
Who can accuse me? wherein am I guiltie?
Yorke.  ’Tis thought, my Lord,
That you tooke Bribes of France,
And being Protector, stay’d the Souldiers pay,
By meanes whereof, his Highnesse hath lost France

Glost.  Is it but thought so?
What are they that thinke it?
I neuer rob’d the Souldiers of their pay,
Nor euer had one penny Bribe from France.
So helpe me God, as I haue watcht the Night,
I, Night by Night, in studying good for England.
That Doyt that ere I wrested from the King,
Or any Groat I hoorded to my vse,
Be brought against me at my Tryall day.
No:  many a Pound of mine owne proper store,
Because I would not taxe the needie Commons,
Haue I dis-pursed to the Garrisons,
And neuer ask’d for restitution

Card.  It serues you well, my Lord, to say so much

Glost.  I say no more then truth, so helpe me God

Yorke.  In your Protectorship, you did deuise
Strange Tortures for Offendors, neuer heard of,
That England was defam’d by Tyrannie

Glost.  Why ’tis well known, that whiles I was Protector,
Pittie was all the fault that was in me:
For I should melt at an Offendors teares,
And lowly words were Ransome for their fault:
Vnlesse it were a bloody Murtherer,
Or foule felonious Theefe, that fleec’d poore passengers,
I neuer gaue them condigne punishment.
Murther indeede, that bloodie sinne, I tortur’d
Aboue the Felon, or what Trespas else

Suff.  My Lord, these faults are easie, quickly answer’d:
But mightier Crimes are lay’d vnto your charge,
Whereof you cannot easily purge your selfe.
I doe arrest you in his Highnesse Name,
And here commit you to my Lord Cardinall
To keepe, vntill your further time of Tryall

King.  My Lord of Gloster, ’tis my speciall hope,
That you will cleare your selfe from all suspence,
My Conscience tells me you are innocent

Glost.  Ah gracious Lord, these dayes are dangerous:
Vertue is choakt with foule Ambition,
And Charitie chas’d hence by Rancours hand;
Foule Subornation is predominant,
And Equitie exil’d your Highnesse Land.
I know, their Complot is to haue my Life:
And if my death might make this Iland happy,
And proue the Period of their Tyrannie,
I would expend it with all willingnesse.
But mine is made the Prologue to their Play:
For thousands more, that yet suspect no perill,
Will not conclude their plotted Tragedie.
Beaufords red sparkling eyes blab his hearts mallice,
And Suffolks cloudie Brow his stormie hate;
Sharpe Buckingham vnburthens with his tongue,
The enuious Load that lyes vpon his heart:
And dogged Yorke, that reaches at the Moone,
Whose ouer-weening Arme I haue pluckt back,
By false accuse doth leuell at my Life.
And you, my Soueraigne Lady, with the rest,
Causelesse haue lay’d disgraces on my head,
And with your best endeuour haue stirr’d vp
My liefest Liege to be mine Enemie:
I, all of you haue lay’d your heads together,
My selfe had notice of your Conuenticles,
And all to make away my guiltlesse Life.
I shall not want false Witnesse, to condemne me,
Nor store of Treasons, to augment my guilt:
The ancient Prouerbe will be well effected,
A Staffe is quickly found to beat a Dogge

Card.  My Liege, his rayling is intollerable.
If those that care to keepe your Royall Person
From Treasons secret Knife, and Traytors Rage,
Be thus vpbrayded, chid, and rated at,
And the Offendor graunted scope of speech,
’Twill make them coole in zeale vnto your Grace

Suff.  Hath he not twit our Soueraigne Lady here
With ignominious words, though Clarkely coucht?
As if she had suborned some to sweare
False allegations, to o’rethrow his state

Qu.  But I can giue the loser leaue to chide

Glost.  Farre truer spoke then meant:  I lose indeede,
Beshrew the winners, for they play’d me false,
And well such losers may haue leaue to speake

Buck.  Hee’le wrest the sence, and hold vs here all day.
Lord Cardinall, he is your Prisoner

Card.  Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure

Glost.  Ah, thus King Henry throwes away his Crutch,
Before his Legges be firme to beare his Body.
Thus is the Shepheard beaten from thy side,
And Wolues are gnarling, who shall gnaw thee first.
Ah that my feare were false, ah that it were;
For good King Henry, thy decay I feare.

Exit Gloster.

King.  My Lords, what to your wisdomes seemeth best,
Doe, or vndoe, as if our selfe were here

Queene.  What, will your Highnesse leaue the Parliament?
King.  I Margaret:  my heart is drown’d with griefe,
Whose floud begins to flowe within mine eyes;
My Body round engyrt with miserie:
For what’s more miserable then Discontent?
Ah Vnckle Humfrey, in thy face I see
The Map of Honor, Truth, and Loyaltie:
And yet, good Humfrey, is the houre to come,
That ere I prou’d thee false, or fear’d thy faith.
What lowring Starre now enuies thy estate?
That these great Lords, and Margaret our Queene,
Doe seeke subuersion of thy harmelesse Life.
Thou neuer didst them wrong, nor no man wrong:
And as the Butcher takes away the Calfe,
And binds the Wretch, and beats it when it strayes,
Bearing it to the bloody Slaughter-house;
Euen so remorselesse haue they borne him hence:
And as the Damme runnes lowing vp and downe,
Looking the way her harmelesse young one went,
And can doe naught but wayle her Darlings losse;
Euen so my selfe bewayles good Glosters case
With sad vnhelpefull teares, and with dimn’d eyes;
Looke after him, and cannot doe him good:
So mightie are his vowed Enemies.
His fortunes I will weepe, and ’twixt each groane,
Say, who’s a Traytor?  Gloster he is none.
Enter.

Queene.  Free Lords:
Cold Snow melts with the Sunnes hot Beames:
Henry, my Lord, is cold in great Affaires,
Too full of foolish pittie:  and Glosters shew
Beguiles him, as the mournefull Crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting passengers;
Or as the Snake, roll’d in a flowring Banke,
With shining checker’d slough doth sting a Child,
That for the beautie thinkes it excellent.
Beleeue me Lords, were none more wise then I,
And yet herein I iudge mine owne Wit good;
This Gloster should be quickly rid the World,
To rid vs from the feare we haue of him

Card.  That he should dye, is worthie pollicie,
But yet we want a Colour for his death:
’Tis meet he be condemn’d by course of Law

Suff.  But in my minde, that were no pollicie:
The King will labour still to saue his Life,
The Commons haply rise, to saue his Life;
And yet we haue but triuiall argument,
More then mistrust, that shewes him worthy death

Yorke.  So that by this, you would not haue him dye

Suff.  Ah Yorke, no man aliue, so faine as I

Yorke.  ’Tis Yorke that hath more reason for his death.
But my Lord Cardinall, and you my Lord of Suffolke,
Say as you thinke, and speake it from your Soules:
Wer’t not all one, an emptie Eagle were set,
To guard the Chicken from a hungry Kyte,
As place Duke Humfrey for the Kings Protector?
Queene.  So the poore Chicken should be sure of death

Suff.  Madame ’tis true:  and wer’t not madnesse then,
To make the Fox surueyor of the Fold?
Who being accus’d a craftie Murtherer,
His guilt should be but idly posted ouer,
Because his purpose is not executed.
No:  let him dye, in that he is a Fox,
By nature prou’d an Enemie to the Flock,
Before his Chaps be stayn’d with Crimson blood,
As Humfrey prou’d by Reasons to my Liege.
And doe not stand on Quillets how to slay him:
Be it by Gynnes, by Snares, by Subtletie,
Sleeping, or Waking, ’tis no matter how,
So he be dead; for that is good deceit,
Which mates him first, that first intends deceit

Queene.  Thrice Noble Suffolke, ’tis resolutely spoke

Suff.  Not resolute, except so much were done,
For things are often spoke, and seldome meant,
But that my heart accordeth with my tongue,

Seeing the deed is meritorious,
And to preserue my Soueraigne from his Foe,
Say but the word, and I will be his Priest

Card.  But I would haue him dead, my Lord of Suffolke,
Ere you can take due Orders for a Priest:
Say you consent, and censure well the deed,
And Ile prouide his Executioner,
I tender so the safetie of my Liege

Suff.  Here is my Hand, the deed is worthy doing

Queene.  And so say I

Yorke.  And I:  and now we three haue spoke it,
It skills not greatly who impugnes our doome.
Enter a Poste.

Post.  Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amaine,
To signifie, that Rebels there are vp,
And put the Englishmen vnto the Sword.
Send Succours (Lords) and stop the Rage betime,
Before the Wound doe grow vncurable;
For being greene, there is great hope of helpe

Card.  A Breach that craues a quick expedient stoppe.
What counsaile giue you in this weightie cause?
Yorke.  That Somerset be sent as Regent thither:
’Tis meet that luckie Ruler be imploy’d,
Witnesse the fortune he hath had in France

Som.  If Yorke, with all his farre-fet pollicie,
Had beene the Regent there, in stead of me,
He neuer would haue stay’d in France so long

Yorke.  No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done.
I rather would haue lost my Life betimes,
Then bring a burthen of dis-honour home,
By staying there so long, till all were lost.
Shew me one skarre, character’d on thy Skinne,
Mens flesh preseru’d so whole, doe seldome winne

Qu.  Nay then, this sparke will proue a raging fire,
If Wind and Fuell be brought, to feed it with:
No more, good Yorke; sweet Somerset be still.
Thy fortune, Yorke, hadst thou beene Regent there,
Might happily haue prou’d farre worse then his

Yorke.  What, worse then naught? nay, then a shame take all

Somerset.  And in the number, thee, that wishest
shame

Card.  My Lord of Yorke, trie what your fortune is:
Th’ vnciuill Kernes of Ireland are in Armes, And temper Clay with blood of Englishmen.
To Ireland will you leade a Band of men,
Collected choycely, from each Countie some,
And trie your hap against the Irishmen?
Yorke.  I will, my Lord, so please his Maiestie

Suff.  Why, our Authoritie is his consent,
And what we doe establish, he confirmes:
Then, Noble Yorke, take thou this Taske in hand

Yorke.  I am content:  Prouide me Souldiers, Lords,
Whiles I take order for mine owne affaires

Suff.  A charge, Lord Yorke, that I will see perform’d.
But now returne we to the false Duke Humfrey

Card.  No more of him:  for I will deale with him,
That henceforth he shall trouble vs no more:
And so breake off, the day is almost spent,
Lord Suffolke, you and I must talke of that euent

Yorke.  My Lord of Suffolke, within foureteene dayes
At Bristow I expect my Souldiers,
For there Ile shippe them all for Ireland

Suff.  Ile see it truly done, my Lord of Yorke.

Exeunt.

Manet Yorke.

Yorke.  Now Yorke, or neuer, steele thy fearfull thoughts,
And change misdoubt to resolution;
Be that thou hop’st to be, or what thou art;
Resigne to death, it is not worth th’ enioying:
Let pale-fac’t feare keepe with the meane-borne man,
And finde no harbor in a Royall heart.
Faster the[n] Spring-time showres, comes thoght on thoght,
And not a thought, but thinkes on Dignitie.
My Brayne, more busie then the laboring Spider,
Weaues tedious Snares to trap mine Enemies.
Well Nobles, well:  ’tis politikely done,
To send me packing with an Hoast of men:
I feare me, you but warme the starued Snake,
Who cherisht in your breasts, will sting your hearts.
’Twas men I lackt, and you will giue them me;
I take it kindly:  yet be well assur’d,
You put sharpe Weapons in a mad-mans hands.
Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mightie Band,
I will stirre vp in England some black Storme,
Shall blowe ten thousand Soules to Heauen, or Hell:
And this fell Tempest shall not cease to rage,
Vntill the Golden Circuit on my Head,
Like to the glorious Sunnes transparant Beames,
Doe calme the furie of this mad-bred Flawe.
And for a minister of my intent,
I haue seduc’d a head-strong Kentishman,
Iohn Cade of Ashford,
To make Commotion, as full well he can,
Vnder the title of Iohn Mortimer.
In Ireland haue I seene this stubborne Cade
Oppose himselfe against a Troupe of Kernes,
And fought so long, till that his thighes with Darts
Were almost like a sharpe-quill’d Porpentine:
And in the end being rescued, I haue seene
Him capre vpright, like a wilde Morisco,
Shaking the bloody Darts, as he his Bells.
Full often, like a shag-hayr’d craftie Kerne,
Hath he conuersed with the Enemie,
And vndiscouer’d, come to me againe,
And giuen me notice of their Villanies.
This Deuill here shall be my substitute;
For that Iohn Mortimer, which now is dead,
In face, in gate, in speech he doth resemble.
By this, I shall perceiue the Commons minde,
How they affect the House and Clayme of Yorke.
Say he be taken, rackt, and tortured;
I know, no paine they can inflict vpon him,
Will make him say, I mou’d him to those Armes.
Say that he thriue, as ’tis great like he will,
Why then from Ireland come I with my strength,
And reape the Haruest which that Rascall sow’d.
For Humfrey; being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put apart:  the next for me.
Enter.

Enter two or three running ouer the Stage, from the Murther of
Duke
Humfrey.

1.  Runne to my Lord of Suffolke:  let him know We haue dispatcht the Duke, as he commanded

2.  Oh, that it were to doe:  what haue we done?  Didst euer heare a man so penitent?  Enter Suffolke.

1.  Here comes my Lord

Suff.  Now Sirs, haue you dispatcht this thing?
1.  I, my good Lord, hee’s dead

Suff.  Why that’s well said.  Goe, get you to my House,
I will reward you for this venturous deed:  The King and all the Peeres are here at hand.
Haue you layd faire the Bed?  Is all things well, According as I gaue directions?
1.  ’Tis, my good Lord

Suff.  Away, be gone.

Exeunt.

Sound Trumpets.  Enter the King, the Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke,
Somerset,
with Attendants.

King.  Goe call our Vnckle to our presence straight:
Say, we intend to try his Grace to day,
If he be guiltie, as ’tis published

Suff.  Ile call him presently, my Noble Lord.
Enter

King.  Lords take your places:  and I pray you all
Proceed no straiter ’gainst our Vnckle Gloster,
Then from true euidence, of good esteeme,
He be approu’d in practise culpable

Queene.  God forbid any Malice should preuayle,
That faultlesse may condemne a Noble man:
Pray God he may acquit him of suspition

King.  I thanke thee Nell, these wordes content mee much.  Enter Suffolke.

How now? why look’st thou pale? why tremblest thou?
Where is our Vnckle? what’s the matter, Suffolke?
Suff.  Dead in his Bed, my Lord:  Gloster is dead

Queene.  Marry God forfend

Card.  Gods secret Iudgement:  I did dreame to Night,
The Duke was dumbe, and could not speake a word.

King sounds.

Qu.  How fares my Lord?  Helpe Lords, the King is
dead

Som.  Rere vp his Body, wring him by the Nose

Qu.  Runne, goe, helpe, helpe:  Oh Henry ope thine eyes

Suff.  He doth reuiue againe, Madame be patient

King.  Oh Heauenly God

Qu.  How fares my gracious Lord?
Suff.  Comfort my Soueraigne, gracious Henry comfort

King.  What, doth my Lord of Suffolke comfort me?
Came he right now to sing a Rauens Note,
Whose dismall tune bereft my Vitall powres:
And thinkes he, that the chirping of a Wren,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
Can chase away the first-conceiued sound?
Hide not thy poyson with such sugred words,
Lay not thy hands on me:  forbeare I say,
Their touch affrights me as a Serpents sting.
Thou balefull Messenger, out of my sight:
Vpon thy eye-balls, murderous Tyrannie
Sits in grim Maiestie, to fright the World.
Looke not vpon me, for thine eyes are wounding;
Yet doe not goe away:  come Basiliske,
And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight:
For in the shade of death, I shall finde ioy;
In life, but double death, now Gloster’s dead

Queene.  Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolke thus?
Although the Duke was enemie to him,
Yet he most Christian-like laments his death:
And for my selfe, Foe as he was to me,
Might liquid teares, or heart-offending groanes,
Or blood-consuming sighes recall his Life;
I would be blinde with weeping, sicke with grones,
Looke pale as Prim-rose with blood-drinking sighes,
And all to haue the Noble Duke aliue.
What know I how the world may deeme of me?
For it is knowne we were but hollow Friends:
It may be iudg’d I made the Duke away,
So shall my name with Slanders tongue be wounded,
And Princes Courts be fill’d with my reproach:
This get I by his death:  Aye me vnhappie,
To be a Queene, and Crown’d with infamie

King.  Ah woe is me for Gloster, wretched man

Queen.  Be woe for me, more wretched then he is.
What, Dost thou turne away, and hide thy face?
I am no loathsome Leaper, looke on me.
What?  Art thou like the Adder waxen deafe?
Be poysonous too, and kill thy forlorne Queene.
Is all thy comfort shut in Glosters Tombe?
Why then Dame Elianor was neere thy ioy.
Erect his Statue, and worship it,
And make my Image but an Ale-house signe.
Was I for this nye wrack’d vpon the Sea,
And twice by aukward winde from Englands banke
Droue backe againe vnto my Natiue Clime.
What boaded this? but well fore-warning winde
Did seeme to say, seeke not a Scorpions Nest,
Nor set no footing on this vnkinde Shore.
What did I then?  But curst the gentle gusts,
And he that loos’d them forth their Brazen Caues,
And bid them blow towards Englands blessed shore,
Or turne our Sterne vpon a dreadfull Rocke:
Yet aeolus would not be a murtherer,
But left that hatefull office vnto thee.
The pretty vaulting Sea refus’d to drowne me,
Knowing that thou wouldst haue me drown’d on shore
With teares as salt as Sea, through thy vnkindnesse.
The splitting Rockes cowr’d in the sinking sands,
And would not dash me with their ragged sides,
Because thy flinty heart more hard then they,
Might in thy Pallace, perish Elianor.
As farre as I could ken thy Chalky Cliffes,
When from thy Shore, the Tempest beate vs backe,
I stood vpon the Hatches in the storme:
And when the duskie sky, began to rob
My earnest-gaping-sight of thy Lands view,
I tooke a costly Iewell from my necke,
A Hart it was bound in with Diamonds,
And threw it towards thy Land:  The Sea receiu’d it,
And so I wish’d thy body might my Heart:
And euen with this, I lost faire Englands view,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my Heart,
And call’d them blinde and duskie Spectacles,
For loosing ken of Albions wished Coast.
How often haue I tempted Suffolkes tongue
(The agent of thy foule inconstancie)
To sit and watch me as Ascanius did,
When he to madding Dido would vnfold
His Fathers Acts, commenc’d in burning Troy.
Am I not witcht like her?  Or thou not false like him?
Aye me, I can no more:  Dye Elinor,
For Henry weepes, that thou dost liue so long.

Noyse within.  Enter Warwicke, and many Commons.

War.  It is reported, mighty Soueraigne,
That good Duke Humfrey Traiterously is murdred
By Suffolke, and the Cardinall Beaufords meanes:
The Commons like an angry Hiue of Bees
That want their Leader, scatter vp and downe,
And care not who they sting in his reuenge.
My selfe haue calm’d their spleenfull mutinie,
Vntill they heare the order of his death

King.  That he is dead good Warwick, ’tis too true,
But how he dyed, God knowes, not Henry:
Enter his Chamber, view his breathlesse Corpes,
And comment then vpon his sodaine death

War.  That shall I do my Liege; Stay Salsburie
With the rude multitude, till I returne

King.  O thou that iudgest all things, stay my thoghts:
My thoughts, that labour to perswade my soule,
Some violent hands were laid on Humfries life:
If my suspect be false, forgiue me God,
For iudgement onely doth belong to thee:
Faine would I go to chafe his palie lips,
With twenty thousand kisses, and to draine
Vpon his face an Ocean of salt teares,
To tell my loue vnto his dumbe deafe trunke,
And with my fingers feele his hand, vnfeeling:
But all in vaine are these meane Obsequies,

Bed put forth.

And to suruey his dead and earthy Image:
What were it but to make my sorrow greater?
Warw.  Come hither gracious Soueraigne, view this
body

King.  That is to see how deepe my graue is made,
For with his soule fled all my worldly solace:
For seeing him, I see my life in death

War.  As surely as my soule intends to liue
With that dread King that tooke our state vpon him,
To free vs from his Fathers wrathfull curse,
I do beleeue that violent hands were laid
Vpon the life of this thrice-famed Duke

Suf.  A dreadfull Oath, sworne with a solemn tongue:
What instance giues Lord Warwicke for his vow

War.  See how the blood is setled in his face.
Oft haue I seene a timely-parted Ghost,
Of ashy semblance, meager, pale, and bloodlesse,
Being all descended to the labouring heart,
Who in the Conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the same for aydance ’gainst the enemy,
Which with the heart there cooles, and ne’re returneth,
To blush and beautifie the Cheeke againe.
But see, his face is blacke, and full of blood:
His eye-balles further out, than when he liued,
Staring full gastly, like a strangled man:
His hayre vprear’d, his nostrils stretcht with strugling:
His hands abroad display’d, as one that graspt
And tugg’d for Life, and was by strength subdude.
Looke on the sheets his haire (you see) is sticking,
His well proportion’d Beard, made ruffe and rugged,
Like to the Summers Corne by Tempest lodged:
It cannot be but he was murdred heere,
The least of all these signes were probable

Suf.  Why Warwicke, who should do the D[uke]. to death?
My selfe and Beauford had him in protection,
And we I hope sir, are no murtherers

War.  But both of you were vowed D[uke].  Humfries foes,
And you (forsooth) had the good Duke to keepe:
Tis like you would not feast him like a friend,
And ’tis well seene, he found an enemy

Queen.  Than you belike suspect these Noblemen,
As guilty of Duke Humfries timelesse death

Warw.  Who finds the Heyfer dead, and bleeding fresh,
And sees fast-by, a Butcher with an Axe,
But will suspect, ’twas he that made the slaughter?
Who finds the Partridge in the Puttocks Nest,
But may imagine how the Bird was dead,
Although the Kyte soare with vnbloudied Beake?
Euen so suspitious is this Tragedie

Qu.  Are you the Butcher, Suffolk? where’s your Knife?
Is Beauford tearm’d a Kyte? where are his Tallons?
Suff.  I weare no Knife, to slaughter sleeping men,
But here’s a vengefull Sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scowred in his rancorous heart,
That slanders me with Murthers Crimson Badge.
Say, if thou dar’st, prowd Lord of Warwickshire, That I am faultie in Duke Humfreyes death

Warw.  What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolke dare
him?
Qu.  He dares not calme his contumelious Spirit,
Nor cease to be an arrogant Controller,
Though Suffolke dare him twentie thousand times

Warw.  Madame be still:  with reuerence may I say,
For euery word you speake in his behalfe,
Is slander to your Royall Dignitie

Suff.  Blunt-witted Lord, ignoble in demeanor,
If euer Lady wrong’d her Lord so much,
Thy Mother tooke into her blamefull Bed
Some sterne vntutur’d Churle; and Noble Stock
Was graft with Crab-tree slippe, whose Fruit thou art,
And neuer of the Neuils Noble Race

Warw.  But that the guilt of Murther bucklers thee,
And I should rob the Deaths-man of his Fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,
And that my Soueraignes presence makes me milde,
I would, false murd’rous Coward, on thy Knee
Make thee begge pardon for thy passed speech,
And say, it was thy Mother that thou meant’st,
That thou thy selfe wast borne in Bastardie;
And after all this fearefull Homage done,
Giue thee thy hyre, and send thy Soule to Hell,
Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men

Suff.  Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy blood,
If from this presence thou dar’st goe with me

Warw.  Away euen now, or I will drag thee hence:
Vnworthy though thou art, Ile cope with thee,
And doe some seruice to Duke Humfreyes Ghost.

Exeunt.

King.  What stronger Brest-plate then a heart vntainted?
Thrice is he arm’d, that hath his Quarrell iust;
And he but naked, though lockt vp in Steele,
Whose Conscience with Iniustice is corrupted.

A noyse within.

Queene.  What noyse is this?
Enter Suffolke and Warwicke, with their Weapons drawne.

King.  Why how now Lords?
Your wrathfull Weapons drawne,
Here in our presence?  Dare you be so bold?
Why what tumultuous clamor haue we here?
Suff.  The trayt’rous Warwick, with the men of Bury,
Set all vpon me, mightie Soueraigne.  Enter Salisbury.

Salisb.  Sirs stand apart, the King shall know your
minde.
Dread Lord, the Commons send you word by me,
Vnlesse Lord Suffolke straight be done to death,
Or banished faire Englands Territories,
They will by violence teare him from your Pallace,
And torture him with grieuous lingring death.
They say, by him the good Duke Humfrey dy’de:
They say, in him they feare your Highnesse death;
And meere instinct of Loue and Loyaltie,
Free from a stubborne opposite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking,
Makes them thus forward in his Banishment.
They say, in care of your most Royall Person,
That if your Highnesse should intend to sleepe,
And charge, that no man should disturbe your rest,
In paine of your dislike, or paine of death;
Yet not withstanding such a strait Edict,
Were there a Serpent seene, with forked Tongue,
That slyly glyded towards your Maiestie,
It were but necessarie you were wak’t:
Least being suffer’d in that harmefull slumber,
The mortall Worme might make the sleepe eternall.
And therefore doe they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, where you will, or no,
From such fell Serpents as false Suffolke is;
With whose inuenomed and fatall sting,
Your louing Vnckle, twentie times his worth,
They say is shamefully bereft of life

Commons within.  An answer from the King, my Lord of Salisbury

Suff.  ’Tis like the Commons, rude vnpolisht Hindes,
Could send such Message to their Soueraigne:
But you, my Lord, were glad to be imploy’d,
To shew how queint an Orator you are.
But all the Honor Salisbury hath wonne,
Is, that he was the Lord Embassador,
Sent from a sort of Tinkers to the King

Within.  An answer from the King, or wee will all breake in

King.  Goe Salisbury, and tell them all from me,
I thanke them for their tender louing care;
And had I not beene cited so by them,
Yet did I purpose as they doe entreat:
For sure, my thoughts doe hourely prophecie,
Mischance vnto my State by Suffolkes meanes.
And therefore by his Maiestie I sweare,
Whose farre-vnworthie Deputie I am,
He shall not breathe infection in this ayre,
But three dayes longer, on the paine of death

Qu.  Oh Henry, let me pleade for gentle Suffolke

King.  Vngentle Queene, to call him gentle Suffolke.
No more I say:  if thou do’st pleade for him,
Thou wilt but adde encrease vnto my Wrath.
Had I but sayd, I would haue kept my Word;
But when I sweare, it is irreuocable:
If after three dayes space thou here bee’st found,
On any ground that I am Ruler of,
The World shall not be Ransome for thy Life.
Come Warwicke, come good Warwicke, goe with mee,
I haue great matters to impart to thee.
Enter.

Qu.  Mischance and Sorrow goe along with you,
Hearts Discontent, and sowre Affliction,
Be play-fellowes to keepe you companie:
There’s two of you, the Deuill make a third,
And three-fold Vengeance tend vpon your steps

Suff.  Cease, gentle Queene, these Execrations,
And let thy Suffolke take his heauie leaue

Queen.  Fye Coward woman, and soft harted wretch,
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy

Suf.  A plague vpon them:  wherefore should I cursse
them?
Would curses kill, as doth the Mandrakes grone,
I would inuent as bitter searching termes,
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to heare,
Deliuer’d strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many signes of deadly hate,
As leane-fac’d enuy in her loathsome caue.
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words,
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten Flint,
Mine haire be fixt an end, as one distract:
I, euery ioynt should seeme to curse and ban,
And euen now my burthen’d heart would breake
Should I not curse them.  Poyson be their drinke.
Gall, worse then Gall, the daintiest that they taste:
Their sweetest shade, a groue of Cypresse Trees:
Their cheefest Prospect, murd’ring Basiliskes:
Their softest Touch, as smart as Lyzards stings:
Their Musicke, frightfull as the Serpents hisse,
And boading Screech-Owles, make the Consort full.
All the foule terrors in darke seated hell —
Q. Enough sweet Suffolke, thou torment’st thy selfe,
And these dread curses like the Sunne ’gainst glasse,
Or like an ouer-charged Gun, recoile,
And turnes the force of them vpon thy selfe

Suf.  You bad me ban, and will you bid me leaue?
Now by the ground that I am banish’d from,
Well could I curse away a Winters night,
Though standing naked on a Mountaine top,
Where byting cold would neuer let grasse grow,
And thinke it but a minute spent in sport

Qu.  Oh, let me intreat thee cease, giue me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournfull teares:
Nor let the raine of heauen wet this place,
To wash away my wofull Monuments.
Oh, could this kisse be printed in thy hand,
That thou might’st thinke vpon these by the Seale,
Through whom a thousand sighes are breath’d for thee.
So get thee gone, that I may know my greefe,
’Tis but surmiz’d, whiles thou art standing by,
As one that surfets, thinking on a want:
I will repeale thee, or be well assur’d,
Aduenture to be banished my selfe:
And banished I am, if but from thee.
Go, speake not to me; euen now be gone.
Oh go not yet.  Euen thus, two Friends condemn’d,
Embrace, and kisse, and take ten thousand leaues,
Loather a hundred times to part then dye;
Yet now farewell, and farewell Life with thee

Suf.  Thus is poore Suffolke ten times banished,
Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee.
’Tis not the Land I care for, wer’t thou thence,
A Wildernesse is populous enough,
So Suffolke had thy heauenly company:
For where thou art, there is the World it selfe,
With euery seuerall pleasure in the World:
And where thou art not, Desolation.
I can no more:  Liue thou to ioy thy life;
My selfe no ioy in nought, but that thou liu’st.
Enter Vaux.

Queene.  Whether goes Vaux so fast?  What newes I
prethee?
Vaux.  To signifie vnto his Maiesty,
That Cardinal Beauford is at point of death:
For sodainly a greeuous sicknesse tooke him,
That makes him gaspe, and stare, and catch the aire, Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth.  Sometime he talkes, as if Duke Humfries Ghost
Were by his side:  Sometime, he calles the King,
And whispers to his pillow, as to him,
The secrets of his ouer-charged soule,
And I am sent to tell his Maiestie,
That euen now he cries alowd for him

Qu.  Go tell this heauy Message to the King.

Exit

Aye me!  What is this World?  What newes are these?
But wherefore greeue I at an houres poore losse,
Omitting Suffolkes exile, my soules Treasure?
Why onely Suffolke mourne I not for thee?
And with the Southerne clouds, contend in teares?
Theirs for the earths encrease, mine for my sorrowes.
Now get thee hence, the King thou know’st is comming,
If thou be found by me, thou art but dead

Suf.  If I depart from thee, I cannot liue,
And in thy sight to dye, what were it else,
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?
Heere could I breath my soule into the ayre,
As milde and gentle as the Cradle-babe,
Dying with mothers dugge betweene it’s lips.
Where from thy sight, I should be raging mad,
And cry out for thee to close vp mine eyes:
To haue thee with thy lippes to stop my mouth:
So should’st thou eyther turne my flying soule,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body,
And then it liu’d in sweete Elizium.
To dye by thee, were but to dye in iest,
From thee to dye, were torture more then death:
Oh let me stay, befall what may befall

Queen.  Away:  Though parting be a fretfull corosiue,
It is applyed to a deathfull wound.
To France sweet Suffolke:  Let me heare from thee:
For wheresoere thou art in this worlds Globe,
Ile haue an Iris that shall finde thee out

Suf.  I go

Qu.  And take my heart with thee

Suf.  A Iewell lockt into the wofulst Caske,
That euer did containe a thing of worth,
Euen as a splitted Barke, so sunder we:
This way fall I to death

Qu.  This way for me.

Exeunt.

Enter the King, Salisbury, and Warwicke, to the Cardinal in bed.

King.  How fare’s my Lord?  Speake Beauford to thy
Soueraigne

Ca.  If thou beest death, Ile giue thee Englands Treasure,
Enough to purchase such another Island,
So thou wilt let me liue, and feele no paine

King.  Ah, what a signe it is of euill life,
Where death’s approach is seene so terrible

War.  Beauford, it is thy Soueraigne speakes to thee

Beau.  Bring me vnto my Triall when you will.
Dy’de he not in his bed?  Where should he dye?
Can I make men liue where they will or no?
Oh torture me no more, I will confesse.
Aliue againe?  Then shew me where he is,
Ile giue a thousand pound to looke vpon him.
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.
Combe downe his haire; looke, looke, it stands vpright,
Like Lime-twigs set to catch my winged soule:
Giue me some drinke, and bid the Apothecarie
Bring the strong poyson that I bought of him

King.  Oh thou eternall mouer of the heauens,
Looke with a gentle eye vpon this Wretch,
Oh beate away the busie medling Fiend,
That layes strong siege vnto this wretches soule,
And from his bosome purge this blacke dispaire

War.  See how the pangs of death do make him grin

Sal.  Disturbe him not, let him passe peaceably

King.  Peace to his soule, if Gods good pleasure be.
Lord Card’nall, if thou think’st on heauens blisse,
Hold vp thy hand, make signall of thy hope.
He dies and makes no signe:  Oh God forgiue him

War.  So bad a death, argues a monstrous life

King.  Forbeare to iudge, for we are sinners all.
Close vp his eyes, and draw the Curtaine close,
And let vs all to Meditation.

Exeunt.

Alarum.  Fight at Sea.  Ordnance goes off.

Enter Lieutenant, Suffolke, and others.

Lieu.  The gaudy blabbing and remorsefull day,
Is crept into the bosome of the Sea:
And now loud houling Wolues arouse the Iades
That dragge the Tragicke melancholy night:
Who with their drowsie, slow, and flagging wings
Cleape dead-mens graues, and from their misty Iawes,
Breath foule contagious darknesse in the ayre:
Therefore bring forth the Souldiers of our prize,
For whilst our Pinnace Anchors in the Downes,
Heere shall they make their ransome on the sand,
Or with their blood staine this discoloured shore.
Maister, this Prisoner freely giue I thee,
And thou that art his Mate, make boote of this:
The other Walter Whitmore is thy share

1.Gent.  What is my ransome Master, let me know

Ma.  A thousand Crownes, or else lay down your head
Mate.  And so much shall you giue, or off goes yours

Lieu.  What thinke you much to pay 2000.  Crownes,
And beare the name and port of Gentlemen?
Cut both the Villaines throats, for dy you shall:
The liues of those which we haue lost in fight,
Be counter-poys’d with such a pettie summe

1.Gent.  Ile giue it sir, and therefore spare my life

2.Gent.  And so will I, and write home for it straight

Whitm.  I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboord, And therefore to reuenge it, shalt thou dye, And so should these, if I might haue my will

Lieu.  Be not so rash, take ransome, let him liue

Suf.  Looke on my George, I am a Gentleman,
Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be payed

Whit.  And so am I:  my name is Walter Whitmore.
How now? why starts thou?  What doth death affright?
Suf.  Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death:
A cunning man did calculate my birth,
And told me that by Water I should dye:
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded,
Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly sounded

Whit.  Gualtier or Walter, which it is I care not,
Neuer yet did base dishonour blurre our name,
But with our sword we wip’d away the blot.
Therefore, when Merchant-like I sell reuenge,
Broke be my sword, my Armes torne and defac’d,
And I proclaim’d a Coward through the world

Suf.  Stay Whitmore, for thy Prisoner is a Prince,
The Duke of Suffolke, William de la Pole

Whit.  The Duke of Suffolke, muffled vp in ragges?
Suf.  I, but these ragges are no part of the Duke

Lieu.  But Ioue was neuer slaine as thou shalt be,
Obscure and lowsie Swaine, King Henries blood

Suf.  The honourable blood of Lancaster
Must not be shed by such a iaded Groome:
Hast thou not kist thy hand, and held my stirrop?
Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth Mule,
And thought thee happy when I shooke my head.
How often hast thou waited at my cup,
Fed from my Trencher, kneel’d downe at the boord,
When I haue feasted with Queene Margaret?
Remember it, and let it make thee Crest-falne,
I, and alay this thy abortiue Pride:
How in our voyding Lobby hast thou stood,
And duly wayted for my comming forth?
This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalfe,
And therefore shall it charme thy riotous tongue

Whit.  Speak Captaine, shall I stab the forlorn Swain

Lieu.  First let my words stab him, as he hath me

Suf.  Base slaue, thy words are blunt, and so art thou

Lieu.  Conuey him hence, and on our long boats side,
Strike off his head

Suf.  Thou dar’st not for thy owne

Lieu.  Poole, Sir Poole?  Lord,
I kennell, puddle, sinke, whose filth and dirt
Troubles the siluer Spring, where England drinkes:
Now will I dam vp this thy yawning mouth,
For swallowing the Treasure of the Realme.
Thy lips that kist the Queene, shall sweepe the ground:
And thou that smil’dst at good Duke Humfries death,
Against the senselesse windes shall grin in vaine,
Who in contempt shall hisse at thee againe.
And wedded be thou to the Hagges of hell,
For daring to affye a mighty Lord
Vnto the daughter of a worthlesse King,
Hauing neyther Subiect, Wealth, nor Diadem:
By diuellish policy art thou growne great,
And like ambitious Sylla ouer-gorg’d,
With gobbets of thy Mother-bleeding heart.
By thee Aniou and Maine were sold to France.
The false reuolting Normans thorough thee,
Disdaine to call vs Lord, and Piccardie
Hath slaine their Gouernors, surpriz’d our Forts,
And sent the ragged Souldiers wounded home.
The Princely Warwicke, and the Neuils all,
Whose dreadfull swords were neuer drawne in vaine,
As hating thee, and rising vp in armes.
And now the House of Yorke thrust from the Crowne,
By shamefull murther of a guiltlesse King,
And lofty proud incroaching tyranny,
Burnes with reuenging fire, whose hopefull colours
Aduance our halfe-fac’d Sunne, striuing to shine;
Vnder the which is writ, Inuitis nubibus.
The Commons heere in Kent are vp in armes,
And to conclude, Reproach and Beggerie,
Is crept into the Pallace of our King,
And all by thee:  away, conuey him hence

Suf.  O that I were a God, to shoot forth Thunder
Vpon these paltry, seruile, abiect Drudges:
Small things make base men proud.  This Villaine heere,
Being Captaine of a Pinnace, threatens more
Then Bargulus the strong Illyrian Pyrate.
Drones sucke not Eagles blood, but rob Bee-hiues:
It is impossible that I should dye
By such a lowly Vassall as thy selfe.
Thy words moue Rage, and not remorse in me:
I go of Message from the Queene to France:
I charge thee waft me safely crosse the Channell

Lieu.  Water:
W. Come Suffolke, I must waft thee
to thy death

Suf.  Pine gelidus timor occupat artus, it is thee I feare

Wal.  Thou shalt haue cause to feare before I leaue thee.  What, are ye danted now?  Now will ye stoope

1.Gent.  My gracious Lord intreat him, speak him fair

Suf.  Suffolkes Imperiall tongue is sterne and rough:
Vs’d to command, vntaught to pleade for fauour.
Farre be it, we should honor such as these
With humble suite:  no, rather let my head
Stoope to the blocke, then these knees bow to any,
Saue to the God of heauen, and to my King:
And sooner dance vpon a bloody pole,
Then stand vncouer’d to the Vulgar Groome.
True Nobility, is exempt from feare:
More can I beare, then you dare execute

Lieu.  Hale him away, and let him talke no more:
Come Souldiers, shew what cruelty ye can

Suf.  That this my death may neuer be forgot.
Great men oft dye by vilde Bezonions.
A Romane Sworder, and Bandetto slaue
Murder’d sweet Tully.  Brutus Bastard hand
Stab’d Iulius Cæsar.  Sauage Islanders
Pompey the Great, and Suffolke dyes by Pyrats.

Exit Water with Suffolke.

Lieu.  And as for these whose ransome we haue set,
It is our pleasure one of them depart:
Therefore come you with vs, and let him go.

Exit Lieutenant, and the rest.

Manet the first Gent.  Enter Walter with the body.

Wal.  There let his head, and liuelesse bodie lye,
Vntill the Queene his Mistris bury it.

Exit Walter

1.Gent.  O barbarous and bloudy spectacle,
His body will I beare vnto the King:
If he reuenge it not, yet will his Friends,
So will the Queene, that liuing, held him deere.
Enter Beuis, and Iohn Holland.

Beuis.  Come and get thee a sword, though made of a
Lath, they haue bene vp these two dayes

Hol.  They haue the more neede to sleepe now then

Beuis.  I tell thee, Iacke Cade the Cloathier, meanes to dresse the Common-wealth and turne it, and set a new nap vpon it

Hol.  So he had need, for ’tis thred-bare.  Well, I say, it was neuer merrie world in England, since Gentlemen came vp

Beuis.  O miserable Age:  Vertue is not regarded in
Handy-crafts men

Hol.  The Nobilitie thinke scorne to goe in Leather
Aprons

Beuis.  Nay more, the Kings Councell are no good
Workemen

Hol.  True:  and yet it is said, Labour in thy Vocation:  which is as much to say, as let the Magistrates be labouring men, and therefore should we be Magistrates

Beuis.  Thou hast hit it:  for there’s no better signe of a braue minde, then a hard hand

Hol.  I see them, I see them:  There’s Bests Sonne, the
Tanner of Wingham

Beuis.  Hee shall haue the skinnes of our enemies, to make Dogges Leather of

Hol.  And Dicke the Butcher

Beuis.  Then is sin strucke downe like an Oxe, and iniquities throate cut like a Calfe

Hol.  And Smith the Weauer

Beu.  Argo, their thred of life is spun

Hol.  Come, come, let’s fall in with them.

Drumme.  Enter Cade, Dicke Butcher, Smith the Weauer, and a Sawyer, with infinite numbers.

Cade.  Wee Iohn Cade, so tearm’d of our supposed Father

But.  Or rather of stealing a Cade of Herrings

Cade.  For our enemies shall faile before vs, inspired with the spirit of putting down Kings and Princes.  Command silence

But.  Silence

Cade.  My Father was a Mortimer

But.  He was an honest man, and a good Bricklayer

Cade.  My mother a Plantagenet

Butch.  I knew her well, she was a Midwife

Cade.  My wife descended of the Lacies

But.  She was indeed a Pedlers daughter, & sold many Laces

Weauer.  But now of late, not able to trauell with her furr’d Packe, she washes buckes here at home

Cade.  Therefore am I of an honorable house

But.  I by my faith, the field is honourable, and there was he borne, vnder a hedge:  for his Father had neuer a house but the Cage

Cade.  Valiant I am

Weauer.  A must needs, for beggery is valiant

Cade.  I am able to endure much

But.  No question of that:  for I haue seene him whipt three Market dayes together

Cade.  I feare neither sword, nor fire

Wea.  He neede not feare the sword, for his Coate is of proofe

But.  But me thinks he should stand in feare of fire, being burnt i’th hand for stealing of Sheepe

Cade.  Be braue then, for your Captaine is Braue, and Vowes Reformation.  There shall be in England, seuen halfe peny Loaues sold for a peny:  the three hoop’d pot, shall haue ten hoopes, and I wil make it Fellony to drink small Beere.  All the Realme shall be in Common, and in Cheapside shall my Palfrey go to grasse:  and when I am King, as King I will be

All.  God saue your Maiesty

Cade.  I thanke you good people.  There shall bee no mony, all shall eate and drinke on my score, and I will apparrell them all in one Liuery, that they may agree like Brothers, and worship me their Lord

But.  The first thing we do, let’s kill all the Lawyers

Cade.  Nay, that I meane to do.  Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent Lambe should be made Parchment; that Parchment being scribeld ore, should vndoe a man.  Some say the Bee stings, but I say, ’tis the Bees waxe:  for I did but seale once to a thing, and I was neuer mine owne man since.  How now?  Who’s there?  Enter a Clearke.

Weauer.  The Clearke of Chartam:  hee can write and reade, and cast accompt

Cade.  O monstrous

Wea.  We tooke him setting of boyes Copies

Cade.  Here’s a Villaine

Wea.  Ha’s a Booke in his pocket with red Letters in’t
Cade.  Nay then he is a Coniurer

But.  Nay, he can make Obligations, and write Court hand

Cade.  I am sorry for’t:  The man is a proper man of
mine Honour:  vnlesse I finde him guilty he shall not die.  Come hither sirrah, I must examine thee:  What is thy name?
Clearke.  Emanuell

But.  They vse to writ it on the top of Letters:  ’Twill go hard with you

Cade.  Let me alone:  Dost thou vse to write thy name?
Or hast thou a marke to thy selfe, like a honest plain dealing man?
Clearke.  Sir I thanke God, I haue bin so well brought
vp, that I can write my name

All.  He hath confest:  away with him:  he’s a Villaine and a Traitor

Cade.  Away with him I say:  Hang him with his Pen and Inke-horne about his necke.

Exit one with the Clearke

Enter Michael.

Mich.  Where’s our Generall?
Cade.  Heere I am thou particular fellow

Mich.  Fly, fly, fly, Sir Humfrey Stafford and his brother are hard by, with the Kings Forces

Cade.  Stand villaine, stand, or Ile fell thee downe:  he
shall be encountred with a man as good as himselfe.  He is but a Knight, is a?
Mich.  No

Cade.  To equall him I will make my selfe a knight, presently; Rise vp Sir Iohn Mortimer.  Now haue at him.  Enter Sir Humfrey Stafford, and his Brother, with Drum and Soldiers.

Staf.  Rebellious Hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, Mark’d for the Gallowes:  Lay your Weapons downe, Home to your Cottages:  forsake this Groome.
The King is mercifull, if you reuolt

Bro.  But angry, wrathfull, and inclin’d to blood,
If you go forward:  therefore yeeld, or dye

Cade.  As for these silken-coated slaues I passe not,
It is to you good people, that I speake,
Ouer whom (in time to come) I hope to raigne:
For I am rightfull heyre vnto the Crowne

Staff.  Villaine, thy Father was a Playsterer,
And thou thy selfe a Sheareman, art thou not?
Cade.  And Adam was a Gardiner

Bro.  And what of that?
Cade.  Marry, this Edmund Mortimer Earle of March,
married the Duke of Clarence daughter, did he not?
Staf.  I sir

Cade.  By her he had two children at one birth

Bro.  That’s false

Cade.  I, there’s the question; But I say, ’tis true:
The elder of them being put to nurse,
Was by a begger-woman stolne away,
And ignorant of his birth and parentage,
Became a Bricklayer, when he came to age.
His sonne am I, deny it if you can

But.  Nay, ’tis too true, therefore he shall be King

Wea.  Sir, he made a Chimney in my Fathers house, & the brickes are aliue at this day to testifie it:  therefore deny it not

Staf.  And will you credit this base Drudges Wordes, that speakes he knowes not what

All.  I marry will we:  therefore get ye gone

Bro.  Iacke Cade, the D[uke]. of York hath taught you this

Cade.  He lyes, for I inuented it my selfe.  Go too Sirrah, tell the King from me, that for his Fathers sake Henry the fift, (in whose time, boyes went to Span-counter for French Crownes) I am content he shall raigne, but Ile be Protector ouer him

Butcher.  And furthermore, wee’l haue the Lord Sayes head, for selling the Dukedome of Maine

Cade And good reason:  for thereby is England main’d And faine to go with a staffe, but that my puissance holds it vp.  Fellow-Kings, I tell you, that that Lord Say hath gelded the Commonwealth, and made it an Eunuch:  & more then that, he can speake French, and therefore hee is a Traitor

Staf.  O grosse and miserable ignorance

Cade.  Nay answer if you can:  The Frenchmen are our
enemies:  go too then, I ask but this:  Can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy, be a good Councellour, or no?
All.  No, no, and therefore wee’l haue his head

Bro.  Well, seeing gentle words will not preuayle, Assaile them with the Army of the King

Staf.  Herald away, and throughout euery Towne,
Proclaime them Traitors that are vp with Cade,
That those which flye before the battell ends,
May euen in their Wiues and Childrens sight,
Be hang’d vp for example at their doores:
And you that be the Kings Friends follow me.
Enter.

Cade.  And you that loue the Commons, follow me:
Now shew your selues men, ’tis for Liberty.
We will not leaue one Lord, one Gentleman:
Spare none, but such as go in clouted shooen,
For they are thrifty honest men, and such
As would (but that they dare not) take our parts

But.  They are all in order, and march toward vs

Cade.  But then are we in order, when we are most out of order.  Come, march forward.

Alarums to the fight, wherein both the Staffords are slaine.  Enter Cade and the rest.

Cade.  Where’s Dicke, the Butcher of Ashford?
But.  Heere sir

Cade.  They fell before thee like Sheepe and Oxen, & thou behaued’st thy selfe, as if thou hadst beene in thine owne Slaughter-house:  Therfore thus will I reward thee, the Lent shall bee as long againe as it is, and thou shalt haue a License to kill for a hundred lacking one

But.  I desire no more

Cade.  And to speake truth, thou deseru’st no lesse.  This Monument of the victory will I beare, and the bodies shall be dragg’d at my horse heeles, till I do come to London, where we will haue the Maiors sword born before vs

But.  If we meane to thriue, and do good, breake open the Gaoles, and let out the Prisoners

Cade.  Feare not that I warrant thee.  Come, let’s march towards London.

Exeunt.

Enter the King with a Supplication, and the Queene with Suffolkes head, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Say.

Queene.  Oft haue I heard that greefe softens the mind,
And makes it fearefull and degenerate, Thinke therefore on reuenge, and cease to weepe.  But who can cease to weepe, and looke on this.  Heere may his head lye on my throbbing brest:
But where’s the body that I should imbrace?
Buc.  What answer makes your Grace to the Rebells
Supplication?
King.  Ile send some holy Bishop to intreat:
For God forbid, so many simple soules
Should perish by the Sword.  And I my selfe,
Rather then bloody Warre shall cut them short,
Will parley with Iacke Cade their Generall.
But stay, Ile read it ouer once againe

Qu.  Ah barbarous villaines:  Hath this louely face,
Rul’d like a wandering Plannet ouer me,
And could it not inforce them to relent,
That were vnworthy to behold the same

King.  Lord Say, Iacke Cade hath sworne to haue thy head

Say.  I, but I hope your Highnesse shall haue his

King.  How now Madam?
Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolkes death?
I feare me (Loue) if that I had beene dead,
Thou would’st not haue mourn’d so much for me

Qu.  No my Loue, I should not mourne, but dye for thee.  Enter a Messenger.

King.  How now?  What newes?  Why com’st thou in
such haste?
Mes.  The Rebels are in Southwarke:  Fly my Lord:
Iacke Cade proclaimes himselfe Lord Mortimer,
Descended from the Duke of Clarence house,
And calles your Grace Vsurper, openly,
And vowes to Crowne himselfe in Westminster.
His Army is a ragged multitude
Of Hindes and Pezants, rude and mercilesse:
Sir Humfrey Stafford, and his Brothers death,
Hath giuen them heart and courage to proceede:
All Schollers, Lawyers, Courtiers, Gentlemen,
They call false Catterpillers, and intend their death

Kin.  Oh gracelesse men:  they know not what they do

Buck.  My gracious Lord, retire to Killingworth,
Vntill a power be rais’d to put them downe

Qu.  Ah were the Duke of Suffolke now aliue,
These Kentish Rebels would be soone appeas’d

King.  Lord Say, the Traitors hateth thee,
Therefore away with vs to Killingworth

Say.  So might your Graces person be in danger.
The sight of me is odious in their eyes:
And therefore in this Citty will I stay,
And liue alone as secret as I may.
Enter another Messenger.

Mess.  Iacke Cade hath gotten London-bridge.
The Citizens flye and forsake their houses:
The Rascall people, thirsting after prey,
Ioyne with the Traitor, and they ioyntly sweare
To spoyle the City, and your Royall Court

Buc.  Then linger not my Lord, away, take horse

King.  Come Margaret, God our hope will succor vs

Qu.  My hope is gone, now Suffolke is deceast

King.  Farewell my Lord, trust not the Kentish Rebels
Buc.  Trust no body for feare you betraid

Say.  The trust I haue, is in mine innocence,
And therefore am I bold and resolute.

Exeunt.

Enter Lord Scales vpon the Tower walking.  Then enters two or three Citizens below.

Scales.  How now?  Is Iacke Cade slaine?
1.Cit.  No my Lord, nor likely to be slaine:
For they haue wonne the Bridge,
Killing all those that withstand them:
The L[ord].  Maior craues ayd of your Honor from the Tower To defend the City from the Rebels

Scales.  Such ayd as I can spare you shall command,
But I am troubled heere with them my selfe,
The Rebels haue assay’d to win the Tower.
But get you to Smithfield, and gather head,
And thither I will send you Mathew Goffe.
Fight for your King, your Countrey, and your Liues,
And so farwell, for I must hence againe.

Exeunt.

Enter Iacke Cade and the rest, and strikes his staffe on London stone.

Cade.  Now is Mortimer Lord of this City,
And heere sitting vpon London Stone,
I charge and command, that of the Cities cost
The pissing Conduit run nothing but Clarret Wine
This first yeare of our raigne.
And now henceforward it shall be Treason for any,
That calles me other then Lord Mortimer.
Enter a Soldier running.

Soul.  Iacke Cade, Iacke Cade

Cade.  Knocke him downe there.

They kill him.

But.  If this Fellow be wise, hee’l neuer call yee Iacke
Cade more, I thinke he hath a very faire warning

Dicke.  My Lord, there’s an Army gathered together in Smithfield

Cade.  Come, then let’s go fight with them:
But first, go and set London Bridge on fire,
And if you can, burne downe the Tower too.
Come, let’s away.

Exeunt. omnes.

Alarums.  Mathew Goffe is slain, and all the rest.  Then enter Iacke
Cade,
with his Company.

Cade.  So sirs:  now go some and pull down the Sauoy:
Others to’th Innes of Court, downe with them all

But.  I haue a suite vnto your Lordship

Cade.  Bee it a Lordshippe, thou shalt haue it for that word

But.  Onely that the Lawes of England may come out of your mouth

Iohn.  Masse ’twill be sore Law then, for he was thrust in the mouth with a Speare, and ’tis not whole yet

Smith.  Nay Iohn, it wil be stinking Law, for his breath stinkes with eating toasted cheese

Cade.  I haue thought vpon it, it shall bee so.  Away, burne all the Records of the Realme, my mouth shall be the Parliament of England

Iohn.  Then we are like to haue biting Statutes
Vnlesse his teeth be pull’d out

Cade.  And hence-forward all things shall be in Common.
Enter a Messenger.

Mes.  My Lord, a prize, a prize, heeres the Lord Say, which sold the Townes in France.  He that made vs pay one and twenty Fifteenes, and one shilling to the pound, the last Subsidie.  Enter George, with the Lord Say.

Cade.  Well, hee shall be beheaded for it ten times:  Ah thou Say, thou Surge, nay thou Buckram Lord, now art thou within point-blanke of our Iurisdiction Regall.  What canst thou answer to my Maiesty, for giuing vp of Normandie vnto Mounsieur Basimecu, the Dolphine of France?  Be it knowne vnto thee by these presence, euen the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the Beesome that must sweepe the Court cleane of such filth as thou art:  Thou hast most traiterously corrupted the youth of the Realme, in erecting a Grammar Schoole:  and whereas before, our Fore-fathers had no other Bookes but the Score and the Tally, thou hast caused printing to be vs’d, and contrary to the King, his Crowne, and Dignity, thou hast built a Paper-Mill.  It will be prooued to thy Face, that thou hast men about thee, that vsually talke of a Nowne and a Verbe, and such abhominable wordes, as no Christian eare can endure to heare.  Thou hast appointed Iustices of Peace, to call poore men before them, about matters they were not able to answer.  Moreouer, thou hast put them in prison, and because they could not reade, thou hast hang’d them, when (indeede) onely for that cause they haue beene most worthy to liue.  Thou dost ride in a foot-cloth, dost thou not?
Say.  What of that?
Cade.  Marry, thou ought’st not to let thy horse weare
a Cloake, when honester men then thou go in their Hose and Doublets

Dicke.  And worke in their shirt to, as my selfe for example, that am a butcher

Say.  You men of Kent

Dic.  What say you of Kent

Say.  Nothing but this:  ’Tis bona terra, mala gens

Cade.  Away with him, away with him, he speaks Latine

Say.  Heare me but speake, and beare mee wher’e you
will:
Kent, in the Commentaries Cæsar writ,
Is term’d the ciuel’st place of all this Isle:
Sweet is the Country, because full of Riches,
The People Liberall, Valiant, Actiue, Wealthy,
Which makes me hope you are not void of pitty.
I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandie,
Yet to recouer them would loose my life:
Iustice with fauour haue I alwayes done,
Prayres and Teares haue mou’d me, Gifts could neuer.
When haue I ought exacted at your hands?
Kent to maintaine, the King, the Realme and you,
Large gifts haue I bestow’d on learned Clearkes,
Because my Booke preferr’d me to the King.
And seeing Ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the Wing wherewith we flye to heauen.
Vnlesse you be possest with diuellish spirits,
You cannot but forbeare to murther me:
This Tongue hath parlied vnto Forraigne Kings
For your behoofe

Cade.  Tut, when struck’st thou one blow in the field?
Say.  Great men haue reaching hands:  oft haue I struck
Those that I neuer saw, and strucke them dead

Geo. O monstrous Coward!  What, to come behinde
Folkes?
Say.  These cheekes are pale for watching for your good
Cade.  Giue him a box o’th’ eare, and that wil make ’em
red againe

Say.  Long sitting to determine poore mens causes, Hath made me full of sicknesse and diseases

Cade.  Ye shall haue a hempen Candle then, & the help of hatchet

Dicke.  Why dost thou quiuer man?
Say.  The Palsie, and not feare prouokes me

Cade.  Nay, he noddes at vs, as who should say, Ile be euen with you.  Ile see if his head will stand steddier on a pole, or no:  Take him away, and behead him

Say.  Tell me:  wherein haue I offended most?
Haue I affected wealth, or honor?  Speake.
Are my Chests fill’d vp with extorted Gold?
Is my Apparrell sumptuous to behold?
Whom haue I iniur’d, that ye seeke my death?
These hands are free from guiltlesse bloodshedding,
This breast from harbouring foule deceitfull thoughts.
O let me liue

Cade.  I feele remorse in my selfe with his words:  but Ile bridle it:  he shall dye, and it bee but for pleading so well for his life.  Away with him, he ha’s a Familiar vnder his Tongue, he speakes not a Gods name.  Goe, take him away I say, and strike off his head presently, and then breake into his Sonne in Lawes house, Sir Iames Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them both vppon two poles hither

All.  It shall be done

Say.  Ah Countrimen:  If when you make your prair’s,
God should be so obdurate as your selues:
How would it fare with your departed soules,
And therefore yet relent, and saue my life

Cade.  Away with him, and do as I command ye:  the proudest Peere in the Realme, shall not weare a head on his shoulders, vnlesse he pay me tribute:  there shall not a maid be married, but she shall pay to me her Maydenhead ere they haue it:  Men shall hold of mee in Capite.  And we charge and command, that their wiues be as free as heart can wish, or tongue can tell

Dicke.  My Lord,
When shall we go to Cheapside, and take vp commodities vpon our billes?
Cade.  Marry presently

All.  O braue.
Enter one with the heads.

Cade.  But is not this brauer:
Let them kisse one another:  For they lou’d well
When they were aliue.  Now part them againe,
Least they consult about the giuing vp
Of some more Townes in France.  Soldiers,
Deferre the spoile of the Citie vntill night:
For with these borne before vs, in steed of Maces,
Will we ride through the streets, & at euery Corner
Haue them kisse.  Away.

Exit

Alarum, and Retreat.  Enter againe Cade, and all his rabblement.

Cade.  Vp Fish-streete, downe Saint Magnes corner, kill and knocke downe, throw them into Thames:

Sound a parley.

What noise is this I heare?
Dare any be so bold to sound Retreat or Parley
When I command them kill?
Enter Buckingham, and old Clifford.

Buc.  I heere they be, that dare and will disturb thee:
Know Cade, we come Ambassadors from the King
Vnto the Commons, whom thou hast misled,
And heere pronounce free pardon to them all,
That will forsake thee, and go home in peace

Clif.  What say ye Countrimen, will ye relent
And yeeld to mercy, whil’st ’tis offered you,
Or let a rabble leade you to your deaths.
Who loues the King, and will imbrace his pardon,
Fling vp his cap, and say, God saue his Maiesty.
Who hateth him, and honors not his Father,
Henry the fift, that made all France to quake,
Shake he his weapon at vs, and passe by

All.  God saue the King, God saue the King

Cade.  What Buckingham and Clifford are ye so braue?  And you base Pezants, do ye beleeue him, will you needs be hang’d with your Pardons about your neckes?  Hath my sword therefore broke through London gates, that you should leaue me at the White-heart in Southwarke.  I thought ye would neuer haue giuen out these Armes til you had recouered your ancient Freedome.  But you are all Recreants and Dastards, and delight to liue in slauerie to the Nobility.  Let them breake your backes with burthens, take your houses ouer your heads, rauish your Wiues and Daughters before your faces.  For me, I will make shift for one, and so Gods Cursse light vppon you all

All.  Wee’l follow Cade,
Wee’l follow Cade

Clif.  Is Cade the sonne of Henry the fift,
That thus you do exclaime you’l go with him.
Will he conduct you through the heart of France,
And make the meanest of you Earles and Dukes?
Alas, he hath no home, no place to flye too:
Nor knowes he how to liue, but by the spoile,
Vnlesse by robbing of your Friends, and vs.
Wer’t not a shame, that whilst you liue at iarre,
The fearfull French, whom you late vanquished
Should make a start ore-seas, and vanquish you?
Me thinkes alreadie in this ciuill broyle,
I see them Lording it in London streets,
Crying Villiago vnto all they meete.
Better ten thousand base-borne Cades miscarry,
Then you should stoope vnto a Frenchmans mercy.
To France, to France, and get what you haue lost:
Spare England, for it is your Natiue Coast:
Henry hath mony, you are strong and manly:
God on our side, doubt not of Victorie

All.  A Clifford, a Clifford,
Wee’l follow the King, and Clifford

Cade.  Was euer Feather so lightly blowne too & fro, as this multitude?  The name of Henry the fift, hales them to an hundred mischiefes, and makes them leaue mee desolate.  I see them lay their heades together to surprize me.  My sword make way for me, for heere is no staying:  in despight of the diuels and hell, haue through the verie middest of you, and heauens and honor be witnesse, that no want of resolution in mee, but onely my Followers base and ignominious treasons, makes me betake mee to my heeles.

Exit

Buck.  What, is he fled?  Go some and follow him,
And he that brings his head vnto the King,
Shall haue a thousand Crownes for his reward.

Exeunt. some of them.

Follow me souldiers, wee’l deuise a meane,
To reconcile you all vnto the King.

Exeunt. omnes.

Sound Trumpets.  Enter King, Queene, and Somerset on the Tarras.

King.  Was euer King that ioy’d an earthly Throne,
And could command no more content then I?
No sooner was I crept out of my Cradle,
But I was made a King, at nine months olde.
Was neuer Subiect long’d to be a King,
As I do long and wish to be a Subiect.
Enter Buckingham and Clifford.

Buc.  Health and glad tydings to your Maiesty

Kin.  Why Buckingham, is the Traitor Cade surpris’d?
Or is he but retir’d to make him strong?
Enter Multitudes with Halters about their Neckes

Clif.  He is fled my Lord, and all his powers do yeeld,
And humbly thus with halters on their neckes,
Expect your Highnesse doome of life, or death

King.  Then heauen set ope thy euerlasting gates,
To entertaine my vowes of thankes and praise.
Souldiers, this day haue you redeem’d your liues,
And shew’d how well you loue your Prince & Countrey:
Continue still in this so good a minde,
And Henry though he be infortunate,
Assure your selues will neuer be vnkinde:
And so with thankes, and pardon to you all,
I do dismisse you to your seuerall Countries

All.  God saue the King, God saue the King.
Enter a Messenger.

Mes.  Please it your Grace to be aduertised,
The Duke of Yorke is newly come from Ireland,
And with a puissant and a mighty power
Of Gallow-glasses and stout Kernes,
Is marching hitherward in proud array,
And still proclaimeth as he comes along,
His Armes are onely to remoue from thee
The Duke of Somerset, whom he tearmes a Traitor

King.  Thus stands my state, ’twixt Cade and Yorke
distrest,
Like to a Ship, that hauing scap’d a Tempest,
Is straight way calme, and boorded with a Pyrate.
But now is Cade driuen backe, his men dispierc’d,
And now is Yorke in Armes, to second him.
I pray thee Buckingham go and meete him,
And aske him what’s the reason of these Armes:
Tell him, Ile send Duke Edmund to the Tower,
And Somerset we will commit thee thither,
Vntill his Army be dismist from him

Somerset.  My Lord,
Ile yeelde my selfe to prison willingly,
Or vnto death, to do my Countrey good

King.  In any case, be not to rough in termes,
For he is fierce, and cannot brooke hard Language

Buc.  I will my Lord, and doubt not so to deale,
As all things shall redound vnto your good

King.  Come wife, let’s in, and learne to gouern better,
For yet may England curse my wretched raigne.

Flourish.  Exeunt.

Enter Cade.

Cade.  Fye on Ambitions:  fie on my selfe, that haue a sword, and yet am ready to famish.  These fiue daies haue I hid me in these Woods, and durst not peepe out, for all the Country is laid for me:  but now am I so hungry, that if I might haue a Lease of my life for a thousand yeares, I could stay no longer.  Wherefore on a Bricke wall haue I climb’d into this Garden, to see if I can eate Grasse, or picke a Sallet another while, which is not amisse to coole a mans stomacke this hot weather:  and I think this word Sallet was borne to do me good:  for many a time but for a Sallet, my brain-pan had bene cleft with a brown Bill; and many a time when I haue beene dry, & brauely marching, it hath seru’d me insteede of a quart pot to drinke in:  and now the word Sallet must serue me to feed on.  Enter Iden.

Iden.  Lord, who would liue turmoyled in the Court,
And may enioy such quiet walkes as these?
This small inheritance my Father left me,
Contenteth me, and worth a Monarchy.
I seeke not to waxe great by others warning,
Or gather wealth I care not with what enuy:
Sufficeth, that I haue maintaines my state,
And sends the poore well pleased from my gate

Cade.  Heere’s the Lord of the soile come to seize me for a stray, for entering his Fee-simple without leaue.  A Villaine, thou wilt betray me, and get a 1000.  Crownes of the King by carrying my head to him, but Ile make thee eate Iron like an Ostridge, and swallow my Sword like a great pin ere thou and I part

Iden.  Why rude Companion, whatsoere thou be,
I know thee not, why then should I betray thee?
Is’t not enough to breake into my Garden,
And like a Theefe to come to rob my grounds:
Climbing my walles inspight of me the Owner, But thou wilt braue me with these sawcie termes?
Cade.  Braue thee?  I by the best blood that euer was
broach’d, and beard thee to.  Looke on mee well, I haue eate no meate these fiue dayes, yet come thou and thy fiue men, and if I doe not leaue you all as dead as a doore naile, I pray God I may neuer eate grasse more

Iden.  Nay, it shall nere be said, while England stands,
That Alexander Iden an Esquire of Kent,
Tooke oddes to combate a poore famisht man.
Oppose thy stedfast gazing eyes to mine,
See if thou canst out-face me with thy lookes:
Set limbe to limbe, and thou art farre the lesser:
Thy hand is but a finger to my fist,
Thy legge a sticke compared with this Truncheon,
My foote shall fight with all the strength thou hast,
And if mine arme be heaued in the Ayre,
Thy graue is digg’d already in the earth:
As for words, whose greatnesse answer’s words,
Let this my sword report what speech forbeares

Cade.  By my Valour:  the most compleate Champion that euer I heard.  Steele, if thou turne the edge, or cut not out the burly bon’d Clowne in chines of Beefe, ere thou sleepe in thy Sheath, I beseech Ioue on my knees thou mayst be turn’d to Hobnailes.

Heere they Fight.

O I am slaine, Famine and no other hath slaine me, let ten thousand diuelles come against me, and giue me but the ten meales I haue lost, and I’de defie them all.  Wither Garden, and be henceforth a burying place to all that do dwell in this house, because the vnconquered soule of Cade is fled

Iden.  Is’t Cade that I haue slain, that monstrous traitor?
Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deede,
And hang thee o’re my Tombe, when I am dead.
Ne’re shall this blood be wiped from thy point,
But thou shalt weare it as a Heralds coate,
To emblaze the Honor that thy Master got

Cade.  Iden farewell, and be proud of thy victory:  Tell Kent from me, she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the World to be Cowards:  For I that neuer feared any, am vanquished by Famine, not by Valour.

Dyes.

Id.  How much thou wrong’st me, heauen be my iudge;
Die damned Wretch, the curse of her that bare thee:
And as I thrust thy body in with my sword,
So wish I, I might thrust thy soule to hell.
Hence will I dragge thee headlong by the heeles
Vnto a dunghill, which shall be thy graue,
And there cut off thy most vngracious head,
Which I will beare in triumph to the King,
Leauing thy trunke for Crowes to feed vpon.
Enter.

Enter Yorke, and his Army of Irish, with Drum and Colours.

Yor.  From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right,
And plucke the Crowne from feeble Henries head.
Ring Belles alowd, burne Bonfires cleare and bright
To entertaine great Englands lawfull King.
Ah Sancta Maiestas! who would not buy thee deere?
Let them obey, that knowes not how to Rule.
This hand was made to handle nought but Gold.
I cannot giue due action to my words,
Except a Sword or Scepter ballance it.
A Scepter shall it haue, haue I a soule,
On which Ile tosse the Fleure-de-Luce of France.
Enter Buckingham.

Whom haue we heere?  Buckingham to disturbe me?
The king hath sent him sure:  I must dissemble

Buc.  Yorke, if thou meanest wel, I greet thee well

Yor.  Humfrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting.
Art thou a Messenger, or come of pleasure

Buc.  A Messenger from Henry, our dread Liege,
To know the reason of these Armes in peace.
Or why, thou being a Subiect, as I am,
Against thy Oath, and true Allegeance sworne,
Should raise so great a power without his leaue?
Or dare to bring thy Force so neere the Court?
Yor.  Scarse can I speake, my Choller is so great.
Oh I could hew vp Rockes, and fight with Flint,
I am so angry at these abiect tearmes.
And now like Aiax Telamonius,
On Sheepe or Oxen could I spend my furie.
I am farre better borne then is the king:
More like a King, more Kingly in my thoughts.
But I must make faire weather yet a while,
Till Henry be more weake, and I more strong.
Buckingham, I prethee pardon me,
That I haue giuen no answer all this while:
My minde was troubled with deepe Melancholly.
The cause why I haue brought this Armie hither,
Is to remoue proud Somerset from the King,
Seditious to his Grace, and to the State

Buc.  That is too much presumption on thy part:
But if thy Armes be to no other end,
The King hath yeelded vnto thy demand:
The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower

Yorke.  Vpon thine Honor is he Prisoner?
Buck.  Vpon mine Honor he is Prisoner

Yorke.  Then Buckingham I do dismisse my Powres.
Souldiers, I thanke you all:  disperse your selues:
Meet me to morrow in S[aint].  Georges Field,
You shall haue pay, and euery thing you wish.
And let my Soueraigne, vertuous Henry,
Command my eldest sonne, nay all my sonnes,
As pledges of my Fealtie and Loue,
Ile send them all as willing as I liue:
Lands, Goods, Horse, Armor, any thing I haue
Is his to vse, so Somerset may die

Buc.  Yorke, I commend this kinde submission,
We twaine will go into his Highnesse Tent.
Enter King and Attendants.

King.  Buckingham, doth Yorke intend no harme to vs
That thus he marcheth with thee arme in arme?
Yorke.  In all submission and humility,
Yorke doth present himselfe vnto your Highnesse

K. Then what intends these Forces thou dost bring?
Yor.  To heaue the Traitor Somerset from hence,
And fight against that monstrous Rebell Cade,
Who since I heard to be discomfited.
Enter Iden with Cades head.

Iden.  If one so rude, and of so meane condition
May passe into the presence of a King:
Loe, I present your Grace a Traitors head,
The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew

King.  The head of Cade?  Great God, how iust art thou?
Oh let me view his Visage being dead,
That liuing wrought me such exceeding trouble.
Tell me my Friend, art thou the man that slew him?
Iden.  I was, an’t like your Maiesty

King.  How art thou call’d?  And what is thy degree?
Iden.  Alexander Iden, that’s my name,
A poore Esquire of Kent, that loues his King

Buc.  So please it you my Lord, ’twere not amisse
He were created Knight for his good seruice

King.  Iden, kneele downe, rise vp a Knight:
We giue thee for reward a thousand Markes,
And will, that thou henceforth attend on vs

Iden.  May Iden liue to merit such a bountie,
And neuer liue but true vnto his Liege.
Enter Queene and Somerset.

K. See Buckingham, Somerset comes with th’ Queene,
Go bid her hide him quickly from the Duke

Qu.  For thousand Yorkes he shall not hide his head,
But boldly stand, and front him to his face

Yor.  How now? is Somerset at libertie?
Then Yorke vnloose thy long imprisoned thoughts,
And let thy tongue be equall with thy heart.
Shall I endure the sight of Somerset?
False King, why hast thou broken faith with me,
Knowing how hardly I can brooke abuse?
King did I call thee?  No:  thou art not King:
Not fit to gouerne and rule multitudes,
Which dar’st not, no nor canst not rule a Traitor.
That Head of thine doth not become a Crowne:
Thy Hand is made to graspe a Palmers staffe,
And not to grace an awefull Princely Scepter.
That Gold, must round engirt these browes of mine,
Whose Smile and Frowne, like to Achilles Speare
Is able with the change, to kill and cure.
Heere is hand to hold a Scepter vp,
And with the same to acte controlling Lawes:
Giue place:  by heauen thou shalt rule no more
O’re him, whom heauen created for thy Ruler

Som.  O monstrous Traitor!  I arrest thee Yorke
Of Capitall Treason ’gainst the King and Crowne:
Obey audacious Traitor, kneele for Grace

York.  Wold’st haue me kneele?  First let me ask of thee,
If they can brooke I bow a knee to man:
Sirrah, call in my sonne to be my bale:
I know ere they will haue me go to Ward,
They’l pawne their swords of my infranchisement

Qu.  Call hither Clifford, bid him come amaine,
To say, if that the Bastard boyes of Yorke
Shall be the Surety for their Traitor Father

Yorke.  O blood-bespotted Neopolitan,
Out-cast of Naples, Englands bloody Scourge,
The sonnes of Yorke, thy betters in their birth,
Shall be their Fathers baile, and bane to those
That for my Surety will refuse the Boyes.
Enter Edward and Richard.

See where they come, Ile warrant they’l make it good.
Enter Clifford.

Qu.  And here comes Clifford to deny their baile

Clif.  Health, and all happinesse to my Lord the King

Yor.  I thanke thee Clifford:  Say, what newes with thee?
Nay, do not fright vs with an angry looke:
We are thy Soueraigne Clifford, kneele againe;
For thy mistaking so, We pardon thee

Clif.  This is my King Yorke, I do not mistake,
But thou mistakes me much to thinke I do,
To Bedlem with him, is the man growne mad

King.  I Clifford, a Bedlem and ambitious humor
Makes him oppose himselfe against his King

Clif.  He is a Traitor, let him to the Tower,
And chop away that factious pate of his

Qu.  He is arrested, but will not obey:
His sonnes (he sayes) shall giue their words for him

Yor.  Will you not Sonnes?
Edw.  I Noble Father, if our words will serue

Rich.  And if words will not, then our Weapons shal

Clif.  Why what a brood of Traitors haue we heere?
Yorke.  Looke in a Glasse, and call thy Image so.
I am thy King, and thou a false-heart Traitor:
Call hither to the stake my two braue Beares,
That with the very shaking of their Chaines,
They may astonish these fell-lurking Curres,
Bid Salsbury and Warwicke come to me.
Enter the Earles of Warwicke, and Salisbury.

Clif.  Are these thy Beares?  Wee’l bate thy Bears to death,
And manacle the Berard in their Chaines,
If thou dar’st bring them to the bayting place

Rich.  Oft haue I seene a hot ore-weening Curre,
Run backe and bite, because he was with-held,
Who being suffer’d with the Beares fell paw,
Hath clapt his taile, betweene his legges and cride,
And such a peece of seruice will you do,
If you oppose your selues to match Lord Warwicke

Clif.  Hence heape of wrath, foule indigested lumpe,
As crooked in thy manners, as thy shape

Yor.  Nay we shall heate you thorowly anon

Clif.  Take heede least by your heate you burne your
selues:
King.  Why Warwicke, hath thy knee forgot to bow?
Old Salsbury, shame to thy siluer haire, Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sicke sonne,
What wilt thou on thy death-bed play the Ruffian?  And seeke for sorrow with thy Spectacles?  Oh where is Faith?  Oh, where is Loyalty?
If it be banisht from the frostie head,
Where shall it finde a harbour in the earth?
Wilt thou go digge a graue to finde out Warre,
And shame thine honourable Age with blood?
Why art thou old, and want’st experience?
Or wherefore doest abuse it, if thou hast it?
For shame in dutie bend thy knee to me,
That bowes vnto the graue with mickle age

Sal.  My Lord, I haue considered with my selfe
The Title of this most renowned Duke,
And in my conscience, do repute his grace
The rightfull heyre to Englands Royall seate

King.  Hast thou not sworne Allegeance vnto me?
Sal.  I haue

Ki.  Canst thou dispense with heauen for such an oath?
Sal.  It is great sinne, to sweare vnto a sinne:
But greater sinne to keepe a sinfull oath:
Who can be bound by any solemne Vow
To do a murd’rous deede, to rob a man,
To force a spotlesse Virgins Chastitie,
To reaue the Orphan of his Patrimonie,
To wring the Widdow from her custom’d right,
And haue no other reason for this wrong,
But that he was bound by a solemne Oath?
Qu.  A subtle Traitor needs no Sophister

King.  Call Buckingham, and bid him arme himselfe

Yorke.  Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast,
I am resolu’d for death and dignitie

Old Clif.  The first I warrant thee, if dreames proue true
War.  You were best to go to bed, and dreame againe,
To keepe thee from the Tempest of the field

Old Clif.  I am resolu’d to beare a greater storme,
Then any thou canst coniure vp to day:
And that Ile write vpon thy Burgonet,
Might I but know thee by thy housed Badge

War.  Now by my Fathers badge, old Neuils Crest,
The rampant Beare chain’d to the ragged staffe,
This day Ile weare aloft my Burgonet,
As on a Mountaine top, the Cedar shewes,
That keepes his leaues inspight of any storme,
Euen to affright thee with the view thereof

Old Clif.  And from thy Burgonet Ile rend thy Beare,
And tread it vnder foot with all contempt,
Despight the Bearard, that protects the Beare

Yo.Clif.  And so to Armes victorious Father,
To quell the Rebels, and their Complices

Rich.  Fie, Charitie for shame, speake not in spight,
For you shall sup with Iesu Christ to night

Yo.Clif.  Foule stygmaticke that’s more then thou canst tell

Ric.  If not in heauen, you’l surely sup in hell.

Exeunt.

Enter Warwicke.

War.  Clifford of Cumberland, ’tis Warwicke calles:
And if thou dost not hide thee from the Beare,
Now when the angrie Trumpet sounds alarum,
And dead mens cries do fill the emptie ayre,
Clifford I say, come forth and fight with me,
Proud Northerne Lord, Clifford of Cumberland,
Warwicke is hoarse with calling thee to armes.
Enter Yorke.

War.  How now my Noble Lord?  What all a-foot

Yor.  The deadly handed Clifford slew my Steed:
But match to match I haue encountred him,
And made a prey for Carrion Kytes and Crowes
Euen of the bonnie beast he loued so well.
Enter Clifford.

War.  Of one or both of vs the time is come

Yor.  Hold Warwick:  seek thee out some other chace
For I my selfe must hunt this Deere to death

War.  Then nobly Yorke, ’tis for a Crown thou fightst:
As I intend Clifford to thriue to day,
It greeues my soule to leaue thee vnassail’d.

Exit War.

Clif.  What seest thou in me Yorke?
Why dost thou pause?
Yorke.  With thy braue bearing should I be in loue,
But that thou art so fast mine enemie

Clif.  Nor should thy prowesse want praise & esteeme,
But that ’tis shewne ignobly, and in Treason

Yorke.  So let it helpe me now against thy sword,
As I in iustice, and true right expresse it

Clif.  My soule and bodie on the action both

Yor.  A dreadfull lay, addresse thee instantly

Clif.  La fin Corrone les eumenes

Yor.  Thus Warre hath giuen thee peace, for y art still,
Peace with his soule, heauen if it be thy will.
Enter yong Clifford.

Clif.  Shame and Confusion all is on the rout,
Feare frames disorder, and disorder wounds
Where it should guard.  O Warre, thou sonne of hell,
Whom angry heauens do make their minister,
Throw in the frozen bosomes of our part,
Hot Coales of Vengeance.  Let no Souldier flye.
He that is truly dedicate to Warre,
Hath no selfe-loue:  nor he that loues himselfe,
Hath not essentially, but by circumstance
The name of Valour.  O let the vile world end,
And the premised Flames of the Last day,
Knit earth and heauen together.
Now let the generall Trumpet blow his blast,
Particularities, and pettie sounds
To cease.  Was’t thou ordain’d (deere Father)
To loose thy youth in peace, and to atcheeue
The Siluer Liuery of aduised Age,
And in thy Reuerence, and thy Chaire-dayes, thus
To die in Ruffian battell?  Euen at this sight,
My heart is turn’d to stone:  and while ’tis mine,
It shall be stony.  Yorke, not our old men spares:
No more will I their Babes, Teares Virginall,
Shall be to me, euen as the Dew to Fire,
And Beautie, that the Tyrant oft reclaimes,
Shall to my flaming wrath, be Oyle and Flax:
Henceforth, I will not haue to do with pitty.
Meet I an infant of the house of Yorke,
Into as many gobbits will I cut it
As wilde Medea yong Absirtis did.
In cruelty, will I seeke out my Fame.
Come thou new ruine of olde Cliffords house:
As did Aeneas old Anchyses beare,
So beare I thee vpon my manly shoulders:
But then, Aeneas bare a liuing loade;
Nothing so heauy as these woes of mine.
Enter Richard, and Somerset to fight.

Rich.  So lye thou there:
For vnderneath an Ale-house paltry signe,
The Castle in S[aint].  Albons, Somerset
Hath made the Wizard famous in his death:
Sword, hold thy temper; Heart, be wrathfull still:
Priests pray for enemies, but Princes kill.

Fight.  Excursions.

Enter King, Queene, and others.

Qu.  Away my Lord, you are slow, for shame away

King.  Can we outrun the Heauens?  Good Margaret
stay

Qu.  What are you made of?  You’l nor fight nor fly:
Now is it manhood, wisedome, and defence,
To giue the enemy way, and to secure vs
By what we can, which can no more but flye.

Alarum a farre off.

If you be tane, we then should see the bottome
Of all our Fortunes:  but if we haply scape,
(As well we may, if not through your neglect)
We shall to London get, where you are lou’d,
And where this breach now in our Fortunes made
May readily be stopt.
Enter Clifford.

Clif.  But that my hearts on future mischeefe set,
I would speake blasphemy ere bid you flye:
But flye you must:  Vncureable discomfite
Reignes in the hearts of all our present parts.
Away for your releefe, and we will liue
To see their day, and them our Fortune giue.
Away my Lord, away.

Exeunt.

Alarum.  Retreat.  Enter Yorke, Richard, Warwicke, and Soldiers, with Drum & Colours.

Yorke.  Of Salsbury, who can report of him,
That Winter Lyon, who in rage forgets
Aged contusions, and all brush of Time:
And like a Gallant, in the brow of youth,
Repaires him with Occasion.  This happy day
Is not it selfe, nor haue we wonne one foot,
If Salsbury be lost

Rich.  My Noble Father:
Three times to day I holpe him to his horse,
Three times bestrid him:  Thrice I led him off,
Perswaded him from any further act:
But still where danger was, still there I met him,
And like rich hangings in a homely house,
So was his Will, in his old feeble body,
But Noble as he is, looke where he comes.
Enter Salisbury.

Sal.  Now by my Sword, well hast thou fought to day:
By’th’ Masse so did we all.  I thanke you Richard.
God knowes how long it is I haue to liue:
And it hath pleas’d him that three times to day
You haue defended me from imminent death.
Well Lords, we haue not got that which we haue,
’Tis not enough our foes are this time fled,
Being opposites of such repayring Nature

Yorke.  I know our safety is to follow them,
For (as I heare) the King is fled to London,
To call a present Court of Parliament:
Let vs pursue him ere the Writs go forth.
What sayes Lord Warwicke, shall we after them?
War.  After them:  nay before them if we can:
Now by my hand (Lords) ’twas a glorious day.
Saint Albons battell wonne by famous Yorke,
Shall be eterniz’d in all Age to come.
Sound Drumme and Trumpets, and to London all,
And more such dayes as these, to vs befall.

Exeunt.

FINIS.  The second Part of Henry the Sixt, with the death of the
Good Duke
Hvmfrey.