'Unlike the ruler of a common-weal.

'Warwick my son, the comfort of my age!

Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy house-keeping,

'Hath won the greatest favour of the commons, 'Excepting none but good duke Humphrey.-'And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland,

In bringing them to civil discipline;

Thy late exploits done in the heart of France, 'When thou wert regent for our sovereign, Have made thee fear'd, and honour'd, of the peo

ple:

'Join we together, for the publick good;

In what we can, to bridle and suppress

'The pride of Suffolk, and the cardinal, 'With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition; 'And, as we may, cherish duke Humphrey's deeds, 'While they do tend the profit of the land.

* War. So God help Warwick, as he loves the land,

* And common profit of his country!

*York. And so says York, for he hath greatest

cause.

Sal. Then let's make haste away, and look unto the main.

War. Unto the main! O father, Maine is lost; That Maine, which by main force Warwick did

win,

And would have 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 slain.

[Exeunt Warwick and Salisbury. York. Anjou and Maine are given to the French;

*Paris is lost; the state of Normandy

* Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone: * Suffolk concluded on the articles;

The peers agreed; and Henry was well pleas'd, * To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daugh

ter.

* I cannot blame them all; What is't to them? * 'Tis thine they give away, and not their own. * Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage,

*And purchase friends, and give to courtezans, y * Still revelling, like lords, till all be gone: *While as the silly owner of the goods

Weeps over them, and wrings his hapless hands, * And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof, * While all is shar'd, and all is borne away;

Ready to starve, and dare not touch his own,.. * So York must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue, * While his own lands are bargain'd for, and sold. * Methinks, the realms of England, France, and

Ireland,

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

* Unto the prince's heart of Calydon.

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

A day will come, when York shall claim his own;
And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts,
And make a show of love to proud duke Humphrey,
And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown,
For that's the golden mark 1 seek to hit:

Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right,
Nor hold the scepter in his childish fist,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head,
Whose church-like humours fit not for a crown.
Then, York, be still a-while, till time do serve:
Watch thou, and wake, when others be asleep,

To

pry into the secrets of the state;

Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love,

With his new bride, and England's dear-bought

queen,

And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars:
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose,

With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd;
And in my standard bear the arms of York,
To grapple with the house of Lancaster;

And, force perforce, I'll make him yield the crown, Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down, [Exit.

SCENE II.

THE SAME. A ROOM IN THE DUKE OF GLO'STER'S

HOUSE.

Enter Glo'ster and the Dutchess.

Dutch. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd

corn,

Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load? *Why doth the great duke Humphrey knit his

brows,

*As frowning at the favours of the world?
* Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth,

Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? 'What see'st thou there? king Henry's diadem, * Enchas'd with all the honours of the world? * If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face,

* Until thy head be circled with the same.

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

* We'll both together lift our heads to heaven; * And never more abase our sight so low, *As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground. 'Glo. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy

lord,

'Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts:

'And may that thought, when I imagine ill

Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry,

'Be my last breathing in this mortal world!

6

My troublous dream this night doth make me sad. 'Dutch. What dream'd my lord? tell me, and I'll requite it

With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream, 'Glo. Methought, this staff, mine office-badge

in court,

Was broke in twain; by whom, I have forgot, 'But, as I think, it was by the cardinal;

And on the pieces of the broken wand

'Were plac'd the heads of Edmond duke of Somer

set,

'And William de la Poole first duke of Suffolk, This was my dream; what it doth bode, God knows.

• Dutch. Tut, this was nothing but an argument,

That he, that breaks a stick of Glo'ster's grove,
Shall lose his head for his presumption.

But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke:
Methought, I sat in seat of majesty,

In the cathedral church of Westminster,

And in that chair where kings and queens are crown'd;

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

'Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright; * Presumptuous dame, ill-natur'd Eleanor! Art thou not second woman in the realm; And the protector's wife, belov'd of him? * Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command, * Above the reach or compass of thy thought? And wilt thou still be hammering treachery, * To tumble down thy husband, and thyself, * From top of honour to disgrace's feet? Away from me, and let me hear no more. 'Dutch. What, what, my lord! are you so cholerick

'With Eleanor, for telling but her dream?

"Next time, I'll keep my dreams unto myself, 'And not be check'd.

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

Enter a Messenger.

'Mess. My lord protector, 'tis his highness' plea

sure,

'You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans, 'Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk. Glo. I go.-Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us?