Glo. And my consent ne'er asked herein before! This is close dealing.-Well, I will be there.

[Exit Herald.

My Nell, I take my leave;-and, master sheriff,
Let not her penance exceed the king's commission.
Sher. An't please your grace, here my commission stays;
And sir John Stanley is appointed now

To take her with him to the Isle of Man.

Glo. Must you, sir John, protect my lady here? Stan. So am I given in charge, may't please your grace. Glo. Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray You use her well. The world may laugh again; And I may live to do you kindness, if

You do it her. And so, sir John, farewell.

Duch. What, gone, my lord; and bid me not farewell? Glo. Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak.

[Exeunt GLOSTER and Servants.

Duch. Art thou gone too? all comfort go with thee!

For none abides with me. My joy is death;

Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard,
Because I wished this world's eternity.
Stanley, I pr'ythec, go, and take me henc;
I care not whither, for I beg no favor,
Only convey me where thou art commanded.

Stan. Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man;
There to be used according to your state.

Duch. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach; And shall I then be used reproachfully?

Stan. Like to a duchess, and duke Humphrey's lady,

According to that state you shall be used.

Duch. Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare; Although thou hast been conduct of my shame! Sher. It is my office; and, madam, pardon me. Duch. Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is discharged.— Come, Stanley, shall we go?

Stan. Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet, And go we to attire you for our journey.

Duch. My shame will not be shifted with my sheet; No, it will hang upon my richest robes, And show itself, attire me how I can.

Go, lead the way; I long to see my prison.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. The Abbey at Bury.

Enter, to the parliament, KING HENRY, QUEEN Margaret, CARDINAL BEAUFORT, SUFFOLK, YORK, BUCKINGHAM, and others.

K. Hen. I muse my lord of Gloster is not come.
"Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man,
Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now.

Q. Mar. Can you not see? or will you not observe
The strangeness of his altered countenance?
With what a majesty he bears himself!
How insolent of late he is become,

How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself?
We know the time, since he was mild and affable;
And, if we did but glance a far-off look,
Immediately he was upon his knee,

That all the court admired him for submission;
But meet him now, and, be it in the morn,
When every one will give the time of day,
He knits his brow, and shows an angry eye,
And passeth by with stiff, unbowed knee,
Disdaining duty that to us belongs.
Small curs are not regarded when they grin;
But great men tremble when the lion roars;
And Humphrey is no little man in England.
First, noto, that he is near you in descent;
And should you fall, he is the next will mount.
Me seemeth, then, it is no policy,-
Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears,
And his advantage following your decease,-
That he should come about your royal person,
Or be admitted to your highness' council.
By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts;
And, when he please to make commotion,
'Tis to be feared, they all will follow him.

Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow rooted;
Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden,
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.
The reverent care, I bear unto my lord,
Made me collect these dangers in the duke.
If it be fond, call it a woman's fear;
Which fear if better reasons can supplant,
I will subscribe and say-I wronged the duke.

My lord of Suffolk,-Buckingham,- and York,
Reprove my allegation, if you can;

Or else conclude my words effectual.

Suff. Well hath your highness seen into this duke;
And, had I first been put to speak my mind,
I think I should have told your grace's tale

The duchess, by his subornation,

Upon my life, began her devilish practices;
Or if he were not privy to those faults,
Yet, by reputing of his high descent,
(As next the king he was successive heir,)
And such high vaunts of his nobility,

Did instigate the bedlam, brain-sick duchess,
By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall.
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep;
And in his simple show he harbors treason.

The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb.
No, no, my sovereign; Gloster is a man
Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.

Car. Did he not, contrary to form of law,
Devise strange deaths for small offences done?
York. And did he not, in his protectorship,
Levy great sums of money through the realm,
For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it?
By means whereof, the towns each day revolted.

Buck. Tut! these are petty faults to faults unknown, Which time will bring to light in smooth duke Humphrey. K. Hen. My lords, at once: The care you have of us, To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot, Is worthy praise; but shall I speak my conscience? Our kinsman Gloster is as innocent

From meaning treason to our royal person,

As is the sucking lamb, or harmless dove.

The duke is virtuous, mild; and too well given,

To dream on evil, or to work my downfall.

Q. Mar. Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance!

Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrowed,

For he's disposed as the hateful raven.

Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him,
For he's inclined as are the ravenous wolves.
Who cannot steal a shape, that means deceit?
Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all
Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.

Enter SOMERSET.

Som. All health unto my gracious sovereign!

D

K. Hen. Welcome, lord Somerset. What news from

France?

Som. That all your interest in those territories.

Is utterly bereft you; all is lost.

K. Hen. Cold news, lord Somerset; but God's will be done! York. Cold news for me; for I had hope of France, As firmly as I hope for fertile England.

Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud,
And caterpillars eat my leaves away;
But I will remedy this gear ere long,
Or sell my title for a glorious grave.

Enter GLOSTER.

Glo. All happiness unto my lord the king! Pardon, my liege, that I have staid so long.

[Aside.

Suff. Nay, Gloster, know, that thou art come too soon, Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art.

I do arrest thee of high treason here.

Glo. Well, Suffolk, yet thou shalt not see me blush, Nor change my countenance for this arrest;

A heart unspotted is not easily daunted.
The purest spring is not so free from mud,
As I am clear from treason to my sovereign:
Who can accuse me? wherein am I guilty?

York. 'Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of
France,

And, being protector, stayed the soldiers' pay;
By means whereof, his highness hath lost France.

Glo. Is it but thought so? What are they that think it?

I never robbed the soldiers of their pay,

Nor never had one penny bribe from France.

So help me God, as I have watched the night,—
Ay, night by night,-in studying good for England!
That doit that e'er I wrested from the king,

Or any groat I hoarded to my use,

Be brought against me at my trial day!

No! many a pound of mine own proper store,
Because I would not tax the needy commons,
Have I dispursed to the garrisons,

And never asked for restitution.

Car. It serves you well, my lord, to say so much.
Glo. I say no more than truth, so help me God!
York. In your protectorship you did devise

Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of,
That England was defamed by tyranny.

Glo. Why, 'tis well khown, that whiles I was protector,

Pity was all the fault that was in me;

For I should melt at an offender's tears,

And lowly words were ransom for their fault.
Unless it were a bloody murderer,

Or foul, felonious thief that fleeced poor passengers,
I never gave them cóndign punishment:

Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortured

Above the felon, or what trespass else.

Suff. My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answered:
But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge,
Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.

I do arrest you in his highness' name;
And here commit you to my lord cardinal
To keep, until your further time of trial.

K. Hen. My lord of Gloster, 'tis my special hope,
That you will clear yourself from all suspects;
My conscience tells me you are innocent.

Glo. Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous! Virtue is choked with foul ambition,

And charity chased hence by rancor's hand;
Foul subornation is predominant,

And equity exiled your highness' land.

I know their complot is to have my life;

And, if my death might make this island happy,
And prove the period of their tyranny,

I would expend it with all willingness;

But mine is made the prologue to their play;
For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril,
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.

Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice,
And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate;
Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue
The envious load that lies upon his heart;
And dogged York, that reaches at the moon,
Whose overweening arm I have plucked back,
By false accuse doth level at my life;-
And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest,
Causeless have laid disgraces on my head;
And, with your best endeavor, have stirred up
My liefest liege to be mine enemy:-

Ay, all of you have laid your heads together;
Myself had notice of your conventicles;
And all to make away my guiltless life.

I shall not want false witness to condemn me,
Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt;
The ancient proverb will be well affected,-
A staff is quickly found to beat a log.