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Sal. This Edmond, in the reign of Bullingbrook,
As I have read, laid claim unto the Crown,
And, but for Owen Glendour, had been King;
Who kept him in Captivity, 'till he dy'd.
But, to the reft.

York. His eldest Sifter, Anne,

My Mother, being Heir unto the Crown,
Married Richard Earl of Cambridge,
Who was Son to Edmond Langley,
Edward the Third's fifth Son's Son;
By her I claim the Kingdom.

She then was Heir to Roger, Earl of March,
Who was the Son of Edmond Mortimer,
Who married Philip, fole Daughter

Unto Lionel, Duke of Clarence.

So, if the Iffue of the elder Son

Succeed before the younger, I am King,

War. What plain proceeding is more plain than this? Henry doth claim the Crown from John of Gaunt, The fourth Son; York claims it from the third: 'Till Lionel's Iffue fail, his fhould not Reign. It fails not yet, but flourisheth in thee And in thy Sons, fair Slips of fuch a Stock. Then Father Salisbury, kneel we together; And in this private Plot be we the first, That fhall falute our rightful Soveraign With honour of his Birth-right to the Crown. Both. Long live our Soveraign Richard, England's King. York. We thank you, Lords:

But I am not your King, 'till I be crown'd;

And that my Sword be ftain'd

With Heart-blood of the Houfe of Lancaster:
And that's not fuddenly to be perform'd,
But with Advice and filent Secrecy.
Do you, as I do, in thefe dangerous Days,
Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's Infolence,
At Beauford's Pride, at Somerset's Ambition,
At Buckingham, and all the Crew of them,
'Till they have fnar'd the Shepherd of the Flock,
That virtuous Prince, the good Duke Humphry:

"Tis

Tis that they feek; and they, in feeking that,
Shall find their Deaths, if York can Prophefie.

Sal. My Lord, here break we off; we know your Mind at full.

War. My Heart affures me, that the Earl of Warwick Shall one day make the Duke of York a King.

York. And Nevil, this I do affure my felf. Richard fhall live to make the Earl of Warwick The greatest Man in England, but the King.

[Exeunt,

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

K. Henry. Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham,
Glo'fter's Wife.

In fight of God, and us, your Guilt is great,
Receive the Sentence of the Law for Sin,
Such as by God's Book are adjudg'd to death.
You four from hence to Prifon, back again;
From thence, unto the Place of Execution;
The Witch in Smithfield fhall be burn'd to Ashes,
And you three fhall be strangled on the Gallows.
You Madam, for you are more nobly born,
Defpoyled of your Honour in your Life,
Shall after three Days open Penance done,
Live in your Country here, in Banishment,
With Sir John Stanly, in the Isle of Man.

Elean. Welcome is Banishment, welcome were my Death.

Glo. Eleanor, the Law thou feeft bath judged thee;
I cannot juftifie, whom the Law condemns.
Mine Eyes are full of Tears, my Heart of Grief.
Ah Humphry, this difhonour in thine Age,

Will bring thy Head with Sorrow to the Ground.
I beseech your Majefty give me leave to go;
Sorrow would folace, and my Age would eafe.
K: Henry. Stay Humphry, Duke of Glofter;
Ere thou go, give up thy Staff,

Henry will to himself Protector be,

And God fhall be my Hope, my Stay, my Guide,
And Lanthorn to my Feet.

And go in peace, Humphry, no lefs belov❜d,

Than

Than when thou wert Protector to thy King.
Q. Mar. I fee no reason, why a King of Years
Should be to be protected like a Child:

God and King Henry govern England's Realm:
Give up your Staff, Sir, and the King his Realm.
Glo. My Staff? Here, noble Henry, is my Staff:
As willingly do I the fame refign,

As e'er thy Father Henry made it mine;
And even as willingly at thy Feet I leave it,
As others would ambitioufly receive it.

Farewel good King; when I am dead and gone,
May honourable Peace attend thy Throne. [Exit Glo'ster.
.Mar. Why now is Henry King, and Margaret Queen,

And Humphry, Duke of Glofter, scarce himself,

That bears fo fhrewd a maim; two Pulls at once;

His Lady banish'd, and a Limb lopt off,

This Staff of Honour raught, there let it stand,
Where beft it fits to be, in Henry's Hand.

Suf. Thus droops this lofty Pine, and hangs his fprayes, Thus Eleanor's Pride dies in her younger Days.

York. Lords, let him go. Please it your Majefty,
This is the day appointed for the Combat,
And ready are the Appellant and Defendant,
The Armourer and his Man, to enter the Lifts,
So please your Highnefs to behold the Fight.

Q.Mar. Ay, good my Lord; for purposely therefore Left the Court, to fee this Quarrel try'd.

K. Henry. A God's Name fee the Lifts and all things fit, Here let them end it, and God defend the Right. York. I never faw a Fellow worse bestead, Or more afraid to fight, than is the Appellant, The Servant of the Armourer, my Lords..

Enter at one Door the Armorer and his Neighbours, drinking to him fo much, that he is drunk, and he enters with a Drum before him, and his Staff with a Sand bag fastned to it; and at the other Door his Man, with a Drum and a Sand bag, and Prentices drinking to him.

1 Neigh. Here, Neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a Cup of Sack; and fear not, Neighbour, you shall do well enough.

2 Neigh.

2 Neigh. And here, Neighbour, here's a Cup of Char

neco.

3 Neigh. And here's a Pot of good double Beer, Neighbour; drink, and fear not your Man.

Arm. Let it come i'faith, and I'll pledge you all, and a Fig for Peter.

Pren. Here Peter, I drink to thee, and be not afraid. 2 Pren. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy Mafter; fight for the Credit of the Prentices.

Peter. I thank you all; drink, and pray for me, I pray you, for I think I have taken my laft Draught in this C World. Here Robin, if I die, I give thee my Apron; and Will, thou fhalt have my Hammer; and here, Tom, take all the Mony that I have. O Lord bless me, I pray God, for I am never able to deal with my Mailer, he hath learn'd fo much to fence already.

Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. Sirrah, what's thy Name?

Peter. Peter, forfooth.

Sal. Peter? what more?

Peter. Thump.

Sal. Thump? Then fee thou thump thy Mafter well. Arm. Mafters, I am come hither as it were upon my Man's Inftigation, to prove him a Knave, and my felf an honeft Man: And touching the Duke of York, I will take my Death, I never meant him any ill, nor the King nor the Queen, and therefore Peter have at thee with a down right Blow.

York. Difpatch, this Knave's Tongue begins to double. Sound Trumpets, Alarum to the Combatants.

[They fight, and Peter ftrikes him down. Arm. Hold Peter, hold; I confefs, I confefs Treason. York. Take away his Weapon: Fellow, thank God, and the good Wine in thy Mafter's way.

Peter. O God, have I overcome mine Enemy in this prefence? O Peter, thou haft prevail'd in right.

K. Henry. Go, take hence that Traitor from our Sight, For by his Death we do perceive his Guilt. And God in Juftice hath reveal'd to us

The Truth and Innocence of this poor Fellow,

1

Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully.
Come Fellow, follow us for thy Reward.

[Exeunt.
Enter Duke Humphry and his Men, in Mourning Cloaks.
Glo. Thus fometimes hath the brighteft Day a Cloud;
And after Summer, evermore fucceeds

Barren Winter, with his wrathful nipping Cold;
So Cares and Joys abound, as.Seasons fleet.
Sirs, what's a Clock?

Serv. Ten, my Lord.

Glo. Ten is the Hour that was appointed me,
isa
To watch the coming of my punish'd Dutchess:
Unneath may he endure the flinty Streets,
To tread them with her tender-feeling Feet.
Sweet Nell, ill can thy Noble Mind a-brook
The abject People gazing on thy Face,
With envious Looks ftill laughing at thy Shame,
That erft did follow thy proud Chariot Wheels,
When thou didst ride in Triumph thro' the Streets.
But foft, I think fhe comes, and I'll prepare
My Tear-ftain'd Eyes, to fee her Mileries.

Enter the Dutchefs in a white Sheet, and a Taper burning
in her Hand, with a Sheriff and Officers.

Serv. So pleafe your Grace, we'll take her from the Sheriff.
Glo. No, ftir not for your Lives, let her pass by.
Elean. Come you, my Lord, to fee my open Shame?
Now thou doft Penance too. Look how they gaze,
See how the giddy multitude do point,

And nod their Heads, and throw their Eyes on thee,
Ah Glofter, hide thee from their hateful Looks,
And in thy Clofet pent up, rue my Shame,
And ban our Enemies, both mine and thine.
Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell, forget this Grief.
Elean. Ah Glofter, teach me to forget my felf:
For whilst I think I am thy married Wife,
And thou a Prince, Protector of this Land,
Methinks I fhould not thus be led along,
Mail'd up in Shame, with Papers on my Back,
And follow'd with a Rabble, that rejoice
To fee my Tears, and hear my deep-fet Groans.
The ruthless Flint doth cut my tender Feet,

And

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