1

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. 110

[Exeunt.

!

ACT THIRD

SCENE I

The Abbey at Bury St. Edmund's.
Sound a Sennet. Enter King, Queen, Cardinal
Beaufort, Suffolk, York, Buckingham, Salis-
bury and Warwick to the Parliament.

King. I muse my Lord of Gloucester is not come
'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man,
Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now.
Queen. Can you not see? or will ye not observe
The strangeness of his alter'd countenance?
With what a majesty he bears himself,
How insolent of late he is become,

How proud, how peremptory, and unlike him

self?

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,

10

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. 20
First note 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 fear'd they all will follow him. 30
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 wrong'd the duke.
My Lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York,
Reprove my allegation, if you can;
Or else conclude my words effectual.

40

Suf. 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,

50

Yet, by reputing of his high descent,
As next the king he was successive heir,
As 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; Gloucester 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,

60

Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke
Humphrey.

King. 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 con-
science,

Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent
From meaning treason to our royal person, 70
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. Queen. Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance!

Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrow'd,
For he 's disposed as the hateful raven:
Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him,
For he's inclined as is the ravenous wolf.
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!
King. Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news

from France?

Som. That all your interest in those territories
Is utterly bereft you; all is lost.

80

King. Cold news, Lord Somerset: but God's will

be done!

York. [Aside] 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,

90

Or sell my title for a glorious grave.

78. "as is the ravenous wolf"; Rowe's correction of Ff., "as is Wolues"; Malone, "as are...........wolves"; Vaughan, "as the ravenous wolves." I. G.

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