SCENE I.-London. A Room of State in the Palace.

Flourish of trumpets: then hautboys. Enter, on one side, King HENRY, Duke of GLOSTER, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and Cardinal BEAUFORT; on the other, Queen MARGARET, led in by SurFOLK; YORK, SOMERSET, BUCKINGHAM, and others, following.

Suf. As by your high imperial majesty
I had in charge at my depart for France,
As procurator to your excellence,

To marry princess Margaret for your grace;
So, in the famous ancient city, Tours,

In presence of the kings of France and Sicil,

The dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretaigne, and Alençon,

Seven earls, twelve barons, and twenty reverend

bishops,

I have perform'd my task, and was espous'd:
And humbly now upon my bended knee,
In sight of England and her lordly peers,
Deliver up my title in the queen

To your most gracious hands, that are the substance
Of that great shadow I did represent;
The happiest gift that ever marquess gavo,
The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd.

K. Hen. Suffolk, arise.-Welcome, queen Margaret:

I can express no kinder sign of love,

Than this kind kiss.-O Lord! that lends me life,
Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness;
For thou hast given me, in this beauteous face,
A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.

Q. Mar. Great king of England, and my gracious lord,

The mutual conference that my mind hath had
By day, by night, waking, and in my dreams,
In courtly company, or at my beads,
With you mine alderlievest sovereign,
Makes me the bolder to salute my king
With ruder terms, such as my wit affords,
And over-joy of heart doth minister.

K. Hen. Her sight did ravish, but her grace in speech,

Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty,
Makes me from wondering fall to weeping joys;
Such is the fulness of my heart's content.
Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love.
All. Long live queen Margaret, England's hap
piness!

Q. Mar. We thank you all.

[Flourish.

Suf. My lord protector, so it please your grace, Here are the articles of contracted peace, Between our sovereign, and the French king Charles, For eighteen months concluded by consent.

Glo. [Reads.] "Imprimis: It is agreed between the French king, Charles, and William de la Poole, marquess of Suffolk, ambassador for Henry king of

England, that the said Henry shall espouse the lady Margaret, daughter unto Reignier king of Naples, Sicilia, and Jerusalem; and crown her queen of England ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing.- —Item,—That the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine, shall be released and de- || livered to the king her father"—

K. Hen. Uncle, how now? Glo. Pardon me, gracious lord; Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart, And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further. K. Hen. Uncle of Winchester, I pray, read on. Win. Item, "It is further agreed between them, that the duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be released and delivered over to the king her father; and she sent over of the king of England's own proper cost and charges, without having any dowry." K. Hen. They please us well.-Lord marquess, kneel down:

We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk,
And girt thee with the sword.-Cousin of York,
We here discharge your grace from being regent
I' the parts of France, till term of eighteen months
Be full expir'd.-Thanks, uncle Winchester,
Gloster, York, Buckingham, Somerset,
Salisbury, and Warwick;

We thank you all for this great favour done,
In entertainment to my princely queen.
Come, let us in; and with all speed provide
To see her coronation be perform'd.

[Exeunt King, Queen, and SUFFOLK.
Glo. Brave peers of England, pillars of the state,
To you duke Humphrey must unload his grief,
Your grief, the common grief of all the land.
What! did my brother Henry spend his youth,
His valour, coin, and people, in the wars?
Did he so often lodge in open field,

In winter's cold, and summer's parching heat,
To conquer France, his true inheritance?
And did my brother Bedford toil his wits,
To keep by policy what Henry got?
Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham,
Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick,
Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy?
Or hath mine uncle Beaufort, and myself,
With all the learned council of the realm,
Studied so long, sat in the council-house
Early and late, debating to and fro

How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe?
And was his highness in his infancy
Crowned in Paris, in despite of foes?

And shall these labours, and these honours, die?
Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance,
Your deeds of war, and all our counsel, die?
O peers of England! shameful is this league:
Fatal this marriage; cancelling your fame,
Blotting your names from books of memory,
Razing the characters of your renown,
Defacing monuments of conquer'd France,
Undoing all, as all had never been.

Car. Nephew, what means this passionate discourse?

This peroration with such circumstance?
For France, 'tis ours; and we will keep it still.

Glo. Ay, uncle, we will keep it, if we can;
But now it is impossible we should.
Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast,
Hath given the duchy of Anjou, and Maine,
Unto the poor king Reignier, whose large style
Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.

Sal. Now, by the death of him that died for all,

These counties were the keys of Normandy.-
But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?
War. For grief, that they are past recovery;
For, were there hope to conquer them again,
My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears.
Anjou and Maine! myself did win them both;
Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer:
And are the cities that I got with wounds,
Deliver'd up again with peaceful words?
Mort Dieu!

York. For Suffolk's duke, may he be suffocate,
That dims the honour of this warlike isle!
France should have torn and rent my very heart,
Before I would have yielded to this league.
I never read but England's kings have had
Large sums of gold, and dowries, with their wives;
And our king Henry gives away his own,
To match with her that brings no vantages.

Glo. A proper jest, and never heard before, That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth, For costs and charges in transporting her! She should have stay'd in France, and starv'd in France,

Before

Car. My lord of Gloster, now you grow too hot It was the pleasure of my lord the king.

Glo. My lord of Winchester, I know your mind
'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 fury. 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.
Car. So, there goes our protector in a rage.
'Tis known to you he is mine enemy;
Nay, more, an enemy unto you all,
And no great friend, I fear me, to the king.
Consider, lords, he is the next of blood,
And heir apparent to the English crown:
Had Henry got an empire by his marriage,
And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west,
There's reason he should be displeas'd at it.
Look to it, lords: let not his smoothing words
Bewitch your hearts; be wise, and circumspect.
What though the common people favour him,
Calling him" Humphrey the good Duke of Gloster;"
Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice-
"Jesu maintain your royal excellence!"
With "God preserve the good duke Humphrey!"
I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss,
He will be found a dangerous protector.

Buck. Why should he, then, protect our sove reign,

He being of age to govern of himself?—
Cousin of Somerset, join you with me,
And all together, with the duke of Suffolk,

[Exit.

While these do labour for their own preferment,
Behoves it us to labour for the realm.

I never saw but Humphrey, duke of Gloster,
Did bear him like a noble gentleman.
Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal,

More like a soldier, than a man o' the church,
As stout, and proud, as he were lord of all,
Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself
Unlike the ruler of a common-weal.-
Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age,
Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy house-keeping,
Have 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 people.

Join we together, for the public 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 daughter.
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,
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 I seek to hit.

Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right,
Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head,
Whose church-like humours fit not for a crown.
Then, York, be still awhile, 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.
[Erit.

SCENE II.-The Same. A Room in the Duke of
GLOSTER'S House.

Enter GLOSTER, and the Duchess.

Duch. 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 seest 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.

My troublous dream this night doth make me sad. Duch. 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

Somerset,

And William de la Poole, first duke of Suffolk.
This was my dream: what it doth bode God knows.
Duch. Tut! this was nothing but an argument,
That he that breaks a stick of Gloster'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 were 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-nurtur'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.

Duch. What, what, my lord! are you so choleric
With Eleanor, for telling but her dream?
Next time, I'll keep my dreams unto myself,
And not he 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 St. Albans,
Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk.
Glo. I go.-Come, Nell; thou wilt ride with us?
Duch. Yes, my good lord, I'll follow presently.
[Exeunt GLOSTER, and Messenger.
Follow I must; I cannot go before,
While Gloster bears this base and humble mind.
Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,

I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks,
And smooth my way upon their headless necks:
And, being a woman, I will not be slack
To play my part in fortune's pageant.

Where are you there? Sir John! nay, fear not,

man,

We are alone; here's none but thee, and I.

Enter HUME.

Hume. Jesus preserve your royal majesty! Duch. What say'st thou? majesty! I am but

grace.

Hume. But, by the grace of God, and Hume's advice,

Your grace's title shall be multiplied.

Duch. What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet conferr'd

With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch,
And Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer?
And will they undertake to do me good?
Hume. This they have promised,—to show your
highness

A spirit rais'd from depth of under ground,
That shall make answer to such questions,
As by your grace shall be propounded him.

Duch. It is enough: I'll think upon the questions.
When from St. Albans we do make return,
We'll see these things effected to the full.
Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man
With thy confederates in this weighty cause.

[Exit DUCHESS.

Hume. Hume must make merry with the duch

ess' gold,

Marry, and shall. But how now, Sir John Hume!
Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum:
The business asketh silent secrecy.
Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch:
Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil.
Yet have I gold flies from another coast.:

I dare not say, from the rich cardinal,
And from the great and new-made duke of Suffolk.
Yet I do find it so for, to be plain,

They, knowing dame Eleanor's aspiring humour,
Have hired me to undermine the duchess,
And buz these conjurations in her brain.