And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland,
In bringing them to civil difcipline;
Thy late exploits done in the heart of France,
When thou wert Regent for our fovereign,
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 fupprefs
The pride of Suffolk, and the Cardinal,
With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition;
And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphry'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 fo fays York, for he hath greatest cause.
Sal. Then let's make haste, and look unto the main. * [Exe. Warwick and Salisbury.
SCENE III. Manet York,
York. Anjou and Maine are given to the French; Paris is loft; 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 penn'worths of their pillage,
And purchase friends, and give to courtezans,
Still revelling, like lords, till all be gone:
While as the filly 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 dares not touch his own.
So York must fit, and fret, and bite his tongue,
While his own lands are bargain'd for, and fold.
Methinks the realms of England, France, and Ireland,
Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood,
As did the fatal brand Althea burnt,
Unto the prince's heart of Calydon.
Anjou and Maine, both giv'n unto the French!
Cold news for me: for I had hope of France,
Ev'n as I have of fertile England's foil.
A day will come when York shall claim his own;
And therefore I will take the Nevills' parts,
And make a shew of love to proud Duke Humphry,
And, when I fpy advantage, claim the crown;
For that's the golden mark I seek to hit.
Nor fhall proud Lancaster ufurp my right,
Nor hold the fceptre in his childish fift,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head,
Whose church-like humour fits not for a crown.
Then, York, be still a while, till time do ferve:
Watch thou, and wake when others be afleep,
To pry into the secrets of the state;
Till Henry, furfeiting in joys of love
With his new bride, and England's dear-bought Queen,
And Humphry with the Peers be fall'n at jars..
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rofe,
With whose sweet finell the air fhall 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,
Whore bookith rule hath pull'd fair England down.
[Exit York.
SCENE IV. Changes to the Duke of Gloucester's house.
Enter Duke Humphry, and his wife Eleanor.
Elean Why droops my Lord, like over-ripen'd corn Hanging the head with Ceres' plenteous load Why doth the great Duke Humphry knit his brows, As frowning at the favours of the world? Why are thine eyes fix'd to the fullen earth, Gazing at that which feems to dim thy fight? What feest thou there? King Henry's diadem, Inchas'd with all the honours of the world?
If fo, gaze on, and grovel on thy face,
Until thy head be circled with the fame.
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 abafe our fight 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 dreams this night do make me fad.
Elean. What dream'd my Lord? tell me, and I'll
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 th' Cardinal;
And, on the pieces of the broken wand,
Were place'd the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset,
And William de la Pole first Duke of Suffolk.
This was the dream; what it doth bode, God knows.
Elean. Tut, this was nothing but an argument,
That he that breaks a stick of Glo'ster's grove,
Shall lose his head for his prefumption.
But lift to me, my Humphry, my sweet Duke.
Methought I fat in feat of majefty,
In the cathedral church of Westminster,
And in that chair where kings and queens are crown'd;
Where Henry and Margaret kneel'd to me,
And on my head did fet the diadem.
Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright.
Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur'd Eleanor,
Art thou not fecond woman in the realm,
And the Protector's wife, belov'd of him?
Haft 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.
Elean. 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 be check'd.
Glo. Nay, be not angry, I am pleas'd again.
Meff. My Lord Protector, 'tis his Highness' pleasure, You do prepare to ride unto St. Alban's, Whereas the King and Queen do mean to hawk. Glo. I go: come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us? [Exit Gloucester.
Elean. Yes, my good Lord, I'll follow presently. Follow I muit; I cannot go before,
While Glo'ster 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 flack
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.
Hume. Jesus preserve your Royal Majesty!
Elean. What say'st thou ? Majefty? I am but Grace.
Hume. But, by the grace of God, and Hume's advice,
Your Grace's title shall be multiply'd.
Elean. What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet con
With Margery Jordan the cunning witch,
And Roger Bolingbrook the conjurer ?
And will they undertake to do me good?
Hume. This they have promised to shew your High
A fpirit rais'd from depth of under-ground,
That shall make answer to such questions
As by your Grace shall be propounded him.
Elean. It is enough, I'll think upon the questions.
When from St. Alban's we do make return,
We'll fee those things effected to the full.
Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man,
With thy confederates in this weighty caufe.
Hume. Hume must make merry with the Duchers' Marry, and shall: but how now, Sir John Hume? Seal up your lips, and give no words, but mum! The business asketh filent secrecy.
Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch.
Gold cannot come amifs, were the a devil.
Yet have I gold flies from another coaft:
I dare not fay from the rich Cardinal,
And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk,
Yet I do find it fo: for to be plain,
They (knowing Dame Eleanor's afpiring humour)
Have hired me to undermine the Duchels,
And buzz these conjurations in her brain.
They say, a crafty knave does need no broker;
Yet am I Suffolk's and the Cardinal's broker.
Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near
To call them both a pair of crafty knaves.
Well, fo it stands; and thus I fear, at last,
Hume's knavery will be the Duchefs' wreck,
And her attainture will be Humphry's fall.
Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all.
SCENE V. Changes to an apartment in the palace.
Enter three or four Petitioners, Peter the armourer's man being one.
1 Pet. My masters, let's stand close; my Lord Protector will come this way by and by, and then we may deliver our fupplications in the quill.
2 Pet. Marry, the Lord protect him, for he's a good man; Jefu bless him!
Enter Suffolk, and Queen.
1 Pet. Here a' comes, methinks, and the Queen with him. I'll be the firit, fure.
2 Pet. Come back, fool; this is the Duke of Suf
folk, and not my Lord Protector.
Suf. How now, fellow, would'st any thing with
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