And to relief of Lazars, and weak Age
Of indigent faint Souls, paft corporal Toil,
A hundred Alms-houses, right well fupply'd;
And to the Coffers of the King, befide,

A thousand pound by th' Year. Thus runs the Bill.
Ely. This would drink deep.

Cant. Twould drink the Cup and all.
Ely. But what prevention?

Cant. The King is full of grace, and fair regard.
Ely. And a true Lover of the Holy Church.
Cant. The courfes of his Youth promis'd it not;
The breath no fooner left his Father's Body,
But that his Wildnefs mortify'd in him,
Seem'd to die too; yea at that very moment,
Confideration, like an Angel, came,
And whipt th' offending Adam out of him,
Leaving his Body as a Paradife,

T'invelope and contain Celeftiai Spirits.
Never was fuch a fudden Scholar made:
Never came Reformation in a Flood
With fuch a heady current, fcowring Faults:
Nor never Hydra-headed Wilfulness

So foon did lofe his Seat, and all at once,
As in this King.

Ely. We are bleffed in the Change.

Cant. Hear him but reafon in Divinity,
And all-admiring, with an inward wish

You would defire the King were made a Prelate.
Hear him debate of Commonwealth Affairs;
You would fay, it hath been all in all his Study:
Lift his Difcourfe of War, and you shall hear
A fearful Battel rendred you in Mufick.
Turn him to any Caufe of Policy,

The Gordian Knot of it he will unloofe,
Familiar as his Garter; then when he speaks,
The Air, a Charter'd Libertine, is still,
And the mute Wonder lurketh in Mens Ears,
To fteal his fweet and honied Sentences:
So that the Art and practick Part of Life
Must be the Miftrefs to his Theorique.
Which is a wonder how his Grace fhould glean it,

Since his Addiction was to courfes vain,

His Companies unletter'd, rude, and shallow,
His Hours fill'd up with Riots, Banquets, Sports;
And never noted in him any study,

Any retirement, any fequeftration

From open Haunts and Popularity.

Ely. The Strawberry grows underneath the Nettle, And wholfom Berries thrive and ripen best, Neighbour'd by Fruit of bafer quality:

And fo the Prince obfcur'd his Contemplation
Under the vail of Wildnefs; which, no doubt,
Grew like the Summer Grafs, fafteft by Night,
Unfeen, yet crefcive in his Faculty.

Cant. It must be fo; for Miracles are ceas'd:
And therefore we muft needs admit the Means,
How things are perfe&ed.

Ely. But, my good Lord:

How now for mitigation of this Bill,

Urg'd by the Commons? Doth his Majefty
Incline to it, or no?

Cant. He feems indifferent:

Or rather swaying more upon our Part,
Than cherishing th' exhibiters against us:
For I have made an offer to his Majefty,
Upon our Spiritual Convocation,
And in regard of Caufes now in hand,
Which I have open'd to his Grace at large,
As touching France, to give a greater Sum
Than ever at one time the Clergy yet

Did to his Predeceffors

part withal.

Ely. How did this Offer feem receiv'd, my Lord?
Cant. With good acceptance of his Majefty:
Save that there was not time enough to hear,
As I perceiv'd his Grace would fain have done,
The feverals and unhidden Paffages

Of his true Titles to fome certain Dukedoms,
And generally, to the Crown and Seat of France,
Deriv'd from Edward, his great Grandfather.

Ely. What was th' impediment that broke this off?
Cant. The French Ambaffador upon that inftant
Crav'd Audience; and the Hour I think is come,
VOL. III.
Y

To give him hearing. Is it four a Clock?
Ely. It is.

Cant. Then go we in to know his Embaffie:
Which I could with a ready guefs declare,
Before the Frenchman speaks a Word of it.

Ely. I'll wait upon you, and I long to hear it. [Exeunt. Enter King Henry, Gloucefter, Bedford, Clarence, Warwick, Weftmorland, and Exeter.

K. Henry. Where is my gracious Lord of Canterbury? Exe. Not here in prefence.

K. Henry. Send for him, good Uncle.

Weft. Shall we call in the Ambaffador, my Liege? K. Henry. Not yet, my Coufin; we would be refolv'd, Before we hear him, of fome things of weight, That task our Thoughts, concerning us and France. Enter the Arch-Bishop of Canterbury, and Bishop of Ely. Cant. God and his Angels guard your facred Throne, And make you long become it.

K. Henry. Sure we thank you.

My learned Lord, we pray you to proceed,
And justly and religiously unfold,

Why the Law Salike, that they have in France,
Or fhould, or should not bar us in our Claim.
And God forbid, my dear and faithful Lord,
That you should fashion, wreft, or bow your reading,
Or nicely charge your understanding Soul
With opening Titles mifcreate, whofe right
Sutes not in native Colours with the truth:
For God doth know, how many now in health
Shall drop their Blood, in approbation
Of what your Reverence fhall incite us to.
Therefore take heed how you impawn our Perfon,
How you awake our fleeping Sword of War:
We charge you in the Name of God take heed.
For never two fuch Kingdoms did contend
Without much fall of Blood, whofe guiltless drops
Are every one, a Woe, a fore Complaint,

'Gainft him, whofe Wrong gives edge unto the Swords,
That make fuch wafte in brief Mortality.
Under this Conjuration, fpeak my Lord;
For we will hear, note, and believe in Heart,

That

That what you fpeak is in your Confcience wafht,
As pure as Sin with Baptifm.

Cant. Then hear me, gracious Soveraign, and you Peers,
That owe your felves, your Lives, and Services,
To this Imperial Throne. There is no Bar
To make against your Highness' Claim to France,
But this which they produce from Pharamond,
In terram Salicam Mulieres ne fuccedant,
No Woman shall fucceed in Salike Land:
Which Salike Land, the French unjustly gloze
To be the Realm of France, and Pharamond
The founder of this Law and female Bar.
Yet their own Authors faithfully affirm,
That the Land Salike is in Germany,
Between the Floods of Sala and of Elve:
Where Charles the Great having fubdu'd the Saxons,
There left behind and fettled certain French:
Who holding in difdain the German Women,
For fome difhoneft manners of their Life,
Eftablifht then this Law; to wit, No Female
Should be Inheritrix in Salike Land:
Which Salike, as I faid, 'twixt Elve and Sala,
Is at this Day in Germany call'd Meisen.
Then doth it well appear; the Salike Law
Was not devifed for the Realm of France :
Nor did the French poffefs the Salike Land,
Until four hundred one and twenty Years
After defunction of King Pharamond,
Idly fuppos'd the Founder of this Law,
Who died within the Year of our Redemption,
Four hundred twenty fix; and Charles the Great
Subdu'd the Saxons, and did feat the French
Beyond the River Sala, in the Year

Eight hundred five. Befides, their Writers fay,
King Pepin, which depofed Childerick,

Did, as Heir general, being defcended

Of Blithild, which was Daughter to King Clothair,
Make Claim and Title to the Crown of France:
Hugh Capet alfo, who ufurp'd the Crown

Of Charles the Duke of Lorain, fole Heir-male
Of the true Line and Stock of Charles the Great:

To find his Title with fome shews of truth,
Though in pure truth it was corrupt and naught,
Convey'd himself as th' Heir to th' Lady Lingare,
Daughter to Charlemain, who was the Son'
To Lewis the Emperor, and Lewis the Son
Of Charles the Great: Alfo King Lewis the Tenth,
Who was fole Heir to the Ufurper Capet,
Could not keep quiet in his Confcience,
Wearing the Crown of France, 'till fatisfy'd,
That fair Queen Ifabel, his Grandmother,
Was Lineal of the Lady Ermengare,

Daughter to Charles the forefaid Duke of Lorain:
By the which Marriage, the Line of Charles the Great
Was re-united to the Crown of France.

So, that as clear as is the Summer's Sun,
King Pepin's Title, and Hugh Capet's Claim,
King Lewis his Satisfaction, all appear
To hold in Right and Title of the Female:"
So do the Kings of France upon this Day.
Howbeit, they would hold up this Salike Law,
To bar your Highnefs claiming from the Female,
And rather chufe to hide them in a Net,

Than amply to make bare their crooked Titles,
Ufurpt from you and your Progenitors,

[Claim?

K. Henry. May I with Right and Conscience make this
Cant. The Sin upon my Head, dread Soveraign:

For in the Book of Numbers, it is writ,
When the Man dies, let the Inheritance
Defcend unto the Daughter. Gracious Lord,
Stand for your own, unwind your bloody Flag,
Look back into your mighty Ancestors;

Go, my dread Lord, to your great Grandfire's Tomb,
From whom you claim; invoke his Warlike Spirit,
And your great Uncle, Edward the Black Prince,
Who on the French Ground play'd a Tragedy,
Making defeat on the full Power of France:
Whiles his moft Mighty Father on a Hill,
Stood fmiling, to behold his Lion's Whelp
Forage in Blood of French Nobility.
O noble English, that could entertain,

With half their Forces, the full Pride of France,

And