Car. My Lord of Glo'fter, now ye 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 miflike;
But 'tis my Prefence that doth trouble you.
Rancour will out, proud Prelate; in thy Face
I fee thy fury: If I longer stay,

We shall begin our ancient Bickerings..
Lordings farewel, and fay when I am gone,
I prophefi'd, France will be loft e'er long.
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
Confider, 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 Weft,
There's reafon he fhould be difpleas'd at it:
Look to it, Lords, let not his fmoothing Words
Bewitch your Hearts, be wife and circumfpect.
What though the common People favour him,
Calling him Humphry, the good Duke of Glo'ster,
Clapping their Hands, and crying with loud voice,
Jefu maintain your Royal Excellence,

With God preferve the good Duke Humphry.
I fear me, Lords, for all this flattering glofs,
He will be found a dangerous Protector.

Buck. Why should he then protect our Sovereign,
He being of age to govern of himself?
Coufin of Somerset, join you with me,
And all together with the Duke of Suffolk,
We'll quickly hoife Duke Humphry from his Seat.
Car. This weighty bufinefs will not brook delay,

I'll to the Duke of Suffolk prefently.

[Exit.

[Exit

Som. Coufin of Buckingham, though Humphry's Pride
And greatness of his Place be grief to us,
Yet let us watch the haughty Cardinal:
His Infolence is more intolerable
Than all the Princes in the Land befide;
If Glofter be difplac'd, he'll be Protector.
VOL. III.

I i

Buck

Buck. Or thou, or I, Somerset, will be Protector, Defpight Duke Humphry, or the Cardinal.

[Exit Buckingham and Somerset. Sal. Pride went before, Ambition follows him. While thefe do labour for their own Preferment, Behoves it us to labour for the Realm. I never faw but Humphry Duke of Glofter, Did bear him like a noble Gentleman: Oft have I feen the haughty Cardinal, More like a Soldier than a Man o'th' Church, As ftout 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 Plainnefs, and thy Houfe-keeping, Have won the greatest favour of the Commons, Excepting none but Good Duke Humphry. And Brother Tork, thy Acts in Ireland, In bringing them to civil Difcipline; Thy late Exploits done irhe 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 publick Good, In what we can, to bridle and fupprefs The Pride of Suffolk, and the Cardinal, With Somerfer's and Buckingham's Ambition, And as we may cherish Duke Humphry's Deeds, While they do tend the profit of the Land.

War. S God help Warwick, as he loves the Land, And common profit of his Country.

That Main, which by main force Warwick did win,
And would have kept, fo long as breath did last:
Main-chance Father you meant, but I meant Main,
Which I will win from France, or else be flain.

[Exit Warwick and Salisbury. Manet York.
Tork.

York. Anjou and Main 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 pennyworths 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 thakes his Head, and trembling ftands aloof,
While all is fhar'd, and all is born away,
Ready to farve, and dare not touch his own.
So York muft fit, and fret, and bite his Tongue,
Whlie 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 Calidon:
Anjou and Main 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 fhall claim his own,
And therefore I will take the Nevills parts,
And make a fhew of Love to proud Duke Humphry,
And when I fpy advantage claim the Crown;
For that's the golden Mark I feek to hit:
Nor fhall proud Lancaster ufurp my Right,
Nor hold the Scepter in his childish Fift,
Nor wear the Diadem upon his Head,

Whofe 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 Rose,

With

With whose sweet smell 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,
Whole Bookish Rule hath pull'd fair England down.

Exit York.
Enter Duke Humphry, and his Wife Eleanor.
Elean. Why droops my Lord, like over-ripen'd Corn,
Hanging the Head at Ceres plenteous Load?
Why doth the great Duke Humphry knit his Brows,
As frowning at the Favours of the World?
Why are thine Eyes fixt to the fullen Earth,
Gazing at that which feems to dim thy Sight?
What feeft thou there? King Henry's Diadem,
Inchac'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 fhort? 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 fo low,
As to vouchsafe one glance upon the Ground.

Glo. O Nell, fweet Nell, if thou doft love thy Lord, Banish the Canker of ambitious Thoughts:

And may that Thought, when I imagine Ill Against my King and Nephew, virtuous Henry, laft breathing in this Mortal World.

Be my

My troublous Dreams this Night do make me fad.

Elean. What dream'd my Lord? tell me, and I'll requite it With fweet Rehearfal 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 plac'd the Heads of Edmond, Duke of Somerset,
And William de la Pole, firft Duke of Suffolk,

This was the Dream, what it doth bode, God knows.
Flean. Tut, this was nothing but an Argument,

That he that breaks a Srick of Glo'fter's Grove,
Shall lofe his Head for his Prefumption,

But lift to me, my Humphry, my fweet Duke:
Methought I fate in Seat of Majefty,

In the Cathedral Church of Westminster,

And in that Chair where Kings and Queens were crown'd, Where Henry and Margaret knee'd to me,

And on my Head did fet the Diadem.

Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then muft I chide outright:
Prefumptuous Dame, ill-natur'd Eleanor,

Art thou not fecond Woman in the Realm?
And the Protector's Wife, belov'd of him?
Haft thou not worldly Pleafure at command,
Above the reach or compafs of thy Thought?
And wilt thou still be hammering Treachery,
To tumble down thy Husband and thy felf,
From top of Honour, to Difgrace's feet?
Away from me, and let me hear no more,

Elean. What, what, my Lord, are you fo Cholerick
With Eleanor, for telling but her Dream?
Next time, I'll keep my Dreams unto my felf,
And not be check'd,

Glo. Nay, be not angry, I am pleas'd again.

Enter Mellenger.

Melf. My Lord Protector, 'tis his Highness pleasure, 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? [Ex. Glo. Elean. Yes, my good Lord, I'll follow prefently.

Follow I muft, I cannot go before,

While Glofter bears this bafe and humble Mind.
Were I a Man, a Duke, and next of Blood,
I would remove these tedious ftumbling Blocks,
And smooth my way upon their headless Necks,
And being a Woman, I will not be flick
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. Jefus preferve your Royal Majesty,

Elean. What fay'st thou? Maj fty: I am but Grace. Hume. But by the Grace of God, and Hume's Advice, Your Grace's Title fhall be my Iriply'd,

113

Elean.