Enter the Duchefs in a white sheet, and a taper burning in her hand, with Sir John Stanley, a Sheriff and : Officers.

Serv. So pleafe your Grace, we'll take her from the

Sheriff.

Glo. No, ftir not for your lives, let her pafs by.

Elean. Come you, my Lord, to fee my open fhame?
Now thou doft penance too. Look how they gaze!
See how the giddy multitude do point,

And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee!
Ah, Glo'fter, hide thee from their hateful looks;
And in thy closet pent up, rue my shame,
And ban our enemies, both mine and thine.
Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.
Elean. Ah! Glo'nter, teach me to forget myfelf:
For whilst I think I am thy married wife,
And thou a prince, Protector of this land,
Methinks I fhould not thus be led along,
Mail'd up in fhame, with papers on my back;
And followed with a rabble, that rejoice
To fee my tears, and hear my deep-fetch'd groans..
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet;
And when I start, the cruel people laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.

Ah! Humphry, can I bear this fhameful yoke?
Trow'st thou that e'er I'll look upon the world,
Or count them happy that enjoy the fun?
No: dark fhall be my light, and night my day.
To think upon my pomp, fhall be my hell.
Sometime I'll fay I am Duke Humphry's wife,
And he a prince and ruler of the land:
Yet fo he rul'd, and fuch a prince he was,
That he stood by, whilft I, his forlorn Duchefs,
Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock
To every idle, raïcal follower.

But be thou mild, and blush not at my fhame,
Nor ftir at nothing, till the ax of death
Hang over thee, as, fure, it fhortly will.
For Suffolk (he that can do all in all
With her that hateth thee and hates us all),

And York, and impious Beaufort, that falfe priest,

Have all lim'd bufhes to betray thy wings:
And fly thou, how thou canft, they'll tangle thee;
But fear not thou until thy foot be ínar'd,
Nor never feek prevention of thy foes.

Glo Ah, Nell, forbear; thou aimeft all awry.
I must offend before I be attainted:

And had I twenty times fo many foes,

And each of them had twenty times their power,
All thefe could not procure me any fcathe,
So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless.
Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach?
Why, yet thy fcandal were not wip'd away;
But I in danger for the breach of law.
Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell :
I pray thee, fort thy heart to patience;
Thefe few days' wonder will be quickly worn.
Enter a Herald.

Her. I fummon your Grace to his Majefty's parlia ment holden at Bury, the firft of this next month. Glo. And my confent ne'er afk'd herein before? This is clofe dealing. Well, I will be there.

[Exit Herald.

My Nell, I take my leave; and, Master Sheriff,
Let not her penance exceed the King's commiffion.
Sher. An't pleafe your Grace, here my commiffion
And Sir John Stanley is appointed now,

To take her with him to the ifle of Man.

[stays:

Gl. Muft you, Sir John, protect my Lady here? Stan. So am I giv'n in charge, may't pleafe your

Grace.

Glo. Intreat her not the worfe, in that I pray

You use her well; the world may laugh again;

And I may live to do you kindness, if

You do it her: and fo, Sir John, farewell.

Elean What gone, my Lord, and bid me not farewell? Glo. Witnefs my tears, I cannot stay to speak. [Exit Gloucefter.

Elean. Art thou gone too? all comfort go with thee!

For none abides with me; my joy is death;

Death, at whofe name I oft have been afraid,
Because I wish'd this world's eternity.

Stanley, I pr'ythee, go and take me hence,

I care not whither, for I beg no favour;
Only convey me where thou art commanded.
Stan. Why, Madam, that is to the isle of Man;
There to be us'd according to your state.

Elean. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach: And fhall I then be us'd reproachfully?

Stan. No; like a Duchefs, and Duke Humphry's According to that state you fhall be us'd.

[lady, Elean, Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare ; Although thou hast been conduct of my fhame. Sher. It is my office; Madam, pardon me. Elean. Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is discharg'd. Come, Stanley, fhall we go?

Stan. Madam, your penance done, throw off this And go we to attire you for our journey

[sheet, Elean. My fhame will not be fhifted with my fheet ::

No, it will hang upon my richest robes,
And thew itfelf, attire me how I can.

Go, lead the way, I long to fee my prifon. Excunts

ACT

III.

SCENE N.

At Bury.

Enter King Henry, Queen, Cardinal, Suffolk, York, Buckingham, Salisbury, and Warwick, to the parlia.

ment.

K. Henry. Mufe my Lord of Glo'fter is not cone: 'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, Whate'er occafion keeps him from us now.

2. Mar. Can you not fee? or will you not obferve The strangeness of his alter'd countenance?

With what a majesty he bears himself,

How infolent of late he is become,

How peremptory and unlike himself!

We know the time fince he was mild and affable;

And if we did but glance a far off look,

Immediately he was upon his knee;

That all the court admir'd him for fubmiffion.

But meet him now, and be it in the morn,

When ev'ry one will give the time of day,
He knits his brow, and fhews an angry eye,
And paffeth by with stiff unbowed knee,
Difdaining duty that to us belongs.

Small curs are not regarded when they grin;
But great men tremble when the lion roars,
And Humphry is no little man in England.
First note, that he is near you in descent;
And should you fall, he is the next will mount.
Me feemeth then, it is no policy,

(Refpecting what a ranc'rous mind he bears,
And his advantage following your decease),
That he fhould come about your royal perfon,
Or be admitted to your Highness' council.
By flatt'ry hath he won the commons' hearts:
And when he'll please to make commotion,
'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him.
Now 'tis the fpring, 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 thefe dangers in the Duke.
If it be fond, call it a woman's fear :
Which fear, if better reafons can fupplant,
I will subscribe, and fay, I wrong'd the Duke.
My Lords of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York,
Reprove my allegation, if you can,

Or else conclude my words effectual.

Suf. Well hath your Highness feen into this Duke. And had I first been put to fpeak my mind,

I think I fhould have told your Grace's tale.
The Duchefs, by his fubornation,

Upon my life, began her devilith practices;
Or if he were not privy to those faults,
Yet, by reputing of his high defcent,
As next the King he was fucceffive heir,
And fuch high vaunts of his nobility,
Did inftigate the bedlam brain-fick Duchefs,
By wicked means to frame our Sov'reign's fall.
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep,
And in his fimple fhew he harbours treason.
The fox barks not when he would fteal the lamb.

No, no, my Sovereign; Glo'fter is a man
Unfounded yet, and full of deep deceit.

Car. Did he not, contrary to form of law,
Devise strange deaths for small offences done?
Tork. And did he not, in his Protectorship,
Levy great fums of money through the realm
For foldiers' pay in France, and never fent it?
By means whereof the towns each day revolted.

Buck. Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown, Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphry.

K. Henry. My Lords, at once; the care you have of us,

To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot,
Is worthy praise. But fhall I peak my confcience ?
Our kinfman Glo'fter is as innocent

From meaning treafon to our royal perfon,
As is the fuckling lamb or harmless dove.

The Duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given
To dream on evil, or to work my downfal.

2 Mar. Ah! what's more dang'rous than this fond affiance?

Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrow'd;
For he's difpofed as the hateful raven.

Is he a lamb? his fkin is furely lent him;
For he's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf.
Who cannot steal a fhape, that means deceit ?
Take heed, my Lord; the welfare of us all
Hangs on the cutting fhort that fraudful man.

Enter Somerset.

Som. All health unto my gracious Sovereign! K. Henry. Welcome, Lord Somerfet; what news from France?

Som. That all your int'reft in thofe territories Is utterly bereft you; all is loft.

K. Henry. Cold news, Lord Somerfet; but God's will be done!

York. Cold news for me: for I had hope of France, As firmly as I hope for fertile England. Thus are my bloffoms blafted in the bud,

And caterpillars eat my leaves away.