York. Why here's a Girl; I think she knows not well (There were fo many) whom the may accufe. War. It's fign fhe had been liberal and free. York. And yet forfooth fhe is a Virgin pure. Strumpet, thy words condemn thy Brat, and thee. Ufe no intreaty, for it is in vain.

Pucel. Then lead me hence; with whom I leave my curfe. May never glorious Sun reflex his Beams

Upon the Country where you make abode;

But darkness, and the gloomy fhade of death
Inviron you, till Mischief and Defpair

Drive you to break your Necks, or hang your felves. [Exit.
Enter Cardinal.

York. Break thou in pieces, and confume to Ashes,
Thou foul accurfed Minifter of Hell.

Car. Lord Regent, I do greet your Excellence
With Letters of Commiffion from the King.
For know, my Lords, the States of Christendom,
Mov'd with remorfe of these outrageous broils,
Have earnestly implor'd a general Peace,
Betwixt our Nation and th' afpiring French;
And here at hand, the Dauphin and his Train
Approacheth, to confer about fome matters.

York. Is all our Travel-turn'd to this Effect ?
After the flaughter of fo many Peers,
So many Captains, Gentlemen, and Soldiers,
That in this Quarrel have been overthrown,
And fold their Bodies for their Countries Benefit,
Shall we at laft conclude effeminate Peace?
Have we not loft most part of all the Towns,
By Treafon, Falfhood, and by Treachery,
Our great Progenitors had conquered?
Oh Warwick, Warwick, I forefee with grief
The utter lofs of all the Realm of France.
War. Be patient, York; if we conclude a Peace,
It fhall be with fuch strict and severe Covenants,
As little fhall the Frenchmen gain thereby.

Enter Charles, Alenfon, Bastard and Reignier.
Char. Since, Lords of England, it is thus agreed,
That peaceful Truce fhall be proclaim'd in France,

We come to be informed by your felves,
What the Conditions of that League muft be.
York. Speak, Winchester; for boiling Choler chokes
The hollow paffage of my poifon'd Voice,
By fight of these our baleful Enemies.

Win. Charles, and the reft, it is enacted thus:
That in regard King Henry gives confent,
Of meer compaffion, and of lenity,
To cafe your Country of distressful War,
And fuffer you to breath in fruitful Peace,
You fhall become true Liegemen to his Crown
And Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear
Το pay him Tribute, and submit thy felf,
Thou shalt be plac'd as Viceroy under him,
And ftill enjoy thy regal Dignity.

Alen. Muft he be then a fhadow of himself?
Adorn his Temples with a Coronet,
And yet in Subftance and Authority,
Retain but privilege of a private Man?
This Proffer is abfurd and reafonless.

Char. 'Tis known already, that I am pofleft
Of more than half the Gallian Territories,
And therein reverenced for their lawful King.
Shall I for lucre of the reft un-vanquifh'd,
Detract fo much from that Prerogative,
As to be call'd but Viceroy of the whole?
No, Lord Ambaffador, I'll rather keep
That which I have, than coveting for more,
Be caft from poffibility of all.

York. Infulting Charles, haft thou by secret means
Us'd interceffion to obtain a League,

And now the matter grows to compromife,
Stand'ft thou aloof upon Comparison?
Either accept the Title thou ufurp'ft,
Of benefit proceeding from our King,
And not of any challenge of Defert,
Or we will plague thee with inceffant Wars.
Reig. My Lord, you do not well, in obstinacy
To cavil in the course of this Contract:

If once it be neglected, ten to one

We

We fhall not find like opportunity.

Alen. To fay the truth, it is your Policy,
To fave your Subjects from fuch maffacre.
And ruthless flaughters as are daily feen
By our proceeding in Hoftility.

And therefore take this compact of a Truce,

Although you break it, when your pleasure ferves.

War. How fay'ft thou Charles?

Shall our Condition stand?
Char. It fhall:

Only referv'd, you claim no intereft
any of our Towns of Garrison.

In

Afide to the Dauphin!

York. Then fwear Allegiance to his Majesty,
As thou art Knight, never to disobey,

Nor be Rebellious to the Crown of England,
Thou nor thy Nobles, to the Crown of England.
So, now difmifs your Army when you please:
Hang up your Enfigns, let your Drums be still,
For here we entertain a folemn Peace.
[Exeunt
Enter Suffolk in conference with King Henry, Gloucefter
and Exeter.

K. Henry. Your wondrous rare defcription, noble Earl,
Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me:
Her Virtues graced with external Gifts,
Do breed Loves fettled Paffions in my Heart.
And like as rigour of tempeftuous Gufts
Provokes the mightieft Hulk against the Tide,
So am I driven by breath of her Renown,
Either to fuffer Shipwrack, or arrive
Where I may have fruition of her Love.

Suf. Tufh, my good Lord, this fuperficial Tale
Is but a Preface to her worthy Praise:
The chief Perfections of that lovely Dame,
Had I fufficient Skill to utter them,
Would make a Volume of inticing lines,.
Able to ravish any dull Conceit.

And which is more, fhe is not fo Divine,
So full repleat with choice of all Delights,
But with as humble lowliness of Mind,

She

She is content to be at your command:
Command, I mean, of virtuous chafte intents,
To love and honour Henry, as her Lord.

K. Henry. And otherwife, will Henry ne'er prefume::
Therefore, my Lord Protector, give consent,
That Margaret may be England's Royal Queen.
Glo. So fhould I give confent to flatter Sin.
You know, my Lord, your Highness is betroth'd
Unto another Lady of esteem.

How fhall we then dispense with the Contract,
And not deface your Honour with reproach?..
Suf. As doth a Ruler with unlawful Oaths,
Or one that at a Triumph, having vow'd
To try his ftrength, forfaketh yet the Lifts
By reafon of his Adverfary's odds.

A poor Earl's Daughter in unequal odds,

And therefore may be broke without offence.

Glo. Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more than that? Her Father is no better than an Earl,

Although in glorious Titles he excel.

Suf. Yes, my good Lord, her Father is a King,
The King of Naples and Jerufalem,

And of fuch great Authority in France,
That his Alliance will confim our Peace,
And keep the Frenchmen in Allegiance.
Glo. And fo the Earl of Armagnac may do,
Because he is near Kinsman unto Charles.

Exe. Befide his Wealth doth warrant liberal Dower, Where Reignier fooner will receive than give,

Suf. A Dower, my Lords! Difgrace not fo your King
That he should be fo abject, bafe, and poor,
To chufe for Wealth, and not for perfect Love..
Henry is able to enrich his Queen,

And not to feek a Queen to make him rich,
So worthless Peasants bargain for their Wives,
As Market-men for Oxen, Sheep, or Horse.
But Marriage is a matter of more worth,
Than to be dealt in by Attorney-ship:

Not whom we will, but whom his Grace affects,
Must be companion of his nuptial Bed.

And

And therefore, Lords, fince he affects her moft,
It most of all thefe Reasons bindeth us,
In our Opinions fhe fhould be preferr❜d;
For what is Wedlock forced, but a Hell,
An age of Discord and continual Strife?
Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss,
And is a Pattern of celeftial Peace.

Whom should we match with Henry, being a King,
But Margaret, that is Daughter to a King?
Her peerless Feature, joined with her Birth,
Approves her fit for none, but for a King.
Her valiant Courage, and undaunted Spirit,
More than in Woman commonly is seen,
Will answer our hope in Iffue of a King:
For Henry, Son unto a Conqueror,
Is likely to beget more Conquerors,
If with a Lady of fo high refolve,

As is fair Margaret, he be link'd in Love.

Then yield my Lords, and here conclude with me,
That Margaret fhall be Queen, and none but the.

K. Henry. Whether it be through force of your report
My noble Lord of Suffolk; or for that
My tender Youth was never yet attaint
With any Paffion of inflaming Love,
I cannot tell; but this I am affur'd,
I feel fuch fharp diffention in my Breast,
Such fierce alarums both of Hope and Fear,
As I am fick with working of my Thoughts,

Take therefore Shipping; poft, my Lord, to Franes,
Agree to any Covenants, and procure

That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come
To cross the Seas to England, and be Crown'd,
King Henry's faithful and anointed Queen.
For your Expences and fufficient Charge,
Among the People gather up a tenth.
Be gone, I fay, for 'till you do return,
I reft perplexed with a thousand Cares.
And you, good Uncle, banish all offence :
If you do cenfure me, by what you were,
Not what you are, I know it will excuse