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Som. Coufin of Buckingham, though Humphry's Pride
And greatnefs 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 Glo'fter be difplac'd, he'll be Protector.

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

[Ex. Buckingham and Somerfet, 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 Plainness, and thy House keeping, Have won the greatest Favour of the Commons, Excepting none but Good Duke Humphry. · 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 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. 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 away,

And look unto the main.

War

War. Unto the main?

Oh Father, Main is loft,

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

[Ex. Warwick and Salisbury. Manet York. 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 purchafe Friends, and give to Curtezans,
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 fhar'd, and all is born away,
Ready to ftarve, and dare not touch his own.
So York muft 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 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,

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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.

VOL. IV.

M

Ther

Then York be ftill a while, 'till Time do ferve:
Watch thou, and wake when others be asleep,
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 whose sweet smell the Air fhall be perfum❜d,
And in my Standard bear the Arms of York,
To grapple with the Houfe of Lancaster,

And force perforce I'll make him yield the Crown,
Whofe 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 abafe our Sight fo low,
As to vouchsafe one glance unto 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,
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 requite it
With fweet 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

But as I think, it was by th' Cardinal,

And on the pieces of the broken. Ward

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
Elean. Tut, this was nothing but an Argument,
That he that breaks a Stick of Glofter'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 kneel'd to me,

And on my Head did let the Diadem.

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

Art thou not second Woman in the Realm?
And the Protector's Wife, belov'd of him?
Haft thou not worldly Pleasure at command,
Above the reach or compafs of thy Thought?
And wilt thou fill 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 self,
And not be check'd.

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

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 presently.
Follow I muft, I cannot go before,
While Glofter bears this base and humble Mind,
Were I a Man, a Duke, and next of Blood,
I would remove thefe tedious ftumbling Blocks,

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And

And fmooth 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.

Enter Hume.

Hume. Jefus preferve your Royal Majefty. Elean. What fay'ft thou? Majefty: I am but Grace. Hume. But by the Grace of God, and Hume's Advice, Your Grace's Title fhall be multiply'd,

Elean. What fay't thou, Man? Haft thou as yet conferr'd "With Margery Fordan, the cunning Witch; With Roger Bullingbrook, the Conjurer,

And will they undertake to do me good?

Hume. This they have promised, to fhew your Highness A Spirit rais'd from depth of under Ground, That fhall make answer to fuch Questions, As by your Grace fhall be propounded him. Elean. It is enough, I'll think upon the Questions: When from St. Albans we do make return; We'll see those things effected to the full. Here Hume, take this Reward, make merry Man With thy Confederates in this weighty Cause.

[Exit Eleanor. *Hame. Hume muft make merry with the Dutchess's Gold: Marry and fhall; but how now, Sir John Hume? Seal up your Lips, and give no Words, but Mum; The bufinefs asketh filent fecrecy.

Dame Eleanor gives Gold, to bring the Witch:
Gold cannot come amifs, were fhe a Devil.

Yet have I Gold flies from another Coast:
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 Dutchefs,
And buz these Conjurations in her Brain.
They fay, a crafty Knave does need no Broker;
Yet am I Suffolk's, and the Cardinal's Broker.
Hume, if you take not heed, you fhall go near
To call them both a pair of crafty Knaves.

Well,