But I will remedy this gear ere long.

Or fell my title for a glorious grave.

SCENE

II. Enter Gloucefler.

Glo. All happiness unto my Lord the King! Pardon, my Liege, that I have staid fo long.

[Afide.

Suf. Nay, Glo'fter, know, that thou art come too Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art.

I do arrest thee of high treafon here.

[foon,

Glo. Well, Suffolk, yet thou shalt not see me blush, Nor change my countenance for this arrest. A heart unfpotted is not eafily daunted. The pureft fpring is not fo free from mud, As I am clear from treason to my Sovereign. Who can accuse me? wherein am I guilty?

York. 'Tis thought, my Lord, that you took bribes of France;

And, being Protector, ftaid the foldiers' pay;
By means whereof his Highness hath loft France.
Glo. Is it but thought fo? what are they that think
I never robb'd the foldiers of their pay,

Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.
So help me God, as I have watch'd the night,

Lit?

Ay, night by night, in ftudying good for England!
That doit that e'er I wrested from the King,
Or any groat I hoarded to my use,

Be brought against me at my trial-day!
No; many a pound of my own proper store,
Because I would not tax the needy commons,
Have I disbursed to the garrisons,

And never afk'd for reftitution.

Car. It ferves you well, my Lord, to say so much. Glo. I fay no more than truth; fo help me God! York. In your Protectorship you did devise

Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of,

That England was defam'd by tyranny.

Glo Why, 'tis well known, that, whiles I was Pro

Pity was all the fault that was in me:

For I fhould melt at an offender's tears,

And lowly, words were ransom for their fault,

Unless it were a bloody murtherer,

[tector,

Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor paffengers,

D

I never gave them condign punishment.

Murther, indeed, that bloody fin, I tortur'd
Above the felon, or what trespass else.

Suf. My Lord, thefe faults are eafy, quickly an
fwer'd;

But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge,
Whereof you cannot eafily purge yourself.
I do arrest you in his Highness' name,

And here commit you to my Lord Cardinal
To keep, until your further time of trial.

K. Henry. My Lord of Glo'ster, 'tis my special hope,
That you will clear yourself from all fufpicion;
My confcience tells me you are innocent.

Glo. Ah, gracious Lord, thefe days are dangerous. Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition,

And Charity chas'd hence by Rancour's hand.
Foul Subornation is predominant,

And Equity exil'd your Highness' land.
I know their complot is to have my life:
And, if my death might make this island happy,
And prove the period of their tyranny,

I would expend it with all willingness.
But mine is made the prologue to their play:
For thousands more, that yet fufpect no peril,
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.

Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice,
And Suffolk's cloudy brow his formed hate;
Sharp Buckingham unburthens with his tongue
The envious load that lies upon his heart;
And dogged York that reaches at the moon,
Whofe over-weening arm I have pluck'd back,
By falfe accufe doth level at my life.
And you, my Sovereign Lady, with the rest,
Causeless have laid difgraces on my head,
And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up
My liefeft Liege to be mine enemy:

Ay, all of you have laid your heads together,
(Myfelf had notice of your conventicles),
And all to make away my guiltless life.

I fhall not want falfe witness to condemn me,
Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt:
The ancient proverb will be well effected,

A ftaff is quickly found to beat a dog.

Car. My Liege, his railing is intolerable.
If those that care to keep your royal perfon
From treafon's fecret knife and traitor's rage,
Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,
And the offender granted fcope of speech,
'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your Grace.
Suf. Hath he not twit our Sovereign Lady here
With ignominious words, though clarkly couch'd,
As if he had fuborned fome to fwear

Falfe allegations, to o'erthrow his ftate?

2. Mar. But I can give the lofer leave to chide. Glo. Far truer fpoke than meant; Ilofe, indeed; Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false; And well fuch lofers may have leave to speak.

Buck. He'll wreft the fenfe, and hold us here all day. Lord Cardinal, he is your prifoner.

Car. Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him fure. Glo. Ah, thus King Henry throws away his crutch, Before his legs be firm to bear his body:

Thus is the thepherd beaten from thy fide,
And wolves are gnarling who fhall gnaw thee first.
Ah, that my fear were falfe! ah that it were!

For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear. [Exit guarded.
SCENE II.

K. Henry. My Lords, what to your wisdom feemeth Do or undo, as if ourself were here. [beft, 2. Mar. What will your Highness leave the parlia

ment ?

K. Henry. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with
Whofe flood begins to flow within my eyes;
My body round ingirt with mifery :

For what's more miferable than difcontent ?
Ah, uncle Humphry ! in thy face I fee
The map of honour, truth, and loyalty;
And yet, good Humphry, is the hour to come,
That e'er I prov'd thee falfe, or fear'd thy faith.
What low'ring far now envies thy estate,

[grief,

That thefe great Lords, and Margaret our Queen,
Do feek fubverfion of thy harmless life,

That never didit them wrong, nor no man wrong?

And as the butcher takes away the calf,

And binds the wretch, and beats it when it ftrives,
Bearing it to the bloody flaughter-houfe;
Even fo remorfelefs have they borne him hence.
And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
Looking the way her harmless young one went,
And can do nought but wail her darling lofs;
Even fo myfelf bewail good Glo'fter's cafe
With fad unhelpful tears; and with dimm'd eyes
Look after him, and cannot do him good:
So mighty are his vowed enemies.

His fortunes will weep, and 'twixt each groan
Say, Who's a traitor? Glo'fter he is none

[Exit.

2. Mar. Free Lords, cold fnow melts with the fun's
Henry my Lord is cold in great affairs, [hot beams.
Too full of foolish pity: Glo'fter's fhew
Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile
With forrow fnares relenting paffengers:
Or as the fnake, roll'd in a flow'ry bank,
With fhining chequer'd flough, doth fting a child
That for the beauty thinks it excellent.

Believe me, Lords, were none more wife than I,
(And yet herein I judge my own wit good),
This Glo'fter fhould be quickly rid the world,
To rid us from the fear we have of him.

Car. That he fhould die, is worthy policy;
But yet we want a colour for his death :
'Tis meet he be condemn`d by course of law.
Suf But, in my mind, this were no policy:
The King will labour ftill to fave his life,
The commons haply rife to fave his life;
And yet we have but trivial argument,

More than miftruft, that fhews him worthy death.
York. So that by this, you would not have him die.
Suf. Ah, York, no man alive fo fain as I

Tork. 'Tis York that hath more reafon for his death.
But, my Lord Cardinal, and you, my Lord of Suffolk,
fouls:
Say as you think, and fpeak it from your
Were't not all one, an empty eagle were fet
To guard the chicken from a hungry kite,
As place Duke Humphry for the King's Protector?

2. Mar. So the poor chicken fhould be fure of death.

Suf. Madam, 'tis true; and were't not madness then
To make the fox furveyor of the fold?
Who being accus'd a crafty murtherer,
His guilt fhould be but idly pofted over,
Because his purpose is not executed.
No; let him die, in that he is a fox,
By nature prov'd an enemy to the flock,
before his chaps be ftain'd with crimson blood,
As Humphry's prov'd by reafons to my Liege;
And do not ftand on quillets how to flay him:
Be it by ginns, by fnares, by fubtilty,
Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how,
So he be dead; for that is good deceit

Which mates him firft, that first intends deceit.
2 Mar. Thrice Noble Suffolk, 'tis refolutely fpoke.
Suf. Not refolute, except fo much were done;
For things are often spoke, and seldom meant ;
But that heart accordeth with my tongue,
Seeing the deed is meritorious,

my

And to preferve my Sovereign from his foe,

Say but the word, and I will be his priest.

Car. But I would have him dead, my Lord of Suffolk, Ere you can take due orders for a priest;

Say you confent, and cenfure well the deed,

And I'll provide his executioner,

I tender fo the fafety of my Liege.

Suf. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing. 2. Mar. And fo fay I.

York. And I: And now we three have spoke it, It skills not greatly who impugns our doom.

SCENE IV. Enter a Poft.

Poft. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amain, To fignify that rebels there are up,

And put the Englishmen unto the fword:

Send fuccours, Lords, and ftop the rage betime,

Before the wound do grow incurable;

For being green there is great hope of help.

Gar. A breach that craves a quick expedient stop!

What counsel give you in this weighty caufe?

York. bat Somerset be fent a Regent thither;

'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd;