Chapter 3

Salisb. My Lord, breake we off; we know your minde at full

Warw. My heart assures me, that the Earle of Warwick Shall one day make the Duke of Yorke a King

Yorke. And Neuill, this I doe assure my selfe, Richard shall liue to make the Earle of Warwick The greatest man in England, but the King.

Exeunt.

Sound Trumpets. Enter the King and State, with Guard, to banish the Duchesse.

King. Stand forth Dame Elianor Cobham, Glosters Wife: In sight of God, and vs, your guilt is great, Receiue the Sentence of the Law for sinne, Such as by Gods Booke are adiudg'd to death. You foure from hence to Prison, back againe; From thence, vnto the place of Execution: The Witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes, And you three shall be strangled on the Gallowes. You Madame, for you are more Nobly borne, Despoyled of your Honor in your Life, Shall, after three dayes open Penance done, Liue in your Countrey here, in Banishment, With Sir Iohn Stanly, in the Ile of Man

Elianor. Welcome is Banishment, welcome were my Death

Glost. Elianor, the Law thou seest hath iudged thee, I cannot iustifie whom the Law condemnes: Mine eyes are full of teares, my heart of griefe. Ah Humfrey, this dishonor in thine age, Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground. I beseech your Maiestie giue me leaue to goe; Sorrow would sollace, and mine Age would ease

King. Stay Humfrey, Duke of Gloster, Ere thou goe, giue vp thy Staffe, Henry will to himselfe Protector be, And God shall be my hope, my stay, my guide, And Lanthorne to my feete: And goe in peace, Humfrey, no lesse belou'd, Then when thou wert Protector to thy King

Queene. I see no reason, why a King of yeeres Should be to be protected like a Child, God and King Henry gouerne Englands Realme: Giue vp your Staffe, Sir, and the King his Realme

Glost. My Staffe? Here, Noble Henry, is my Staffe: As willingly doe I the same resigne, As ere thy Father Henry made it mine; And euen as willingly at thy feete I leaue it, As others would ambitiously receiue it. Farewell good King: when I am dead, and gone, May honorable Peace attend thy Throne.

Exit Gloster.

Queene. Why now is Henry King, and Margaret Queen, And Humfrey, Duke of Gloster, scarce himselfe, That beares so shrewd a mayme: two Pulls at once; His Lady banisht, and a Limbe lopt off. This Staffe of Honor raught, there let it stand, Where it best fits to be, in Henries hand

Suff. Thus droupes this loftie Pyne, & hangs his sprayes, Thus Elianors Pride dyes in her youngest dayes

Yorke. Lords, let him goe. Please it your Maiestie, This is the day appointed for the Combat, And ready are the Appellant and Defendant, The Armorer and his Man, to enter the Lists, So please your Highnesse to behold the fight

Queene. I, good my Lord: for purposely therefore Left I the Court, to see this Quarrell try'de

King. A Gods Name see the Lysts and all things fit, Here let them end it, and God defend the right

Yorke. I neuer saw a fellow worse bestead, Or more afraid to fight, then is the Appellant, The seruant of this Armorer, my Lords. Enter at one Doore the Armorer and his Neighbors, drinking to him so much, that hee is drunke; and he enters with a Drumme before him, and his Staffe, with a Sand-bagge fastened to it: and at the other Doore his Man, with a Drumme and Sand-bagge, and Prentices drinking to him.

1.Neighbor. Here Neighbour Horner, I drinke to you in a Cup of Sack; and feare not Neighbor, you shall doe well enough

2.Neighbor. And here Neighbour, here's a Cuppe of Charneco

3.Neighbor. And here's a Pot of good Double-Beere Neighbor: drinke, and feare not your Man

Armorer. Let it come yfaith, and Ile pledge you all, and a figge for Peter

1.Prent. Here Peter, I drinke to thee, and be not afraid

2.Prent. Be merry Peter, and feare not thy Master, Fight for credit of the Prentices

Peter. I thanke you all: drinke, and pray for me, I pray you, for I thinke I haue taken my last Draught in this World. Here Robin, and if I dye, I giue thee my Aporne; and Will, thou shalt haue my Hammer: and here Tom, take all the Money that I haue. O Lord blesse me, I pray God, for I am neuer able to deale with my Master, hee hath learnt so much fence already

Salisb. Come, leaue your drinking, and fall to blowes. Sirrha, what's thy Name? Peter. Peter forsooth

Salisb. Peter? what more? Peter. Thumpe

Salisb. Thumpe? Then see thou thumpe thy Master well

Armorer. Masters, I am come hither as it were vpon my Mans instigation, to proue him a Knaue, and my selfe an honest man: and touching the Duke of Yorke, I will take my death, I neuer meant him any ill, nor the King, nor the Queene: and therefore Peter haue at thee with a downe-right blow

Yorke. Dispatch, this Knaues tongue begins to double. Sound Trumpets, Alarum to the Combattants.

They fight, and Peter strikes him downe.

Armorer. Hold Peter, hold, I confesse, I confesse Treason

Yorke. Take away his Weapon: Fellow thanke God, and the good Wine in thy Masters way

Peter. O God, haue I ouercome mine Enemies in this presence? O Peter, thou hast preuayl'd in right

King. Goe, take hence that Traytor from our sight, For by his death we doe perceiue his guilt, And God in Iustice hath reueal'd to vs The truth and innocence of this poore fellow, Which he had thought to haue murther'd wrongfully. Come fellow, follow vs for thy Reward.

Sound a flourish. Exeunt.

Enter Duke Humfrey and his Men in Mourning Cloakes.

Glost. Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a Cloud: And after Summer, euermore succeedes Barren Winter, with his wrathfull nipping Cold; So Cares and Ioyes abound, as Seasons fleet. Sirs, what's a Clock? Seru. Tenne, my Lord

Glost. Tenne is the houre that was appointed me, To watch the comming of my punisht Duchesse: Vnneath may shee endure the Flintie Streets, To treade them with her tender-feeling feet. Sweet Nell, ill can thy Noble Minde abrooke The abiect People, gazing on thy face, With enuious Lookes laughing at thy shame, That erst did follow thy prowd Chariot-Wheeles, When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets. But soft, I thinke she comes, and Ile prepare My teare-stayn'd eyes, to see her Miseries. Enter the Duchesse in a white Sheet, and a Taper burning in her hand, with the Sherife and Officers.

Seru. So please your Grace, wee'le take her from the Sherife

Gloster. No, stirre not for your liues, let her passe by

Elianor. Come you, my Lord, to see my open shame? Now thou do'st Penance too. Looke how they gaze, See how the giddy multitude doe point, And nodde their heads, and throw their eyes on thee. Ah Gloster, hide thee from their hatefull lookes, And in thy Closet pent vp, rue my shame, And banne thine Enemies, both mine and thine

Glost. Be patient, gentle Nell, forget this griefe

Elianor. Ah Gloster, teach me to forget my selfe: For whilest I thinke I am thy married Wife, And thou a Prince, Protector of this Land; Me thinkes I should not thus be led along, Mayl'd vp in shame, with Papers on my back, And follow'd with a Rabble, that reioyce To see my teares, and heare my deepe-fet groanes. The ruthlesse Flint doth cut my tender feet, And when I start, the enuious people laugh, And bid me be aduised how I treade. Ah Humfrey, can I beare this shamefull yoake? Trowest thou, that ere Ile looke vpon the World, Or count them happy, that enioyes the Sunne? No: Darke shall be my Light, and Night my Day. To thinke vpon my Pompe, shall be my Hell. Sometime Ile say, I am Duke Humfreyes Wife, And he a Prince, and Ruler of the Land: Yet so he rul'd, and such a Prince he was, As he stood by, whilest I, his forlorne Duchesse, Was made a wonder, and a pointing stock To euery idle Rascall follower. But be thou milde, and blush not at my shame, Nor stirre at nothing, till the Axe of Death Hang ouer thee, as sure it shortly will. For Suffolke, he that can doe all in all With her, that hateth thee and hates vs all, And Yorke, and impious Beauford, that false Priest, Haue all lym'd Bushes to betray thy Wings, And flye thou how thou canst, they'le tangle thee. But feare not thou, vntill thy foot be snar'd, Nor neuer seeke preuention of thy foes

Glost. Ah Nell, forbeare: thou aymest all awry. I must offend, before I be attainted: And had I twentie times so many foes, And each of them had twentie times their power, All these could not procure me any scathe, So long as I am loyall, true, and crimelesse. Would'st haue me rescue thee from this reproach? Why yet thy scandall were not wipt away, But I in danger for the breach of Law. Thy greatest helpe is quiet, gentle Nell: I pray thee sort thy heart to patience, These few dayes wonder will be quickly worne. Enter a Herald.

Her. I summon your Grace to his Maiesties Parliament, Holden at Bury, the first of this next Moneth

Glost. And my consent ne're ask'd herein before? This is close dealing. Well, I will be there. My Nell, I take my leaue: and Master Sherife, Let not her Penance exceede the Kings Commission

Sh. And't please your Grace, here my Commission stayes: And Sir Iohn Stanly is appointed now, To take her with him to the Ile of Man

Glost. Must you, Sir Iohn, protect my Lady here? Stanly. So am I giuen in charge, may't please your Grace

Glost. Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray You vse her well: the World may laugh againe, And I may liue to doe you kindnesse, if you doe it her. And so Sir Iohn, farewell

Elianor. What, gone my Lord, and bid me not farewell? Glost. Witnesse my teares, I cannot stay to speake.

Exit Gloster.

Elianor. Art thou gone to? all comfort goe with thee, For none abides with me: my Ioy, is Death; Death, at whose Name I oft haue beene afear'd, Because I wish'd this Worlds eternitie. Stanley, I prethee goe, and take me hence, I care not whither, for I begge no fauor; Onely conuey me where thou art commanded

Stanley. Why, Madame, that is to the Ile of Man, There to be vs'd according to your State

Elianor. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach: And shall I then be vs'd reproachfully? Stanley. Like to a Duchesse, and Duke Humfreyes Lady, According to that State you shall be vs'd

Elianor. Sherife farewell, and better then I fare, Although thou hast beene Conduct of my shame

Sherife. It is my Office, and Madame pardon me

Elianor. I, I, farewell, thy Office is discharg'd: Come Stanley, shall we goe? Stanley. Madame, your Penance done, Throw off this Sheet, And goe we to attyre you for our Iourney

Elianor. My shame will not be shifted with my Sheet: No, it will hang vpon my richest Robes, And shew it selfe, attyre me how I can. Goe, leade the way, I long to see my Prison.

Exeunt.

Sound a Senet. Enter King, Queene, Cardinall, Suffolke, Yorke, Buckingham, Salisbury, and Warwicke, to the Parliament.

King. I muse my Lord of Gloster is not come: 'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, What e're occasion keepes him from vs now

Queene. Can you not see? or will ye not obserue The strangenesse of his alter'd Countenance? With what a Maiestie he beares himselfe, How insolent of late he is become, How prowd, how peremptorie, and vnlike himselfe. We know the time since he was milde and affable, And if we did but glance a farre-off Looke, Immediately he was vpon his Knee, That all the Court admir'd him for submission. But meet him now, and be it in the Morne, When euery one will giue the time of day, He knits his Brow, and shewes an angry Eye, And passeth by with stiffe vnbowed Knee, Disdaining dutie that to vs belongs. Small Curres are not regarded when they grynne, But great men tremble when the Lyon rores, And Humfrey is no little Man in England. First note, that he is neere you in discent, And should you fall, he is the next will mount. Me seemeth then, it is no Pollicie, Respecting what a rancorous minde he beares, And his aduantage following your decease, That he should come about your Royall Person, Or be admitted to your Highnesse Councell. By flatterie hath he wonne the Commons hearts: And when he please to make Commotion, 'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him. Now 'tis the Spring, and Weeds are shallow-rooted, Suffer them now, and they'le o're-grow the Garden, And choake the Herbes for want of Husbandry. The reuerent care I beare vnto my Lord, Made me collect these dangers in the Duke. If it be fond, call it a Womans feare: Which feare, if better Reasons can supplant, I will subscribe, and say I wrong'd the Duke. My Lord of Suffolke, Buckingham, and Yorke, Reproue my allegation, if you can, Or else conclude my words effectuall

Suff. Well hath your Highnesse seene into this Duke: And had I first beene put to speake my minde, I thinke I should haue told your Graces Tale. The Duchesse, by his subornation, Vpon my Life began her diuellish practises: Or if he were not priuie to those Faults, Yet by reputing of his high discent, As next the King, he was successiue Heire, And such high vaunts of his Nobilitie, Did instigate the Bedlam braine-sick Duchesse, By wicked meanes to frame our Soueraignes fall. Smooth runnes the Water, where the Brooke is deepe, And in his simple shew he harbours Treason. The Fox barkes not, when he would steale the Lambe. No, no, my Soueraigne, Glouster is a man Vnsounded yet, and full of deepe deceit

Card. Did he not, contrary to forme of Law, Deuise strange deaths, for small offences done? Yorke. And did he not, in his Protectorship, Leuie great summes of Money through the Realme, For Souldiers pay in France, and neuer sent it? By meanes whereof, the Townes each day reuolted

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

King. My Lords at once: the care you haue of vs, To mowe downe Thornes that would annoy our Foot, Is worthy prayse: but shall I speake my conscience, Our Kinsman Gloster is as innocent, From meaning Treason to our Royall Person, As is the sucking Lambe, or harmelesse Doue: The Duke is vertuous, milde, and too well giuen, To dreame on euill, or to worke my downefall

Qu. Ah what's more dangerous, then this fond affiance? Seemes he a Doue? his feathers are but borrow'd, For hee's disposed as the hatefull Rauen. Is he a Lambe? his Skinne is surely lent him, For hee's enclin'd as is the rauenous Wolues. Who cannot steale a shape, that meanes deceit? Take heed, my Lord, the welfare of vs all, Hangs on the cutting short that fraudfull man. Enter Somerset

Som. All health vnto my gracious Soueraigne

King. Welcome Lord Somerset: What Newes from France? Som. That all your Interest in those Territories, Is vtterly bereft you: all is lost

King. Cold Newes, Lord Somerset: but Gods will be done

Yorke. Cold Newes for me: for I had hope of France, As firmely as I hope for fertile England. Thus are my Blossomes blasted in the Bud, And Caterpillers eate my Leaues away: But I will remedie this geare ere long, Or sell my Title for a glorious Graue. Enter Gloucester.

Glost. All happinesse vnto my Lord the King: Pardon, my Liege, that I haue stay'd so long

Suff. Nay Gloster, know that thou art come too soone, Vnlesse thou wert more loyall then thou art: I doe arrest thee of High Treason here

Glost. Well Suffolke, thou shalt not see me blush, Nor change my Countenance for this Arrest: A Heart vnspotted, is not easily daunted. The purest Spring is not so free from mudde, As I am cleare from Treason to my Soueraigne. Who can accuse me? wherein am I guiltie? Yorke. 'Tis thought, my Lord, That you tooke Bribes of France, And being Protector, stay'd the Souldiers pay, By meanes whereof, his Highnesse hath lost France

Glost. Is it but thought so? What are they that thinke it? I neuer rob'd the Souldiers of their pay, Nor euer had one penny Bribe from France. So helpe me God, as I haue watcht the Night, I, Night by Night, in studying good for England. That Doyt that ere I wrested from the King, Or any Groat I hoorded to my vse, Be brought against me at my Tryall day. No: many a Pound of mine owne proper store, Because I would not taxe the needie Commons, Haue I dis-pursed to the Garrisons, And neuer ask'd for restitution

Card. It serues you well, my Lord, to say so much

Glost. I say no more then truth, so helpe me God

Yorke. In your Protectorship, you did deuise Strange Tortures for Offendors, neuer heard of, That England was defam'd by Tyrannie

Glost. Why 'tis well known, that whiles I was Protector, Pittie was all the fault that was in me: For I should melt at an Offendors teares, And lowly words were Ransome for their fault: Vnlesse it were a bloody Murtherer, Or foule felonious Theefe, that fleec'd poore passengers, I neuer gaue them condigne punishment. Murther indeede, that bloodie sinne, I tortur'd Aboue the Felon, or what Trespas else

Suff. My Lord, these faults are easie, quickly answer'd: But mightier Crimes are lay'd vnto your charge, Whereof you cannot easily purge your selfe. I doe arrest you in his Highnesse Name, And here commit you to my Lord Cardinall To keepe, vntill your further time of Tryall

King. My Lord of Gloster, 'tis my speciall hope, That you will cleare your selfe from all suspence, My Conscience tells me you are innocent

Glost. Ah gracious Lord, these dayes are dangerous: Vertue is choakt with foule Ambition, And Charitie chas'd hence by Rancours hand; Foule Subornation is predominant, And Equitie exil'd your Highnesse Land. I know, their Complot is to haue my Life: And if my death might make this Iland happy, And proue the Period of their Tyrannie, I would expend it with all willingnesse. But mine is made the Prologue to their Play: For thousands more, that yet suspect no perill, Will not conclude their plotted Tragedie. Beaufords red sparkling eyes blab his hearts mallice, And Suffolks cloudie Brow his stormie hate; Sharpe Buckingham vnburthens with his tongue, The enuious Load that lyes vpon his heart: And dogged Yorke, that reaches at the Moone, Whose ouer-weening Arme I haue pluckt back, By false accuse doth leuell at my Life. And you, my Soueraigne Lady, with the rest, Causelesse haue lay'd disgraces on my head, And with your best endeuour haue stirr'd vp My liefest Liege to be mine Enemie: I, all of you haue lay'd your heads together, My selfe had notice of your Conuenticles, And all to make away my guiltlesse Life. I shall not want false Witnesse, to condemne me, Nor store of Treasons, to augment my guilt: The ancient Prouerbe will be well effected, A Staffe is quickly found to beat a Dogge

Card. My Liege, his rayling is intollerable. If those that care to keepe your Royall Person From Treasons secret Knife, and Traytors Rage, Be thus vpbrayded, chid, and rated at, And the Offendor graunted scope of speech, 'Twill make them coole in zeale vnto your Grace

Suff. Hath he not twit our Soueraigne Lady here With ignominious words, though Clarkely coucht? As if she had suborned some to sweare False allegations, to o'rethrow his state

Qu. But I can giue the loser leaue to chide

Glost. Farre truer spoke then meant: I lose indeede, Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false, And well such losers may haue leaue to speake

Buck. Hee'le wrest the sence, and hold vs here all day. Lord Cardinall, he is your Prisoner

Card. Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure

Glost. Ah, thus King Henry throwes away his Crutch, Before his Legges be firme to beare his Body. Thus is the Shepheard beaten from thy side, And Wolues are gnarling, who shall gnaw thee first. Ah that my feare were false, ah that it were; For good King Henry, thy decay I feare.

Exit Gloster.

King. My Lords, what to your wisdomes seemeth best, Doe, or vndoe, as if our selfe were here

Queene. What, will your Highnesse leaue the Parliament? King. I Margaret: my heart is drown'd with griefe, Whose floud begins to flowe within mine eyes; My Body round engyrt with miserie: For what's more miserable then Discontent? Ah Vnckle Humfrey, in thy face I see The Map of Honor, Truth, and Loyaltie: And yet, good Humfrey, is the houre to come, That ere I prou'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith. What lowring Starre now enuies thy estate? That these great Lords, and Margaret our Queene, Doe seeke subuersion of thy harmelesse Life. Thou neuer didst them wrong, nor no man wrong: And as the Butcher takes away the Calfe, And binds the Wretch, and beats it when it strayes, Bearing it to the bloody Slaughter-house; Euen so remorselesse haue they borne him hence: And as the Damme runnes lowing vp and downe, Looking the way her harmelesse young one went, And can doe naught but wayle her Darlings losse; Euen so my selfe bewayles good Glosters case With sad vnhelpefull teares, and with dimn'd eyes; Looke after him, and cannot doe him good: So mightie are his vowed Enemies. His fortunes I will weepe, and 'twixt each groane, Say, who's a Traytor? Gloster he is none. Enter.

Queene. Free Lords: Cold Snow melts with the Sunnes hot Beames: Henry, my Lord, is cold in great Affaires, Too full of foolish pittie: and Glosters shew Beguiles him, as the mournefull Crocodile With sorrow snares relenting passengers; Or as the Snake, roll'd in a flowring Banke, With shining checker'd slough doth sting a Child, That for the beautie thinkes it excellent. Beleeue me Lords, were none more wise then I, And yet herein I iudge mine owne Wit good; This Gloster should be quickly rid the World, To rid vs from the feare we haue of him

Card. That he should dye, is worthie pollicie, But yet we want a Colour for his death: 'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of Law

Suff. But in my minde, that were no pollicie: The King will labour still to saue his Life, The Commons haply rise, to saue his Life; And yet we haue but triuiall argument, More then mistrust, that shewes him worthy death

Yorke. So that by this, you would not haue him dye

Suff. Ah Yorke, no man aliue, so faine as I

Yorke. 'Tis Yorke that hath more reason for his death. But my Lord Cardinall, and you my Lord of Suffolke, Say as you thinke, and speake it from your Soules: Wer't not all one, an emptie Eagle were set, To guard the Chicken from a hungry Kyte, As place Duke Humfrey for the Kings Protector? Queene. So the poore Chicken should be sure of death

Suff. Madame 'tis true: and wer't not madnesse then, To make the Fox surueyor of the Fold? Who being accus'd a craftie Murtherer, His guilt should be but idly posted ouer, Because his purpose is not executed. No: let him dye, in that he is a Fox, By nature prou'd an Enemie to the Flock, Before his Chaps be stayn'd with Crimson blood, As Humfrey prou'd by Reasons to my Liege. And doe not stand on Quillets how to slay him: Be it by Gynnes, by Snares, by Subtletie, Sleeping, or Waking, 'tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good deceit, Which mates him first, that first intends deceit

Queene. Thrice Noble Suffolke, 'tis resolutely spoke

Suff. Not resolute, except so much were done, For things are often spoke, and seldome meant, But that my heart accordeth with my tongue,

Seeing the deed is meritorious, And to preserue my Soueraigne from his Foe, Say but the word, and I will be his Priest

Card. But I would haue him dead, my Lord of Suffolke, Ere you can take due Orders for a Priest: Say you consent, and censure well the deed, And Ile prouide his Executioner, I tender so the safetie of my Liege

Suff. Here is my Hand, the deed is worthy doing

Queene. And so say I

Yorke. And I: and now we three haue spoke it, It skills not greatly who impugnes our doome. Enter a Poste.

Post. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amaine, To signifie, that Rebels there are vp, And put the Englishmen vnto the Sword. Send Succours (Lords) and stop the Rage betime, Before the Wound doe grow vncurable; For being greene, there is great hope of helpe

Card. A Breach that craues a quick expedient stoppe. What counsaile giue you in this weightie cause? Yorke. That Somerset be sent as Regent thither: 'Tis meet that luckie Ruler be imploy'd, Witnesse the fortune he hath had in France