Enter the Duchefs in a white fheet, 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 dost penance too. Look, how they gaze! See how the giddy multitude do point,

And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee! Ah, Glofter, hide thee from their hateful looks; And in thy clofet pent up, rue my fhame,

And ban our enemies, both mine and thine.

Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.
Elean. Ah! Glo'iter, teach me to forget myfelf:
For whilft 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 follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice
To fee my tears, and hear my deep-fetch'd groans:
The ruthless fint doth cut my tender feet;
And when I ftart, 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 thall 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 ftood by, whilft I, his forlorn Duchefs,
Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock
To every idle, rafcal 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 shortly 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 fnar'd,

Nor never feek prevention of thy foes.

Glo. Ah, Nell, forbear; thou aimest 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 these could not procure me any feathe,
So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless.
Wouldnt 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 parliament 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, Mafter Sheriff, Let not her penance exceed the King's commiffion. Sher. A'nt please your Grace, here my commiffion And Sir John Stanley is appointed now, [ftays: To take her with him to the ifle of Man. Glo. 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 ufe her well; the world may laugh again;
And I may live to do you kindnefs, if
You do it her: and fo, Sir John, farewel.

Elean. What gone, my Lord, and bid me not farewel?
Glo. Witnefs my tears, I cannot stay to speak.
[Exit Glocefter.
Elean. Art thou gone too? all comfort go with thee!
For none abides with me; my joy is death;

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

+

Stanley,

Stanley, I pr'ythee, go and take me hence,
I care not whither, for I beg no favour;
Only convey me where thou are 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?

fhame.

Stan. No; like a Duchefs, and Duke Humphry's According to that ftate you fhall be us'd. [lady Elean. Sheriff, farewel, and better than I fare; Although thou hast been conduct of my Sher. It is my office; Madam, pardon me. Elean. Ay, ay, farewel; thy office is discharge'd. Come, Stanley, fhall we go

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

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

No, it will hang upon my richest robes,

And fhew itself, attire me how I can.

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

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

Mufe my

K. Henry Tis not his wont to be the hindmoft man,

Lord of Glo'fter is not come :

Whate'er occafion keeps him from us now.

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

With what a majefty 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 mora,

When

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 defcent;
And should you fall, he is the next will mount.
Me feemeth then, it is no policy,

(Respecting 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 fhallow-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 reasons can fupplant,
I will fubfcribe, and fay, I wrong'd the Duke.
My Lords of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York,
Reprove my allegation, if you can,

Or elfe conclude my words effectual.

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

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

Upon my life, began her devilish 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 steal the lamb.
- VOL. V.

Ꭰ

No,

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, Devife ftrange deaths for small offences done? York. 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 cach day revolted. Buck. Tut, thefe 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 praife. But fhall I fpeak my confcience?
Our kinfman Glo'fter is as innocent

From meaning treafon to our royal perfon,
As is the fucking 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 shape, 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 those territories Is utterly bereft you; all is loft.

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

Tork. Cold news for me: for I had hope of France, As firmly as I hope for fertile England.

Thus are my blooms blafted in the bud,

And caterpillars eat my leaves away.

But