Farewel, good King: When I am dead and gone, May honourable peace attend thy throne! [Exit. * His lady banish'd, and a limb lopp'd off; stand, There let it Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand. Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days. Majesty, This is the day appointed for the combat; Q. Mar. Ay, good my Lord; for purposely therefore Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried. K. Hen. O' God's name, see the lists and all things fit; * Here let them end it, and God defend the right! York. I never saw a fellow worse bested, Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, * The servant of this armourer, my Lords. Enter, on one side, HORNER, and his neighbours, drinking to him so much that he is drunk ; and he enters bearing his staff with a sandbag fastened to it; a drum before him; at the other side, PETER, with a drum and a similar staff; accompanied by prentices drinking to him, 1. Neigh. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of sack; And fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough. 1 2. Neigh. And here, neighbour, here's a cup of charneco. 5. Neigh, And here's a pot of good double beer, neighbour: drink and fear not your man. Hor. Let it come, i'faith, and I'll pledge you all; And a fig for Peter! 1. Pren. Here, Peter, I drink to thee; and be not afraid. 2. Pren. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master: fight for credit of the prentices. * Pet. I thank you all: drink, and pray for * me, I pray you; for, I think, I have taken ⭑ my last draught in this world. Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee my apron; and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer: Tom, take all the money that I have. and here, O Lord, bless me I pray God! for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learnt so much fence already. Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. Sirrah, what's thy name? Pet. Peter, forsooth. Sal. Peter! what more? Pet. Thump. Sal, Thump! then see thou thump thy master well. Hor. Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man's instigation, to prove him a knave, and myself au bonest man: and touching the Duke of York, will take my death, I never meant him any ill, nor the King, nor the Queen ;* And therefore, Peter, have at thee with a downright blow, as Bevis of Southampton fell upon Ascapart. * York. Despatch: this knave's tongue begins to double. Sound trumpets, alarum to the combatants. [Alarum. They fight, and Peter strikes down his master. treason. Hor. Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess [Dies. * York. Take away his weapon: Fellow, * thank God, and the good wine in thy master's way. Pet. O God! have I overcome mine enemies. in this presence? O Peter, thou hast prevail'd in right! K. Hen. Go, take hence that traitor from our sight; For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt: Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The same, A street. Enter GLOSTER and Servants, in mourning cloaks. * Glo. Thus sometimes, hath the brightest day a cloud; * And, after summer, evermore succeeds *Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: *So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet. Sirs, what's o'clock? Serv. Ten, my Lord. Glo. Ten is the hour that was appointed me; To watch the coming of my punish'd Duchess: Uneath may she endure the flinty streets, To tread them with her tender feeling feet. Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook The abject people, gazing on thy face, With envious looks still laughing at thy shame; That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels, When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets. But, soft! I think she comes; and I'll prepare My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries. * Enter the Duchess of GLOSTER, in a white sheet, with papers pinn'd upon her back, her feet bare, and a taper burning in her hands Sir John Stanley, a sheriff, and officers. Serv. So please your Grace, we'll take her from the sheriff. Glo. No, stir not, for your lives; let her. pass by. Duch. Come you, my Lord, to see my open shame ? Now thou dost penance too. Look, how they gaze! See, how the giddy multitude do point, thee! Ah, Gloster, hide thee from their hateful looks; And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame, And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine. For, whilst I think I am thy married wife, Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke? * Trow'st thou, that e'er I'll look upon the world; * Or count them happy, that enjoy the sun? But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame; Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings, But fear not thou, until thy foot be snar'd, |