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By means whereof his Highness hath loft France.

Glo. Is it but thought so? what are they, that think it ?
I never robb’d the soldiers of their pay,
Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.
So help me God! as I have watch'd the night,
Ay, night by night, in studying 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 tryal day.
No; many a pound of my own proper store,
Because I would not tax the needy commons,
Have I dif-pursed to the garrisons,
And never ask'd for reftitution.

Car. It serves you well, my Lord, to say so much.
Glo. I say 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, while I was Protectors Pity was all the fault that was in me : For I should melt at an offender's tears ; And lowly words were ransom for their fault: Unlefs it were a bloody murderer, Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passengers, I never gave them condign punishment. Murder, indeed, that bloody fin, I tortur’d Above the felon, or what trespass else.

Suf. My Lord, these faults are easy, quickly answer'd : But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge, Whereof you cannot easily 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 tryal.

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

Glo. Ah, gracious Lord, thele days are dangerous : Virtue is choak'd with foul ambition, And charity chas'd hence by rancor's hand; Foul subornation is predominant,


And equity exild your Highness' land.
I know, their complot is to have my life :
And, if my death might make this island happy,

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 suspect no peril,
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.
Beauford's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice,
And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormed hate;
Sharp Buckingham inburdens with his tongue
The envious load, that lies upon his heart:
And dogged York, that reaches at the moon,
Whose over-weening arm I have pluck'd back,
By false accuse doth level at my life.
And you, my sovereign Lady, with the rest,
Causéless have laid disgraces on my head;
And with your belt endeavour have stirr’d up
My liefest Liege to be mine enemy:
Ay, all of you have laid your heads together;
(Myself had notice of your conventicles)
And all to make away my guiltless life.
I shall not want falfe witness to condemn me,
Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt:
The ancient proverb will be well effected,
A faff is quickly found to beat a dog.

Car. My Liege, his railing is intolerable.
If those, that care to keep your royal person
From treason's secret knife and traitor's rage,
Be thus upbraided, chid and rated at,
And the offender granted scope of speech,
'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your Grace.

Suf. Hath he not twit our sovereign Lady here
With ignominious words, though darkly coucht?
As if the had suborned some to swear
False allegations, to o'erthrow his state.

Q. Mar. But I can give the loser leave to chide.

Glo. Far truer spoke, than meant; I lose, indeed; Belrew the winners, for they play'd me false; And well such losers may have leave to speak.


Buck. He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day. Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner.

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

Glo. Ay, thus King Henry throws away his crutch, Before his legs be firm to bear his body; Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy fide; And wolves are gnarling, who fhail gnaw thee first. Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were ! For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear. [Exit, guarded.

K. Henry. My Lords, what to your wisdom seemeth Do or undo, as if ourself were here.

[beft, Q. Mar. What, will your Highness leave the par

liament? K. Henry. Ay, Margaret, my heart is drown'd with Whose flood begins to how within my eyes;

[grief, My body round engirt with misery: For what's more miserable than discontent? Ah, uncle Humphry! in thy face I see The map of honour, truth and loyalty : And yet, good Humphry, is the hour to come, That e'er I prove thee false, or fear’d thy faith ; What low’ring star now envies thy estate? That these great Lords, and Margaret, our Queen, Do seek subversion of thy harmless life, That never didft them wrong, nor no man wrong. And as the butcher takes


the calf, · And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strives, (9) Bearing it to the bloody Naughter-house:

(9) And as the butcher takes away the calf, And binds the wretch, and beats it when it (trays.] But how can it Aray, when it is bound? The poet certainly intended, when it strives; i. e. when it struggles to get loose. And so he elsewhere employs this word. Love's Labour Loft.

Thus doft thou hear the Nemean lion roar,
Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey;
Submissive fall his princely feet before,
And he from fvrage will incline to play.
But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then ?

Food for his rage, repasture for his den.
So in Othello, where he is ftrangling his wife;

Desd. Kill me to-morrow, let me live to-night.
Otb. Nay, if you frive ;

Ds. Thirlby.


Even fo, remorseless, have they borne him hence,
And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
Looking the way her harmless young one went,
Aná can do nought but wail her darling's loss :
Even so myself bewail good Glofter's case
With fad unhelpful tears; and with dim'd eyes
Look after him, and cannot do him good :
So mighty are his vowed enemies.
His fortunes I will weep, and 'twixt each groan
Say, who's a traitor? Gloster he is none. [Exit.
O. Mar. Free Lords, cold snow melts with the sun's

hot beams.
Henry my Lord is cold in great affairs,
Too full of foolish pity : Glofter's Thew
Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting passengers :
Or as the snake, roll'd in a How'ry bank,
With shining checker'd flough, doth fting a child
That for the beauty thinks it excellent.
Believe me, Lords, were none more wise than I,
(And yet herein I judge my own wit good)
This Glo'fter should 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 that were no policy:
The King will labour ftill to save his life,
The commons haply rise to save his life,
And yet we have but trivial argument,
More than miftruit, that shews him worthy death.

York. So that, by this, you would not have him die.
Suf. Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I.

rórk. "Tis York, that hath more reason for his death. But my Lord Cardinal, and you my Lord of Suffolk, Say as you think, and speak it from


souls : Were't not all one, an empty eagle were set To guard the chicken from a hungry kite, As place Duke Humpbry for the King's Protector? Mar. So the poor chicken kould be sure of death.


Suf. Madam, 'tis true; and wer't not madness, then, To make the fox furveyor of the fold? Who being accus'd a crafty murderer, His guilt fhould be but idly posted 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 fock; Before his chaps be ftain'd with crimson blood, As Humphry prov'd by reasons to my Liege ; And do not fiand on quillets how to slay him: Be it by gins, by snares, by subtilty, Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good deceit Which mates him first, that first intends deceit.

Q. Mar. Thrice-noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke.

Suf. Not resolute, except so much were done;
For things are often spoke, and seldom meant;
But that my heart accordeth with my tongue,
Seeing the deed is meritorious,
And to preserve 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 consent, and censure well the deed,
And I'll provide his executioner,
I tender lo the safety of my Liege.

Suf. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing.
Q. Mar. And so say I.

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

Enter a Pot. Poft. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amain, To fignify that rebels there are up, And put the Englisomen unto the sword : Send succours, Lords, and stop the rage betime, Before the wound do grow incurable; For being green, there is great hope of help.

Car. A breach, that craves a quick expedient stop! What counsel give you in this weighty cause ?


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