HENRY the Sixth, The First PART.  
WITH THE MURDER OF HUMPHREY Duke of Gloucester.  
As it was Acted at the Duke's Theatre.  
Written by Mr. CROWN.  
LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley, and M. Magnes, in Russel-Street, in Covent-Garden. 1681.   

The Prologue.  
WIth much ado a Prologue we obtained,  
From th' Author who this good old Play did mend.  
He said a Prologue was a Painted Clout,  
Only to tell the Show within, hung out,  
And he no pains would on the Clout bestow,  
When very few would come to see the Show.  
The Comet that last Summer flamed obove,  
Has dropped his Pitch in every Dish you love.  
Poor slighted Wit is fling among the Swine,  
Like Grapes in France, now you forbidden their Wine.  
Playhouses like forsaken Barns are grown,  
The lusty Thresher's of both ends of Town.  
Let the Corn rot, and give their Labour o'er,  
And so the Vizards cackle here no more:  
Or if they hither come 'tis but for fear,  
Lest zealous Constables find 'em elsewhere,  
And their torn Coats for Romish Relics seize,  
And the poor Girls for Painted Images.  
Thus all your Pleasures whither and decay,  
You have sucked the Globe, and fling the shell away.  
As for our wretched selves we are forced still,  
To chaw down Poetry against our will,  
But little Pleasure it to us does give,  
We swallow it as Sick-Men eat, to live.  
And to preserve your Stomaches we make bold,  
To Cram you every day with New or Old.  
To day we bring old gathered Herbs, 'tis true,  
But such as in sweet Shakespears Garden grew.  
And all his Plants immortal you esteem,  
Your Mouths are never out of taste with him.  
Howe'er to make your Appetites more keen,  
Not only oily Words are sprinkled in;  
But what to please you gives us better hope,  
A little Vinegar against the Pope.   

The Persons Represented in the PLAY.  

King Henry the Sixth, By Mr. Jos. Williams.  
Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, Lord Protector of the Kingdom, and Uncle to the King, being Brother to King Henry the 5th, By Mr. Batterton.  
The Cardinal— a Bastard Son of John of Gaunt, and so Uncle to Duke Humphrey. By Mr. Harris.  
Richard Plantagenet, Heir of the House of York, pretender to the Crown. By Mr. D. Williams.  
Duke of Buckingham.  
Earl of Warwick.  
Earl of Salisbury.  
Duke of Suffolk, a Lover of the Queen. By Mr. Smith.  
Queen Margaret, Wife of King Henry the 6th, in Love with the Duke of Suffolk. By my La. Slingsby.  
Elinor, Duchess of Gloucester, Wife to the Lord Protector. By Mrs. Batterton.  
Sheriff of London, Sir John Stanley. Attendants.   
SCENE, The Court at Westminster.   

TO Sir CHARLES SIDLEY BARONET.  
SIR,  
I Am afraid I shall displease you, by setting your Name, before so scandalous a thing as a Pamphlet of mine; but when I have told you the reason, I believe you will pardon me. I make not use of your Name to add a lustre to mine; I am not so much concerned for it. Fame built on Poetry is like a Castle in the Air, which the next Wind demolishes. I have heard of great Armies Mustered in the Air, but never of any thing they Conquered. Such are the Forces of Poetry, I have had my Ears torn with the noise of a Poet's Drums and Trumpets, of the Bellowing of his Actors, and the clapping of his Audience, but I never heard of one inch of firm Land he gained. All he fought for was Enchanted Ground, which now he seems to possess, and anon it vanishes, has nothing real in it but the vexation of obscene Birds, which disturb him with their croaking, whilst he wakes, and defile him by muting upon him if ever he sleeps. No wise Man can much regard what his share is in such a barren and floating Place.  
My concernment is for some little Truth and good Sense, Commodities which no one will expect to find aboard such a Paper Boat, as a Play, were it not convoyed by so flourishing and great Reputation as yours. I speak not my own, but the opinion of some of the wisest Men of this Age, this Play is no indifferent Satire upon the most pompous fortunate and potent Folly, that ever reigned over the minds of men, called Popery. My Lord Bacon says, good Books ought to have no other Patrons but Truth and Reason. Many other things ought to be, that never will. If Truth and Reason were things so potent, how came Folly and Error to prevail over 'em in all Ages and Nations? How came Wisdom to live among the Ancients in Porches and Tubs, and Fools to shine in Palaces whilst living, and in Temples when dead? How came Truth among Christians to be trodden under foot, for several hundreds of Years, whilst Error and Folly road on men's Shoulders, and trod on Prince's Necks? men's Shoulders had never been so ill used, if their Heads had been good. And when a German Friar discovered Trutb, by an accident as strange as another did Gunpowder, how come the latter mischievous invention, to have fifty times the success of the former, and to pierce a hundred times as many Heads and Hearts? If Truth in Schools and Churches meet so much contempt, what must it expect in so wretched a thing as a Play is now esteemed? The wisest Men among the Ancients indeed, thought themselves scarce wise enough to judge Drammatique Poetry, but ours think themselves much too Wise, and throw it off as a Trifle for Women and Fools to play with; and by that means it pines more and more into a Trifle. For what vigour soever is necessary to please Ladies elsewhere, Impotence best delights 'em upon the Stage. The Poets that will hit the right Mark, must aim at the Boxes, and what Arrows they shoot over them are all lost, nor are our Male Judges of a more Masculine Spirit. I have always observed when an Actor talks Sense, the Audience gins to sleep, but when an unnatural passion sets him a grimacing and howling as if he were in a fit of the Stone, they immediately waken, listen, and stare, as if some rare Operator were about to Cut him: In short, Sense is so great a stranger to the most, that it is never welcome to Company for its own sake, but the sake of the Introducer. For this reason I use your Name to guide that share of it is in this Play through the Press, as I did Shakespear's to support it on the Stage. I called it in the Prologue Shakespear's Play, though he has no Title to the 40th part of it. The Text I took out of his Second Part of Henry the Sixth, but as most Texts are served, I left it as soon as I could. For though Shakespeare be generally very delightful, h is not so always. His Volumn is all up-hill and down, Paradise was never more pleasant than some parts of it, nor Ireland and Greenland colder, and more uninhabitable than others. And I have undertaken to cultivate one of the most barren Places in it. The Trees are all Shrubs, and the Men Pigmies, nothing has any Spirit, or shape; the Cardinal is duller than ever Priest was. And he has huddled up the Murder of Duke Humphrey, as if he had been guilty of himself, and was afraid to show how it was done: But I have been more bold, to the great displeasure of some, who are it seems ashamed of their own mysteries, for there is not a Tool used in the murder of Duke Humphrey in this Play, but what is taken out of their own Church Armoury, nor a word put into the mouth of the Cardinal and his foolish Instruments, but what first dropped from the Heads that adorn their own Church Battlements. I could be large in Quotations did I not nauseate Pedantry. I shall only show that what serves here to make the Comical part of a Play, does in the Popish Countries compose the gravest part of their Devotion. I make the foolish Murderer complain that he could not thrive, though he kept every Day a Holiday in honour of some Saint. Now nothing is more known then that in those Countries, the great Traffic between them and their Saints, almost ruin all other Trades. The People are forced to keep so many holidays, that they have not Working-days enough to keep themselves; when they should be labouring to fill their Bellies, they are cramming Latin into their Mouths, in the honour of some Saint, who perhaps understands not a word of the Language, unless he learned it since he died, which is a great doubt. And they have so many Saints, that the People in Heaven starve those upon Earth, and contrary to what is done in other Famines, the Dead devour the Living. No Manufacture thrives like that of Saint-making, all others must contribute to that, and even the Workmanship of God must grow poor to enrich that of the Priests. When all the Saints had disappointed this poor Fellow, I make him go to a Priest for advice, who instead of bidding him follow his calling, sets him a mumbling a Prayer, which he tells him is of that efficacy, that if he says it over Thirty Days together, it will procure him in the end what ever he asks for. What appears too ridiculous here for the mouth of a Stage-fool, in a Country no less polished than France, is recommended to the Faith and Devotion of no less a Prince than the Dauphin, in a little Book entitled, HEURES Dedidees a Monsiegneur le Dauphin, contenant L' Office qui se dit en L' Eglise, ave l' Exercice du Matin, & en soir, & le Catechism dress par les Peres de la Mission. The Prayer is to the Virgin Mary, in the 229th Page, in the middle of the Prayer 'tis said,— Here demand what ever you please.  
When this Prayer would not do, I make the Priest give him another, Conveyed by an Angel as he says into the Grave of a German Lady, who had her Head cut off, and lived after it two and twenty Hours, not being able to die, till she had Confessed and Communicated. And the Prayer had this miraculous power annexed to it, that whosoever did but carry it about him, should never suffer by Sea or by Land, etc. This I found in a little French Book of Devotion to the Virgin Mary, Licenced by the Fathers of the Augustine Friars, as containing nothing in it contrary to Catholic Faith, and recommended to the People with an extraordinary Approbation; by what Charter these Prayers claim such great Privileges, is not said, yet must be believed. Some think me very profane, for bringing what belongs to the Church upon the Stage; but they may allow me that, since they have carried many things that belong to the Stage into the Church. To expose these Follies to the People is the business of this Play, and I believe you will pardon me that I borrow some assistance from your Reputation, since you yourself have of late to your very great Honour, employed your Interest and excellent Understanding in the same design. And though you can do it better in common Conversation, than I by all my Study and Premeditation, It follows not, because Lightning sometimes shoots through all the Heavens, and rends the Oaks, a Man may not light a Candle in the Night: To hinder this Rush light from being blown out, is the reason why I place your Name before it. I have a mind the Play should be read, and every one will read it, if they think you like it. I know few Understandings so universally esteemed as yours, and for so good Reason. It would be foolish in me to lash out into unnecessary praises of a Wit that has been so long the delight and ornament of the Nation, and is now become the Defence of what is very dear to it, Truth, Liberty, and Property. I have so deeply felt, what the loss of Property is, that I cannot but honour the Defenders of it, though their defence comes too late to me. I may appear vain in my complaint, but People will Groan when they are in pain; my Father, and by consequence myself, his Heir, was stripped long since (by the advice of some ill great Men, who sacrifice both private and public Interest to their own) of the Moiety of a Province so considerable, the French Crown thought it worth contending for, many Years. And if that fortunate Kingdom strove for it, you may imagine they got it. I have great hopes of a speedy reparation from the great Justice Clemency and Goodness of his Majesty. But this loss made me run into that Madness, called Poetry, and inhabit that Bedlam, called a Stage. I have been so happy, that for several Years, certain Gentlemen unknown to me, have fallen on me, and endeavoured to Bleed me when ever I appeared. I wish I knew 'em, that I might thank 'em for the Kindness they have done me, though they designed me nothing but Mischief. The grounds of their Antipathy I know not. Fools I confess may be very well moved to bark at Poets, from the same cause, that they say all kind of Dogs do at Skinners, from a natural instinct that gives 'em notice their own Hides are in danger. But I have no great scent of Blood upon me, and therefore must impute their Aversions to those Occult Qualities that puzzle Philosophers. This convinces me, 'tis necessary for me to fly to some Wise Man's protection; and I cannot be safer than under yours. Poets are too poor to be begged, 'tis well if they can get Guardians for begging. I am confident you will be entreated to take upon you the Guardianship of this little parcel of a Madman's Estate, now I have told you for what good uses it 'tis designed. And if so, this will do well, and I shall live at ease, for those who will behave themselves very rudely to me as a Poet, and to this as a thing for public entertainment, will be very civil to this when it is under your care, and to me when I am received by you: For  
SIR, Your very humble Servant, JOHN CROWN.   

Henry the Sixth; OR, THE MURDER OF THE Duke of Gloucester. The FIRST PART.  

ACT. I.  Enter Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, Duke of York, Cardinal Beauford, Duke of Somerset, Duke of Buckingham, Earl of Salisbury, Earl of Warwick. Glo. 
MY Lords, you cannot but have seen of late  
Much discontent sit always on my Brow.  
All Men that know me well, must know, no private  
Petty concernment can unfix my mind.  
No; (some will think perhaps I speak too proudly,  
I care not what they think, I'll speak my Mind)  
Nothing has weight enough to press my spirits  
Less than the great Misfortunes of the Kingdom.  Card. 
So! how my Lord Protector gracefully— aside.  
Ushers himself into these Lords esteem?  
What bosom here now will not bid him welcome?  
I hate him, but I will not let him know it,  
Till I can let him know it to his ruin.  Glo. 
Ah! my Lords, Did my valiant glorious Brother,  
Henry the Fifth, erect the Law of England  
Above the Roman, or the Macedonian?  
Do things, that made the Continent all tremble,  
When e'er the favourable Winds unlocked  
The floating Gates of this our little World,  
To let out that our brave Warriors to invade it,  
That France not only did confess itself  
A Vassal to his Royal English Blood;  
But the whole Empire of the World did seem  
To own itself the Birth right of his Valour?  Yo. 
Eternity shall ne'er wear out the Characters  
Of his Renown, which his keen Sword engraved.  Glo. 
Ay, yes his fame shall last; but not his Empire:  
He's dead, and with him his great Empire dies:  
All that his Valour got, all that the vigilance  
And wisdom of my Brother Bedford kept:  
All that yourselves and I, have early and late  
Studied to keep, and kept some years with glory,  
Crowning our King in Paris in his Infancy,  
Making Proud France bow to an English Child.  
All, all these Labours, Victories and Glories,  
Are melting down in a soft beauteous bosom,  
Given away to purchase a Fair Face.  
A fatal Marriage in one fatal minute  
Has spoilt the Work of many glorious years.  Card. 
Nephew, you are more passionate than needs;  
Erance is not gone, nor shall it go so easily.  Glo. 
No, 'tis not gone indeed, but all the sluices  
Are pulling up, and it is going fast.  
'Tis pouring out apace in Provinces;  
The new made Duke of Suffolk gives whole Provinces  
To buy the King a Wife, Anjou and Maine  
Are frankly given to the Queen's poor Father  
King Reignier, whose high and flowing style  
Dwells far above the Banks of his low Purse,  
But he must have these Provinces to fill it.  
Of such low value, in this Duke's esteem,  
Is all the purchase of our Blood, that he  
Will give it all away for Blushing Cheeks.  Sal. 
Those Dukedoms were the Keys of Normandy.  
My Lord of Warwick Weeps— Why weeps my Son?  War. 
Who would not weep to see his own Blood cheapened  
And sold before his Face at a low rate?  
I won those Provinces, and what got  
With Wounds, is given away with peaceful words.  Glo. 
Yes, and to make it even ridiculous,  
The Duke of Suffolk Asks a whole Fifteenth  
For Charges, to Transport the Queen to England.  
What? Was there ne'er a Beauty in the World  
Besides the Queen? yes, sure there was in England;  
Had the King so much doted upon Beauty,  
He might have Married one of His fair Subjects,  
And had more Beauty at a cheaper rate.  Card. 
My Lord of Gloucester, this is hot discourse,  
And, as I think, to very little purpose;  
Since what is done, now cannot be recalled;  
And what is done, was done to please the King.  Glo. 
My Lord of Winchester I understand you;  
'Tis not my hot Discourse, but Presence warms you.  
You have a Festered Mind, and 'twill break out;  
I saw it in your Face; if I stay longer  
We shall begin our ancient Bicker:  
But such small matters shall not trouble me,  
I will be gone; but e'er I go I'll Prophecy,  
France will be lost: but I desire to prove  
As False a Prophet, as you are a Priest— Exeunt.  Card. 
Affronted thus? ' Pox o' these fumbling Robes!  (aside.) 
How came my Warlike Spirit wrapped in these  
Formalities, that hold my hands from Blood?  
I'm fit for a Sword, and I will use one—  
Did you not hear the good Protector, Lords?  
Expect what usage you will have; when I  
His Uncle, and a Priest, am thus abused.  
You see how well his Enmity is healed;  
And he has much the same kindness for you,  
And indeed for the King. He makes great show  
Of Zeal for England, and he has great zeal for it  
That is t'enjoy it; he is heir apparent;  
And the King cannot please him by a Marriage,  
Unless he'd Wed an Altar, or a Cell.  
Be not, my Lords, cheated with his smooth words.  
What though the foolish common people dote on him,  
Clapping their hands, and shouting when they see him,  
Crying, Heaven save your Royal Excellence,  
And call him always the good Duke of Gloucester?  
They are Fools, and know not Men, nor what they love;  
Uncheat 'em; but however save the King,  
Protect him from his dangerous Protector.  Buck. 
Why should the King, my Lords, have a Protector?  
He is of age (I think) to rule himself.  
My Lord of Somerset join you with me,  
We, with the Duke of Suffolk's aid, will hoist  
Duke Humphrey from his Seat.  Card. 
This weighty business  
Brooks no delay; I'll to the Duke of Suffolk— Exit.  Som. 
Though the Protector's Pride and Greatness vex us,  
The Cardinal's Insolence is more intolerable;  
If Gloster be displaced he'll be Protector.  Buck. 
If Gloster falls, or you or I'll succeed— Ex. Buck. and Sal.  Sal. 
So! so! the Kingdom will thrive well no doubt,  
When all will rend her for their private ends.  
I never saw but the good Duke of Gloucester  
Bore himself like a Noble Gentleman;  
But I have seen the Cardinal demean himself  
More like a Soldier than a Priest; he'll often  
Swear like a Ruffian, quarrel like a Hector,  
Trample on all, as he were Lord of all:  
My worthy Son, and you my Lord of York,  
My valiant Brother, let us join together,  
And show the Kingdom has some good Men in it,  
Who faithfully will serve their King and Country,  
And aid all others who promote that work,  
And among those I reckon the Protector.  War. 
So heaven help me, as I love my Country.— Ex. Sal. & War.  Yo. 
And so say I, for I have greatest cause,  
Anjou and Main are given to the French.  
Two Dukedoms given for a Duke's fair Daughter.  
Henry, I blame thee not: What is it to thee?  
Thou dost not give away thine own, but mine.  
Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their Pillage.  
Whilst the poor injured owner stands aloof,  
And shakes his head, and weeps, and wrings his hands,  
And sees his Goods all borne away, and dares  
Not touch his own, or scarcely call it his.  
England, and France, and Ireland, are my Kingdoms  
One day I may both claim and seize my own,  
And from weak Henry's Head may pull the Crown:  
These high fierce Tempests methinks make it shake.  
What opportunity they give, I'll take. Exit.  Enter Duke of Gloucester, and his Duchess Elinor. Eli. 
Why droops my Lord, and on the sullen Earth  
Fixes his Eyes? What dost thou there behold  
King Henry's Diadem fallen from his Head,  
Too feeble to support the mighty weight?  
If it be that thou look'st on, gaze thy fill,  
Put forth thy hand, and reach the glorious Gold.  Glo. 
Oh Nell! sweet Nell! if thou dost love thyself,  
Banish the Canker of Ambitious thoughts,  
They will devour thy Peace, thy Life, thy Soul.  
May the cursed hour, when I imagine ill  
Against my Royal Nephew, virtuous Henry,  
Be my last breathing in this mortal World.  Eli. 
I wish the same to me; but, Is it ill  
To the good Pious King, to take from him  
A heavy Weight that presses him to Earth,  
An Element his heavenly mind abhors?  
His thoughts are all above, and Royal cares  
Tear 'em, and pull 'em down to earth in spite of him,  
And, What a torment to him must that be?  
It is unjust to let so good a Prince  
So cruelly be tortured with a Crown.  Gloc. 
Oh Elianour! away with thy fond words,  
Thou mayst deceive thyself, thou canst not me:  
Hast thou in my Embraces lain so long,  
And am I yet wholly a stranger to thee?  
I find thy high aspiring thoughts did study  
My honour, and my offices, not me.  
Thou knowst them well, thou hast weighed them exactly,  
But me thou art an utter stranger to,  
Or thou wouldst never tempt me to disloyalty.  Eli. 
He is the loyal Subject seeks to please  
His King, and not himself: 'Tis more disloyalty  
T'impose a Crown upon Religious Henry,  
Than 'tis to Usurp one from another King.  
But you are only Loyal to yourself,  
And your own fame; because to take the Crown  
The World would call Disloyalty and Treason;  
You wrong the King, to save your own renown.  Glo. 
Away, away fond Elinor!— as Nature  
Has given you Women thinner skins than Men,  
Through which your working blood is easier seen;  
So thinner Arts to hid your labouring thoughts.  
Do not I know your thoughts, designs, and soul,  
And all you'd work me ●o as well as you?  
You would have me throw myself down to Villainy,  
To exalt you in place above the Queen.  
Blast my Renown and Soul to all eternity,  
To please your haughtiness for some few years.  
Oh Elinor! now I must Chide outright;  
Presumptuous, unkind, ill-minded Elinor!  
Are you not the second Woman in the Kingdom?  
H ve you not Worldly Pleasure at command?  
A greater circle of delight, than all  
Thy Soul can range about in thy whole Life?  
Yet not content with these, Wilt thou be forging  
New impious honours, till piled heap on heap  
They fall, and overwhelm thyself and me?  Eli. 
I must confess I mortally abhor,  
And scorn that Woman, which is now my Queen.  
Oh! hateful thought! she! she! my Queen— a Vassal  
Of France subdued by us into a Province;  
And she a Beggar in that Conquered Province,  
Become the Queen, and Mistress of her Conquerors;  
I the first Woman of Victorious England,  
Bow to the last of low dejected France?  
Preposterous! ignominious! base! contemptible!  
Had you the spirit of an English Conqueror,  
You would not bear it— but you have it not.  
The mighty fire, that burned so bright and hot  
In the brave English Souls of the last Age,  
Is blazing now its last in me a Woman;  
Who can no more than greatly think and talk;  
A shrewd sign heaven is taking from us France,  
Since he takes from us spirits that should rule it.  
And yet were I but Queen of England once,  
I would not doubt but to keep Conquered France.  
Though Kings, and Lord Protectors cannot do it.  Glo. 
Talk not of ruling Kingdoms, rule yourself.  
That I lament the King's most fatal Marriage,  
The Queen herself, and all the Kingdom knows:  
But I abhor it not for Womanish causes,  
Because my Wive's inferior goes before her;  
But because France, England's inferior,  
Will by this Match ascend above her Conqueror:  
We give two Provinces to buy a Wife,  
Who brings nought with her but a shameful Peace,  
And this is that causes my present sadness.  Eli. 
And sadness will redress your Country's Griefs.  Gl. 
Yes! He shall die that wrought 'em, traitorous Suffolk.  Eli. 
If Suffolk dies for bringing such a Curse on us,  
What should be done to her who is that Curse?  
Let her not live, or rather let her live,  
But live no Queen—  Glo. 
But subject to yourself—  Eli. 
I almost scorn to have so poor a Subject.  Glo. 
Ah, Elinor! thy Pride, and my fond Love  
To thee, will bring destruction on us both.  
Have I not Griefs enough already on me,  
And Enemies enough that plot my ruin?  
But you must be among the number of 'em?  Eli. 
I'm Enemy to nothing but the Queen;  
And I'll to her be an implacable  
And Devilish Enemy, whilst she is a Queen:  
Let her be poor Dame Margaret, and my Subject,  
And I will Sign her then an Act of Grace.  Glo. 
You will comply in nothing to please me.  Eli. 
I will comply in every thing I can;  
But I must hate the Queen in spite of me.  Glo. 
If thou must hate her, do; but yet love me.  Eli. 
I hope you doubt not that, my Lord.  Glo. 
I do not.  Enter a Messenger. Messen. 
My Lord Protector, 'tis His Majesty's pleasure  
You prepare to ride to S. Alban,  
Where both the King and Queen are a going to Hawk.  Glo. 
I go!— Come Nell— Will't thou along with us?— Ex.  Eli. 
Yes, my good Lord, I'll follow presently.  
Fellow— I that's the Word— follow I must,  
Whilst Gloucester bears this base and humble mind.  
My Spirit cries, go first; the Duke says, follow:  
Shall I obey my Husband, or my Soul?  
My Soul is myself, he but my other self;  
And by his humble mind my weaker self:  
Well, I will play my part in Fortune; Pageant  
Where are you there? Sir John— nay, fear not Man,  
We are alone, here's none but thee and I.  Enter Humes. Hume. 
Heaven preserve your Majesty.  Eli. 
My Majesty?  Hume. 
Yes, that will be your Title very shortly.  Eli. 
Has my infernal friend the Devil said this,  
By his Priest and Priestess the Conjurer and Witch?  
Hast thou conferred with 'em?  Hume. 
Madam I have.  Eli. 
And Will they undertake to do me service?  Hume 
They have promised from the infernal deeps to drag  
One of the Spirits that of old gave Oracles,  
Whose fiery eye, by its own Native Light,  
Sees all that's hidden in Fates dark Abyss,  
As plain as we Mortals when they come to light:  
This Spirit shall make Answer to all Questions,  
That it shall please your Grace to pose him with.  Eli. 
It is enough. I'll think upon the Questions.  
Here, Hume, take this reward, make merry Man  
With thy Confederates in this weighty business.  Hume. 
I humbly thank your Grace— Exit.  Enter the Duke of Suffolk talking with the Queen. Eli 
See, here comes she  
That blasts my eyes worse than the Spirit can do  
The Witch will raise out of th' Infernal deep;  
And with her, her damned Minion, Traitorous Suffolk.  
That I were now a Pestilence to cover her  
From head to foot with torturing deadly sores.  
I will throw scorn on her as I pass by,  
A thing a Woman hates worse than the Plague.  
And I will undermine her Royal Glories,  
If digging deep as lowest Hell will do it.  
I'll climb the Throne, or else to Hell I'll fall;  
If Heaven won't make me great, the Devil shall.  Qu. 
Ha! Did you not observe, my Lord of Suffolk,  
With what contempt that Woman looked upon me,  
As she passed by?  Suff. 
I saw it, and I laughed at it.  Qu. 
Ho! call her back, and fling her at my feet.  Suff. 
She shall fall shortly there, and lower too,  
If my Plots fail not.—  Enter Petitioners, Peter the Armourers Man being one. 1. Pet. 
May it please your Grace.  Suff. 
What wouldst thou have with me?  1. Pet. 
I think you be my Lord Protectors Grace,  
If you be, pray your Grace see my Petition.  2. Pet. 
And mine.  3 Pet. 
And mine— an't please your Grace,  Qu. 
So, All Petitions to the Protector's Grace,  
The Kingdom's supplications all to him,  
And all the Ladies follow his Wife's Train:  
The King and I are only Royal Ciphers,  
Flourished and guilded only with fine Titles.  
Come, What are your Petitions? let me see 'em.  1. Pet. 
Mine is, an't please you Madam, against John Goodman, my Lord Cardinal's Man, for keeping my House, and my Lands, and my Wife from me.  Suff. 
How? thy Wife from thee too? that's very hard.  1. Pet. 
Nay, an't please your Grace, let him give me my House and my Lands, and let him keep my Wife an he will, I do not care, now he has had her so long.  Suff. 
What's yours? What's here? Against the Duke of Suffolk, for  
Enclosing the Commons of Melford? How now you Rascal?  2. Pet. 
An't please your Grace I am but a poor Petitioner of our whole Township.  Pet. 
Mine is against my Master Thomas Horner, for saying, the Duke of York is lawful Heir to the Crown.  Qu. 
How?  Pet. 
Yes, and that the King is but an Usurper.  Qu. 
There's a Villain indeed.  Suff. 
Who is there?  Enter a Servant. 
Take this Fellow in, and send for a Pursuivant presently,  
We'll hear more of this Matter before the King.  Qu. 
You, here; who shrowded yourselves under the Protector,  
Begin your Suits anew, and sue to him. Tears their Petitions  
This is the Duke of Suffolk, I'm your Queen.  2 Pet. 
The Duke of Suffolk! oh! I am undone!  Qu. 
Away you Slaves! ho! turn these Fellows out.  
Is this the Fashion in the Court of England?  
Is this the Royalty of th' English King,  
To be a Pupil to a Governor?  
Am I a Queen, yet Subject to a Duke?  
Oh my La Poole! when in the City Tours  
Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my Love,  
And stolest away the Lady's hearts of France;  
I from thy Graces copied in my Mind  
A charming glorious Picture of King Henry;  
I thought thy Courage, Courtship, and Proportion,  
Had been brave Shadows, of thy braver King.  
But oh! there ne'er was Woman so deceived  
At the first sight of the King's sad grave Look;  
The golden Image of him in my mind  
Fell down upon my heart, and almost broke it.  
My heavy heart sunk in a Royal shadow,  
And greater was the fall, because before  
It stood on high and golden expectations.  
Ah! never was so sad a fall, as that  
From glorious Suffolk, down to soft King Henry.  Suff. 
Madam, be patiented, for I Married you,  
Not to the poor weak King, but to the brave Kingdom,  
And that I'll make a glorious Husband to you.  Queen▪ 
Indeed the Marriage between the King and me  
Is but a strange one; for to speak the truth,  
I'm Wedded to the Throne more than to him,  
And he is Married more to Heaven than me.  
His Soul is Married to all the Saints in Heaven;  
Heaven is the King's spacious Seraglio:  
There his heart lives; that which he leaves below  
With me, and with the Kingdom, is a shadow.  Suff. 
He is indeed no more but a King's Ghost,  
That walks in night; it has been night in England  
E'er since that Glorious Sun, his Father, set.  
And France and England, like two mettled Steeds  
Bound, startle, break their reins, and run away,  
At sight of this pale Ghost; nor will be Governed.  Qu. 
'Twere night with England, I am sure with me,  
If 'twere not for my glorious La Poole.  
If 'twere not for thee, England, were Hell to me,  
And I tormented with Infernal pains,  
Under the Arrogance of the Protector,  
Of Cardinal Beauford, that imperious Church Man,  
Of Somerset, Buckingham, and grumbling York,  
For each of these is greater than the King.  Suff. 
And Salisbury, and Warwick are as great as they.  Qu. 
Indeed, for any thing that I can see,  
The King's the only Subject in the Kingdom.  
He obeys all, and no one obeys him.  
But all this does not vex me half so much,  
As the intolerable insolence  
Of that proud Dame, the Lord Protectors Wife.  
She invades the Court each day, with Troops of Ladies,  
And vanquishes my Glory so entirely,  
That I appear a little falling Star,  
And she a Comet upon whom all gaze.  
Her very Habit does exceed in cost  
Th' expenses of a little Princes Court.  
She Swim's along the Court, like a Gild Ship;  
New come from India, laden all with Jewels,  
And then she scorns to strike her Sail to me,  
But overlooks me, like a little Pink  
Laden with Toys and Fripperies from France.  
This slave to Pride, that should be slave to me,  
Vaunted amongst her Minions the other day,  
The very Train of her worst wearing Gown,  
Was better worth than all my Father's Lands,  
Till Suffolk gave two Dukedoms for his Daughter.  Suff. 
Laugh at her Pride; for, Madam, it shall shortly  
Be your Divertisement, and her Destruction.  
I've dug a Pit for the fierce Lioness.  
Who, greedy of Honour, ranges to the very  
Suburbs of Hell for it; and I've turned lose  
Jackalls to tempt her to the Pit in show,  
Of guiding her to her desired Prey.  
See here comes one of my Jackalls— Sir John  
What News?  Enter Humes. Humes. 
Good News, my Lord, I have been with the Duchess,  
And did Salute her in the Devil's Name,  
With the Title of Majesty.  Suff. 
Ha! ha'! ha'!  (Laughs.) Qu. 
What do you mean?  Suff. 
Madam, the Story will make you Laugh; the Duchess  
Is going to the Devil for Preferment.  Qu. 
How? To the Devil?  Suff. 
Yes; and bribe's this Gentleman,  
To find out some of the Devil's Spies and Agents,  
To aid her in a Correspondence with him.  Humes. 
Madam, it is most true, and I've found out  
One Margery Jordan, an experienced Witch,  
And Roger Bullingbrook a Conjurer,  
And they pretend they'll raise from Hell a Spirit  
Shall tell her all she'll ask.  Qu. 
Sure they are Cheats.  Suff. 
They shall be Cheats to her, and her Duke Humphrey.  
Two mortal Devils, called York and Buckingham,  
Shall send their Devil to Hell, and carry her  
To what she more than Hell abhors, to shame  
And ruin, and her Duke shall quickly follow:  
He must have share of it in spite of him.  Qu. 
Oh! my La Poole, that I were now in private aside.  
To Kiss thee for this Plot! Oh! 'tis a rare one!  
Humes, carry on this Plot, here's Gold for thee,  
Thou shalt have more.  Humes. 
So, the Gold tumbles in  
On every side of me, but 'tis no wonder. aside.  
I serve the Master of the Mines of the Devil,  
And how in Hell he uses Slaves I know not:  
He is an excellent Master in this World. Exit.  Qu. 
Oh! Suffolk! thou didst never look so lovely  
In all thy Life as now; nor did I ever  
Feel such transporting pleasure in my Soul.  
Now I shall be a Queen.  Suff. 
A glorious one.  
I'm sure the fairest England ever saw.  Qu. 
Oh! Suffolk! bravest, loveliest of Men!  
I'm trebly blessed by thee, thou dost delight  
My Love, and my Revenge, and my Ambition.  
Now all the Ladies that in scorn of me,  
Flattered and waited on proud Gloster's Wife,  
Shall suddenly repent their saucy follies.  Suff. 
The Duke's of Somerset, and Buckingham,  
With the Insolent Cardinal, shall all fall too.  
As for the Duke of York, this late Complaint  
Will make but little for his benefit;  
So one by one we'll tumble 'em all down.  Qu. 
And on the Ruins of 'em all, we'll revel.  Suff. 
And England at the Queen's command shall be.  Qu. 
I'll Govern that, and thou shalt govern me.   

ACT II.  The King and Queen sat in State, Duke Humphrey, Cardinal, Buckingham, York, Salisbury, Warwick, and the Duchess attending. King. 
FOr my own part, my Lords, I care not whether  
Rules France, the Duke of Somerset, or York,  
All's one to me, they are both fitting Men.  York. 
Sir, if I ill demeaned myself in France,  
Then let me be denied the Regentship.  Som. 
Sir, if I be unworthy of the place,  
Then give the Duke of York the Regentship.  War. 
Whether your Grace, my Lord, be worthy or not;  
Dispute not that, the Duke of York is worthier.  Car. 
Ambitious Warwick! let your betters speak.  War. 
The Cardinal's not my betters in the Field.  Buck. 
My Lord, all in this Presence are your betters.  War. 
In Title, not in Fortune, or in Courage.  Sal. 
Peace, Son!  King. 
Oh! peace my Lords! Do not you know  
What little pleasure I have in my Crown,  
And Do you strive to make me wearier of it?  
You take it ill if I refuse you Governments,  
Yet you deny to let me Rule in quiet.  
I wonder what you see in this vile World  
Worth the contending for. Heaven has entrusted me  
With Three Great Kingdoms, England, France and Ireland,  
And I must give Account of 'em to Heaven,  
And not throw up my Charge for my own ease,  
Else I would gladly give 'em all to buy  
The holy Peace, any of you may have.  
Yet you disturb yourselves and me for Rule,  
Which I account a Penance for my sins.  Qu. 
Is this a King that speaks? or some poor Pilgrim,  
That having lost his way, seats himself ignorantly  
Down in a Throne, and does not know 'tis one.  
And falls a Preaching to the gaping Multitude.  
Oh! What a Prince is this to sway three Kingdoms? Aside.  
And what a Husband's this for a young Queen?  Yo. 
Most Gracious Sovereign! our chief contention  
Is to give you that ease which you delight in,  
To lay the burden of your Government  
On Men whose Loyalty and great Abilities  
May bear 'em up, both to your ease and glory.  Sal. 
And for the Government of France, my Lord  
Of York, no Man so fitting as yourself.  
And pray my Lord of Buckingham, show reason  
Why you prefer the Duke of Somerset?  Qu. 
Because 'tis the King's Will to have it so.  Glou. 
Madam, the King is old enough himself  
To speak his Mind; these are no women's matters.  Qu. 
If he be old enough, What needs your Grace  
To be Protector of His Majesty?  Glou. 
Madam, I am Protector of the Kingdom,  
And at His pleasure will resign my Place.  Suff. 
Resign it then, and leave your Insolence;  
Since you were King, (As who is King but you?)  
The Commonwealth has daily run to ruin.  
The Dauphin seized our Provinces in France,  
And you our Liberties and Honours here.  Car. 
The Commons you have Racked, the Clergies Bags  
Are lank and lean with your Extortions.  Som. 
You spend the Public Treasure most profusely  
On Sumptuous Buildings for your Luxury,  
And costly Attire for your Wive's Vanity.  Elia. 
So! so! my Dress becomes a Crime of State;  
Shortly I do believe you will Arraign  
My Necklaces and Bodkins of High Treason;  
You cannot do it by the Law of England,  
'Cause they have not their Equals here to try 'em by.  Buck. 
We may extort the Law as oft your Husband  
Has done, to punish beyond bounds of Law.  Qu. 
And not content to waste the Public Treasure,  
Both on his own, and his Wive's foolish Pride.  
He has, as the Suspition's very strong,  
Made Sale of Offices and Towns in France,  
Which if 'twere proved, should make him lose his Head.  Glo. 
How am I baited beyond Human sufferance?  
I will go out and cool, lest I be tempted  
To act or speak any thing  
Unworthy of myself, and of this Presence Exit.  King. 
My Lords, my Lords, I see, and grieve to see  
Too much Ill-mindedness in all this Fury.  
We oft by Lightning read in darkest Night,  
And by your Passions I read all your Natures,  
Though you at other times can keep 'em dark;  
But I have Read 'em when you thought it not,  
And I myself scarce minded what I did.  
I, like the musing Hermit in the Desert,  
Feel the cold nipping blasts of the rough Wind,  
And hear the Howls of Wolves, and Yelpes of Foxes,  
Though I regard 'em not, nor mind at all  
To shun 'em, or to fortify against 'em.  Card. 
I hope the King ranks not among the Wolves  
One of the Shepherds of the Sacred Flock.  King. 
I should be glad I had no cause at all.  Suff. 
I hope there's none of us has spoken any thing  
But from deep sense of Loyalty and Honour  
Against a Traitor to the King and Kingdom.  King. 
I'll Judge so honourably of you all,  
To think, you only echo Public Rumour;  
And Echoes that miscall the Passenger  
Injure him not, but they that set 'em talking.  
Public Report than wrongs the Duke, not you;  
For if you know him false, Why don't you prove it?  
Then you do ill, to do no more than Talk.  Qu. 
Sir, subtle Men don't use to act their Wickedness  
In Roades, in Markets, or on Steeple tops;  
But closely hid; so hid, that oft the Devil  
Who did employ 'em, scarce knows what they mean.  Elia. 
Come, Sir, all this is spoken out of envy,  
Low crawling envy, envy that is choked  
With the great Dust the Train of my Robes make.  
Whence came this beggarly Spirit into England?  
It never can be of the English growth.  
The late great Conquerors of Towns and Provinces  
Fallen to envy a Lady's ? Oh! beggarly!  
Some poor French Pedlar brought this Spirit hither,  
'Mongst the small Wares, they sell so dear to us.  Qu. 
Oh! how she taunts me!— this is meant to me! Aside.  
I will take an occasion to affront her. Let's fall her Fan.  
Give me my Fan!— What, Minion, Can you not?  She gives the Duchess a Box o'th' ear. 
I cry you Mercy, Madam, Was it you?  Elia. 
Yes, it was I, proud Daughter of a Beggar.  
Strike me thy betters, many times thy betters,  
Bating the Dignity thc King bestows on thee.  
No mar'le thou look'st with envy on my Jewels;  
Thy Father could not give thee Gold enough  
Only to Gild one of the King's Prayer-Books.  
The King was forced to give him two great Provinces,  
That so it might not shamefully be said,  
The Father of the Queen of England starves.  Qu. 
So! so!  King. 
Fie Madam! Fie! this is too much:  
Pray Rule yourself, it was against her will.  Elia. 
Against her will? no! Sir! 'twas with her will,  
And shortly she will do as much to you.  
But she shall never strike me unrevenged— Exit. Elia.  Buck. 
I will follow her my Lord Cardinal,  
And listen after the Duke, how he proceeds.  
The Duchess Fury now will need no spurs,  
She'll gallop fast enough to her destruction.  Card. 
And let her gallop, and the Devil speed her— Ex. Buck.  Enter Duke Humphrey. Glo. 
My Lords, I've walked away from all that passion,  
Which your false spiteful Accusations  
Had kindled in my breast; and now I come  
In a cold candid temper to advise you  
To spare yourselves, for me you cannot hurt.  
Bring any Proofs of what you have accused me,  
And I lie open to the Law as any Man,  
At least I will do so; for if you think  
My Office fences me, I'll throw it down.  
But to the matters that we have in hand,  
I say the Duke of York's the fittest person  
To be your Regent Sir in France.  Suff. 
Before Election's made, let me show reason why  
The Duke of York is most unfit of any Man.  York. 
My Lord of Suffolk, I will tell you why,  
Because I scorn to be your Flatterer.  
Next, if I be appointed for the place,  
Such is my Lord of Somersets ambition  
And hate to me, that he will keep me here,  
Without Discharge, Money, or Furniture,  
Till France be won; he had rather it were lost,  
Than any one should rule it but himself.  
Last time I danced Attendance on his will,  
Till Paris was besieged, famished, and lost.  War. 
That I can witness, and a blacker Treason  
Was ne'er committed—  Suff. 
Peace, my Lord of Warwick!  
Here's one shall silence you, and him you plead for.  Enter Armorer and his Man Peter. York. 
How? Silence me?  Suff. 
Yes; here is a Man accused  
Of Treason, that relates to you my Lord.  York. 
Does any one accuse me for a Traitor?  King. 
What do you mean, my Lord? What Men are these?  Suff. 
An't please your Majesty, this is the Man  
That does Accuse his Master of High Treason.  
His words were these; That Richard Duke of York  
Was the true lawful heir to the Crown of England:  
And that your Majesty was an Usurper.  King. 
Say Man, Were these thy words?  Arm. 
An't please your Majesty,  
I never said, nor thought any such matter:  
Heaven is my witness I am falsely accused.  Pet. 
By these ten bones, he spoke 'em to me one night, my Lord in the Garret, when we were scow'ring the Duke of York's Armour.  York. 
Base Villain! I will have thee hanged for this  
Most Traitorous Speech.  
I do beseech your Majesty,  
Let him find all the rigour of the Law.  Ar. 
Hang me, my Lord, if ever I spoke these words;  
My Accuser is my Apprentice, and I correcting him  
For his Fault the other day, he Vowed on's knees  
He'd be revenged on me, I have good witness;  
Therefore I beseech your Majesty, cast not away  
An Honest Man, for a Rogue's Accusation.  
One that has been a Rogue, Sir, all his Life,  
A most notorious Rogue, Sir, I beseech you.  King. 
Uncle, What shall we say to this in Law?  Glo. 
If I may Judge, Sir, let the Duke of Somerset  
Be Regent o'er the French, because the Duke  
Of York lies under violent suspicion.  
And let these have a day appointed 'em  
For single Combat, 'cause the Armourer  
Has Witness of his Servants Threats and Malice.  
This is the Law, and this is, Sir, my Sentence.  King. 
Let it be so.  Som. 
I humbly thank your Majesty.  Armo. 
And I accept the Combat willingly.  Pet. 
Alas! my Lord, I cannot fight! oh! pity me!  
Oh Heaven have mercy on me! I shall never  
Be able to strike a blow!— oh! Lord! my heart! Why the  
Devil must I fight? Is this my Reward for Witnessing? I cannot fight.  Glo. 
Sirrah! you must fight, or be hanged.  King. 
Away with 'em to Prison! till the Combat.  
Come, my Lord Duke, I will dispatch you to France.  All go out but the Cardinal. Card. 
I will not rest till I've the Blood of Gloucester:  
He must be Lord Protector of the Kingdom,  
And Lord it over me. He thinks he is  
A better Man, 'cause he is a King's Son,  
And I but Son of the Duke of Lancaster.  
He is the Son of Henry the Fourth,  
And I of Henry's Father John of Gaunt.  
But at my making there it seems did want  
Some Holy Ceremonies, for want of which  
I'm that the Rude Ill-manared Law calls Bastard.  
And 'cause the Law has thrust me from Succession  
To the great Temporal Glories of my Father,  
They wrapped me up in a Priest's Robe, and lay me  
Out of the World; and in the way of Heaven.  
They should have dressed poor Henry in this Child's Coat,  
And laid him in the Cradle of the Church,  
And humed him fast asleep with Holy Stories;  
His little Soul was fit for those things.  
Well, I will go to Heaven; but in my way  
I at the Lord Protectorship will bait,  
Or I will lie abroad in storms of Blood.  
My Cousins themselves Legitimate may call;  
Their Souls compared with mine are Bastards all. Exit.  Enter Elinor, Humes; the Scene a Room in the Conjurer's House. Elia. 
Where are your Instruments?  Humes. 
They are both ready,  
Preparing their dire Charms and Exorcisms.  Elia. 
Call 'em.  Enter Bullingbrook and the Witch. Humes. 
Come in; this, Madam, is Roger Bullingbrook,  
A Man of wonderful and dreadful Art;  
He has a Key to the Infernal deep,  
And let's abroad what Spirit he will, and when:  
And when he will he Chains him up again.  
This Woman equal him in Power and Art,  
Her Name is Jordan.  Elia. 
Come, begin your Charms.  Bull. 
Dare you be present, Madam?  Elia. 
Dare the Devil  
Come in my presence? for I dare meet him.  Bull. 
Madam, you may, for Heaven fetters him,  
And gives us Mortal Creatures Power to do so:  
I gained my Art by Prayer, and profound Study;  
Then nothing fear.  Elia. 
I ne'er knew what fear was.  Bull. 
Go, Mother Jordan, get the Incense ready. The Witch goes out.  Elia. 
Well said, my Masters, come, begin, begin.  Bull. 
Pray Patience, Madam, for we know our times.  
Our time is in the Deep, and Silent Night;  
The time when Cities oft are set on fire;  
When Robberies and Murders are committed;  
When Bandogs Howl, and Shreich-Owles Warn the Dying;  
When Spir 'tis Walk, and Ghosts break up their Graves;  
Then Devils come abroad to meet their Friends,  
And that's the time best fit's our present Work:  
But, Madam, sit, and fear not, whom we raise  
We will make fast within a hallowed Verge.  Enter the Witch with a Pan of Coals. Bull. 
Fling Incense in, then grovel on the Earth.  The Witch fling's something on the Coals, and then the Conjurer immediately falls▪ prostrate, makes a Circle with his Wand, then takes a Book and Reads. Bull. 
Thou mighty Spirit, one of the chief Powers  
And Potentates in the Infernal Kingdom,  
Whose Empire extends wide in Night and Chaos,  
Whose Provinces are Peopled thick with damned;  
By that Authority he gives me o'er thee,  
Who hurled thee down into these doleful Regions,  
I chargee thee to obey my dread Commands,  
And at my calling to appear— Appear!—  
Asmath appear!  Bull. 
Asmath— Appear!— appear!—  Witch. 
Asmath— Appear!— appear!—  Thunder and Lightning, a Spirit riseth. Spirit. 
I'm here!—  Bull. 
I charge thee by th' eternal being,  
Whose name and power thou ever tremblest at:  
To Answer that I Ask; for till thou speak  
Thou shalt not stir from hence.  Spirit. 
Ask what thou wilt—  
But prithee do not keep me with thee long.  Bull. 
First of the King: What shall become of him?  Spirit. 
The Duke now lives, that Henry shall Depose;  
But him outlive, and die a violent Death.  Bull. 
Now say, What fate attends the Duke of Suffolk?  Spirit. 
By Water shall he meet his latest Breath.  Bull. 
What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?  Spirit. 
Let him shun Castles;  
Safer shall he be on the Sandy Plains,  
Then where Castles mounted stand.  
Ha' done, for more I hardly can endure.  Bull. 
Descend to darkness, and the Burning Lake.  
Be gone! be gone!—  The Spirit descends with Thunder and Lightning. Enter the Dukes of York and Buckingham with a Guard, and seize 'em. Yo. 
Lay hands upon these Traitors, and their Trash.  Elia. 
Ha!  Yo. 
Madam, yes, I think we have watched you narrowly;  
The King and Kingdom are indebted to you  
For this fine piece of Work: my Lord Protector,  
Who, no doubt, set you a Work, will see you rewarded.  Elia. 
What mighty Mischief have I done, my Lords?  
Talked with a Devil? I every day converse  
With worse than Devils with yourselves, my Lords.  
But I've it seems disturbed the Peace of Hell;  
What, you have Interest there? and many Friends!  
Forgive me, Lords, but yet you can disturb  
The King and Kingdom's Peace; Is that no Crime?  Buck. 
You have committed, Madam, than no crime  
It seems— away with those, and Guard 'em close;  
Keep 'em asunder; see that all their Trinkets  
Be forthcoming— Madam, you must with us.  Guard lead out Elia. Witch and Conjurer. You 
This was an excellent Plot, well chose t' build on.  
Now pray my Lord let's see the Devil's Writ.  
The Duke yet lives, that Henry shall Depose; Reads.  
But him outlive, and die a violent death.  Buck. 
This is just Aio te Aeacida Romanos vincere posse.  Yo. 
The Devil still keeps to his old trade of Quibbling.  Buck. 
He is the Father of all Liars and Quiblers.  Yo. 
Well to the rest.  
What Fate attends the Duke of Suffolk? Reads.  
By Water shall he meet his latest breath.  
What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?  
Let him shun Castles:  
Safer shall he be on Sandy Plains,  
Then where Castles mounted stand.  
Fine stuff— The Devil I see is grown old and dull.  
The King is now in Progress towards St. Alban,  
With him the Husband of this lowly Lady.  
Whether go all these Cloudy Oracles  
As fast as Horse can carry 'em—  
A sorry Breakfast for my Lord Protector.  Buck. 
Your Grace shall give me leave my Lord of York  
To be the Post.  Yo. 

My Lord, at your own pleasure.  
Within there ho!   Enter a Servant. 

Entreat my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick  
To take a short Collation at my House  
This Afternoon, away: My Lord your Servant— Ex.   Enter the King, Queen, Protector, Cardinal, Suffolk, as from Hawking. Attendants, Summersault, Salisbury, Warwick. Qu. 
Believe me, Lords, for flying at the Brook  
I ne'er had better sport in all my life.  
Yet by your leave the Wind was very high.  King. 
But what a Point, my Lord, your Falcon made?  
And what a pitch she flew above the rest.  Suff. 
My Lord Protector's Hawks tower like their Master,  
Above their Fellows.  Glo. 
'Tis an humble Mind  
That mounts, my Lord, no higher than a Bird.  Card. 
I thought he soon would be above the Clouds.  Gl. 
Ay, my Lord Cardinal, how think you by that?  
Would not your Grace be glad to mount towards Heaven?  K. 
The Treasury of Everlasting Joy.  Card. 
Your Heaven is on Earth, your eyes and thoughts  
Beat on a Crown, the Treasure of your Heart,  
Pernicious, haughty, treacherous Protector!  
Who smooth it thus both with the King and Kingdom.  Gl. 
How, Cardinal!  
Tantaeve animis Coelestibus irae! Churchmen so hot?  
Uncle, for shame let your Robe hid your Malice.  Suff. 
No Malice, my Lord, but Zeal, that which becomes  
So good a Quarrel, with so bad a Lord.  Gl. 
As who?  Suff. 
Why, as yourself, my Lord Protector.  Gl. 
My Lord of Suffolk, England knows your Insolence.  Qu. 
And your Ambition, my Lord of Gloucester.  K. 
How, Madam! You a Stirrer of Debate?  
These are the pleasant Sounds that follow me  
wherever I go: I'm an Enchanted Isle,  
Surrounded with Eternal raging Storms,  
Whoever approaches me, hazards a Wreck:  
These Winds and Waves beat on my Lord Protector,  
Because he is a Rock that Guards my Coast.  Card. 
Good Heaven, what Arts has the Protector used  
To charm you, Sir, that you can see all Loyalty  
In him who means you hurt? and none in us,  
Who show our Loyal Zeal to guard you from him?  
Were it but one of us that shown this Zeal,  
It might be thought an Envy to his Greatness,  
And a design to get into his Office:  
But since we all unite our Accusations,  
We can have no design but Loyalty,  
Since all of us cannot be Lord Protectors.  K. 
But all may hope, though only one can be so.  
But come, my Lords, do not I know you all?  
I mind you often, when you think I do not.  
You think I'm fast asleep to all this World,  
I would be so, but you disturb my rest,  
And break my slumbers with your furious Broils,  
And make me mind you whether I will or no.  
Alas, I pity you, you wrong yourselves  
Much more than me; and yet you trouble me,  
Trouble my Counsels, trouble my Devotions,  
Trouble my Sports; but, Sirs, I thank you for it,  
For by these Tempests you stir up the Mud  
That lodges in the bottom of this World,  
And make all Pleasures here a Puddle to me,  
And make me long for the pure Joys above,  
To do me good, though you design me none.  Qu. 
Here I am tired with everlasting Preaching. Aside.  Card. 
The King and I ought to change Offices, Aside.  
He is more fit to be a Priest than I,  
And I'm more fit to be a King than he:  
Thus Crowns and Mitres are at random thrown,  
And very seldom light on Heads that fit 'em.  Enter one crying a Miracle. Gl. 
What means this noise?  One. 
A Miracle! A Miracle!  Car. 
What Miracle? An Usurer made charitable?  
A Lawyer honest, or a Courtier faithful,  
A Woman constant, or a Soldier godly?  Suff. 
Come to the King, and tell him, Friend, what Miracle.  One. 
Forsooth a Blind Man at St. Alban Shrine,  
Within this half hour has received his sight,  
A Man that ne'er saw in his life before.  Suff. 
That's a strange Miracle indeed, my Friend.  K. 
Th' Eternal Goodness, and Omnipotence,  
Be praised, for all thy wondrous Works to Men;  
He has not only given this poor man sight,  
But by this miracle given light to truth.  Card. 
I will be hanged, if this be not some damned cheat Aside.  
Played by the Friars: I who wait at the Altar,  
Know well what tricks are played behind the Altar,  
Yet I must countenance it with a grave look,  
But 'tis strange truth that stands in need of lies.  
Well, Heaven be praised, Sir, for this miracle; To the K.  
Here come the Friars and Townsmen on Procession,  
To present your Majesty with the man.  Enter Abbot, Friars, Mayor of St. Alban, and his Brethren, bearing the Man in a Chair, his Wife with him. Gl. 
Stand by, my Masters, bring him near the King,  
It is his Majesty's pleasure to talk with him.  K. 
Good Fellow, tell us all the circumstances,  
That all of us may glorify Heaven for thee.  
Wert thou born blind?  Simp. 
Born blind, an't please your Grace.  Wife. 
I indeed was he forsooth.  Suff. 
What Woman's this?  Wife. 
His Wife, an't like your Worship.  Gl. 
If thou hadst been his Mother, thou couldst better  
Have told.  Suff. 
What thinks your Majesty of this? To the Qu.  Qu. 
Some trick o' the Friars to cheat the silly people: Aside.  
They are all a pack o' Rogues.  Suff. 
Oh! damned Rogues all. Aside.  K. 
Where wert thou born?  Simp. 
At Berwick, an't please your Grace.  Suff. 
So far in the North, and come hither for Cure?  
What, was there ne'er a Northern Saint to help thee?  
No Saint in Scotland?  Simp. 
Not that I e'er heard of:  
I never heard of any Saint in Scotland,  
An't like your Worship.  Suff. 
Truly nor I neither.  Qu. 
There is a Saint in Wales, Saint Winifrid,  
Many miles nearer Berwick than Saint Alban,  
Why didst not go to her? She's a good Saint,  
And does abundance of good Offices.  Simp. 
She is so, an't please you forsooth Madam,  
I've heard of her, but she is so full of business,  
Does so many Cures for English, Welsh, and Irish,  
That I was loath to trouble the good Lady:  
Besides, I was afraid she would not be  
At leisure a great while to look to me,  
And I did long to get a little sight forsooth.  K. 
Poor Soul, Heaven's goodness has been great to thee,  
Heaven has opened a new gate of comforts to thee,  
Shown thee the richest brightest half of time,  
Turned o'er the guilded leaves of Nature's Book,  
Where thou shalt read things thou couldst ne'er imagine,  
Coin all this golden time in praise and prayer,  
And thou shalt find too at this gate of sight,  
Armies of new temptations enter in,  
Therefore stand more than ever upon thy Watch.  Card. 
How this tale sinks into the King's soft Soul! Aside.  
A Cannon could not shoot it into mine;  
Yet I must face this fable with my Scarlet,  
To make it pass for the Honour of the Church.  
Upon such Legs as these the poor Church halts,  
Though we conceive its halting with our Robes.  Qu. 
Tell me, good Fellow, cam'st thou here by chance,  
Or out of pure Devotion to this Shrine?  Simp. 
Indeed forsooth out of most pure Devotion,  
Being called I'm confident a hundred times,  
And oftener in my sleep by good Saint Alban.  Suff. 
How didst thou know it was Saint Alban called thee?  Simp. 
He said he was Saint Alban, if it please you.  Suff. 
He told thee in thy sleep so?  Simp. 
Yes, an't please you.  Suff. 
What said Saint Alban?  Simp. 
He said, Saunder, an't please your Worship,  
Come, offer at my Shrine, and I will help thee:  
Come, Saunder, come.  Wife. 
Indeed 'tis true forsooth,  
For many a time and oft myself have heard  
A voice to call him so.  Suff. 
What in thy sleep?  Wife. 
No forsooth, waking, as I'm now forsooth.  Suff. 
Friend, thou wert much in good Saint Alban favour.  Simp. 
I truly, I am much beholding to him.  Card. 
What, art thou lame?  Simp. 
Yes, Heaven help me, Sir.  Suff. 
How cam'st thou so?  Simp. 
By a fall from a Tree.  Wife. 
Yes, he fell down from a high Plum tree, Master.  Gl. 
Wert thou born blind, and yet wouldst climb a tree?  Simp. 
Never but once, and then my Wife desired me  
To get some Damsons for her, and I could not  
Deny her any thing, I loved her dearly, she's a good Wife forsooth.  Card. 
Alas, good Couple.  Gl. 
This is a Rogue, and I'll discover him: Aside.  
Let me see thine eyes:— wink now; now open 'em:  
In my opinion yet thou seest not well.  Simp. 
Yes, Master, clear as day, I thank St. Alban.  Gl. 
Sayest thou me so? What colour is that Gown?  Simp. 
Red, Master, Red as Blood.  Gl. 
Why, that's well said.  
What colour is my Hat?  Simp. 
Black, Black forsooth, Coalblack as Jet forsooth.  K. 
Why, then thou knowst what colour Jet is of?  Suff. 
And yet he ne'er saw Jet in all his life.  Gl. 
But Gowns and Hats before this day good store.  Wife. 
Never before this day in all his life.  Gl. 
what's my Name, Sirrah?  Simp. 
Master, I know not.  Gl. 
What is his Name?  Simp. 
Indeed I know not, Master.  Glo. 
No?  Simp. 
No indeed.  Glo. 
Nor his?  Simp. 
No truly Master.  Glow 
What's thy own Name? Canst thou tell that?  Simp. 
My Name is Saunder Sympcox, if it please you Master.  Glo. 

Then Saunder Sympcox, you are a Cheating Rogue.  
If you had been born blind, you might as well  
Have known our Names, as all the Names of Colours.   

Sight may distinguish Colours, but not Name 'em.  
St. Alban here, my Lords, has done a Miracle;  
What if I do one, and restore this Cripple  
To his Legs again?   Simp. 
Oh! Master! that you could.  Suff. 
How came St. Alban did not cure thy Lameness  
As well as Blindness?  Simp. 
Nay, I know not, Master.  Suff. 
Has he not Skill in Legs as well as eyes?  Simp. 
Yes, surely, Master, they are all one to him.  Suff. 
What he forgot 'em then?  Simp. 
I know not, Master;  
If it had pleased him to have Cured my Legs,  
I should ha' been most mightily behold to him.  Glo. 
I'll ease him of that trouble, I will Cure thee.  Simpl. 
Ah, Master, that you could.  Glo. 
I'll do't I say:  
Have you no Beadles Mr. Mayor? and things called Whips?  Mayor. 
Here is the Beadle, please your Grace.  Glo. 
I see a Stool there, bring it hither quickly.  
Now, Sirrah, if you mean to save yourself  
From Whipping, leap o'er this Stool and run away.  Simp. 
Alas! Master, I am not able to stand alone;  
You go about to Torture me in vain.  Glo. 
Well, Sirrah, I must have you find your Legs:  
Whip him till he leap o'er that same Stool.  Simp. 
Master, What shall I do? I cannot stand.  Glo. 
Leap Sirrah! Leap!  Simp. 
Oh! oh!—  Beadle Whips him, he leaps over the Stool, and runs away, and they cry a Miracle, follow. King. 
Dost thou behold their Heaven? and bear thus long?  Glo. 
Bring back the Rogue, and take this Drab away.  Wife. 
Alas! we did it for pure need, forsooth.  Glo. 
Let 'em be Whipped through every Market Town,  
Till they come to Berwick, from whence they came.  Car. 
Hark you, Are not you a Company of Damned Fools  
To employ such a Silly Rogue as this? Softly to a Friar.  
That has shown all your Cheats to the whole World?  Fry. 
My Lord, they were known to all Wise Men before▪  
And such a Fool will serve to Cozen Fools:  
And Fools are those that we must hope to stand by. Exit.  Enter Buckingham. King. 
What Tidings brings my Lord of Buckingham?  Buc. 
Such as my heart does temble to relate:  
My Lord Protector's Wife has practised horridly,  
And dangerously against your Majesty's Life—  
H'as dealt with Hellish Conjurers and Witches  
To raise up wicked Spirits from under Ground  
To acquaint her with your destiny, and Council her  
How she may aid your Fate, and hasten it.  
She's enquired too of the Infernal Oracle  
The Fates of several of your Majesty's Council;  
We apprehended 'em all in the Fact.  Car. 
Ha! Is she fallen into our Trap? that's well!— Aside.  
And she shall soon pluck her Duke Humphrey after.  
My Lord Protector, your good Lady finding  
She governs you, thinks she can rule the Devil,  
And have th'infernal Powers at her Command.  
Heaven be Praised, England's Protected well.  
Your Grace is Lord Protector of the Kingdom,  
Your Wife rules you, the Devil is her Protector,  
And so the Devil is England's Lord Protector;  
I hope we shall displace his Devilship.  Glo. 
And put a worse Devil in if you succeed.  
But these good Churchmen are the heavenly comforts  
You give your Kinsman in affliction.  
You may insult, for sorrow has so vanquished me,  
The basest Groom may trample on me now.  King. 
What horrid things are practised in this World?  
How vile ones heap confusion on their heads?  Queen 
My Lord, my Lord, you see your nest is tainted;  
Look that yourself be faultless you had best.  Glo. 
Madam, I will not answer for a Woman:  
For my own self, to heaven I appeal,  
Who knows how I have loved my King and Country.  
And for my Wife, I know not how it stands,  
Sorry I am to hear what I have heard.  
Noble she is, but if she have forgot  
Honour and Virtue, I will forget her,  
And banish her my Bed, and my Acquaintance;  
And give her up to the just punishment  
Which ●he deserves for so much wickedness,  
And so dishonouring my honest Name.  King. 
I will to London with what haste I can,  
To look into this business thoroughly,  
And call these foul offenders to their Answers.  Ex. Om. prae. Suff. and the Qu. Qu. 
My dear, dear Suffolk, how thou every moment  
Heapest new delights on me? when thou didst get for me  
The English Crown, thou didst not please me more,  
Then now in getting me revenge on Elinor.  
Treading on her, methinks I walk in Triumph  
To a second and more pleasing Coronation.  Suff. 
I told you, Madam, I had snares for her.  
You were impatient and could not stay  
Till things could ripen.  Qu. 
Oh! thou art my Sun:  
My joys and glories ripen, grow and flourish  
Under thy beautiful and glorious beams.  
Come let's go see Dame Elinor in her shame,  
The pleasing'st sight in the whole World, next thee.  Suff. 
Next sight I'll show you, shall be Gloster's fall;  
The good fond Husband will be loath to stay  
Behind his Wife, though she goes to destruction.  Qu. 
Sure thou wert made o' purpose for my Love;  
Had heaven bid me ask for some great Merit,  
A Gift that might have showed bounty divine,  
I would have said, Let Suffolk heaven be mine.— Ex.   

ACT III.  Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick. 

The SCENE the Duke of York's House, long Scrolls lying on a Table.  York. 
NOw my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick,  
You have perused my Title to the Crown,  
I pray deliver me both your opinions.  War. 
My Lord, 'tis very plain, the Right is yours;  
King Henry claims the Crown from John of Gaunt,  
Fourth Son of Edward the Third; Your Grace claims it  
From Lionel Duke of Clarence the Third Son:  
Till Lyonell's Issue fails, his should not Reign.  
It fails not yet, but flourishes in you,  
and in your Sons, fair Branches of your Stock.  
My Lord of Salisbury kneel we together,  
And in this private Room be we the first  
That shall Salute our Lawful Sovereign,  
With the honour of his Birthright to the Crown.  Both. 
Long live our Sovereign, Richard King of England.  York. 
My Lords, I give you both my hearty thanks;  
But I am not your King till I be Crowned,  
And my Sword slayned in the heart blood of all  
The House of Lancaster; and that's not suddenly,  
Nor very easily to be performed:  
We must use Counsel, Secrecy, and Courage:  
Do you as I do in these dangerous days,  
Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's Insolence;  
At Beauford's Pride; at Somerset's Ambition;  
At Buckingham, and all the Crew of 'em,  
Till they have snared the good and wise Duke Humphrey,  
Whose Virtues are so many Guardian Angels  
Both to the King and Kingdom; his destruction  
These ill Men seek, and they in seeking that  
Shall find their own, if I can Prophesy.  Sal. 
My Lord, let us break off, we know your Mind.  War. 
There's something great within my breast that tells me,  
The Day is coming, when the Earl of Warwick  
Shall make the Duke of York the King of England.  Yo. 
And I shall live to make the Earl of Warwick  
The greatest Man in England but the King— Exit.   

The SCENE the Court.  Enter King and Queen, Duke of Suffolk, Duke of Gloucester, Cardinal, Elinor a Prisoner. King. 
Madam, stand forth, and hear your Sentence from me:  
In sight of heaven and me your guilt is great;  
A Crime, to which heavens Book adjudges Death:  
Your Fellow Criminals shall suffer Death;  
and 'tis notorious false reasoning  
you should be spared, because you are great and Noble;  
he World is used to such false Reasonings,  
and that's the cause there is so little Truth in it.  
But I observe but few of the World's Customs,  
Nor will I now be lead away in this.  
Then hear my Sentence; since to your great Spirit  
There is no pain like shame; I Sentence you  
To bear the torturing shame of open Penance:  
And since to live deposed of all your Honours  
In some remote sad desolate obscurity,  
Is to you pain like burying alive,  
I Sentence you to spend your days in Banishment  
With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man.  Elia. 
Welcome my Banishment; for I am sure  
My doleful days will not be many there.  Glo. 
Oh Wife! What hast thou brought upon thyself?  
Did not I timely warn thee of Ambition;  
And say, one day 'twould do some dismal deed?  
The King has passed a righteous Sentence on thee;  
And none have reason to complain but I,  
Who innocently suffer in thy shame:  
My honour shares in all thy sad reproach,  
And my love suffers in thy Banishment,  
That I am punished equally with thee,  
Though I am innocent; and yet the King  
Does me no wrong at all: no Elinor,  
I've reason to complain of none but thee,  
Who wouldst not take the Counsels that I gave thee,  
Out of dear Love to thee.  Elia. 
I see my folly.  Glo. 
Now hast thou brought dishonour on my age,  
And shame and grief will sink me to my Grave.  Qu. 
My Lord, my Lord, you can be sensible  
Of your Wive's shame; but not of the dishonour  
The King and I both suffered by her Insolence.  
You weep, 'cause she must suffer an hours Penance;  
But she has made me suffer horrid Penance  
E'er since I was her Queen, both to my own,  
And the King's shame and grief, that you ne'er wept for.  
She must walk barefoot now upon the stones:  
Time was, she trod on me, I was her way;  
Which I endured to the King's shame and mine:  
And you for that had very small regret.  Gl. 
Madam, if for her Crimes, her too great Crimes,  
The punishment the King has doomed her to  
Be not enough, pray Sentence her to more:  
But let her know an end of punishment.  
But if the Scale be full enough already,  
As the just King, who poised it well, conceives;  
Do not be heaping till it grows injustice.  Qu. 
My Lord, she deserves more than she shall suffer;  
Only for the intolerable rudeness  
Wherewith she treated me her Queen to day;  
To call me to my Face a Beggar's Daughter?  
Suppose I were that miserable Beggar,  
Is it well done to tread on Poverty?  
But when by Birth heaven made me a great Princess,  
And the King's Love made me a great Queen, her Queen▪  
For her to treat me so? Was that well done?  Suff. 
Yes, Madam, 'twas well done for his Designs  
Of making her your Queen, your Majesty her subject:  
That they had such Designs, her present Crimes  
Are a sufficient proof; and they did well  
To bring you to subjection by degrees.  Car. 
All the reflection I shall make is this;  
He who was Governed by so ill a Woman,  
Is very unfit to be the Kingdom's Governor;  
She was his Counsellor, the Devil hers;  
Conjecture then what his Designs must be.  Glo. 
Lord Cardinal, I am sure of your good Word;  
I see what all of you thirst for, my ruin.  
I had long since removed out of your way,  
If duty to my King had not detained me:  
I was afraid to trust him in your hands,  
But I perceive my stay occasions him  
Perpetual trouble; and the heavenly power  
Has an especial eye to Sacred Kings.  
To his Protection then I'll leave the King,  
If the King will permit me, and retire  
To bear the heavy burden of my griefs.  Qu. 
Pray do, my Lord, we'll take you at your word.  
I see no reason, why a King of years  
Should be Protected like a little Child:  
Resign your Staff, and give the King his Kingdom,  
The King by heaven's help may Govern it.  King. 
Do, do my Lord, since they'll all have it so,  
I shall not want a Counsel, or Protection,  
For heaven is my hope, my stay, my guide.  
And go in peace, less powerful, less great;  
No less beloved, by me, and all good Men.  Enter York. Glo. 
Then here, most Sacred Sovereign, is my Staff;  
As willingly do I resign it to you,  
As e'er your glorious Father made it mine.  
As willingly I lay it at your feet,  
As others would ambitiously receive it▪  
Farewell, good King, may you, when I am dead,  
Never have cause to shed one tear for me.  
When is your Royal Pleasure that my Wife  
Shall do her Penance?  King. 
Now, immediately.  Glo. 
Come, Elinor, let us support our Sorrows;  
Sorrow is natural to this Vale of Tears.  
My fall will rather pleasure to me bring,  
If it shall cause no sorrow to the King.  Exit Gloucester, Elinor with a Guard. King 
Oh Lords, you have made me part with a good Man!  
I wish I may never have need of him.  York. 
How? Has the Duke resigned the Government?  Qu. 
Yes; Henry now is King; and I am Queen;  
And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce himself:  
Two of his stately Branches are lopped from him;  
His Wife is Banished, and his Staff resigned,  
And he will shortly whither with the Maim.  Yo. 
As I would wish: How have these haughty Lords aside  
Most subtly wrought their own destruction?  
For now the King lies open to my Sword;  
But they shall perish with him for their Villainies.  A Shout: Enter Buckingham. King. 
Now! What's the News?  Buck. 
May it please your Majesty,  
The Combat between the Armourer and his Man,  
The Appellant, and Defendant has been fought,  
According as your Majesty appointed:  
Truth has prevailed; the Guilty Armourer,  
Worsted by his Servant, has confessed the Treason.  King. 
Where is the Fellow?  Buc. 
They are both without.  
Come in—  Enter Armorer and his Man with a Guard. King. 
What, Fellow, did you speak the words?  Arm. 
Yes, please your Majesty.  King. 
Yet you denied 'em.  Ar. 
I was unwilling to be hanged an't please you.  King. 
But not unwilling to destroy thy Soul,  
By spilling of an innocent Fellows blood,  
As thou hast done, if right had not prevailed.  Buck. 
Sir, it was right indeed that did prevail;  
I never saw poor Fellow so afraid,  
As the Armorer's Servant was in all my life,  
And yet he beat his Master by his Innocence.  Arm. 
It was my Conscience beat me, and not he;  
If my own Conscience had not fought against me,  
I could have beaten twenty such as he.  Pet. 
I do not know that, for though I was afraid  
 I came to it, now I know what it is,  
I do not care if I have t'other bout.  King. 
There's mischief in this Business, I discern it; Aside.  
The Common People have been tampered with,  
To try how they will like a change of Princes;  
And to make way for it, my right is questioned,  
And my good Lord Protector sent away from me.  
Oh! heaven, if I be useful to my People,  
Preserve me, for their sakes, from wicked Men;  
If I be not, extend thy Providence  
To them, and let what will become of me.  
— Go lead that Traitor to the Death he merits,  
Thou honest man, whose truth and innocence  
Heaven has revealed, by me shall be rewarded.  Exit Omnes prae. Suffolk and the Queen. Qu. 
Now it goes excellently well indeed!  
This haughty Woman tumbled in the dirt,  
So far beneath my feet I cannot tread upon her.  
Duke Humphrey's charming Rod broken in pieces;  
Wherewith he kept, as in a Conjurer's Circle,  
The King and Kingdom both out of our reach.  Suff. 
Did not I promise you there should be nothing  
In England, Madam, that your Soul could wish for  
I'd not make yours?  Qu. 
And thou hast kept thy Word.  Suff. 
I think I promised you, that wonderful,  
That ravishing moment, when I first beheld you,  
When Fortune prodigally propitious to me,  
With Laurels crowned my Sword, my Arms with Beauty.  
Fling Captive in my Arms such wondrous Beauty,  
That when I saw it, I cried out amazed,  
Our thundering Canons sure, has tore the Heavens,  
And through the Crystal breach, an Angels dropped.  Qu. 
And I, when first I saw brave Suffolk shining  
In Armour Victory, but most of all  
In his own Charms! Oh! said I to myself,  
I'll wonder now no more the English Conquerors,  
They are Angels all, or Angels fight for 'em.  Suff. 
I most unworthy to support so bright  
A Heaven of Beauty, did retire to gaze,  
Whilst all my Soul came crowding to my eyes,  
And thrusted till it almost cracked the Windows;  
Then like a laden Thief, that stole more Wealth  
Than he could spend in all his Life, runs back  
And locked it up secure in every Room.  Qu. 
In vain is this rich guilding of that hour,  
Which only was the portal of our Loves.  
Since we are entered, and possess the Palace,  
How I then wondered, and how since I loved,  
Let all the Gardens, Groves, and happy Rooms,  
That have been aiding to our Pleasures, tell.  
So full of Life and Soul our Joys have been,  
We have almost scattered Life to all things round us.  
A thousand times I've thought the wanton Pictures,  
Have striven to leap out of their Golden Frames  
That held 'em Captive, and come share with us.  
A thousand times, methought, I've seen their Mouths  
Striving to break the painted shadows Bonds,  
That held 'em bound in everlasting silence,  
And burst into a Laughter, and a Rapture.  Suff. 
I never minded Pictures, when a Substance  
Of so much Beauty lay in my embraces;  
Nor Venus' Picture, no nor Venus' self,  
Could have extracted a regard from me.  Qu. 
How often has our Love in Groves and Gardens  
Filled every Creature near us with such Spirit,  
That they have danced to Death as they were stung;  
The Birds have chirped their little souls away,  
The Turtles billed till they have no breath;  
The Winds have sported wantonly around us,  
Till they have swooned away into a Calm.  Suff. 
Yet all this Love and Beauty which could make  
The sapless trunk of a dead Tree to bud,  
Can put no warmth into the frozen King.  Qu. 
Oh! to my Arms! He comes like depth of Winter,  
With Cheeks all moist with Penitential Tears,  
And Lips so cold, each kiss gives me an Ague.  Suff. 
Alas! How should you expect them otherwise?  
He comes from kissing Brazen Images,  
And Bones, and Skulls of Saints, that were more cold  
When they were living, than you'll be when dead.  Qu. 
Well, next to Love, Revenge has sweetest taste,  
Let us go take some private stand, and see  
Dame Elinor in her ridiculous Pomp  
Walking the Streets, in her White Garment barefoot,  
Holding a burning Torch to light her shame;  
A gaping Crowd, and throng of hooting Boys.  
Following her Train, and the Balconies filled  
With laughing Ladies, whom she onced contemned. A shout.  
Hark! they are coming, let's not lose the Pleasure. Exit.   

The SCENE a Street.  Enter Duke Humphrey, and his Men in Mourning Cloaks. Gl. 
Oh! What a Change is here in my condition?  
Fallen from the highest Pinnacle of Glory,  
Down to the lowest depth of Shame and Ruin.  
From being Ruler of the King and Kingdom,  
To be the Scorn and Sport of common Fellows.  
Oh! Elinor! I've wronged myself and thee  
By doting on thee, beyond bounds of Reason.  
Thy Errors did appear to me all Excellencies.  
But thou poor Nell, hast punishment enough,  
I'll not heap more on thee by my Complaints.  
Alas! how will thy tender Feet endure  
To kiss the rugged face of cutting Flints?  
How hardly will thy noble Spirit brook  
The abject People gazing on thy Face,  
With scornful looks deriding thy Disgrace,  
Who lately followed thy proud shining Chariot;  
And did not care what dirt the Wheels fling on 'em,  
Might they be blessed out with a look from thee. A shout.  
But soft! I think she comes! and I'll prepare  
My Tearstained Eyes, to see her Miseries.  Seru. 
So, please your Grace, we'll force her from the Sheriff.  Gl. 
No, stir not for your lives, she shall submit  
To what the King was pleased t' inflict upon her.  Enter the Duchess in a White Sheet, a Taper burning in her Hand, Sheriff, and Officers. El. 
Come you, my Lord, to see my open shame?  
Can you endure it? If you have no sense  
Of my great Sufferings, pity yourself,  
For you in seeing my shame do Penance with me.  
See how the gaping Multitude all point  
And nod their Heads, and throw their Eyes on you.  
Ah! my Lord! hid you from their odious looks,  
And shut up in your Closet, mourn my shame,  
And curse mine Enemies, both mine and yours.  Gl. 
Be patiented gentle Nell, forget this grief.  El. 
First teach me to forget myself and you;  
For whilst I think I am your Wife, and you  
A Prince, and Lord Protector of the Kingdom,  
Methinks this should not be my Garb, and Pomp,  
I should not thus be lead along the Streets  
Wrapped up in shame, with Papers on my Back,  
And followed by a Rabble, that rejoice  
To see my Tears, and hear my deep-fetched Groans.  
The pitiless Flints gash deep my tender Feet,  
And when I start, the envious People laugh,  
And bid me be advised how I tread.  Gl. 
What if they do, my Love? What matter is it?  
They do but show their low degenerate natures.  
Wert thou condemned into a Wilderness,  
Wouldst thou expect to have the Tiger's court thee,  
The Lions flatter thee, wild Beasts adore thee;  
These Crowds are little better, little gentler.  El. 
Oh! I cannot endure this heavy shame,  
My Soul boils under it, and my Heart breaks.  
I never will behold the Sun again;  
Nor face of Humane Creature! Dark obscurity,  
Where never eye of Man, nor voice of Fear  
Can penetrate, shall cover me for ever,  
Out of the sight and memory of the World,  
And bury all the World too out of mind.  
Nay, if Love will not be too hard for me,  
I will not let thee come into my mind.  
For, oh! what deadly sorrow will it breed,  
To think I am the Duke of Glocester's Wife.  
And he a Prince and Governor of England:  
Yet so he Ruled, and such a Prince he was,  
As he stood by, whilst his forlorn Duchess  
Was made a Wonder and a Pointing-stock  
To every idle rascal follower.  Gl. 
What wouldst thou have me do?  El. 
Nay, nothing, nothing,  
Be mild, and tame, and blush not at my shame.  
Be stirred at nothing, till the Axe of Death  
Fall on thyself, as shortly sure it will.  
For Suffolk, he that can do all in all  
With that vile Woman, who abhors us all;  
And York, and impious Beauford, that false Priest,  
Have all laid Snares, which thou shalt never scape.  
But fear not thou, until thy Foot be snared,  
Nor ever seek prevention of thy Enemies,  
Till thou art fallen lower than I am now.  Gl. 
Ah! Nell, forbear, for now thou aim'st awry,  
I must offend before I can be hurt;  
And had I twenty times so many Enemies,  
And each of 'em had twenty times their power,  
Not all of 'em could work me any damage  
So long as I am Loyal, True, and Faultless:  
But thou wouldst have me rescue thee from shame;  
I cannot do it, from these Officers  
If I should force thee, I can ne'er redeem thee  
From th' everlasting Scandal that will follow thee.  
Thy greatest help is quiet, then sweet Nell;  
I pray thee sort thy heart with patience.  Enter a Herald. Her. 
I summon your Grace to his Majesty's Parliament  
Holden at Bury, the first of this next Month.  Gl. 
And my consent ne'er asked herein before?  
This is close dealing. Well, I will be there. Ex. Herald.  El. 
Lo you my Lord! What think you now?  Gl. 
I think  
My Love as thou dost, Mischief is designed me.  
But if my Innocence will not protect me,  
Gild shall not do it; I will keep my Loyalty  
Whilst I can keep my Life.  El. 
Oh! that I fear  
Will not be long.  Gl. 
Well, Heaven's will be done.  
Love, I must take my leave; and Master Sheriff,  
Let not her Penance exceed the King's Commission.  Sher. 
An't please your Grace, here my Commission stay's:  
And Sir John Stanley is appointed now,  
To take her with him to the Isle of Man.  Stanley. 
So am I given in charge, an't please your Grace.  Gl. 
Pray use her well, the World may smile again,  
And I may live to return any Kindness  
You do to her; and so dear Love farewell.  El. 
Oh! stay! and do not make our farewell short,  
For this is the last time I e'er shall see thee.  Gl. 
Do not say so, my Love.  El. 
I know it is.  
Thy Enemies are powerful, and many,  
And thy own Innocence will betray thee to 'em.  Gl. 
I hope not so, I doubt not but to scape  
From all their Snares; and if I do, I'll come  
And find thee out in thy poor barren Island,  
There we'll be all the World to one another.  
In that most desolate mournful abode  
We will be happier, than e'er we were  
In the high stately building of our Greatness,  
Whose walls were Vanity, foundations Rottenness.  
Oh! I can speak no more to thee for Tears.  
Once more farewell. — Exit.  El. 
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 wished this World's eternity;  
But now I wish the World were at an end.  
Stanley, I prithee go, and take me hence,  
I care not whether, for I beg no favour.  
I care not what becomes of wretched me,  
My Honour is for ever sunk in shame,  
And my Lord lost among his Enemies;  
For I am sure they'll murder him amongst 'em,  
And I shall never never see him more.  
Prithee convey me where thou art commanded.  Stan. 
Why, Madam, that is to the Isle of Man,  
There to be used according to your State.  El. 
According to my State? How's that? Reproachfully?  
For now my State is vilest Infamy.  Stan. 
Like to a Duchess, and Duke Humphry's Lady,  
According to that state you shall be used.  El. 
Sheriff, farewel, I wish no harm to thee,  
Though thou hast been conductor of my shame.  Sher. 
It is my Office, Madam pardon me.  El. 
I, I, farewel, thy Office is discharged.  
Come, Stanley, let us go.  Stan. 
Your Penance done;  
Now, Madam, if you please, throw off your sheet▪  El. 
My shame will not be thrown off with my sheet.  
No, it will hang upon my richest Robes.  
All Sin will meet dishonour, first or last,  
I hope my Crown's to come, and my shame past. Exit.    

ACT IU.  Enter King, Queen, Cardinal, Suffolk, York, Buckingham. King. 
I Admire my Lord of Gloucester is not come,  
'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost Man,  
What e'er occasion keeps him from us now.  Queen. 
Do you not see his altered Countenance?  
With what a Majesty he bears himself?  
How proud, how peremptory, how unlike himself?  
We know the time when 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 admired his great humility.  
But now he frowns, and passes stiffly by,  
Scorning to show us any regard at all.  Suff. 
Madam, most true, Has not the King observed  
This carriage in him?  Qu. 
He will see no ill in him.  
Come, Sir, he is a Man exceeding dangerous,  
He is no inconsiderable Person.  
First, he is next the Crown, if you should fall  
He is the next that Mounts; that 'tis ill policy  
To trust him with your Royal Person and Counsels,  
Whose rancorous mind is now prepared for mischief,  
And whose advantage is the King's destruction,  
Who else will gain by it? We shall be sad loser's;  
But he will compass all his heart can wish,  
Your Kingdoms, and revenge upon his Enemies.  Card. 
The two great Idols of a proud man's heart.  Suff. 
Oh! his Soul swells with rancour as 'twere poisoned,  
He foams with Gall, and his Eyes flash with fury.  
I saw him th'other day pass by the King,  
And Queen, as they were walking in the Garden.  
He measured oft the King from Head to Foot  
With a disdainful eye, as who should say,  
Henry, Thou art too little for thy Throne,  
Then would he can a down-look on the King,  
And press him with his eye to the Earth, and look on him  
As if he lay under his Feet already,  
Nay, under th' Earth; and then he stamped, and pointed  
Towards Paul's, where his Wife lately did Penance,  
As who should say, Oh! Henry, very shortly  
My Wife shall tread on thy cold Monument  
With as much pride, as thou hast made her tread  
With her bare feet, you cutting Flints with shame.  
In short, all his demeanour is of late  
So raging, haughty, frantic and intolerable,  
That I believe the Devil which his Wife  
Conjured from Hell, is gotten into his Breast.  Card. 
He was a great frequenter of the Chapel,  
No Man so constant, no Man so devout,  
The lowest bower to the Altar there,  
The highest lifter up of eyes to Heaven,  
The humblest kneeler on the Marble Floor.  
But now, as if he had gained all the Heaven,  
He aimed at by devotion, the Kingdom;  
He Knees no more lick up the Chapel Dust  
To blind the People's eyes, they are blind enough  
He takes no more the Chapel in his way,  
He thinks he is at his journey's end, the Throne.  Qu. 
That's the next thing, Sir, makes him dangerous:  
He has, by his Hypocrisy and Flattery,  
So gulled the credulous Commons of their hearts,  
They'll venture Hanging at any time to Crown him,  
And think it Martyrdom to die for him.  King. 
These things are very bad, if they be true.  Suff. 
True, Sir? His Wive's crime prove 'em; what do you think  
Did instigate that Bedlam brainsick Woman  
To her foul fault▪ but his foul subornation?  
Or if he were not privy to her wickedness,  
At least high vaunts of his Succession.  
And letting fall some words to please her pride,  
To show what high designs he had near Birth,  
Made the proud frantic Woman run immediately.  
To fetch a cursed Midwife out of Hell.  King. 
Indeed, that was a very wicked Fact.  Suff. 
Oh! Sir, the Duke of Gloucester is a Man  
Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.  Card. 
Sir, he appears to you to be a Man  
Of great Humanity, Mildness, and Gentleness,  
There's not a greater Tyrant upon Earth.  
If any small Offences had at any time  
Tripped up the heels of any of his Enemies,  
And thrown 'em in his power, he tortured 'em  
Beyond all bounds either of Law or Manhood.  
He has torn their Bodies so by horrid Deaths,  
As if to put affronts upon that peaceful  
Christianity which forbids all Revenge,  
He'd put a cheat upon the Resurrection,  
And tear that Article out of our Creed.  King. 
Can this be true? How chance I never heard of it?  Card. 
Who ever durst acquaint you this before?  Suff. 
Who ever had your Ear but he till now?  King. 
The meanest poorest Subject in my Kingdom  
Had it, and shall, as much as he or any Man.  Card. 
Ay! you like Heaven, Sir, gave access to all,  
But he was that eternal Persecution,  
All suffered that devoutly would approach you.  King. 
If this this be true, what a vile thing is Man?  Yo. 
Sir, his insatiable Avarice  
Makes two great Crowns sit loosely on your Head.  
He squeezed the English Purses till Blood followed,  
Upon pretence to pay your Troops in France,  
So almost tore this Kingdom from its Loyalty,  
Then by not sending any of that Money;  
He starved your Troops, and almost lost you France.  Buck. 
Oh! there are horrid Crimes lie hid in smooth  
Duke Humphrey, which the time will bring to light.  King. 
My Lords, you seem to take great care of me  
If it be real, it deserves great praise;  
But shall I speak my Conscience freely to you?  
No Man, I'm sure, no Monarch should dissemble,  
I do not, cannot think the Duke of Gloucester  
That horrid thing you represent him to me.  Card. 
Then what are we, Sir?  King. 
My Lord Cardinal,  
I'll tell you what my Father said you were,  
His Reason was as piercing as his Sword;  
And he from depth of Knowledge, not from Prophecy,  
Said, That if e'er you were a Cardinal.  
You'd make your Cap vie with your Prince's Crown.  
As for these Lords, I would entreat of them  
To think that I have Eyes as well as they.  
If my Lord Duke of Gloucester had such Sores  
Break out of him as these, I should ha' seen 'em  
Some time or other, sure, as well as they.  
If he had played such Proteus tricks as these,  
Some time or other, sure, I should have catched him.  
But if he be the Monster they have painted him,  
Then what a horrid villainous thing is Man?  
Who would not rather live with Wolves than Men?  
For a Wolf shows his nature, but a Man  
Appears a Lamb, when he is most a Wolf.  
If so, than I must fly from all of you;  
For now when you seem Lambs, you may be Tigers.  Qu. 
Sir, on my knees I humbly fall before you.  (Knelt.) 
And beg with Tears, do not give up yourself  
And all of us to Death by incredulity.  
I am a poor weak Woman, and a Stranger,  
And of a Nation for whom your Subjects  
By Nature, have an inbred scorn and hate,  
Which great successes, greatly have improved.  
And, Sir, my banished Enemy the Duchess,  
Will in the Rocks of her poor barren Island,  
Sat brooding Vengeance, and when you are dead,  
The Eagles she has hatched shall tear my Soul out,  
And who in England can or will protect me?  Suff. 
And all of us are in the same condition. All kneel.  Qu. 
Then if you think these Lords, Sir, have no Loyalty,  
Nor I the consort of your Youth no love,  
Yet think we have some kindness for ourselves,  
And in your preservation seek our own.  King. 
Rise my dear Love; rise all of you my Lords;  
If I have injured you by my suspicions,  
I pray forgive me, you perhaps have seen  
More in the Duke of Gloucester, than I have.  
I must confess I'm of a temper framed  
Wakeful to holy thinks, drowsy to earthly;  
I'm as unfit for Earth, as some for Heaven.  
Yet knowing I'm the Shepherd of my Flock,  
I rouse myself to attend upon my Duty,  
But oft I charm myself asleep again  
With the Celestial Music of Religion,  
And then a Wolf may steal upon my sleep  
And I not see him, which perhaps you may.  
That, Sirs, I thank you, all for your kind care.  Card. 
Sir, we have faithfully discharged our Consciences.  King. 
You have done well, I thank you all; but pray  
Give me good proofs of what you have alleged.  
'Tis not enough to say, in such a Bush  
There lies a Thief, in such a Cave a Beast,  
But you must show him to me e'er I shoot,  
Else I may kill one of my straggling Sheep,  
I'm fond of no man's Person but his Virtue.  
Prove that the Duke and Loyalty are strangers.  
And he and I will be as far asunder  
As Life and Death, the Grave shall be betwixt us.  Suff. 
Oh! Sir, we shall not want sufficient proofs.  Enter the Duke of Gloucester, they all start as soon as he comes in. Card. 
See! see! the Duke is here.  King. 
Ha! they all start  
At the first sight of him, I like not that.—  (Aside.) Gl. 
All happiness attend my Lord the King.  
Pardon, Royal Sir, that I have stayed so long.  Suff. 
My Lord of Gloucester, you are come too soon,  
Unless you were more Loyal than you are.  
My Lord, I here Arrest you of high Treason.  Gl. 
My Lord of Suffolk, you shall not see me blush,  
Nor change my Countenance at this Arrest.  King. 
As they to see him did; he twits 'em well.— Aside.  Gl. 
Innocence is not very easily daunted.  
Who can accuse me? Wherein am I guilty?  Yo. 
'Tis thought, my Lord, that you took Bribes from France,  
And being Protector, stayed the Soldiers Pay,  
By means whereof all France is almost lost.  Gl. 
Is it but thought so? What are they that think so?  King. 
Ha! Is it come but to a thought already?  (Aside.) Gl. 
I never robbed the Soldiers of their Pay.  
Nor ever had one penny Bribe from France.  
But I have robbed myself both day and night  
Of all my rest, to study good for England.  
The Farthing that e'er I wrested from the King,  
Or hoarded up for my own private use,  
I wish may canker all, I can call mine;  
But I have wrested from my own Revenues  
Many a Pound, and given among the Garrisons,  
Because I would not Tax the needy Commons,  
And never asked for Restitution.  Card. 
It serves you well, my Lord, to say so much.  Gl. 
I say no more than truth, so help me Heaven.  Yo. 
In your Protectorship, you did invent  
Strange and unheard of Tortures for Offenders,  
That England was defamed by Tyranny.  Gl. 
It is well known, Pity was all my fault;  
For I should melt at an Offenders tears,  
And humble words were Ransom oft for Faults.  
I never gave condign Punishment,  
Unless the Offender were a bloody Murderer,  
Or ravenous Thief, that fleaeced poor Passengers.  Suff. 
My Lord, these Faults are easy, quickly answered:  
But mightier Crimes shall be laid to your Charge,  
From which you cannot easily purge yourself.  
I then Arrest you in his majesty's Name,  
And here Commit you to my Lord Cardinal,  
To keep you safely till your time of Trial.  King. 
So, they scarce know what to accuse him of  (Aside.) 
And yet Arrest him, now I find 'em out.  
My Lord of Gloucester, 'tis my special hope,  
That you will clear yourself from all Suspicion;  
My Conscience tells me you are Innocent.  Gl. 
Ah! Gracious Prince, these Days are dangerous:  
Virtue ne'er saw good Times, but one would think  
If ever it should find 'em 'twould be now,  
Under the Reign of such a Saintlike King.  
But now the Devil rages more than ever,  
'Cause from the Angel-vertues of the King,  
He almost fears the downfall of his Kingdom.  
Under the Reigns of wicked Kings he sleeps,  
Because he knows they do his Business for him;  
But now he let's out all his fiercest Fiends,  
And bids them do his worst, or all is lost.  
Rancour, Ambition, and foul Subornation,  
Are all at work to take away my Life,  
The Devil will not be content without it.  
If I by Death could serve my King and Country,  
I'd freelier give my Life, than these Lords take it.  King. 
My Lord, my Lord I do believe you.  Gl. 
Sir, I humbly thank you for your Royal Charity,  
All these Lords know what you believe, my innocence.  
Sad were my case, if there were proofs as strong  
Of their foul Charge, as their foul Hate and rancour.  
Their very looks are witnesses against 'em.  
Beauford's red sparkling eyes tell his heart's malice,  
And Sufollk's cloudy brow his stormy hate.  
Sharp Buckingham unburden's with his Tongue,  
The envious load that lies upon his heart.  
And dogged York that reaches at the Moon,  
Because I have plucked back his roaming Arm,  
Endeavours to pull Vengeance on my Head,  
Nay, my Queen has with the rest conspired,  
And with her best endeavour has stirred up  
My Gracious King to be my Enemy:  
Ay, all of you have laid your Heads together,  
I had notice of your Plots and Conventicles,  
And all to take away my guiltless Life.  
I shall not want false Witness to condemn me,  
Nor store of Treason to augment my Gild.  Card. 
His railing, Sir, is most intolerable.  
If those that watch 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 cool Men's zeal to serve your Majesty.  Suff. 
Has he not twit our Sovereign Lady here  
With ignominious words, though subtly couched?  
As if she had suborned Villains to swear  
False Allegations, to destroy his Life?  Qu. 
But I can give the loser leave to rail.  
Beshrew the Winners, for they play me false,  
And well such Loser's may have leave to speak.  Buck. 
He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day.  
Pray, my Lord Cardinal, look to your Prisoner.  Card. 
Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure.  Gl. 
Ah! thus King Henry throws away his Crutch  
Before his Legs be firm to bear his Body.  
Farewell most gracious Sovereign, Heaven protect you,  
You ne'er stood more in need of his Protection,  
For I'm afraid if Heaven does not save you,  
Man will not; Oh! that all my fears were groundless.  King. 
Stay Uncle, let me embrace you e'er I go!  
I wish, (I speak it here before their faces)  
I wish my Enemies had but thy innocence.  
I in thy face behold, what I ne'er saw,  
Or in their looks, or any of their actions,  
A map of Honour, Truth, and Loyalty.  Card. 
Oh! Sir! and do you thus—?—  King. 
Nay, Sirs, permit me,  
You from my Bosom tear my best of Friends,  
My wisest Councillor, my faithfullest Servant,  
And the great torment forces me to speak.  
Ah! yet, good Uncle, is the hour yet to come  
That e'er I found you false, or feared your Faith.  
But there are louring Stars envy your state.  
For these great Lords, and Margaret your Queen,  
Do seek subversion of your harmless life,  
And I your King want power to save you from 'em.  Gl. 
Ah, gracious Sovereign, send me quickly hence,  
What ever innocence I had before,  
I'm growing a great Criminal, my stay  
Does make me guilty of your Royal Sorrows.  King. 
Thou needest not beg to be sent hence, thy Enemies  
Will quickly send thee hence in spite of me.  Gl. 
Oh! what a World is this, when such a King  
Has little Power, because he has too much Goodness.  Card. 
The Duke sure bears about him some Enchantment,  
Wherewith he does bewitch the King!— Away with him.  Gl. 
I will away; and from the World and you  
Could part, with greater joy than e'er man left  
A howling Desert full of Savage Beasts,  
Did I not leave my Sovereign behind.  
But, Oh! the joy of my escape is dashed,  
When I remember I have left him there  
Bewildred, and no one to be his guide,  
Begirt by Wolves, and none to be his guard.  Card. 
What, are we Wolves? He does improve in railing.  Gl. 
Prove yourselves otherwise, I shall be glad;  
Let all your wickedness end at my death,  
And I'll forgive you that with all my heart.  
I will thank Heaven for my destiny,  
If as the Roman Curtius, stopped the Plague  
By leaping down into the gaping Earth;  
So I by being thrown into the Grave,  
Could stop the plague of your Ambition.  
But I'm afraid I shall do no such miracle.  Suff. 
This is intolerable! My Lord Cardinal,  
Why do you stand so tamely, and permit him  
To wound both yours, and all our Honours thus?  Card. 
I will endure no more, away with him.  King. 
Farewell, good Man.  Gl. 
Farewell, oh! best of Kings. (Exit with a Guard.)  King. 
So the inhuman Soldier from the panting  
Breass of his trembling Mother tears an Infant,  
And carries it away before her face  
Upon his bloody Spear; whilst she looks on  
And swoons, and falls, and dares not call for help.  
Even so remorseless ha' they born him hence,  
Whilst I with as unhelpless tears bewail  
The good Man's injuries, and with dimmed eyes  
Look after him, and cannot do him good,  
So mighty are his vowed Enemies;  
Whom he I'm sure ne'er wronged, he ne'er wronged any Man. Exit.  Qu. 
Do you see, my Lords, in what a case we are?  
The King will hear nothing against the Duke.  
The King is cold, full of foolish pity,  
And Glocester's show beguiles his easy mind,  
Just as a Snake rolled in a flowery Bank,  
Which shining chequered slough does sting a Child,  
That for the beauty thinks it excellent.  
Believe me, Lords, were none more wise than I,  
And I believe myself not dull in this,  
This Gloucester should be quickly rid of the World,  
To free the King from danger, us from fear.  Card. 
That he should die, is worthy Policy;  
But yet we want some Colour for his death,  
And it is meet he die by course of Law.  Suff. 
That were a worthy policy indeed,  
To bring him to the Bar, and there for want  
Of good substantial Arguments against him,  
Shall openly arreign ourselves of Malice;  
And so instead of bringing him to death,  
Expose ourselves to all the People's fury.  
True, we have Jealousy backed with strong Reasons,  
But Reason cannot enter into their minds;  
Mud Walls, you know, resist all Battery.  
And then from those Mud Walls, the People's fury  
Will sally out, and make slaughter on us.  Yo. 
I'm o' your mind, it is distraction  
To sail with him into his own safe Harbour  
The People's rage, and not be well coyled round  
With proofs, that will resist small shot at least.  Qu. 
What shall we do then? Must we let him live?  
If so, let's find some way ourselves to die;  
For I had rather perish once for all,  
Than die each hour a lingering death of fear.  Suff. 
No, Madam, no, the imperious Duke shall die,  
We will not to his pride and rage expose  
The King, the Kingdom, and ourselves, and do  
Substantial wrong to all, because we cannot  
Do against him a formal piece of Justice.  
Must Justice starve, because we want a Lawyer's  
Forked distinctions to feed her neatly with;  
And bright keen proofs to carve him up withal?  
No, let us examine into her hungry Stomach  
The morsel any way, no matter how.  
Nor will the Duke have any injury,  
It is an honest, and a good deceit  
To deceive him who first intends deceit.  Qu. 
Most gallant Suffolk, resolutely spoke.  Suff. 
Not resolute except so much were done,  
For things are often spoke, and never meant.  
To show my Heart and Tongue fully agree,  
Say but the word, I'll be the Executioner;  
And think I do a meritorious deed.  
I know the Duke means Treason to the King,  
Why should I stay for proofs of what I know?  
Does any one refuse to kill a Wolf,  
Till he has stained his Chaps, with Crimson Blood?  
No, 'tis enough he knows him for a Wolf,  
His nature's Crime enough to deserve death.  
He than does best, that does dispatch him soon.  
What do you say Lord Cardinal? Speak your mind,  
You see how free we are, why are you close?  
Is it a meritorious deed, or no?  Card. 
My Lords, I only stayed to feel your Pulses.  
That I might know the temper of your minds,  
How vigorous their constitutions were.  
Religion has a body and a spirit,  
The body is like Water, weak and tasteless,  
And that we fling among the Common People;  
The extracted Spirit is intoxicating,  
And that we drink ourselves, and give our Friends.  
And as wise Men do always in their pleasures  
Select Companions of their own Humour,  
Those that are rude and quarrelsome in Drink,  
They eat with care; those that are kind and pleasant,  
Witty and good natured, gladly they Consort withal,  
So we ne'er drink the spirit of Religion,  
With any Men but those of our own minds,  
Or Men of melting maudling piety,  
Who when they are drunk with it, will kiss our feet,  
And weep, and do whatever we command 'em.  Suff. 
And pray, what is this Spirit? let us taste it.  Card. 
This! Did some ask me if this deed were lawful,  
I would say no, it is a horrid Murder.  
If any Man offends against the Public,  
He to the Public must give satisfaction;  
That private Man that kills him is a Murderer,  
And a bold Robber of the public Right.  
But now to you I say, cut the Duke's Throat,  
'Tis lawful, necessary, meritorious.  
And so 'twere in another, but perhaps  
If I should say so he would not believe it,  
So he might wound the Church with its own Weapons:  
I'd pronounce all such damned, should kill the Duke,  
But I'll pronounce you damned if you refuse it,  
Because you are capable of these great mysteries.  Suff. 
Most excellent! this deed which I before  
Only thought needful, now I find Religious.  Card. 
A most religious, meritorious deed.  
You know the Church's Power is called the Keys;  
The Keys are given us, not one single Key,  
As if there were only one Door to Heaven.  
Oh! there are many entrances! There's one  
Great common Gate of common Honesty,  
At that we let in common understandings;  
Then there are private Wickets, but the Stairs  
That lead up to 'em, are most steep and dangerous,  
And none dare venture up but bold brave Spirits;  
But these back Stairs lead up to Heaven's best Rooms.  
This Murder than is one of Heaven's back Stairs.  
Kill him, his Blood will oil the Church's Keys,  
That you shall choose what Room in Heaven you please.  Yo. 
I ne'er heard any thing that pleased me better.  Card. 
My Lords, my Lords, Reason and Law allow  
You Layicks to carry Swords for your defence,  
Religion suffers us to carry none.  
Is it because Priests Altars and Religion  
Does not deserve defence as well as you?  
Yes, but we Priests have always Weapons ready,  
A kind of two-edge Knives, called Subtleties,  
That are most keenly whetted at the Altars,  
And nothing cuts so as one of them.  
In short then, kill the Duke, kill him to night,  
Before he hurt the King, the Church, or you.  Suff. 
Here is my hand, my Lord, I'll see it done.  Qu. 
I give consent.  Yo. 
I'll join; and now we four  
Agree in it, who dares oppose a Censure?  Suff. 
We must get fitting People to assist us.  Card. 
I'll find you such, I'll mould 'em for the purpose.  
When we have killed the Duke, we will give out  
He killed himself to prevent public shame,  
Or his heart broke because he was discovered.  Suff. 
But will not those be Lies?  Card. 
Most sacred truths.  
Do not his actions bring his death upon him?  Qu. 
True.  Card. 
Then 'tis true, I hope he kills himself.  Suff. 
Right.  Card. 
Or suppose we report the discovery  
Of his foul treacherous actions broke his heart:  
I pray, is that false, when the discovery  
Of his foul actions make us break his Neck?  Suff. 
No, certainly, for that will break his heart.  Card. 
Then every way you see, we spread no falsehoods.  
My Lords, the Church has several kind of Garments,  
Course homespun Clothes for Fools, fine Robes for Wits.  
Now though a Fool may be let into Heaven  
With his course Coat on, they will ne'er admit him  
To Rooms of State, among the Saints of quality.  Enter a Gentleman. Gent. 
My Lords, I am sent Post to you from Ireland.  
The Irish Rebels are all up in Arms,  
And put the English to the Sword, send Succours  
With all the speed you can, and stop the rage  
Betimes, or else the Wound may grow incurable.  Card. 
A Breach that craves a very speedy stop.  
What counsel give you in this weighty Business?  Suff. 
That speedy Force be raised. My Lord of York,  
Pray do you Head 'em, and go try your Fortune.  Yo. 
I will, my Lord, so please his Majesty.  Suff. 
Why, our Authority is his consent,  
And what we do establish he confirms.  
Then pray, my Lord, take you this task in hand.  Yo. 
Content, my Lords, do you provide me Soldiers,  
Whilst I take orders for my own Affairs.  Suff. 
To raise you men, my Lord, shall be my business.  
And now return we to the false Duke Humphrey.  Card. 
Let us about the work immediately.  
Things of great weight must not be carried long  
For fear we should tyre under 'em; and now  
The gaudy blabbing, and remorseful day  
Is crept into the bosom of the Sea,  
And in the room more fitting for our purpose,  
The silent pitiless stern-night is risen,  
And beckons us methinks with her black hand,  
To do that gallant work under her Wings,  
Will make her famed in the Records of Time,  
Who else will like a drop fall in the Sea  
Of black Oblivion, and be lost for ever.  Suff. 
Come then, I slame with fury to be at it,  
That I shall need no Flambeau but myself.  Card. 
We two, my Lord, will be the chief performers,  
But yet we must have some trusty assistants,  
And I will go and fashion some immediately;  
I always have store of soft Clay prepared,  
Which I can mould into what shape I please.  Suff. 
Madam, please you to go to your Repose,  
And dream of Crowns and Sceptres, the high Wall  
That kept you from 'em, shall fall down to Night,  
And your way opened to the Royal Seat.  Qu. 
And thou shalt happy be when I am great: Aside to him.  Yo. 
So Lords, I thank you, you have done my business, Ex. S.Q.C.  
I wanted men and you will give 'em me;  
I wanted Glocester's death, you give me that too.  
Now lies the King as open to destruction,  
As a poor Ship tossed on the open Sea,  
With Masts all broken, and the Sailors mad.  
I have seduced one Cado, a headstrong Kentishman,  
To take on him the name of Mortimer,  
And make Commotion. I have seen in Ireland  
That Fellow fight, till his thighs full of Darts,  
Were almost like two sharp-quilled Porcupines.  
Then have I seen him dance like a Morisco,  
Shaking the bloody Darts, as he his Bells.  
In Face, and Gate, and Speech; he's like dead Mortimer.  
Thus shall I try how men affect our Title.  
If he be ta'en and Racked, he'll ne'er confess.  
And if he thrives, I'll reap the Rascal's harvest.  
Then pious Henry to a Covent gone,  
And Humphrey to his Tomb, I'll climb the Throne. Exit.  Enter the Cardinal, Suffolk, and three Murderer's. Suff. 
Are you provided, my Lord Cardinal?  Card. 
Of three brave Fellows.  Suff. 
What? old hardened Villains?  Card. 
Of better instruments, of soft Church Tools  
Which I have heated with the fire of Zeal,  
And I can bow 'em any way I please.  
These are the honest men!— Come honest men!  
You are designed to be most glorious men;  
Glorious on Earth, and glorious in Heaven.  Suff 
I will provide for 'em on Earth, my Lord,  
The other place do you look after, for 'em.  Card. 
How? I provide for 'em in Heaven, my Lord?  
They'll have more share in Heaven than myself.  1. Mur. 
Oh! my good Lord!  Card. 
Nay, it is true, my Friends.  Suff. 
My Lord, you will instruct 'em what to do.  Card. 
I have instructed, and encouraged 'em,  
Told 'em their business, and the nature of it,  
That 'tis a charity to the whole Church.  
I've told 'em, stopping of a Heretic's Windpipe,  
Is stopping a wide Leak sprung in the Church,  
Where streams of Heresy flow in to drown it;  
Which if they will not stop, especially  
When I a Pilot in the Church command 'em,  
They will not only cast away their own  
Poor ruined Souls, but many thousands more.  Suff. 
Sure, nothing is more plain.  1. Mur. 
Nothing, my Lord.  2. Mur. 
Oh! may it please your Grace, 'tis very plain.  3. Mur. 
Pshaw! pshaw! 'tis not so plain, and I don't like it.  
'Tis not so plain, I'm sure, as I want Money. Aside.  Card. 
Well, I need say no more, I'll only give 'em  
An Oath of secrecy; come to me presently  
About that Business.  1. Mur. 2. Mur. 
We'll attend your Grace. Ex. Card. Suff.  3. Mur. 
I don't know what to think o' this damned business.  1. Mur. 
What should you think! 'Tis stopping of a Leak.  3. Mur. 
Do not talk to me of stopping of a Leak!  
It is a cursed Murder.  2. Mur. 
How, a Murder!  
The Cardinal said it is a work of charity.  3. Mur. 
It is so, to my starving Wife and Children,  
I shall stop Leaks in their poor empty Bellies,  
And that's the thing that satisfies my Conscience.  1. Mur. 
That's not enough, you may get Money otherwise.  3. Mur. 
I cannot, I take pains, and pray, and fast,  
And am so fearful to displease a Saint,  
That I keep every day a Holiday,  
And yet I cannot thrive.  2. Mur. 
That's very strange.  3. Mur. 
I got a little Money the other day,  
And went, and gave half of it to a Priest,  
To pray for me, and give me a little counsel,  
What course I had best take to get some Money.  
He gave me a heavenly Prayer, and bid me say it  
For thirty days together, and after that  
He said I should obtain what e'er I asked for.  
I did, and at the end of thirty days,  
I prayed to Heaven to give me thirty pounds;  
Then I watched night and day, almost a Week,  
To see if any thing would bring the Money;  
The devil of any one brought me a farthing.  1. Mur. 
That's very strange.  3. Mur. 
I went and told the Priest  
What luck I had; he bade me go to Canterbury,  
And pray devoutly to St. Thomas Becket.  
I went and prayed to St. Thomas, and St. Thomas,  
But might as well have prayed to St. Tom Thumb,  
For any thing I got.  2. Mur. 
That's very strange.  3. Mur. 
I went again, and told the Priest my luck,  
And then he gave me a miraculous Prayer,  
Said, if that would not do, than nothing would.  
He said, the other day in Germany,  
A high dutch Lady had her Head cut off,  
And yet lived after it, two and twenty hours.  2. Mur. 
After her Head was off?  3. Mur. 
After 'twas off.  1. Mur. 
Good-lack, is't possible?  3. Mur. 
She could not die  
Till she Confessed, and had Communicated,  
And then her Head and Body agreed to die,  
And in her Grave it seems this prayer was found.  2. Mur. 
And did you say it?  3. Mur. 
Ay, forty times a day,  
For forty days.  1. Mur. 
And was you e'er the richer?  3. Mur. 
The devil a farthing.  2. Mur. 
Oh! Good-lack! good-lack!  3. Mur. 
On this I went and told the Cardinal all.  1. Mur. 
And what said he to you?  3. Mur. 
He made me kneel,  
And thank St. Thomas, and the high dutch Lady,  
For they had heard my Prayers, and sent me to him,  
To do a work would gain me Heaven and Earth.  2. Mur. 
Why look you there now!  1. Mur. 
Look you, look you there now.  3. Mur. 
But that same work, was this same scurvy business.  2. Mur. 
A scurvy business? Do you call a blessing  
Sent from St. Thomas, and the high dutch Lady,  
A scurvy business?  3. Mur. 
Why should I believe  
It came from them? for both their Throats were cut;  
Why should I think that they love cutting Throats?  
They could not find it such a pleasant business.  1. Mur. 
They love to cut the throat of a vile Heretic.  3. Mur. 
How do I know Duke Humphrey is a Heretic?  2. Mur. 
The Cardinal says he is one.  3. Mur. 
How if the Cardinal  
Should be mistaken?  1. Mur. 
He will answer for it.  3. Mur. 
And so he shall, for I'm an honest Fellow,  
And if to kill Duke Humphrey be a sin,  
I'll either lay it at the Cardinal's door,  
Or put it on the high dutch Lady's score. — Ex. Mur.  Enter Cardinal and three Murderer's. Card. 
So, you have all sworn at the holy Altars;  
Now have a care, don't let your Consciences  
Fool you, to flinch with fear  it is done,  
Or to repent and tell it when 'tis done;  
If so you are trebly Damned.  1. Mur. 
I warrant your Grace.  Card. 
Believe your Priests, and not your Consciences,  
For Priests are to direct your Consciences;  
Your Consciences are silly, false, corrupt.  2 Mur. 
Oh! hang my Conscience, Sir, I ne'er regarded it.  3 Mur. 
May I be bold to ask your Grace one question?  Card. 
Ay, prithee do.  3 Mur. 
Suppose a Priest, an't please you,  
Mistake, and I should sin by his command,  
Will he be damned for me? and shall I escape?  Card. 
A Priest mistake? Sirrah, were you ne'er catechised,  
That you are ignorant of First Principles?  1 Mur. 
Why, look you now, you will be ask questions.  Card. 
The Church cannot mistake, the Church is infallible.  3 Mur. 
Pray Sir, an't please you, how shall I know that?  Card. 
How shall you know it, Sirrah? The Church tells you so.  2 Mur. 
Prithee give over, don't stand ask questions.  3 Mur. 
How shall I know the Church tells true, an't please you?  Card. 
The Church, I say, Sirrah, is Infallible.  3 Mur. 
How shall I know the Church is so Infallible?  Card. 
Why I say, Sirrah, the Church tells you so.  3 Mur. 
But how shall I be certain it tells true?  1 Mur. 
What a strange man is this? we must dismiss him?  Car. 
Be certain, this is a damned Rogue!— a Heretic!  
Sirrah, don't you believe the Church? I'll burn you.  2 Mur. 
So, so, you have brought yourself into a fine pickle.  3 Mur. 
Oh! yes, Sir, I believe!  1 Mur. 
Oh! do you so.  2 Mur. 
'Tis time you should.  3 Mur. 
I only did make bold to ask some questions,  
To know some things, that I was ignorant of  Card. 
Why there was your mistake, you are not to Know,  
You are only to do what a Priest bids you;  
Priests only are to know, you are to know nothing  
Except your duty, and the reward that follows it.  
Your duty now is to destroy a Traitor,  
Yes, and a Heretic.  3 Mur. 
I'll do't, an't please you.  1 Mur. 
Your Grace may trust him, he is an honest Fellow,  
Only a little troublesome with scruples.  2 Mur. 
Which way, Sir, had we best to kill the Duke?  Card. 
Which way it shall please Heaven to inspire you.  
Stay, let me see!— Strangling I think were best.  
Ay strangling! strangling! 'twill give least suspicion,  
And make the World believe, Grief broke his heart;  
For so we will give out.  1 Mur. 
We'll do't an't please you.  
I have a Handkerchief fit for the purpose.  Card. 
Open the door, go to him, go, go, quickly.  The Scene is drawn, the Duke of Gloucester sitting and reading in his Nightgown. Card. 
Ha! he's awake, and up; you two go hold him Softly to the Mur.  
And get him down, whilst the other strangles him.  Gl. 
Ha! Who is that opens the door?  2 Mur. 
The Cardinal's  
Servants, an't please your Grace.  Gl. 
And what's your business?  1 Mur. 
The Cardinal saw your Light burning so late,  
And was afraid your Grace was indisposed;  
And sent to know if your Grace wanted any thing,  
And gave us strict command to wait upon you.  Gl. 
He is grown wondrous kind; I am afraid  
He's ill, for this is not his natural temper.  
He guesses right of me, I'm ill indeed;  
A heaviness like Death oppresses me.  
I cannot get my thoughts out of a Grave:  
I fear not Death itself, why should a dream  
And empty shadow of it then oppress me?  Card. 
So, get behind him now whilst he is musing. Aside.  Gl. 
If wicked men be digging now my Grave,  
And these cold Terrors be forerunning damps,  
Oh! Heaven prepare me for it.  3 Mur. 
How he prays! Aside.  2 Mur. 
What if he does? What are a Heretics prayers? Aside.  Gl. 
Let all my sins drop from me in these Tears.  3 Mur. 
How penitent he is!— my Soul relents,  
The Devil take this cursed want of Money. Aside.  Gl. 
If e'er my Person, Greatness, or Authority,  
Did injure any one, forgive the fault,  
And in the bosom of the injured person,  
Pour down a thousand blessings.— Above all things  
Preserve the King from all his Enemies.  
If I by Wickedness and Falsehood perish,  
Oh! give my bloody Enemy's repentance,  
And let my Death be an occasion  
Of good to them, but ruin to their wickedness.  3 Mur. 
Hark, how he prays for us that are his murderers! Aside  1 Mur. 
What if he does? he is a Heretic.  
His Prayers are Curses, we are the worse for 'em. Aside.  Card. 
Why don't you do your work? Aside.  3 Mur. 
We will; we will. Aside.  Gl. 
So shall I do more good in Death than Life,  
And by my innocent Death procure a Blessing  
To my good King, my Country, all my Enemies.  They lay hold on the Duke and strangle him. Card. 
So! Is he dead yet?  2 Mur. 
Yes! he does not stir.  Enter the Duke of Suffolk. Suff. 
Ho! What's the News?  Card. 
The deed is done, my Lord.  Suff. 
Have you dispatched the thing?  1 Mur. 
We have done his business.  Suff. 
Thou art a gallant Rogue! there's Gold for thee.  
And for you all.  Card. 
A Rogue, my Lord, you wrong him;  
He is a Saint, and so are they all.  3 Mur. 
A Saint: Aside.  
Devil take such Saints.  
I would this deed were to be done again,  
My Family should starve  I would do it.  Card. 
I hear a noise without.  3 Mur. 
A noise without!  
I'm sure I hear a cursed noise within me,  
A bawling Conscience.  Card. 
Place the Body some way  
As may give least suspicion, and be gone,  
And come another time for your rewards.  They place the Body in a Chair, shut the Scene,— and Ex. Enter the King and Queen, Attendants. Qu. 
What brings your Majesty abroad so early?  
You do not use to finish your Devotion  
So soon as this.  King. 
Oh! Love, I am not well,  
My Uncle is always walking in my mind,  
And shakes the melancholy Room with fear;  
Methinks he tells me I have not done well,  
To give him up to his too cruel Enemies,  
To men who are not such as they should be.  Qu. 
Why, Sir, have you so great mistrust of 'em?  King. 
I wish I had no cause; I've sent Commands to 'em,  
To bring my Uncle to me presently.  Enter the Cardinal. 
Had you my message, my Lord Cardinal?  Card. 
Yes, Royal Sir, the Duke of Suffolk instantly  
Will bring the Duke of Gloucester; I have lodged  
My noble Prisoner but in the next Rooms.  King. 
Methinks he should not be the man you make him.  Card. 
Your Majesty has your eyes always fixed  
On shining Heaven, that when you look below,  
The World is in a mist and dark to you.  Enter Suffolk. King. 
How now? Why look'st thou pale? why dost thou shake?  
Where is my Uncle? What's the matter? Speak.  Suff. 
The Duke is dead.  Card. 
How! Dead?  Suff. 
Dead in his Chair.  Qu. 
Oh! Heaven forbidden!  Suff. 
'Tis true.  Card. 
Heaven's secret Judgements.  
I feared some dreadful judgement would o'ertake him.  The King Swoons. Qu. 
How is my Lord? Help, help, the King is dying.  Suff. 
Rear up his Body, fetch some Water quickly.  Qu. 
Oh! Help, help, help.  Suff. 
See, he revives again.  
Madam, be comforted.  Qu. 
How does my Lord?  King. 
Oh! heavenly God— Sighs deeply.  Suff. 
Take comfort, Gracious Sir.  King. 
Ah! Woe is me for Gloucester! wretched man!  Qu. 
Is all your comfort shut up in his Tomb?  
And can you find no joy in me at all?  
Why do you turn away and hid your Face?  
I am no loathsome Leper, look on me.  
Ah! woe is me, more wretched than he is.  
Did I for this expose myself to Winds,  
And Rocks, and Seas, and twice was almost wracked,  
And twice was driven back, as if the Winds  
Forewarned me landing on this unkind Shore!  
The vaulting Sea danced with me to and fro,  
As it were loath to bring me to this Coast.  
The Rocks covered in the Waves, and hid themselves,  
As shaming to owe kindred to an Island,  
Whose cruel King would thus reward my Love.  
Ah! see if he will speak to me, or look on me!  
How hateful am I grown! Ah! wretched me!  Card. 
I see the King loves this dead Traitor better  
Than all his living Friends! Farewell,— I'm sorry Sir,  
To see you hate your Friends, and love your Enemies. Ex.  King. 
Where is my dead Friend? I'll see him— lead me to him.  Suff. 
In the next Room, Sir: Ho, open these doors.  The Scene is drawn, and the Duke of Gloucester is shown dead in a Chair. King. 
Oh! thou good man! And hast thou thus been used?  
And is this all of thee that's left to me?  
Oh! to how little, and how poor a pittance  
Are all my Comforts in this life now brought!  Enter Warwick. War. 
Oh! Sir, Reports are spread among the People,  
The good Duke Humphrey treacherously is murdered,  
By Suffolk's and the Cardinal Beauford's means.  Suff. 
By mine?  War. 
By yours.  Suff. 
I did expect as much.  War. 
The Commons, like a Hive of angry Bees,  
That want their Leader, scatter up and down,  
And care not whom they sting in their revenge.  
I have endeavoured to allay their rage,  
Until they are satisfied about his death.  King. 
Ah! my Lord he is dead, 'tis true! too true!  
See here:— But how he died, God knows, not I  
I fear foul play was played him for his Life.  
Oh Heaven! to whom Judgement alone belongs,  
Forgive me if I injure any one  
With false suspicions.  War. 
Sir, as certainly,  
As I believe that Heaven was his Maker,  
I believe Treachery was his destroyer.  Suff. 
Do you know it, that so dreadfully you swear it?  War. 
I swear that I believe it.  Suff. 
What's your reason?  War. 
I see already above a thousand proofs,  
That he was basely strangled.  Suff. 
Strangled!  War. 
Strangled.  
His Face is black and swelled with settled Blood,  
Which shows the passage to the Heart was stopped,  
Whether the Blood in natural deaths descends,  
To aid the labouring Heart in his last conflict;  
And failing, freezes with the cold of Death,  
And ne'er returns, but leaves the face all pale.  
His eyes stand ghastly from his Head, and almost  
Come out to meet us to complain of strangling.  
His gaping nostrils are stretched out with striving,  
His hands are spread abroad, as one that grasped  
And tugged for Life, but was by strength o'ermastered.  
His well proportioned Beard, is rugged made  
Like Summer's Corn, by furious tempest lodged.  
See a blue Ring encompasses his Neck.  
Oh! Murder here has danced her fairy round.  
If the Duke was not strangled, ne'er was man.  Suff. 
Why, who should do it, my Lord? none but myself  
And Cardinal Beauford, had him in protection.  War. 
Who finds the Heifer dead, and bleeding fresh,  
And sees a Butcher with his Axe stand by,  
May easily suspect who made the Slaughter.  Qu. 
The Cardinal, and you, my Lord, are Murderers!  
For shame, my Lord of Warwick, rule your arrogance.  War. 
Pray, Madam, let me with due reverence tell you,  
Each word you speak for him, slanders your Honour.  Suff. 
Blunt-witted Lord, thy evil manners say,  
Thy Mother took into her blameful Bed  
Some rough untutored Churl, and grafted there  
On Nevil's noble race a rugged Clown.  War. 
Did not my Sovereign's presence check my fury,  
I'd make thee kneel for pardon for this speech,  
And say, 'twas thy own Mother that thou meanest,  
And after this low homage, I would kill thee,  
Thou treacherous murderer of sleeping men.  Suff. 
Thou shalt be waking when I shed thy blood;  
If ere I meet thee from this royal presence.  War. 
Away, or I will drag thee!— though I scorn thee,  
I'll fight with thee, to appease Duke Humphry's Ghost.  King. 
Forbear my Lords, for shame! stay, I command you.  A Noise, Enter Salisbury. Sal. 
Great Sir, the Commons' humbly implore by me,  
The Duke of Suffolk may be put to death,  
Or Banished instantly; for else they threaten,  
They'll tear him hence by violence and Torture him.  
Free from bold contradiction to your liking,  
But out of Loyalty they drive him from you.  
They say, If you desired to sleep, and charged  
No one on pain of Death should dare to wake you;  
Yet if they saw a Serpent in your Bosom,  
They with the hazard of their lives would wake you,  
And drive him from you whether you would or no.  
They say the Duke of Suffolk is that Serpent,  
By whose envenomed sting your Uncle perished;  
A Prince a thousand times of Suffolk's value,  
From him they also fear your majesty's Death.  Suff. 
They durst not send this message to their King,  
My noble Lord Ambassador from Weavers.  King. 
My Lord of Salisbury, Tell 'em from me,  
I thank 'em for their Loyal care of me;  
That I have been awake long  they roused me,  
And seen the dangerous Serpent I have cherished  
To my great danger, and my Friend's destruction.  
For oh! the slimy paths the Serpent crawled  
To sting my Friend to Death, shine in my eyes.  Suff. 
Sir, will you judge me e'er you know my innocnece?  King. 
Go tell 'em, By that Heavenly Majesty,  
Whose most unworthy Deputy I am,  
I vow most solemnly, the English Air  
Shall not receive three days infection more  
From this most wicked man; for if it does  
The fourth shall end his wickedness and him. Exit Salis.  Suff. 
Sir, this is hard to doom m●'re I'm tried.  Qu. 
Oh! let me plead, Sir, for this injured Lord.  King. 
Oh fie, forbear! forbear! your pleading for him  
Will add but very little to your Honour,  
But to my anger much; 'twill make me pass  
Censure on you, and heavier Doom on him.  
Had I but said it, nothing should ha' changed me;  
But having sworn it, you may easier  
Remove the Kingdom than stay that man in it.  
Then let him hear his Sentence once again:  
If after three days space he shall be found  
On any Ground that I am Ruler of,  
The World shall not be Ransom for his Life. Exit.  Qu. 
Oh wretched! wretched me! Oh! I could turn  
My Breath and Spirits all, all into Curses,  
Curse all thy Enemies, and all the World.  
I prithee join with me, and let us Curse 'em.  Suff. 
A Plague upon 'em! Wherefore should I curse 'em?  
Were Curses killing as the groans of Mandrakes.  
I'd stay to curse 'em were the Palace burning,  
And every word I said were half on't fire,  
And I, my Curses ended, should be Ashes.  
For what's the difference between being Ashes,  
Or Water, as I soon shall be with Sorrow?  Qu. 
I must betake myself now to my Tears,  
The last poor refuge of a wretched Woman.  Suff. 
Must I see this? And can I not revenge it?  
Like one of the fallen Spirits banished Heaven.  
I stand upon the shining Precipice,  
And look with grief on all the Joys I'm leaving;  
Then down with Terror on my desperate fall,  
Then grin with rage because I cannot help myself;  
And amidst all these Passions, I'm more tortured  
In Heaven, than I shall be when fallen to Hell.  Qu. 
My griefs no flesh can bear, no soul can guests.  
Oh! that the moment when thou took'st me Prisoner,  
Thy Sword had separated my Soul and Body,  
Then had I been at ease; but now thy Banishment  
Divides 'em, and I live to feel the torment.  Suff. 
I'll stay with you, what ever shall befall me.  Qu. 
What should befall but Death to both of us?  
The strong convulsions of my griefs have tired,  
Wasted, and weakened so my vanquished Spirits,  
That I am fainting now into a calm.  Suff. 
And in this calm the current of my Sorrows,  
Shall bear my drowning Spirits to thy Bosom,  
And lay it there as on a Bank of Lilies,  
Where I will Die as in a pleasing slumber.  Qu. 
This must not be, we must not stay together,  
No we must part, or staying thou must Die.  
I rather will endure a lingering Death  
Of a long parting, than by Death to lose thee.  
Whilst we are living we may meet again.  Suff. 
We may, we shall, the King is not Immortal,  
Or if he were, his Anger is not so.  
But both will have an end, so will our Sorrows.  
The longest life has still an utmost point:  
No Creature is infinite.  Qu. 
Except my Love.  Suff. 
In hopes then once to meet again,— Farewell!  Qu. 
Oh! sad heart-breaking word!— Where e'er thou wanderest  
Send to me oft.  Suff. 
What joy shall I have else?  
All Places will be desolate, and I  
Shall live no longer than I hear you live.  Qu. 
My Fit returns again! unhappy we!  
Why are we two so nearly joined in Love,  
And yet by Fortune kept so wide asunder,  
First by thy Marriage, and now by thy Banishment?  
My Love was thrown as soon as it was Born  
On cold Dispair, hearing thou hadst a Wife.  
Hadst thou had none, and only been a Shepherd,  
And known no other wealth than a small Flock,  
No other Title than the charming Swain,  
(For so would every Shepherdess have called thee)  
I would have rather been thy humble Wife,  
Than Queen to Henry.  Suff. 
If I should stay here  
Till I told o'er the Wealth I would have given,  
For such a happiness, we ne'er should part.  Qu. 
Oh! must we part! Heaven made us for each other,  
And then did set us two, of all the World,  
Farthest asunder; a Wife first did part us,  
But now whole Kingdoms, and whole Worlds must part us.  
These Miseries I might have well expected;  
My Love was born under Captivity,  
I was thy Prisoner,  my heart was so:  
Chains lay at th' entrance of the gate of Love,  
And pall Dispair forbade me entering in;  
Yet such sweet Prospects drew my heart along,  
It entered in, and now is lost for ever.  Suff. 
Say not for ever; Do not cruelly  
Put out the eyes of our Prophetic hopes,  
Which like so many Angel-guides, will lead  
Our Souls to pleasant Prospects of delight,  
Where we may gaze till Fate is tired with frowning,  
And Time with holding two so bend to meet,  
Shall lose his hold, and let us fly together.  
Till then farewell.  Qu. 
Take with thee my poor heart.  Suff. 
A Jewel locked into the woefull'st Cabinet  
That ever did contain so great a Treasure.  
Just like a split Bark, so sunder we.  
This way sink I to ruin.  Qu. 
This way I.— Exeunt several ways.  

The SCENE the Cardinal's Apartment.  Enter the Cardinal. Card. 
I'm vexed! I'm more, I'm wracked! By what? who knows?  
By a thing within me called a Conscience.  
A Trick,— a Spring, that catches us, and pinches,  
If we but point at an ill Action.  
Why is it an ill thing to kill a man?  
He is the Plague and Sickness of the World.  
'Tis a kind honest thing to kill a man,  
You cure the World of one Disease, you free  
Thousands from Mischief, and you ease the man.  
Yet if one do a man so great a kindness,  
The damned ungrateful Rogue torments one's Conscience.  
Men are ungrateful Rogues, living or dead.  
I know not what to do; I must have ease.  
Ho there!  Enter a Servant. Ser. 
My Lord.  Card. 
Call my Physician.  
Stay there!— What should I do with a Physician?  
No Physic can give me any ease, but Poison.  
The gravel of the Grave is the best scouring  
For such fierce Hawks as I am, after feeding.  
Go, now I think on't, call my Confessor.  
Let him alone!— What should I do with him too?  
My Soul is sick, and it can have no ease,  
I grow sick.—  
Unless it purge (forsooth) in a Priest's ear.  
Fetch me a Glass of Wine, run quickly,— run.  
I tremble!— a cold sweat comes over me,  
All the Air tastes of an infernal damp.  The Ghost of Duke Humphrey appears and goes out, the Cardinal falls into a Swoon. Enter the Servant with Wine. 1 Ser. 
Help, help, my Lord is fallen! my Lord is dead!  2 Ser. 
Oh! Heaven! What's the matter with my Lord?  3 Ser. 
He opens now his eyes!  4 Ser. 
He foams at the mouth.  1 Ser. 
Let's set him in the Chair and give him air.  3 Ser. 
I'll run for his Physicians. Ex.  4 Ser. 
I'll give notice  
To all the Court. Ex.  Enter the three Murderers. Card. 
Stand off, and let the Duke of Gloucester speak to me.  
Speak, speak, I say! What wouldst thou have with me?  2 Mur. 
He names the Duke of Gloucester.  1 Mur. 
Oh! Does he so?  
Is his Infallibility come to that? A Pox of his Doctrines,  
He has damned himself and me too.  Card. 
Who is the Grave-maker?  
He is a Villain, he digs Graves so shallow,  
The dead break Prison, and come plague the Living.  
Why this is fine, the Living cannot eat  
Nor drink, nor sleep in quiet for the Dead;  
The Dead that can do none of 'em, must plague us.  
Thou envious Ghost, get to thy own abode,  
I know not where it is, in Heaven or Hell,  
Oh! Hell! Hell! Hell! I am tormented: Oh!  1 Mur. 
Oh! gallant, brave Infallibility!  Enter the King, Salisbury, Warwick. King. 
How does the Cardinal?  2 Mur. 
Sir, of a sudden  
He's fallen into a fit of Infallible Madness.  Card. 
Ha! who are these? Stand off, stand off, who are you?  Sal. 
This is your King.  Card. 
What King? The King of Terrors?  
Death! is it he? If thou beest Death, I'll give thee  
Treasure enough to purchase all this Kingdom,  
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.  King. 
Ah! What a sign it is of evil life  
When Death's approach appears so terrible?  War. 
My Lord, my Lord! Do you know your King?  Car. 
What King? what King?  War. 
King Henry.  Car. 
Ha! King Henry!  
Sir, bring me to my Trial when you will,  
I am prepared, died he not in his Bed?  
Can I make men live whether they will no?  
Oh! do not torture me! I will confess!— Oh!  King. 
Poor wretch!  War. 
What think you, Sir? Are not these signs  
Of horrid Gild?  King. 
Let us not Censure him.  Car. 
Alive again, do you say? Ha! show him me!  
I'll give a Thousand Pound to look on him.  
Stand by and let me see him,— there he is,  
He has no Eyes, the dust has blinded 'em,  
Comb down his hair!— look!— look! it stands upright  
Like Limetwigs, set to catch my flying Soul.  
I prithee do not carry me along with thee,  
And I'll do cruel Penance all my life;  
Hunger shall tear my Entrails, Whips my Flesh,  
Thorns my bare Feet; my habit shall be Haircloth,  
The Rock my Bed, hard Roots my only food,  
Foul Puddle all my drink; if this suffice not,  
I'll sell myself a Slave among the Turks:  
What dost thou say? wilt thou consent to this?  King. 
Oh! thou eternal Mercy, cast an eye  
Of pity on this Wretch! Oh! drive away from him  
The hungry Fiend, that strives to gripe his Soul.  Card. 
Ha! Wilt thou not consent? and must I die?  
Oh! let me live, and be a Slave, a Dog!  
What must I die? Oh! this is very cruel!  War. 
See how he grins, Sir, with the pangs of Death.  Sal. 
Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.  King. 
Peace to his Soul, if it be Heavens good pleasure.  
Lord Cardinal, If you have any hopes of Heaven,  
Hold up your hand, and give a joyful signal.  Sal. 
He gives us none.  King. 
Oh! Heaven have mercy on him.  War. 
He gives a dreadful signal of his Gild.  King. 
Forbear to judge him, we are sinners all.  
He's dead!— close up his eyes,— and let us all  
To sad and devout Meditation. Exeunt.  The Scene is drawn. The Queen weeping.— A Lady attending. Qu. 
How am I robbed of all my joys in Youth?  
That now my doleful Years will hang on me,  
Like a great Family on a poor Bankrupt.  
My hope is, Destiny will ne'er be able,  
With this great weight of Misery upon me,  
To drag me to the Prison of old Age,  
Where we lie cold and dark as in the Grave,  
And have as great a load of Earth upon us;  
Where melancholy thoughts about us crawl,  
Like Toads in Dungeons about Malefactors:  
That Prison, where through gates of Horror wrinkled  
Fate feeds us with the Water of our Tears,  
But enough to quench the thirst of Sorrow,  
For the old Well is then almost dried up.  Lady. 
Oh! Madam! you'll bring Age on you in Youth,  
If you weep thus.  Qu. 
I would if I could, bring on me  
The only joy of Age to be near Death.  
But I have a long Life to travel through,  
Barren and comfortless as any Desert,  
And I am spoiled of all just at the entrance.  Enter another Lady. 2 Lady. 
Madam, there's a Gentleman without  
Come from aboard a Vessel, where the Duke  
Of Suffolk lately was.—  Qu. 
Oh! bring him!  Enter a Gentleman. 
Oh! saw you lately, Sir, the Duke of Suffolk?  Gent. 
Yes, Madam.  Qu. 
Oh! How does he?  Gent. 
Well, I doubt not;  
He is at the end of an unhappy Journey.—  Qu. 
In France already?  Gent 
In a better Country.—  
Madam, forgive my zeal to my dear Lord.  
I had the honour to be once his Servant,  
And knowing well your Majesty did bear  
A very great respect to his great Merit.  
Came to entreat you to revenge his Blood!  Qu. 
His Blood!  Gent. 
His Blood: See Madam, this was once,  
The beauteous manly Visage of my Lord.  Shows the Duke of Suffolk 's Head. 1 Lady. 
She faints! she dies! Oh! help for Heaven's sake.  2 Lady. 
She stirs; she's coming to herself again.  Qu. 
Why have you waked me from this pleasing slumber,  
In which I had forgotten my vast misery?  
Where is the bloody Spectacle you shown me?  1 Lady. 
Away with it!  Qu. 
Show it me again, I say.  
Oh! barbarous and bloody Spectacle!  
Is this the Noble Duke? Is this the man  
That was the pride of Nature, England's Ornament,  
But now is England's everlasting shame.  
Oh! my dear murdered Duke! Is this the meeting  
Which we at parting promised to each other?  
Love promised more than Destiny could pay.  
Who did this cursed deed?  Gent. 
A cursed Pirate,  
Who in the River's Mouth clapped him aboard,  
And took the Duke and all of us his Prisoners.  
The Duke they knew not till they spied his George,  
And then he owned himself, and for his Ransom,  
Offered what sums of Gold they would demand;  
He chanced to be one Walter Whitmore's Prize,  
Who lost in Fight his eye.  Qu. 
And to revenge it,  
He would put out the Sun.  Gent. 
Yes, kill the Duke.  
And he was stirred to greater insolence.  
By that damned Villain, which they called their Captain,  
Who said the Duke had murdered good Duke Humphrey,  
Beggared the King, lost France, and ruined England.  
Nay, his foul Tongue did not refuse to spit  
Dishonour on your Sacred Majesty,  
And said the Duke had injured the King's Bed.  Qu. 
Impudent Villain!  Gent. 
For all which foul Crimes,  
He said he would revenge the King and Kingdom.  Qu. 
Bold bloody Villain.  Gent. 
The brave Duke on this,  
Calling to mind his Birth was Calculated,  
And it was told him he should die by Water,  
He thought at first the Fiend had quibbled with him,  
And he should die by one who was called Water;  
But then remembering that he was at Sea,  
He found the Devil had two strings to his Bow,  
So Saw himself encompassed round with Destiny.  
Then lifting up his Eyes to Heaven he smiled,  
As if he in his noble thoughts derided  
The sport Fate makes with great men's Lives and Fortunes.  
Then looking down with scorn on his base Enemies,  
He gave a sigh, at which he named Queen Margaret,  
And with that grace he acted every thing,  
He bowed his Head, and had it stricken off.  Qu. 
Oh! execrable Villains! could this face  
Which governed me, not strike an awe in you?  
Who were not worthy once to look up it?  
And thou unfortunate gallant man!  
Thy Wit, thy Valour, and thy delicate Form,  
Were mighty faults, which the World could not bear.  
No wonder the vile envy of the base  
Pursued thee, when the Noble could not bear thee,  
They cursed thee as the Negroes do the Sun,  
Because thy shining Glories blackened 'em.  
For which, Oh England! thus I pray for thee!  
May'st thou ne'er breed brave Man, or if thou dost,  
Oh! let him be thy Ruin, or thou his.  
May all thy Witty men be sadly Vicious,  
Let sloth devour their Fortunes, Fools their Fame,  
Lewdness their Souls, their Bodies Foul Disease.  
May thy Wise Men be Factious, and head Fools,  
If they be honest let 'em lose their Heads.  
Let thy Brave Men against thyself be bravest,  
Be Men at foreign, Devils at Civil War.  
Let all thy Pious Sons with zeal run mad,  
And make Religion thy Reproach and Curse.  
May'st thou have all Religions to confound thee,  
And none to save thee.— Here a bloody Altar,  
Oh! cruel England! hast thou made for me,  
Therefore these bloody Prayers I make for thee.  2 Lady. 
The King is coming, Madam.  Enter the King. King. 
Oh! my Lord,  
I bring thee frightful News, the Kentishmen  
Are up in Arms, headed by one Jack Cade,  
A Fellow who proclaims himself Lord Mortimer,  
Descended from the Duke of Clarence Line.  
He is marching towards London, in the head  
Of a rude rugged merciless crowd of Peasants;  
And all the way he proclaims me Usurper,  
And vows to Crown himself at Westminster.  
And in this great distress, to comfort me,  
The tray'trous Duke of York, with a great Power,  
Is marching hither too, and he proclaims  
He comes but to remove the Duke of Somerset,  
But most believe he secretly intends  
To reap the benefit of Cade's Rebellion.  
That I am like a Ship beset with danger,  
Threatened with Wracking by the Kentish Storm,  
Or to be Boarded by that Pirate, York.  Qu. 
So! so my Curse on England springs already. Aside.  
Oh! this were Music to me, were it not  
Allayed by the sad weeping of my Son,  
Heir of these Noble Kingdoms; who, methinks,  
Sighs in my Ear, Ah, Mother, for my sake  
Pity the helpless King my unfortunate Father!  
He was Crowned King when he was nine Months old;  
But if you do not aid him, his Misfortune  
Will never suffer me to be a King.  
For thy sake Princely Boy, I will assist him,  
And something for his own, he's a good Man,  
Though a weak King; and it was my ambition  
Made Suffolk slain his hands in innocent Blood.  
Which Crime forgive me Heaven, and let the Duke  
Of Suffolk's Blood be all my Punishment.  Enter Somerset and Buckingham. Buck. 
Oh! fly Sir, fly, the Rebels are in Southwark;  
The Citizens through fear forsake their Houses.  
The Rascal People all join with the Traitors,  
Threatening to spoil the City, and your Court.  Som. 
Take comfort, Royal Sir, we'll all stand by you.  King. 
Pray let as little Blood be shed as possible.  
I'll send a holy Bishop to entreat 'em  
To spare their Souls and Bodies; I will promise 'em  
To mend my Government, for I confess,  
England may yet Curse my unfortuate Reign.  Qu. 
Come, Sir, take Spirit in you; Men like Buildings  
Fall to the Ground, if never Fire burn in 'em  
To harden 'em; King's a Royal Building,  
That should have no soft Clay in it at all.  
Adversity has always reigned upon you,  
And made you soft; but yield not, Sir, to Rebels.  
Royalty like great Beauty, must be chaste,  
Rogues will have all, if once they get a taste. Exeunt.     

Epilogue.  
NOw some fine things perhaps you think to bear,  
But he who did reform this Play does swear  
He'll not bestow rich Trappings on a Horse,  
That will want Breath to run a Three-days Course;  
And be turned off by Gallants of the Town,  
For Citizens and their Wives to Hackney on.  
Not that a Barb that's come of Shackspears breed,  
Can e'er want Mettle, Courage, Shape, or Speed;  
But you have Poetry so long rides Post,  
That your delight in Riding now is lost.  
And there is Reason for it I must own,  
●'ave Foundered all the Poets in the Town.  
Alas, their Strength and Courage may abate,  
Under the Critique's Spur, and the Fool's Weight.  
And Destiny is playing wanton Tricks,  
Turning the Nation round to Politics;  
The Romish Beast has feared her from her Wits,  
And thrown her in her old Convulsion Fits.  
The same she had many Years since, 'tis said,  
Then Poetry was a miserable Jade.  
The Pulpit than Men fiercely did bestride,  
And Musqueteers that Wooden Horse did ride.  
Those damned Diseases by time purged away,  
The Nation straight grew Young again and Gay.  
Balls assigned, as Masquerades and Plays,  
Were all the Business of those happy Days.  
You flocked to Plays as if they Jubilees were,  
Things to be seen but once in Fifty Year.  
Boxes i'th' Morning did with Beauty shine,  
And Citizens then in the Pit did Dine.  
The Wife with her good Husband did prevail,  
To bring the Sucking Bottle full of Ale.  
Then on her Knees cold Capon-legs were seen,  
Her Husband's Capon-legs I do not mean.  
Then we were precious things, purchased 'tis known,  
By  and Suppers, but these Days are done.  
Yet they will come again, Times cannot hold,  
But whilst they mend, Curse on it we grow old;  
Then we may all who once were your delight,  
Sun with Duke Humphrey as you have done to Night.  
FINIS.   

HENRY the Sixth. The Second Part.  
OR THE MISERY OF CIVIL WAR, As it was Acted at the Duke's Theatre.  
Written by Mr. CROWN.  
LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley, and M. Magnes, in Russel-Street, in Covent-Garden. 1681.   

PROLOGUE.  
REligious Broils to such a height are grown,  
All the sweet sound of Poetry they drown.  
Were Orpheus here, his Lute might charm our Beasts,  
Our Mastiffs, not our Rabble, or our Priests.  
Good Heaven! Sirs! are there no other ways  
To damn the Pope, but damning all our Plays?  
To our Religion 'tis no Praise at all,  
That, if our Wit must stand, our Faith must fall.  
All parties in a Playhouse may agree,  
The Stage is privileged from Piety.  
'Tis pleasant, Sirs, to see you fight and brawl  
About Religion, but have none at all.  
Most fiercely for the Road to Heaven contend,  
But never care to reach the Journeys end.  
Though you lose Heaven, you will keep the Way,  
The Pope shan't have you, though the Devil may.  
These things such business for the Critics find,  
They're not at leisure Poetry to mind,  
Well for the Poet 'tis they're so employed;  
Else this poor Work of his would be destroyed.  
For by his feeble Skill 'tis built alone,  
The Divine Shakespeare did not lay one Stone.  
Besides this Tragedy a Rod will prove,  
To whip us for a Fault, we too much Love,  
And have for ages lived, called Civil Strife.  
The English Nation, like a Russian Wife,  
Is to a gentle Husband always cursed,  
And loves him best, who uses her the worst.  
This Poet, (though perhaps in Colours faint)  
Those scurvy Joys does in all Postures Paint  
Fools take in pelting out each others Brains:  
A joy, for which this Nation oft takes pains.  
If any like the Ills he shows to day,  
Let them be damned and let them damn the Play.   

The Persons Represented in the Tragedy.  

KIng Henry the Sixth, Prince Edward, King Henry's Son. By Mr. Joseph Williams.  
Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, By Mr. David Williams.  
Edward, eldest Son of Richard Plantagenet, and after his Father's death King of England, By Mr. Smith.  
George, Duke of Clarence, second Son of the Duke of York, By Mr. Bowman.  
Richard, the third Son, called Crook-back. By Mr. Gillow.  
Rutland a Child, the youngest Son.  
The Great Earl of Warwick By Mr. Batterton.  
Old Lord Clifford, By Mr. Pearcival.  
Young Clifford, his Son, By Mr. Wiltshire.  
Queen Margaret, Wife of King Henry, Mrs. Leigh.  
Lady Grey, the Widow of Sir John Grey, beloved and at length married by King Edward the fourth, By Mrs. Batterton.  
Lady Elinor Butler, a young Lady of great quality, that was one of King Edward's Mistresses, By Mrs. Currer.   
SCENE, ENGLAND.   

THE MISERIES OF Civil-War.  

ACT. I.  

SCENE. I.  A Noise of Fight; a Shout for Victory. Enter Cade and his Rabble. Cade. 
FLing all my dead Subjects into the Thames.  
Now say, what place is this?  Butch. 
'Tis London-Stone.  Cade. 
Then am I Mortimer, Lord of this City;  
And here, I, sitting upon London-Stone,  
Declare, this is the first day of our Reign.  
So I command the Conduits all Piss Claret:  
And I proclaim it Treason now for any man  
To call me other than Lord Mortimer.  Enter a Soldier running. Sould. 
Jack Cade, Jack! Jack!  Cade. 
Knock down that saucy Fellow.  A Butcher kill's him. Butch. 
If he has wit, he'll never call thy Honour Jack Cade again.  Cade. 
I think he has fair warning.  Enter a Cobbler, with a Scrivener. Cob. 
My Lord! my Lord!  Cade. 
Well said, a mannerly Fellow.  Cob. 
I have catched a Scrivener here, setting Boys Copies.  Cade. 
Oh! there's a Villain! a corrupter of Youth.  Cob. 
He has a Book in's pocket with red Letters in't.  Cade. 
Then he's a Conjurer.  Cob. 
He can write Bills, and Bonds, and Obligations, to bind People to undo themselves, and pay Money, whether they Can or no; such a Rogue is enough to undo a Nation.  Cade. 
I'm sorry for it, for on my honour he's a proper fellow:  
He shall not die unless I find him Guilty.  Cob. 
He shall die, Guilty or not Guilty; I brought him to be  
Hanged, and I will not lose my labour. I love hanging, there's  
Never any hanging, but I leave my Stall to go see it.  
Hanging-day is my holiday, and I will keep Cobbler's holiday.  Cade. 
We'll hang him, but we'll examine him first.  Cob. 
No hang him first, for now no man will confess,  
Till after he's hanged.  Cade. 
I will examine him.— Sirrah! what's thy Name!  Scriu. 
Emanuel.  Cob. 
Emanuel!  
That's a strange Name, Friend 'twill go very hard with you.  Cade. 
Let me alone! Friend, dost thou write thy Name,  
Or use a mark like a plain honest man?  Scriu. 
Sir. I thank Heaven, I have been so well bred,  
That I can write my name.  All. 
He has confessed,  
He's a stranger, and a Villain, hang him.  Cade. 
Hang him with his Pen and Ink about his Neck.  Enter others with the Lord Say Prisoner. 
My Lord, my Lord, a prize an't like thy honour 〈◊〉  
Here's the Lord Say, who sold the Towns in France,  
And made us pay one and twenty Fifteen  
And a shilling to the pound, last Subsidy.  Cade. 
I will behead him one and twenty times.  
Come scurvy Lord, what canst thou say  
To our Mightiness, for giving up our Towns  
To Monsieur Basimecu, the Dolphin of France?  
Be it known unto thee, Traitor, by these presents,  
Even by the presence of myself, Lord Mortimer,  
That I will sweep the world clean of such filth.  
Thou Traitorously hast built a Grammar-School,  
To debauch all the youth, and whereas formerly  
Our Grandsires used no Book, but Score and Tally,  
Thou hast caused wicked Printing to be used,  
And contrary to the King, his Crown and Dignity,  
Hast built a Papermill. It will be proved,  
That thou hast Servants talk of Nouns and Verbs,  
And such vile Words not Christian ere can here.  
Thou hast appointed Justices of Peace,  
To call poor men before 'em, about matters  
They could not answer; yes, and thou hast hanged 'em,  
Because they could not read.  Cob. 
There was a Villain!  Cade. 
Thou rid'st upon a foot-cloth, dost thou not?  Say. 
Well what of that?  Cade. 
Why is it not a shame  
Thy Horse should wear a Cloak, when honest men  
Go in their Hose and Doublets?  Say. 
Well, I find  
You men of Kent—  All. 
What of us men of Kent?  Say. 
That Kent is, bona terra mala gens.  Cade. 
Bold Traitor, he speaks Latin in my presence.  
Go hang him, hang him.  Say. 
Hear me, Countrymen.  Cade. 
Hear Latin! Villain? hang him.  All. 
Hang him, hang him.— They drag him away.  Butch. 
We'll hang up every man that can speak Latin.  Cade. 
Well counselled Butcher, counselled like a Butcher.  
We will, and more, for they are but few.  Tay. 
We'll hang up any man that can speak French.  
For I'm a Tailor, and there is no man  
That can speak French will let me work a stitch for 'em.  Cob. 
We'll hang up all the Lords and Gentlemen.  
Spare none but such as go in clouted shoes;  
For I'm a Cobbler, and live by those.  Tayl. 
But by your favour, Sir, I am a Tailor  
And, Sir, I live by Lords and Gentlemen;  
I only would hang those that own me money,  
And will not pay me.  Cade. 
Why, thou stitching Coxcomb!  
We will be Lords and Gentlemen ourselves.  Tayl. 
Oh! that's another thing.  Cade. 
Another thing!  
What do we fight for else, you silly Rascal?  Cob. 
'Tis true, my Lord, we ought to be Great-men,  
For it is said, Labour in thy Vocation:  
That is, let Magistrates be labouring-men,  
Therefore we labouring men ought to be Magistrates;  
And I will be Lord Cobbler, and a Counsellor.  Carp. 
I'll be Lord Carpenter, for 'tis a shame  
That none of the King's Council are good Workmen.  Cob. 
The Lords, forsooth scorn to wear leather Aprons.  Cade. 
We'll make 'em glad to go in leather Aprons.  Butch. 
We'll stick 'em all, and we'll be Lords ourselves.  Tayl. 
I'll be contented to be but a Knight.  Cob. 
Shall we not spare the Lords that are our friends,  
Such as thy Cousin Plantagenet, and others?  Cade. 
No Lord is our Friend, you Fool, they merely choose us.  Butch. 
How! merely choose us?  Cade. 
I say merely choose us.  
All the fine words and money that they give us  
Is nothing else but buying of Calves-heads.  Butch. 
My Cleaver then shall choose 'em of their Brains.  Cade. 
When they have done with us, they'll turn us off.  Butch. 
Here are brave Knaves.  Tayl. 
His Honour understands 'em.  Cob. 
I Gad, my Lord's a devilish perilous Fellow.  
Prithee, my Lord, what ails these plaguy Lords  
To keep this coil, when they have a power o' money,  
Brave Lands, and gallant Wenches to their Wives?  Cade. 
I'll tell thee Tom the Cobbler, here's my shoe;  
Dost thou believe my shoe, if it had wit,  
Would carry me up and down all day i'th' dirt;  
Or dost thou think my Breeches would be sat on,  
Or Doublet cloth my Back, and by that means  
Be often cudgelled, if they had any wit;  
No, if they had any wit, they would be Caps.  Cob. 
True, but thy worship's Cap is sometimes cudgelled:  
I have known thy Honour have a broken pate.  Cade. 
Ay but pride feels no hurt; so some great Lords  
Are trodden under foot like dirty shoes,  
Some hang like Doublets on the Nations back,  
And some like Breeches only on the tail.  
But by their good wills they would all be Caps,  
And so would you my friends if you be wise.  Cob. 
We'll all be Caps.  All. 
All Caps, all Caps, all Caps.  Cade 
If you'll be Caps, hang all Lords and Gentlemen,  
And all rich Citizens.  Butch. 
How, all rich Citizens?  
Prithee my Lord, they are my particular Friends,  
They buy more Meat, than all the Lords in England.  
And then they promise they'll do great things for us,  
If we will help 'em to redress their Grievances.  God. 
Butcher, those promises are but a mere cheat,  
These men puff thee, just as thou blowest thy Veal,  
Only to make thee swell for their own ends.  Butch. 
Are they such Knaves?  Cade. 
Oh they are notorious Knaves,  
They cheat the Town, their Wives, themselves, and us.  
They sit up nightly a Plotting, and Caballing,  
So cheat their Wives of due benevolence,  
They leave their Shops a-days, for State-Affairs,  
So cheat themselves of money they might get,  
And cheat the Town of Trade that it might have,  
And last they mean to cheat us of our Necks,  
Put us on Plots for them, then have us hanged.  
Now my good subjects we are bound in Conscience,  
To take their Wives and give 'em due Benevolence,  
To take their Shops, and give the Town it's due,  
To hang the men, and give the Rope it's due,  
And so we shall be very honest fellows.  All. 
Ay, Ay, we shall be very honest fellows.  Cob. 
In short we'll ha' no Trades but Eating, and Drinking. We'll have seven halfpenny Loaves For a Farthing, and a Pint-pot shall hold a Gallon; and so let us about our hanging work.  Cade. 
Go, Subjects, go, but pray remember one thing,  
To hang the Lawyers when your hand is in.  Cob. 
I warrant thee, my Lord, we'll hang the Lawyers  
But now I think on't they wear out  
Abundance of Shoe-leather in going to West-Minster-Hall, and employ Cobblers much.  
Besides they help to undo Lords, and Gentlemen.  
But now I think on't we can undo 'em  
Fast enough ourselves, by burning their Houses,  
And taking their Lands. The Lawyers  
Have a sure way of undoing 'em, but it's more tedious,  
Ours is most quick, and as sure;  
So we shall have no use o'the Lawyers,  
And so let's hang 'em.  
And for that reason too  
Let's hang the Doctors and Pothecaries.  
For though they do kill Gentry pretty well,  
Yet we have a better, quicker way;  
By knocking 'em o' the head.  Cade. 
Subjects, hang the Doctors and Pothecaries, but  
Hang the Lawyers first, for fear they  
Hang you— for when you have had  
A thousand broken heads, and settled all things,  
As right as you would wish, a Roguy Lawyer  
Will ruin all again with a mere quirk.  Cob. 
A quirk! what's a quirk?  Cade. 
— A quirk— why 'tis a quirk—  Cob. 
Well, but what is a quirk?  Butch. 
What's matter what a quirk is? I know  
What my Lord means by quirk.  Cob. 
Do you so, Sir: Then you are a Scholar are  
You? Sir, as little learning as this has made  
Many a man a Priest, you deserve to have  
Your brains beaten out.  Butch. 
My brains?  Cade. 
Hold Cobbler and Butcher! Civil Wars  
Among ourselves.  Cob. 
I hate Scholars, I will have no man live  
Among us that knows more than I  
But I would know what a quirk is.  Cade. 
Dost know what an Awl is?  Cob. 
I think I do.  Cade. 
Then as thou borest holes in shoes with  
Thy Awl to mend 'em, Lawyers with quirks bore  
Holes in Estates to mar 'em.  Cob. 
Oh! Oh!  Cade. 
For this, and other reasons hang the Lawyers.  
They strive to make the Subjects break the Law,  
And then they make the Law break all the Subjects,  
And cunningly they make such rotten Laws,  
That men must break 'em all spite of their Teeth,  
We send (you know) sometimes men to make Laws,  
And there these men sit hatching Laws and Laws,  
And as they think hatch found and wholesome Laws▪  
A plaguy Lawyer gets his finger in,  
And put's such scurvy quirks into the Law,  
That when 'tis hatched, I Gad the rotten Law  
Falls all to pieces like a pocky Child.  Butch. 
There are pure Knaves for you, since they  
Are for quirks,  
We'll go and put such quirks in the Inns of Court  
Shall tumble them all down about their ears.  Cade. 
Do, honest subjects, do.  Cob. 
We will, my Lord.  
And prithee let thy mouth be all the Law.  Cade. 
Cobbler well said, my mouth shall be the Law,  
For all the Law of England is but mouth;  
When you are at law, it is not the best cause,  
But the best mouth that always carries it.  Cob. 
Prithee let thy mouth be Westminster-Hall,  
And my mouth shall be Paul's:  
For we ha' no use o' Churches, nor Steeples,  
Nor Priests, the chief use o' Priests is to eat  
Pig, we can eat Pig as well as they.  Cade. 
We have no use o' the Inns of Court, or Tower,  
Pluck down the Tower, and burn all the Records,  
Why should we keep  
Mouldy Records of what our Grandsires did?  
For we do what we will for all our Grandsires  
On London bridge hang Traitors heads, and quarters.  
These are Records too, but who minds Records?  
Burn all Records— Records?  All. 
Burn all Records.  Cade. 
Who sounds a parley there?  Enter a Soldier. Soul. 
One from the King.  Cade. 
Well let him come, I don't care if I speak with him.  Enter Old Lord Clifford. 
Well what's thy business with me?  Old Cl. 
Thou vile Rebel,  
Why dost thou thus disturb the King, and Kingdom?  Cade. 
Thou Fool, to have my own, I'm heir to the Crown.  Old Cl. 
Impudent Slave, thy Father was a Plasterer.  Cob. 
Yes, and his Mother was a Midwife, what's that?  Cade. 
Well, Adam was a Gardener, what's that?  
●ay, did not Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March  
Marry the Daughter o' the Duke of Clarence?  Old Cl. 
He did, Sir Clown, and what is that to you?  Cade. 
By her he had two Children at a Birth;  
The Elder of 'em being put to Nurse,  
Was stole away by a stinking Beggar-woman,  
(Like a damned cursed jade) and by that means  
The Princely Infant was bred up a Bricklayer,  
And I'm the Princely Offspring of that Infant.  Old Cl. 
Plantagenet invented this fine story.  Cade. 
You lie, for I invented it myself.  Old Cl. 
I am sent by the King to offer pardon  
To all that will forsake thee, and go home.  
What say you Countrymen, will you be happy  
And leave this Rogue, or follow him and be hanged?  All. 
I don't know what to think on't? All mutter.  Cade. 
Are you muttering?  
Why, you damned fools, will you believe a Lord?  
Do they not often run into your Debts,  
And promise payment, and ne'er keep their words?  
Do they not often with fine promises  
Delude your Daughters, and when they have enjoyed them,  
Do they  keep their words? Then follow me.  All. 
A Cade, a Cade! we'll follow thee, Jack Cade.  Old. Cl. 
You'll follow Cade? pray whither, to the Gallows?  
He has no other home to lead you to.  
He knows not how to live but by the spoil;  
But say that whilst you rob and kill your Countrymen,  
The fearful French whom you but lately vanquished,  
Should make a start o'er Seas and vanquish you;  
Had you not better go and spoil the French,  
And the King pay you too for your good service,  
Than here Rebel, and the King hang you all  
For Rogues, or worse, the French come make you slaves?  All. 
I don't know what to think on't—  All mutter. Cade. 
Again muttering?  
Who'll ever trust such cursed whifling Rascals?  Enter young Clifford and Follower's. Yo. Cl. 
What are you doing, my Lord? treating with Rascals?  
It were too vile an Office for a Scavenger,  
To sweep such dirt into the Common shore?  
And are you treating with 'em? Nay, and treating  
In the King's name too? very fine indeed,  
The King must barter for his Crown with Rascals,  
What ever price the Villains make him pay,  
Though his Crown should be dear, himself is cheap,  
I with no Tongue but this will talk to Rebels.  Draws, all fight on the Stage. Ex. The Scene a Tent. Enter King Henry. Hen. 
Never had King less joy in Throne than I,  
Nor more misfortune. Heaven was pleased to set  
My Cradle on the top of humane Glory,  
Where I lay helpless, open to all Storms.  
My Childish hand, not able to support  
My Father's Sword, dropped the victorious point,  
And let fall all the Laurels that adorned it,  
And French and English fell a scrambling for 'em,  
So lost I France; now am I threatened too  
By wicked Rebels, with the loss of England.  
Cade and his Rebels drive me from my City,  
Plantagenet seek's to drive me from my Kingdom.  Enter the Queen, and her Train. Qu. 
Take comfort, Sir, I bring you happy tidings.  
The Villain Cade is killed by brave young Clifford.  Hen. 
Killed!  Qu. 
Killed, and all the Rebels beg your mercy.  Hen. 
Oh! Heaven accept my vows of thanks and praise.  
But ha'! here comes his gallant Father weeping.  Enter Old Clifford. Ol. Cl. 
Yes Sir, I weep, but I weep tears of Joy,  
For I am crushed between two mighty Joys;  
Your Royal safety, and my Son's success.  
But here he is, to tell you his own story.  Enter Young Clifford. Yo. Cl. 
Sir, I most humbly here present your Majesty  
The Head of the notorious Rebel Cade.  Hen. 
Oh! Gallant Clifford, how shall I reward thee?  Yo. Cl. 
I fought not for rewards, or if I did,  
I ought to end my work,  I be paid,  
I have only now pulled down a paltry Scaffold,  
On which Plantagenet designed to climb,  
To build his Traitorous Projects.  Hen. 
True indeed,  
He is approaching me with a great Army;  
But he gives out he only does intent  
To drive away from me some wicked Ministers.  Yo. Cl. 
The constant vizard of Rebellion.  
Rebellion is so foul and grim a Monster,  
That those that mount the horrid Beast, are forced  
To cover it all o'er with gaudy Trappings.  
They mark it in the Forehead with white stars,  
Pretences Heavenly, and Innocent.  Qu. 
Sir, he has told you a most excellent truth.  Hen. 
I must confess I like not to have Subjects  
Present their King's Petitions upon Pikes.  Old Cl. 
Sir, let the Rebels come, we are prepared.  Enter an Officer. Offi. 
A Trumpet from Plantagenet craves audience.  Hen. 
Admit him.  Enter the Trumpet. Trum. 
Royal Sir, the Duke my master  
Does beg admission to your Kingly presence,  
To give you the true Reason of his arming,  
And prove his Loyalty.  Qu. 
Just as we thought.  Hen. 
Go tell my Cousin, since he speaks so fair,  
He shall have free access and all kind usage. Exit. Trum.  Old Cl. 
What do you mean Sir?  Hen. 
To throw far from myself  
The guilt of all the ill that may ensue.  
He shall not say that I refused to hear,  
Or to redress any just grievances.  Y. Cl. 
Sir, you will find yourself will be the grievance.  
The Tricks of these ambitious men are, first  
To poison all the People with disloyalty,  
And when they have made 'em sick, they tell 'em nothing  
Can cure 'em but some flowers out of the Crown;  
And so they set the rabble raving for 'em.  Qu. 
Lord Clifford when the haughty rebel comes  
Arrest him of High-Treason.  Old. Cl. 
I will do it, Madam.  Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Richard, George: Plant. knelt, and kisses the King's Hand. Hen. 
Welcome dear Cousin. Pray acquaint me faithfully,  
What do you mean by all the Troops you bring?  Pl. 
Only to drive some Traitors from your presence.  Qu. 
I know no greater Traitors than yourself.  Old Cl. 
And therefore I arrest thee of High-Treason.  Pl. 
Arrest me! ha'! Shall it be thus King Henry?  Hen. 
It shall not be, I promised him safe Conduct.  Edw. 
My Lord, we'll be your Bail.  Pl. 
See, I have Bail.  
Lord Clifford, in whose name do you Arrest me?  Old Cl. 
In the King's Name.  Pl. 
Then I'll unfold myself.  
Know hitherto I've been like a dark Cloud,  
Where scorching heat has been engendering Thunder:  
The grumbling and the rolling you have heard,  
But now the deadly bolt shall light among you.  
I am your King.  Hen. 
Ha!  Pl. 
Yes, I am Your King.  
I'm sprung out of the Royal house of Clarence,  
Whom three usurpers of the house of Lancaster  
Successively have trodden under feet,  
Whilst they have glittered in our Royal Glory,  
Shone like false Diamonds in our royal Robes.  Q. 
Now, Sir, are we convinced we told you truth.  Pl. 
And my next Title is the only Claim;  
Duke Henry, (for I'll call him now no otherwise.)  
Duke Henry borrows from his bloody Grand Father  
Henry the Fourth, I've twenty thousand men,  
But with this difference, Henry's Troops were Villains  
Deposers of their lawful sovereign Richard,  
Mine are defenders of their true King Richard,  
I mean myself.  Hen. 
Was ever such Ambitious  
Frenzy as this?  Y. Cl. 
Did not we tell you this?  Ed. 
And we will tell you more, obey your King  
I mean my Royal Father, or our Swords  
Shall turn the Arrest of Treason on your-selves.  Old Cl. 
Surely you think you are among your Beauties,  
Amorous Edward, there your Vigour lies.  Q. 
Let them admire thy boasts, here thou art scorned.  Ed. 
'Tis said when the brave Duke of Suffolk lived,  
Queen Margaret would not contemn a Lover.  
I'm young, and love, but yet I am not stricken  
So blind with beauty, but I can discern  
Both the fair Kingdom, and the fair Queen lie  
Sick of the impotence of a Weak King.  Qu. 
Ill mannered insolence!  Rich. 
Why do you talk  
To this poor wretched Neapolitan?  
She and her Husband are fit for each other;  
He has no heart, and she no heart for him.  
Fortune loathed him as soon as e'er she saw him,  
Nor from his Cradle never would endure him,  
And her she never did think worth her care.  Qu. 
Why! well said ugly Crook-back! spoken like  
Thy hideous horrid self:  
I will not do thee so much good to kill thee.  
Thy Soul cannot be worse than where it is.  Hen. 
He bears about him what is more deformed  
Than humane shape can be, his wickedness.  Pl. 
I've showed my right, and here are my three Sons  
To plead it with their Swords, now I'll produce  
My last and strongest Title to the Crown,  
The sword of the victorious Earl of Warwick.  
Call in the Earl of Warwick.  Enter Warwick. War. 
I am here  Pl. 
Inform the ignorant world who is King of England,  War. 
Whom my sword pleases.  Hen. 
Thou against me Warwick!  
What didst thou never swear Allegiance to me?  War. 
'Cause I adored an idol once in ignorance,  
Must I still do so, now I see my error?  
Know Duke of Lancaster (for you are no more)  
Henry your Grand Father murdered his King  
Richard the second, not content with that,  
he trampled on the rights of the next heirs.  
Your Father warlike Henry, I confess,  
●ad in desert what he did want in Title.  
but merit makes no lawful claim to Crowns,  
or if it did, I would be King of England.  
But I will tell you to your face, Duke Henry;  
That you have neither Title nor Desert:  Qu. 
Most impudent of Traitors.  Old Cl. 
Most impudent of Traitors.  Y. Cl. 
Most impudent of Traitors.  War. 
I'll speak truth,  
And value not the fury of you all.  
Your Father Henry was a Wall of steel  
Through which there was no passing to the throne,  
But you are only a soft silken Curtain,  
Which with my hand or breath I'll put aside,  
And seat yourself King Richard in the Throne,  
For it is empty though the Duke be there,  
The Duke is nothing, or such poor thin soft stuff  
The Crown sinks down in him, and is not seen.  Yo. Cl. 
What, have these Traitors conquered us already,  
They talk at this bold rate? Thou Traitor Warwick!—  
Warwick? no!— when thou didst unking thy King  
Thou mad'st thyself a Groom; by the same law,  
Thou tramplest on thy King, a saucy Groom  
May set his dirty foot upon thy jaws,  
And tell thee they were made both of one Clay.  War. 
The duke of Lancaster's no King of mine.  Y. Cl. 
Whence hast thou this? from Lawyers, and from Scribblers?  
Say, the King's Grandfather Murdered his King  
And damned his Soul for it, what's that to thee?  
Say, our posterity should wrong each other,  
What must their Servants cudgel 'em to honesty?  
Oh! But old stories censure the King's Title;  
Are royal Robes made of such rags as Pamphlets?  
Yes, when a beggar feign would put 'em on,  
One that would beg the Kingdom from the people,  
And such a beggar is Plantagenet.  
Oh! but the lawyers like not the King's Title:  
What shall the lawyers be the Kingdom's Oracles,  
And judge their Kings, who speak but as inspired  
By the King's Image stamped upon his Gold?  
Let the King give 'em store of golden Pictures  
And they will give him a substantial title.  
And then the Noblemen must be the Bailiffs  
To execute the sentence of the Coif.  
Damn thy pedantic Treason; thou art as far  
From wit as honour, and that's far enough.  
Who stopps a River's head up, drie's the stream;  
Thou hast divided thyself from thy King,  
The spring of honour, so thou hast no honour.  
But art a heap of dirty pesantry,  
Fit only to manure a brave man's fortune;  
A straying Beast, with the Devil's mark upon thee,  
Rebellion, and I'll send thee to thy owner.  Ed. 
What a fierce talker's this?  War. 
I laugh at him;  
All this loud noise and fury you have heard,  
Is but the crackling of some burning thorns,  
That hedge the Duke, and they will soon be ashes.  Pl. 
No more Duke Henry, will you yield my Crown,  
Or shall we fall upon you?  Hen. 
Must it be so?  
Let us not bloodily Butcher one another;  
But fairly to the field, and there in Battle  
Make an Appeal to Heaven.  Pl. 
With all my heart.  Y. Cl. 
Then royal Henry, fixed on loyal Clifford,  
Stand like a Cedar on a Mountain top  
Securely rooted, and despise all storms.  Hen. 
My cause is fixed on Heaven, for it is just.  War. 
Then sound to Arms.  All. 
To Arms, to Arms, to Arms.— Exit    

ACT II.  An Alarm. Enter Warwick and Soldiers chase others over the Stage. Enter Plantagenet, and Old Clifford fight.— Old Clifford falls. P 
FArewell, old valiant Clifford, I should now  
Be sorry for thee, were't thou not my Enemy. Ex.  Old Cl. 
Be sorry for thyself, thou art a Traitor,  
And I for loyalty die honourably.  Enter Young Clifford. Y. Cl. 
Shame and Confusion, all is on the rout.  
My men are fled or killed, and I alone  
Stand like a lofty Mast, showing my head  
Above the Waves, when all the Ship is sunk,  
I cannot find my Father nor my King.  Old. Cl. 
Son!  Yo. Cl. 
I heard a voice resembling much  
My Fathers, very weak and faint it seemed,  
As he were far from me, or near to death.  Old Cl. 
Son!  Yo. Cl. 
Ha! again he calls! Oh! there he lies!  
All weltering in his gore, gasping for life.  
Oh! Father! Father! if thou hast breath enough,  
Leave with me but the name of him that wounded thee  
That I may give thee and myself revenge,  
And I'll prefer that glorious Legacy,  
Before the Estate and Honour which thou leav'st me  Ol. Cl. 
Plantagenet gave me my death!— Farewell— Dies.  Y. Cl. 
Plantagenet gave thee thy death— Plantagenet  
Then gave himself and all his race destruction.  
He kills our old men, and I'll kill his Children.  
Henceforth I will not have to do with pity,  
Tears shall be to me as the dew to fire,  
I will be famous for inhuman cruelty,  
My Father here's me not, he's dead! he's gone.  
Come thou new ruin of Old Clifford's house,  
I'll bear thee on my shoulders as Aeneas  
Did old Anchises, but with this sad difference,  
He bore a living Father, mine is dead,  
And so my burden and my grief is heavier.  He takes his Father on his back, and going out meets the King, Queen, and Soldiers. Q. 
Away, away, Sir, what do you mean to stay?  
All's lost, you have no safety but in flight.  Hen. 
My heart's so heavy that I cannot fly.  Q. 
Ha! who goes there? Clifford thou art, I think.  Yo. Cl. 
I am.  Qu. 
What burden hast thou on thy shoulders.  Yo. Cl. 
I carry vengeance for Plantagenet.  Hen. 
Plantagenet dead?  Yo. Cl. 
A braver honester man,  
My valiant loyal Father.  Hen. 
Clifford dead?  Yo. Cl. 
Killed by Plantagenet.  Qu. 
Take comfort, Clifford.  
We'll straight to London, where we have power enough  
To revenge ourselves and thee, and to assist us.  
The Parliament shall meet and raise the Kingdom.  Yo. Cl. 
For your revenge raise Kingdoms and for mine,  
I'll raise myself, and I'll have bloody Vegeance,  
I'll kill Plantagenet, and all his Sons  
That when he is dead he may not have a Son.  
To bear him to the grave, as I my Father;  
And so cut off his memory from the Earth,  
Meet I but any Infants of his House,  
Into as many gobbets will I cut 'em  
As wild Medea did the young Absyrtus,  
And I will starve my men that they may eat 'em,  
And so let us about our several business. Exit.  A Shout of Victory. Enter at one door Warwick, at another Plantagenet, Edward, Richard, Soldiers. Plantagenet embraces Warwick. Pl. 
Let me embrace the greatest man that breathes.  War. 
Pray cease, my Lord, you know this does not please me.  Edw. 
England will learn again to Fight and Conquer,  
A glorious science we have almost lost,  
Under the reign of this tame bookish Henry.  War. 
What is become of the young boasting Clifford?  
Fate as if tender of him, did to day,  
When e'er I met him, thrust a crowd betwixt us.  Pl. 
I met his Father in the field; and there  
I put the brave old man to his last bed.  
The stout old winter Lion, that had long  
Endured the brush of time, fought with that heat,  
As he had been but in the spring of youth.  
Like arras-hanging in a homely house,  
So was his gallant Spirit in his body.  Edw. 
Whilst we pursued the horsemen o' the North,  
With too much heat, the King escaped our hands;  
But he has left behind some of his friends,  
I fell upon the gallant Duke of Buckingham,  
And with one fortunate substantial blow,  
I cloven his good steel Helmet, and his Scull,  
And see, his Brains are yet upon my Sword.  Rich. 
To speak the truth, my Brother Edward fought  
To day, as if he had fought for a Mistress.  Ed. 
I must confess, I fought with more dispatch;  
'Cause had the Battle lasted, 'twould have spoiled  
An assignation that I have to night.  Rich. 
Did not I say as much?  Pl. 
Thou, good Son Richard,  
Dost not disturb thy heart with cares of love.  Rich. 
The hill upon my back fences my heart;  
The women love not me, so I hate them.  War. 
We have all cut our names deep on the Pillars  
Of Fame's high Temple, where shall be for ever  
Written this glorious Battle at S. Albon.  
Now, my Lord, post away with speed to London,  
For thither I am told the King is Fled,  
And there he will repair this day's wide breaches.  
Citizens always love Tame Godly Princes,  
And such as abhor fight like themselves.  
Then, if you can, enter the Town before 'em,  
And fill it with your Troops; and then to morrow  
Get very early into the Parliament House,  
And guarded well, openly claim the Crown.  
My Tongue and Sword shall both assert your Title.  
Then let me see, what Peer dare be so bold,  
Or Common so saucy, to oppose it.  Pl. 
Thou Soul of valour, Wisdom, and Nobility,  
I'll take thy Counsel.  War. 
Go then march with speed,  
I'll tarry for a moment to take care  
For any of quality that are dead or wounded.  Ex. Plantagenet, Richard one way, Warwick another: Edw. 
I well approve this speedy March to London,  
For there to Night I hope to meet my Mistress. Ex. Edward,  Enter two bearing a Body, Warwick meets 'em. War. 
Whose Body is that?  
'Tis Sir John Grey of Grooby.  War. 
A fierce bigot for the Lancastrian Faction.  
I've heard of him, and whither do you carry him?  2. 
To his fair Widow; she had only news  
He had some wounds, and so came in her Chariot  
To carry him away with her, but all  
Her care is now too late; see here she is.  Enter Lady Grey attended. La. Gr. 
Where is my Husband? I am impatient for him.  1. 
We have found him, Madam, in a state too bad  
For you to look on.  L. Gr. 
Oh! he's dead! he's dead!  2. 
Help! help! she's falling on him dead as he.  War. 
I never saw so beautiful a Creature.  1. 
She is come to herself,  War. 
But I'm so lost,  
That I shall never be myself again.  La. Gr. 
Oh! my dear Husband!  War. 
See! see! she embalmes  
His Body with her precious Tears and Kisses.  
I know not to what place his Soul is fled;  
But I am sure his Body is in Heaven.  
Forms, Ceremonies, Civil Fooleries,  
Infects engendered of corrupt false Wit.  
I will ride o'er you in my way to joy;  
Though this is the first time I ever saw her,  
And she lies drowned in Tears o'er her dead Husband  
Drowned in his blood, shed may be by myself;  
Yet here, and now I'll tell her that I Love;  
And here, and now resolve to make her mine.  
Madam, your pardon that I interrupt you.  La. Gr. 
Who are you, Sir?  War, 
You, Madam, best can tell,  
When I came hither I was Earl of Warwick;  
But you have changed me to I know not what.  La. Gr. 
The Earl of Warwick! Oh! my Lord I beg you,  
Conjure you by the Honour of a Nobleman,  
That you permit a miserable Woman  
To give her Husband's Body decent Burial.  War. 
Madam, with all my heart; and I could wish  
He had been buried when he first saw light,  
And never lived to do Prodigious mischiefs.  La. Gr. 
What wondrous mischiefs dying for his King?  War. 
Oh! he has done more ill, than Frantic Alexander  
When he set fair Persepolis o' Fire,  
Or him that burned the famed Ephesian Temple.  La. Gr. 
Who did all this?  War. 
He, whom Heaven there has punished,  
And did it, Madam, by enjoying you,  
By kindling in your heart love for himself,  
He fired a stately Palace, only fit  
For hearts of mighty Kings, He burned a Temple  
The master piece of Nature, the World's wonder.  La. Gr. 
Is this fit talk to one in my condition?  War. 
I know old Tyrant Custom does command  
You Widows to be stretched on the long rack  
Of twelve months mournful abstinence from love.  
And, which methinks is an immodest fashion,  
You must wear black the colour of the night,  
To put you in remembrance of the pleasure.  
Night for your service pays you no more Wages,  
Yet you in gratitude must wear Night's livery.  
And you must sigh and weep to tell the World  
What skill you have in man, for who e'er weeps  
For loss of that whose value they ne'er knew?  
Fie! what ill woman brought up those ill Customs?  La. Gr. 
What horrid insolence you treat me with?  Enter one running. 1. 
My Lord, the Enemy gins to rally.  War. 
Go fight 'em, for I'm busily employed.  Enter a Second. 2. 
Mount, mount, my Lord, or you'll be taken Prisoner.  War. 
I am a Prisoner, nor can stir from hence;  
Unless this beauty with a smile release me.  La. Gr. 
Grief, Horror, and Confusion put me again  
Into a deadly Fainting.  War. 
I perceive  
Formality the Governess of Women,  
And Custom the great Tyrant of the World  
Are married in the Temple of this beauty.  
Take with you then your pale Companion,  
And pay to it the Tax of some months' tears,  
And lock yourself in solitude and darkness,  
But after that by my renown and fortune,  
By this days victory, by that great power,  
By which I to the King say, be a Subject;  
And to a Subject I say, be a King.  
I swear I shortly will say to myself,  
Warwick, be thou Possessor of this beauty.  
I'll have you, though you hate, and Heaven envy me,  
And the first joy I reap cost me my life.  La. Gr. 
In spite of me I am compelled to speak,  
I swear by the dead body of my Husband,  
By my unspotted fame most sacred to me,  
I rather will choose death than any man,  
But I'll choose Hell  you.  War. 
Cruelly sworn;  
But yet such Oaths are heriots, which Widows  
To custom always pay, when a life falls.  
The world expects to have 'em pay such fines,  
 they renew another life in love.  
Then, Madam, take your fallen tenement,  
And pay all customed deuce, you have your freedom.  
And for your safety all my guard shall wait you.  La. Gr. 
Though paying rights of burial to my husband  
Be all that I desire to do on Earth,  
 I will be obliged to you for any thing,  
I'll die upon him and be all his monument.  War. 
Oh Beauteous Monument! all men would d●e  
To be so buried!— envy will not suffer me  
To let the dead have so much happiness,  
Therefore I'll take my leave.  La. Gr. 
The only favour  
I will receive, or can endure from you.  War. 
Take it, one kindness oft begets another,  
Farewell, most cruel, but most beauteous creature.  La. Gr. 
Farewell most rude and most abhorred of men.  War. 
[Softly to his men.] Guard her safe hence, but do not let her know it,  
Lest she refuse it, and should meet with injury. Ex.  

Scene a Room in London, Table, Lights.  Enter Edward pulling in Lady Ellanor Butler. L. El. 
Oh! do not tempt me, for I know  
You will be false.  Ed. 
Well but I know I shall not.  L. El. 
Oh! to how many women have you sworn  
As much as you ha' done to me to night?  Ed. 
Oh is there not great difference among Women?  
Some Women are but petty Inns to lodge at,  
And though perhaps rather than want a lodging,  
We would pay all they ask, though most unreasonable:  
But if they would pay me, I would not dwell with 'em;  
But your sweet beauty is my journey's end.  L. El. 
Oh! yes till you begin another journey.  Ed. 
Besides the many thousand Charms about you,  
From which it is impossible to 'scape,  
Your Birth and Quality will not permit me  
To trifle with you as with trifling women,  
I dare not but regard Lady Elinor Butler.  L. El. 
But when you have enjoyed Lady Elianour Butler,  
She'll seem as very a trisle as the rest.  Ed. 
Then what a perjured Villain must I be?  L. El. 
When you are Prince of Wales, perhaps you'll think  
The Prince of Wales is not obliged to keep  
Lord Edward's Oaths, and when I follow you,  
You will cry, Madam, I am Prince of Wales,  
And I must marry for the Nation's good;  
I'm very sorry I am forced to lose you,  
But pardon me, it is the Nation's fault.  
So, Madam, I'm your very humble Servant,  
If I can serve you any way, command you;  
Then instead of being made Princess of Wales  
I sneak away poor cheated Elinor Butler.  Ed. 
Well this is very unkind to make me throw  
So sweet a Night so foolishly away.  
I thought you would have given me a clear draught  
Of Love without the dregs of Oaths and Vows.  L. El. 
Oh! you are too charming not to be beloved,  
And when once loved, not to be loved for ever.  
I know I've not desert to keep you constant;  
And 'tis enough for me that you once loved me,  
To blame you that you will not love me always,  
as a beggar blamed a Prince, for giving him  
Only one Jewel. No one Woman merit's  
Your Love, so you divide it among all.  
But oh! methinks I feign would have it alle  
And have it always.  Ed. 
So I swear you shall.  
Then come away, for night is stealing from us,  
Weary with holding up her sable Robe,  
To hid two loitering lovers to no purpose.  
Then come away.  L. El. 
Oh swear to me once more.  Ed. 
I'll swear no more, whilst we by foolish Oaths▪  
Secure delights to come, we lose the present.  
Then come away, for else I shall be called.  
Oh Heaven's! see! the day is broke already.  
The vast and heavy business of a Kingdom  
Heave up the scale of Morn before its time.  
Oh! come away for fear I be undone.  L. El. 
Oh! do not ask for fear I be undone. Knocking  Ed. 
Hark! I hear knocking! I am called, I'm ruined.  Enter the waiting Woman. Wo. 
My Lord! here is your Brother my Lord Richard  
Is come to fetch you to the Parliament,  
He says, your Father's going thither already.  Ed. 
Did not I tell you, Love, what you would do?  
Confound my Lord Richard, tell him I'm not here.  Wo. 
He says you are here, and he'll not part with you.  Ed. 
So, we have managed our occasion finely.  
Was this well done of you?  L. El. 
You may forgive me,  
Since I'm almost as sorry as you are.  Ed. 
Then will you mend the fault another time?  L. El. 
I fancy I shall do my weak endeavour.  Rich. within. 
Why, Brother!—  Ed. 
Hark he calls! I must be gone,  
Farewell, my dear, remember what you have promised.  L. El. 
Remember you your Vows of constancy.  Rich. within. 
Brother, what do you mean? leave your damned Women,  
For I'm sure 'tis some damned Woman stays you.  
But for my part I'll stay no longer for you.  
For I will not be chidden for your faults,  
My Father, and his Friends shall know how it is.  Ed. 
Thank thee, good natured honest virtuous Brother;  
How proud this Leper is of one sound place?  
Though he has all the vices in the world,  
Yet he insults o'er me, because he is free  
From my one fault, my almost faultless fault.  
He is a Hell at whose foul front appears,  
Ill manners, and ill nature, and ill shape,  
Like a three-headed Dog, that barks at all things  
That dare come near him, specially at beauty;  
But has within a thousand ugly Hags  
His Soul embraces, bloody cruelty,  
Lean envy, and insatiable Ambition.  
And he has this advantage over me,  
His Mistresses are Devils, and so invisible.  
Some time or other I'll descend like Hercules  
Into this Hell, and drag to humane sight  
The Monster that so barks at my delight. Ex.   

Scene the Parliament House, a Throne, Canopy, Seats for the Lords.  Enter Plantagenet, George, Richard, Warwick, Clarence, Rutland, Guard all with drawn Swords. War, 
This is the palace of the fearful King,  
And this the Regal Seat; Richard Plantagenet,  
Sat down, and from this hour be King of England.  Pl. 
I think if mighty Warwick said, be Emperor  
Of the whole world, the Genii of all Kingdoms  
Would vanish and give place to his great spirit.  
Assisted then by thee, I here sit down, Sits in the Throne.  
And take possession of my Royal Right.  War. 
I plant you here, now Root you up who dares.  Enter Edward, Pl. 
Where's my Son Edward? 'S'wound's! why loiter you?  War. 
Sir, why do you neglect your Father thus?  Ed. 
Reproved by Warwick? what does Warwick cheat us? Aside.  
Give us a Crown to cheat us of our liberty?  
Hire us to be his slaves? so soon so arrogant?  
This humour I must quell, I cannot bear it.  Pl. 
Sons, I here take possession of my right,  
And will be Crowned or killed:— if I should fall,  
Son Edward, claim the Crown, if you fall with me,  
Then, George, the Crown is thine, if both you die,  
Then, Richard, thou art King.  War. 
Three goodly Pillars,  Pl. 
And last in birth but not in my Affection.  
Here is my little pretty darling Rutland,  
Look to him, Guard, for if his brothers Perish,  
He is your King; fear not my pretty Boy.  
We'll be too hard for wretched timorous Henry.  Rut. 
Sir, let him come, and all his Soldiers with him.  
If you will beat his Soldiers, I'll beat him.  Pl. 
Well said my boy; and hark; I think he comes.  Enter King Henry in his Robes, his Crown on his head, the Sword born before him, Attended by Clifford, Northumberland, Westmoreland, Exeter, in their Robes. Hen. 
My Lords, look where the sturdy Rebel sits.  War. 
Look where your King is seated, Duke of Lancaster,  
What say you will you? resign in peace the Crown  
To him whose right it is, Richard Plantagenet?  
Or shall we force it from you by our Swords?  Rich. 
Let's tear the Crown from the Usurpers head.  Ed. 
Sound but the Trumpets and the King will fly.  Pl. 
Peace, Sons.  Hen 
Peace all of you, and hear your King.  
Rebels, I fear all danger less than you do,  
For I am better armed with innocence.  
But I confess I do fear Civil War;  
Not for my own, but for my people's sake,  
I am afraid to shed the blood of English men,  
But you indeed are bold in cruelty.  
By which (oh Heaven!) judge whose is the Child  
His who desires to have it cut in pieces,  
Or mine, who strive in tenderness to save it.  
For my own part I fear no power, but Heaven,  
Rebels may be successful for a time,  
And overturn all order, right, and justice,  
But Heaven does not let the world stand long  
In that unnatural uneasy posture,  
But soon put's all things in their proper places.  Pl. 
Thy own mouth, Henry, has pronounced thy doom.  
Successful Murder, and Rebellion,  
Swelled for two Generations of thy race  
Over all right, and all that durst oppose 'em;  
But Heaven in thee has dried up the black stream,  
And made it such a Brook all trample over it.  Hen. 
I've oft been told by thee, my Grandfather  
Deposed his King.  Pl. 
And I did tell thee truth.  Hen. 
Cannot a King adopt an Heir?  Pl. 
What then?  Hen. 
Did not King Richard to my Grandfather  
Resign the Crown in open Parliament?  Pl. 
Did not thy Grandfather compel him to it  
By force of Arms? and then the Parliament,  
To their eternal shame, if not Damnation,  
Flattered the wicked fortunate Usurper.  War. 
But say, the King had done it unconstrained,  
He could not give away another's right.  
Henry usurped the right of the next Heirs.  Hen. 
My Conscience tells me that my Title is weak.  Cl. 
How, Sir, will you revolt from your own self?  
Who will stand by you then?  War. 
Clifford, thou diest,  
If thou permit'st not Henry to resign.  Cl. 
Let Henry give his Title to the Crown,  
He shall not give my Title to revenge.  
May the ground gape and swallow me alive,  
When e'er I kneel to him who killed my Father.  War. 
Ho! there within.—  Cl. 
I am prepared for you.  War. stamps, and enter Soldiers of his side. Cl. does the same and enter Soldiers on his side; as they are going to fight, King Henry interposes. Hen. 
Hold! hold! my Lords: Oh! let not Blood be shed;  
Let us not make a Shambles of this place.  
Pray hear me all; I find my Title's weak,  
And to defend it were to fight with Justice.  
Besides, there lies already on my head  
The Blood of Richard, murdered by my Grandfather,  
And I'd be loath to add my people's Blood;  
For saving which, hear this proposal from me,  
I have been King these eight and thirty years,  
And many Interests must grow to mine  
That you can never tear me from the Throne,  
But you will set a thousand Veins a bleeding,  
Then let me reign in quiet all my life,  
And when I'm dead, Plantagenet be King  Pl. 
I approve of it, and on that condition Knelt and kisses Hen's hand.  
I swear to be King Henry's faithful Vassal.  Hen. 
And not to seek the Throne by Arms or Treason?  Pl. 
Never whilst King Henry lives.  Hen. 
Then I entail  
The Crown to thee and to thy Heirs for ever.  Cl. 
The Devil to him, and to his Heirs for ever.  
What have you done?  War. 
Good to himself and England.  Cl. 
Wrong to his Son, his Subjects, and himself.  Ex. 
Why sigh you, Sir? King Hen. sight.  Hen. 
For my poor Son I've wronged.  War. 
You have not wronged him, you have wholly freed him  
From all the Vengeance due to Usurpation.  Cl. 
Oh! Henry, if thy Father's Soul did see  
Thy baseness, it would torture him in Heaven  
Plantagenet, when that great Monarch lived,  
Thou durst have sooner let into thy Soul  
Ten thousand Devils than a Traitorous Thought:  
Farewell degenerate faint-hearted King,  
May'st thou be beat in War, and scorned in Peace. Exit.  Pl. 
Sons, head the Troops before the Palace Gate,  
Lest furious Clifford should do some rash thing.  Ex. Ed. and Rich. and George. Enter the Queen and Prince. Pl. 
Here comes the Queen.  Hen. 
And with her my poor Son.  War. 
She appears big with Thunder and with Lightning:  
Expect a Tempest quickly, Sir, but slight it.  Qu. 
Are the news true? can it be possible  
That you have disinherited your Son?  
And given your Crown to Traitorous Plantagenet?  Hen. 
The Crown is his, I have no Title to it,  
But what is founded on Rebellion,  
The murder and usurpation of a King.  Qu. 
Then hast thou not the spirit of a King,  
Nor of a Father, timorous mean Wretch,  
To let a Crew of Rebels hector thee  
Out of a Crown, nay out of thy own Son?  
For thou must think thou hast no Title to him,  
Or thou'dst not disinherit him unnaturally.  Hen. 
My Love, I do not disinherit him;  
For what I give away is not his right;  
And if I should entail another's right on him,  
I should entail Heaven's Vengeance on his head.  Qu. 
Who says the Crown's not yours?  Hen. 
I am convinced  
By powerful Arguments.  Qu. 
By Pikes and Swords.  
Had I been here when thou mad'st this Agreement,  
The Soldiers should have tossed me on their Pikes,  
 I'd have stooped to such unnatural baseness.  
Oh! how came thee and I in Marriage joined?  
For I am Fire, thou art weak floating Water.  
Driven by the breath of Rebels any way.  
Would I had died a Maid, and never seen thee;  
At least had never born thee such a Son.  
Oh! my sweet Son, thou art no more a Prince,  
Because thy Father is no more a King.  
He has undone himself, and thee, and all of us.  Pr. 
I am a Prince, and I will be a King.  
Father, you cannot disinherit me;  
You may bestow your Kingdom whilst you live;  
But when you are dead it is not yours, but mine.  Qu. 
My Son, he shall not disinherit thee.  
I have men here to guard me from these Rebels,  
And Troops elsewhere to conquer 'em, and punish 'em.  
And I will make my Son a Glorious Prince;  
Whilst thou, tame Prince, shalt be a slave to Traitors:  
Made to assist in conquering thyself,  
And then in digging thy own Sepulchre;  
For Rebels will not do their work by halves.  
Though thou art but the shadow of a King,  
Rebels will tremble at a Royal Shadow,  
And they'll be forced to kill thee, if 'tis possible,  
To make thee a more dead thing than thou art.  Hen. 
Oh! my dear Love, talk not so harshly to me.  Qu. 
I will be harsher in my deeds than words.  
For from this moment I divorce myself  
For ever from thy Bed, thou art no King,  
And thou shalt have no Sons of me to ruin;  
I scorn to have a Slave get on my Body. Ex. Qu. and Pr.  Hen. 
Poor Queen, how love and pity for my Son  
Set her a-raging, as they set me grieving?  War. 
Add her ambition to her love and pity,  
For that has no small share in her disturbance.  Pl. 
I know she's raising Forces in the North,  
My Lord of Warwick, do you keep the King,  
And stay to raise what Force you can in London,  
Whilst I will to the North, and so between us  
we'll wall her in, and keep that fire from spreading.  Hen. 
Pray, my Lords, do, I will assist you both  
Against myself, I'll do to others right,  
Though on myself I sure destruction bring,  
I're I'll be wicked, I will be no King. Ex. omnes.    

ACT. III.  

Scene a Castle.  Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Richard. Pl. 
HOW has this Woman charmed these men together,  
No less than twenty thousand? a vast Army!  
All my Troops here will scarcely make five thousand,  
Then she is gotten between me and London;  
That I can no way join the Earl of Warwick,  
Nor can he possibly come time enough  
To my assistance; I am in a straight.  Ed. 
I think not, Sir, brave men are never in a straight  
When they have Arms and Liberty to fight.  Pl. 
I should slight odds, if the Enemy were French,  
But now our present Enemies are English,  
Made of the same brave stuff as we ourselves.  Rich. 
But such brave stuff as we have sound beaten,  
And such as are conducted by a Woman.  
And men ne'er think of fight under Petticoats.  Pl. 
I've sent your Brother George to raise some Troops,  
I hoped he might have been with me ere now;  
But I must take my fortune now, the Enemy  
Approaches us— bring in my dear Boy Rutland.  Enter Rutland, and a Priest his Tutor. 
My Darling, let me kiss thee e'er I go,  
I know not if I 'ere shall see thee more;  
If I should fall under the numerous Enemy,  
I leave thee to the care of thy three Brothers,  
All valiant men, and some of 'em I hope  
Will be great men, be Kings; I charge 'em all  
On my last blessing to take cares of thee,  
My precious Darling, as of their own Souls.  Rut. 
Why do you talk thus, Sir? you make me weep,  
If you must die, I hope I shall die with you;  
I had rather die with you than live a King.  Pl. 
Sweet Boy, farewell my Soul, here take the Boy  
And guard him safely in the strong dark Vault,  
And if things prove worse than I hope they will,  
Convey him safely to our next Garrison,  
And give his Brother's notice of his flight.  Ex. Pl. Ed. Rich. one way, another Rutl. with a Guard. An Alarm, shouts of Victory, the Scene continues. Enter Clifford and his Soldiers. Cl. 
Pursue, pursue, pursue, and give no quarter, charge you do not spare Man, Woman, or Child. Ex.  An Alarm, Enter Rutland. Rut. 
Oh! whither shall I fly? how shall I escape?  
Ah! Clifford comes! and no one's here to guard me.  Cl. 
Ha! have I found one of Plantagenot's Brats?  Rut. 
Oh! now I shall be murdered hold, my Lord,  
Hear me but speak one word before I die.  Cl. 
What canst thou say, fond Boy, that's worth my hearing?  Rut. 
I'd only beg you to regard yourself;  
You are a valiant man, I am a Boy;  
Slain not your fame by killing a poor Boy,  
I would not for your own sake you should do it;  
For I love gallant men, and I love you;  
Though you are my Enemy, because you are gallant.  Cl. 
Away you insinuating, flattering boy,  
Who taught you this Hypocrisy? your Priest?  
Give o'er, give o'er! for were there in thy Voice  
Celestial Harmony, my Father's Blood  
Has stopped the passage where the sound should enter.  Rut. 
I did not shed his Blood.  Cl. 
Thy Father did.  Rut. 
Then fight my Father, that will get you honour.  Cl. 
Should I kill thee, thy Father, all thy Brothers,  
Nay should I dig up thy Fore-father's Graves,  
And hang their rotten Coffins up in Chains,  
My rage would not be quenched.  Rut. 
That's very strange;  
Why should your fury burn against the innocent?  Cl. 
I kill thee out of hatred to thy kind,  
As I would do a Toad, or a young Serpent.  Rut. 
Hear me but one word more, dear, brave, Lord Clifford;  
You have a Son, for his sake pity me,  
Lest as you kill me for my Father's faults,  
Just Heaven should destroy your Son for yours,  
And he be miserably killed as I am.  
Then, Oh! for your Son's sake give me my life,  
And for my Father's faults keep me in Prison,  
And kill me whensoever I offend you.  Cl. 
Thou wilt be an offence to me in living.  
Whilst any of thy cursed Father's race  
Live upon Earth, I live on Earth?— then die—  Rut. 
Oh! shall I have no pity at your hands?  Cl. 
Such pity as my Rapier's point affords! Wounds him.  Rut. 
May'st thou ne'er get more fame than by this deed;  
Oh my poor Father! Oh! my death will kill him. Dies.  Cl. 
Ho! take the body up, and carry it after me,  
I'll make a present of it to his Father. Exit.  Enter Plantagenet. Pl. 
All's lost, my men by numbers are devoured,  
Or fly like Ships before the stormy wind.  
My Sons have bravely fought, but all in vain,  
They only swim like Swans against the Tide,  
And are born down by over-matching Waves,  
And I am very faint and cannot fly;  
But had I strength, I'm on all sides enclosed,  
The Sands are numbered that make up my life,  
See! the bloody Clifford comes! then here I fall!  Enter Clifford and Soldiers. Cl. 
Ha! have I found thee proud Plantagenet.  
What tumbled Phaethon from thy shining Chariot,  
And made an Evening at thy highest Noon?  
Oh Father! from the joys above descend,  
And share with me the pleasure of Revenge,  
Or else by high revenge I'll climb to thee.  Pl. 
Thou bloody raging Clifford, do thy worst;  
I'd scorn to ask thee mercy hadst thou any,  
But thou hast none, then come with all thy Multitudes.  Cl. 
So Cowards fight when they can fly no farther,  
So Pigeons peck the Falcon's piercing Talons,  
So desperate Thiefs breathe curses at the Officers.  Pl. 
Hast thou the impudence to charge a Prince  
With cowardice, who made thee basely fly?  
Call to thy memory S. Alban Battel.  Cl. 
I do, than didst thou kill my brave old Father.  Pl. 
And now would thee, wert thou not backed with multitudes.  Cl. 
I will try that; stand of, and do not touch him,  
Unless I fall; then cut him all to pieces.  
I will not lose revenge; yet I will give him  
So much revenge to kill me if he can.  Pl. 
I thank thee for the kindness, 'tis a great one.  They Fight, Plantagenet is disarmed and thrown. Cl. 
Now wilt thou yield that I have fairly conquered thee?  As Cl. is lifting up his arm to kill him, Enter the Queen. Q. 
Hold valiant Clifford! hold!— I would prolong  
The Traitor's life to scorn him, trample on him:  
Are you the man that would be King of England?  
Are you the man that revealed in the Parliament?  
Sat in your Sovereign's Throne, and did believe  
Your breath could blow his Crown from off his head?  
Where are your Mess o' Sons to back you now?  
Your wanton Edward, and your lusty George,  
Your ugly valiant Dick, that crookback Prodigy?  
And with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?  Pl. 
My heart misgives me, where is he indeed?  Qu. 
Ask Clifford.  Pl. 
Oh! thou hast not butchered, Clifford,  
The innocent Boy?  Cl. 
On that young tender morsel  
My greedy vengeance stayed a while it's stomach,  
Till it could dine on thee, and all thy Sons.  Qu. 
See! I have stained a Napkin in the blood,  
That valiant Clifford with his Rapier's point  
Made issue from the bosom of thy darling,  
And bring it thee to wipe away thy tears.  Pl. 
She-wolf of France! or rather cruel Tygress,  
For woman thou art none; women are soft,  
Gentle and pitiful, but thou art cruel,  
Oh! ten times more than an Hyrcanian Tygress.  
There is a Boy that thinks thou art his Mother;  
But surely thou didst never bear a Child,  
For thou wouldst something know a Parent's love,  
And have some natural touch of pity in thee,  
And not have drained the life-blood of a Child  
To bid his Father wipe his eyes withal.  Qu. 
I therefore did it to increase thy sorrow:  
I know a Parent's love, and thy fond love,  
And all the mysteries of thy haughty heart;  
I knew that thou wouldst Barricado it  
Against the losses of a Crown and Life,  
With Iron-barrs of stubborness and pride,  
But oh! this blood like Oil will sink into it;  
These Crimson threads will lead tormenting grief  
Into the inmost lodgings of thy Soul,  
And lest this Napkin be too soft a thing  
I have within an Engine that shall squeeze  
Thy soul into thy eyes. Bring Rutland's Body.  
Now thou hast drunk the liquor, take the cup.  Enter some with dead Rutland. Pl. 
Oh! my sweet Boy!  Qu. 
Ah! this is Music to me!  
This is the part thou meanest I should have played,  
If thy accursed Treasons had succeeded.  
But that my Tragedy must have been deeper,  
And bloodier far; thou meanest I should have wept  
For a lost Kingdom, Husband, and a Son.  Pl. 
Yes, and I do not doubt but my three Sons,  
Heaven's vengeance, and the curses of all England  
Shortly will make thee weep for loss of all 'em.  Qu. 
I'll spoil thy prophesying; give me a sword.  Cl. 
I'll pierce him first, there's for my Father's blood.  Qu. 
There for the horrid ills thou threatnest to me.  Cl. 
There for the ills he brought upon the Kingdom,  Pl. 
Open thy gate of mercy gracious Heaven!— Dies.  Qu. 
Now take his head once filled with lofty thoughts,  
And set it on a lofty pinnacle.— Ex.  Scene the Field. Enter Edward. Ed. 
No tidings of my Father? I am troubled!  Enter Richard. Ric. 
Brother, I've news!  Ed. 
what of our valiant Father?  Ric. 
Oh no! I cannot hear what is become of him.  Ed. 
What are your news then?  Ric. 
They are not very good;  
A Messenger is come from the Earl of Warwick,  
Who tell's us he is marching to our aid,  
But leaving a strong party with Lord Cobham,  
To guard the King, and all the Southern parts,  
They chanced to meet with some of the Queen's Troops.  
And whether the King's Coldness numbed his keepers,  
Or whether terror of the Warlike Queen,  
Whose armies and success each hour increase  
Or of the inexorable cruel Clifford,  
It is not known, but my Lord Cobham's men  
Looked on the shining Valour of the Enemy,  
Like sleepy Owls on day, and fell beneath it.  
That they were all destroyed, and Henry fled,  
With the Victorious Troops to join the Queen;  
That the Earl of Warwick now wants strength to fight her.  Ed. 
This is ill news indeed! what shall we do?  Ric. 
He desires you to haste away with speed,  
To meet ten thousand men marching from Wales,  
Raised by your interest there to whom he sent  
To join his Troops if possible to morrow.  
Which they may do, if you will hasten 'em.  Ed. 
They shall not want for that, I'll go this instant.  Ric. 
Pray do not fail, for all our Lives, and Fortunes  
Are set on this one cast.  Ed. 
I'll spur away.  
Which way go you?  Ric. 
I'll to the Earl of Warwick. Exit.  Ed. 
My Horse, my Horse, I must ride for a Kingdom.  Enter Lady Elinor Butler in a riding dress. La. El. 
My Lord!  Ed. 
My Love!— or a fair Vision! if a Vision  
Tell me, lest I embrace thee into a Dew.  La. El. 
Yes, I am that fond she who gave Lord Edward  
The loveliest, bravest, but the most inconstant  
Of all mankind my hand and heart for ever.  Ed. 
Then I am that fond he, will lose a Kingdom  
Rather than one hours' pleasure with my Love,  
And so farewell a Kingdom for an hour.  La. El. 
I heard you were surrounded by the Queen's  
Numerous Troops, and in exceeding danger;  
And I could have no quiet, till I came  
And shared your destiny what e'er it was.  Ed. 
Oh! it was kindly charitably done,  
To speak the truth, mine is a scurvy destiny,  
The Enemy is in my Father's Castle,  
And I've no Beds of Down, on Golden Bedsteads  
Under plumed Canopies, t'embrace my Love in;  
My Destiny will be to lie to night  
On some Straw-bed, under some low thatched Roof,  
And thou shalt share it; what if the chill wind  
Blow on us? it will make us lie the closer;  
Or what if we should lie on the cold Earth?  
It was our Grandsire Adam's Bridal Bed,  
'Twas there he gave the start to all mankind.  La. El. 
Fie, Fie, such thoughts as these at such a time?  
When you have a Life and Kingdom to look after.  Ed. 
A thousand Lives and Kingdoms are in thee,  
Whilst the Enemies tall fortune stalks about  
In darkness, like a blinded Polyphem;  
We will creep under it into a Cottage  
Of some of my own faithful Tenants here,  
And safely steal delight, like cunning Mariners,  
Pilfering the hold out of the reach of shot.  La. El. 
Have you a mind then to be killed or taken?  
The Woods are all full of the Enemy.  Ed. 
Should all the Trees turn men, and the Grass Pikes,  
I will not stir from hence, till I've enjoyed thee.  
My crooked Brother Richard like a Hook  
Pulled me away from thee the other night,  
For which I'll lay a double Tax on this.  La. El. 
Though I am but your Wife in hopes and promises,  
So great an Empire have you over me,  
My heart would not refuse you any Tax,  
Did not yourself run danger in the gathering.  Ed. 
There is no danger, every Cottager  
In all these parts will hang e'er he'll betray me;  
Then let the loss of the last opportunity  
Make us so wise, to use this whilst we have it.  La. El. 
Pray do not ask me.  Ed. 
Pray do not deny me.  La. El. 
You will be taken.  Ed. 
No, I'll warrant you.  La. El. 
But if you should?  Ed. 
No matter if Thiefs come,  
When we have put our Money out to use.  La. El. 
You are a strange man.  Ed. 
And you are a sweet woman.  
Come, come away.  La. El. 
Well now, if mischief happen  
Do not blame me.  Ed. 
There can no mischief happen,  
Like losing this most blessed opportunity,  
Then come along,— along—  La. El. 
Oh! that I could not.  Ed. 
Away, away, I say.  La. El. 
Well— since I must— Ex.  Enter Soldiers dragging Countrymen. Scene a Cottage. 1 Soul. 
Where is your Money, Rogues? confess, you Rogues.  1 Coun. 
Indeed, Sir, I am a very poor man,  
I get my living by my labour, Sir,  
And I have nothing but from hand to mouth.  1 Soul. 
You lie, you Rogue, you lie, I know the tricks  
Of all you Rogues; when e'er your King wants Money,  
Than you are poor, you cannot pay your Taxes;  
But if the Swords of Rebels blow the Nation  
Then you have Bags, and you can bring 'em out  
Like Bags of Seed, and sow 'em all for Crops  
To maintain Rogues that fight against your King;  
Nay for that use can pawn your Pots and Kettles,  
But now for us you cannot find a Farthing.  2 Coun. 
Indeed, Sir, you should have it, if I had it,  
With all my heart.  2 Soul. 
You lie, you Rogue, you lie.  
I know this Rogue, he is one of the damned Rebels,  
Plantagenet's chief Tenants, a rich Fellow;  
You have no Money for the King's Soldiers,  
But you had Money to fit out your Son  
A Trooper, Sirrah, to fight for Rebellion.  3 Soul. 
Oh Rogue!  2 Soul. 
I knew his Son, and killed the Dog.  2. Co. 
Oh! wretched me! he was my only Son.  1. So. 
Come take the Rogue and hang him on that tree,  
Unless he presently confess his Money.  2. Cou. 
Oh! Sir, I will confess! I will confess.  3. Sou. 
Then you have money, Sirrah?  2 Coun. 
Yes, a little.  1 Sou. 
A little! Oh! you Rogue! just now you had none.  
You have a little too?  1 Coun. 
Yes, Sir, a little.  2 So. 
And where's your little Money? quickly! quickly!  2 Cou. 
Mine is buried here, under my Hearth.  1 So. 
Come dig and find it.  2 Co. 
Oh! undone!  1 Soul. 
Digg, Digg. 2 Countryman digs.  2 Soul. 
Where is your Money, Sirrah?  1 Cou. 
In my Cow-house  
Under the Dung.  2 Soul. 
Go, Sirrah! go and fetch it. Exit. 1 Countryman.  2 Cou. 
Here's all my money! Sir.  2 Soul. 
Here all, you Rogue?  
Sirrah! you lie! you have ten times as much.  
Do not I know you a fat Bacon Rogue,  
That have been smoking in Plantagenet's Chimney,  
These forty years? Sirrah! I know your purse  
Cut's a foot thick, of Reechy golden fat.  2 Cou. 
Indeed here's every penny, that I have.  1 So. 
Do you think, Sirrah, we'll be choosed o' this fashion?  
We have hanged half the people in your Country,  
For offering to put such tricks upon us;  
And therefore have a care.  2 Coun. 
Oh! I'll confess!  
I'm an old man, and my only Son is killed.  
And now I care not what becomes o' me.  
I'll show you all I have; there it lies buried  
Under yond Oak.  1 Soul. 
Go, Sirrah, go and fetch it.  Enter the first Countryman. 1. Cou. 
Here's all I have been getting forty years.  
Pray spare me a little for my two poor Daughters.  1. So. 
How has he Daughters? we shall have more sport.  All 3. So. 
Hay! for the Daughters! Hay for the Daughters. Ex.  1 Co. 
Ah! my poor Daughters! Ex.  Enter the Soldiers chase two Country Girls, who cry, help! help! their Father runs after 'em weeping: they all run over the Stage. After cries within. Enter the Soldiers with Money bags, dragging the Countrymen. Scene continueth. 2 Soul. 
So now you Rogues, how do you like Rebellion  
You were a Couple of seditious Rogues,  
That used at Alehouses to pay for all  
That railed against the King, and Government.  
Now had not you better have Ploughed, and Carted,  
And paid your Taxes honestly and quietly,  
Then have your Money seized, your Daughters ravished,  
Your Sons knocked o' the head, and yourselves hanged,  
As you shall be?  1 Coun. 
Oh! Sir! I hope not so,  
Now you have promised us.  1 Soul. 
You impudent Dogs,  
Did not you swear Allegiance to your King?  
Yet break your Oaths to him? and do you expect,  
We should keep Verbal promises with you?  2. Soul. 
This Country belongs, Sirrah, to your Landlord;  
And we have orders to take all the Money,  
Burn all the Houses, and hang all the people.  
We have obeyed our orders yet, and will.  The Scene is drawn, and there appears Houses and Towns burning, Men and Women hanged upon Trees, and Children on the tops of Pikes. 1 Coun. 
Oh Heaven! have mercy on us! have mercy on us!  2 Coun. 
Oh Heaven! have mercy on us! have mercy on us!  1 Soul. 
Now Rogues, how do you like Rebellion?  2. Soul. 
Come hang 'em whilst there is a Tree to spare,  
They are almost all bespoke. Drumb beats.  Enter a Scout. Scout. 
To Arms, to Arms, Warwick is coming.  All 3. 
Warwick! Arm, Arm, Arm. Ex.  Enter Richard, Warwick, Soldiers. Ric. 
Oh horrid spectacle! See here, my Lord!  War. 
The Queen is planting in your Father's Lands  
An Orchard for the Devil.  Ric. 
I will dung this Orchard  
With the blood of those that planted it,  
I have a Spirit in this crooked Trunk  
Stands like a keeper in a hollow Tree,  
Ready with bended bow to shoot fat Deer,  
And down goes thou, thy Henry, all thy Race.  
I'll not leave killing, till I've built my Father  
A monument of Bones and Sculls of Enemies  
That shall overlook th' Egyptian Pyramids.  
Oh that my Brother Edward now were come!  War. 
Till his Troops come we cannot fight the Enemy,  
For they are above thirty thousand strong,  
And we scarce twelve.  Enter Edward, a Woman. Ric. 
What do I see! I think  
I see him there! pray look, my Lord, and tell me.  
Now I am sure 'tis he! for there's a Woman:  
Oh! we are ruined! for I will be damned,  
If he has not been with her all this Night.  War. 
He durst not do it, durst not serve me so.  Ed. 
I see my Brother and my Lord of Warwick,  
Retire. Ex. Wom.  War. 
My Lord.  Ed. 
My Lord of Warwick.  War. 
Yes my Lord;  
Where are your men?  Ed. 
My Lord, I must confess,  
I've been to night a happy, but great sinner.  
Starting to gallop for the Crown, my destiny  
I sung in my way brighter temptations,  
Than were all Atalanta's Golden Balls,  
That had it cost a Kingdom and my life,  
I could not but have stooped to take 'em up.  Ric. 
'Tis well, must all the glory we have dived for  
In Seas of blood, be melted in a kiss,  
And swallowed down like Cleopatra's pear  
In one sweet draught?  War. 
So you have served me well.  Ric. 
And do you thus revenge our Father's blood?  War. 
But what revenge shall I have for the ruin,  
That I am like to suffer in your service?  Ed. 
Fear not.  War. 
I do not fear, I know which way  
I can repair myself; in Henry's service  
I can have greatness with less pains, and dangr,  
Than I must take in yours to be undone.  Ed. 
You will not leave me?  War. 
You first left yourself,  
And left me too.  Ed. 
I beg your pardon for it,  
Who, now my Fathers murdered, am your King.  War. 
You are my King, but King of my own making,  
And I, like Heaven, repent I've made a Creature '  
Who for the Apple of a rolling Eye,  
Will lose a World: But I'll secure my share of it.  
I will go make Henry a King again,  
And tumble you again into a subject.  Ed. 
You will not sure, my Lord!  War. 
I swear I will.  Ed. 
Oh but you cannot do it.  War. 
I'll try that.  Ed. 
You can at most but make Henry a Tyrant,  
For I am lawful King.  War. 
Oh! I'll give Henry  
My Sword, and do you keep your lawfulness,  
Then try which of you will be King of England.  
I ne'er found Conscience or in Priest, or Layman  
So firm at anchor, but a golden Axe  
Would cut the Cable, or success could weigh it,  
And set the Conscience swimming with the Tide.  Ric. 
Oh! I could tear my flesh! must we be ruined  
For a fair Toy?— but I will not be ruined.  
For I will seek the Kingdom for myself.  Ed. 
Brother, 'tis well.  Rich. 
Brother, it shall be ill,  
Exceeding ill with you, and very quickly.  Ed. 
Hold! I command you both hear me one word.  
Know I have only made a Trial of you,  
For I have brought the Troops that you desired,  
I marched 'em hither with such expedition,  
Their front encountered here the front of day.  
Nay more, I've brought my Brother and his Troops,  
Both Armies are not half a mile from hence;  
And here my Brother is: Brother, come hither.  Enter George. Geo. 
I heard of our great Fathers sad misfortunes  
And came to his revenge with all the speed  
A hungry wretch would do to a great feast,  
Where there were many guests, and he far off.  Ed. 
Now my good faithful Friends, what think you both?  
Now, Warwick, will you make Henry a King?  
And, Brother, will you make yourself a King?  
I was informed of what I have discovered  
That you, good Brother, sought to be a King;  
And Warwick to command him, who is King;  
And him you cannot Govern, you will ruin.  
Henry is governed by the Queen and Clifford  
And so because there is no room for Rule,  
You fight for us to make us all your Vassals.  War. 
Who durst say this of me?  Ric. 
And what bold Villain  
Durst give you such a Character of me?  Ed. 
Oh! you are angry, I'm informed the truth.  
If they be Villains, who durst tell me this,  
Then what are you, who durst to my own face  
Threaten to do all this?  War. 
It was all passion.  Ric. 
Nothing but passion.  Ed. 
Brother, you are wronged,  
Or in cold blood you are as bad as this;  
You act the undermining Politician,  
A King is a strong Tower on a high Rock,  
And it is dangerous to storm him openly;  
So at a mighty distance they break ground  
And cast up earth, that is by subtle tricks  
They raise the dirty crowed, and behind them  
They lie secure from Royal battery.  
There if they find any unguarded place,  
About the King, they use it most unmercifully.  
My heart to beauty always lies too open,  
And that infirmity thou givest no quarter;  
Though thou who censurest me, because sometimes,  
I shed some vacant hours among fair Women,  
Wouldst shed the blood, or of thy Friend or King,  
Or if thy Father, were he now alive,  
To gain a Crown, for there is thy chief Lust.  Ric. 
That is a Cruel censure.  Ed. 
But a true one,  
Who stabs my Name, would stab my Person too,  
Did not the Hangman's Axe lie in his way,  
And no man cares to stumble upon that.  War. 
Well, Sir, I have so long gone clad in Steel,  
I have forgot to kneel; but yet my Spirit,  
More stubborn than my sinews, bonds to you.  
And begs your pardon for my too rash passion,  
For 'twas no more, and there appeared occasion;  
Though you it seems kindled the fire o'purpose  
To show us by the light of it our faults.  Ed. 
Nay, I will own after the days Fatigues,  
I fell into an ambuscade of beauty,  
Where ignorant of what befell my Father,  
And deep in Love, I lay some hours last night;  
And which of you would not have done the same?  War. 
All of us would, and, Sir, I humbly beg you  
Think my wild passion was the Woman in me,  
And I've enjoyed my Woman, as you yours.  Ed. 
My Lord, I know you would enjoy your Woman,  
I mean your Mistress, for you have a Mistress,  
And you, who threatened to revolt from me;  
Because some moments, which were due to business,  
I gave away to Beauty, and to Love,  
Had almost at S. Alban given away  
Our victory, to a Woman that abhorred you.  War. 
Ha!  Ed. 
Yes, my Lord, I was informed the story.  
You wooed her, over her dead Husband's Body,  
Till you were almost taken by the Enemy.  
I do not know her Name, I never pry  
Into your pleasures, though you censure mine.  
But thou in Chastity, wouldst seem a Scipio.  
Know, that the Woman that thou saw'st me with,  
Was thy own Whore.  Ric. 
Ha!  Ed. 
Yes, thy own poor Whore,  
A Peasant's dirty Daughter, whom thou keep'st,  
By whom thou hast a little tawny Bastard,  
Whom I o' purpose brought to show thy Faults,  
In th' eyes, where thou hast often seen thy face.  
This is the Lady.  Enter Woman. Ric. 
Cursed treacherous jade! Aside.  Ed. 
Now, Sirs, what think you?  Goe 
Pray, Sir, give me leave  
To intercede for 'em, I see shame covers 'em,  
And to great minds no punishment like shame.  Rich. 
Sir, not for mine, but for my Father's sake  
Pardon my Errors and accept my Service, Knelt both.  
That I may aid you to revenge his Blood.  War. 
Sir, not for mine, but for the Kingdom's sake,  
Pardon my Errors and accept my service,  
For I by placing you in the English Throne  
Shall place the English Throne above the World.  Ed. 
Rise both of you, I freely pardon you,  
And yet methinks it is unequal usage  
A King should pardon all the faults of Subjects,  
And Subjects pardon nothing in their King;  
When a King's crowned, he is not deified,  
When he puts on the Royal Robes, he does not  
Therefore put of th' Infirmities of man.  
I own I have my faults, and so have you,  
You see I have convinced you; and I did it  
That you might leave your faults and pardon mine;  
Or if you kept your faults to part with me;  
For if my Lord of Warwick does design  
By all his Service only to enslave me,  
I shall lose nothing by his leaving me,  
I can but be a Slave when I am conquered,  
And if my Brother Richard has worse ends—  Ric. 
Oh! Sir, no more, unless you do design  
I should rip up my Breast to show my heart—  War. 
Sir, I'll desire no farther pardon of you,  
Till I have writ it in your Enemy's Blood,  
And pawned my Life and Fortune for my Loyalty.  Ed. 
Our Friendship then is stronger for this breach,  
Now let us bend our talk to our Affairs,  
On the sad tidings of my Father's death,  
Which I but lately heard, I sent Commissioners  
To Henry to demand the Crown of him  
According to the Oath he made in Parliament.  
They are here!— what tidings? Peace, or War?  Enter Commissioners. Com. 
War.  All. 
War.  1 Com. 
Th' Amazon Queen drags Henry to the Battle.  
He fain would keep his Oath, but she'll not suffer him.  Ric. 
I'm glad of it, I would not for a Kingdom  
Peace should chain up that Bloody Mastiff Clifford,  
And keep him safe from the edge of our keen Swords.  War. 
You wrong the Beast to give that name to Clifford,  
An English Mastiff scorns to by't a Child.  Ed. 
Now let us march to meet the Enemy,  
This day decides who shall be King of England,  
The right is ours.  War. 
And Justice will prevail,  
Since Right and Merit both are in the Scale. Exeunt.    

ACT. IU.  An Alarm. Enter King Henry, the Queen, Prince, Clifford. Cl. 
DAmn your unlucky Planets, pray, Sir, get you  
Out of the Battle, 'tis impossible  
For men to fight the malice of your Planets.  Qu. 
He tells you true, Sir, Victory will never  
Come where you are.  Hen. 
Victory will not come  
Where Perjury is, you make me break my Oath.  Cl. 
You ought not to have sworn so ill an Oath.  Pr. 
Father, you cannot give away my Right,  
I'll rather lose my life than my Inheritance.  Cl. 
Spoke like a Prince.  Hen. 
Oh! Boy, if thou didst know  
What a Crown was, thou wouldst be more content,  
If I should leave thee no Inheritance,  
But the Example of my virtuous deeds;  
I wish my Father had left me no more.  Cl. 
Oh! damn all this!— come, let us to the Battle.  Ex. Cl. Qu. Pr. Hen. 
Oh! how this Fellow curses? he accuses  
My Stars for my misfortunes, when his Curses  
Wound all my Men, and poison the Enemy's shot.  
Would I were dead if it were heavens good will! Lies down  
For I am very weary of this World.  
Troublesome folly governs all this World.  
Men live her Vassals, and they die her Martyrs.  
Oh! happy he who in an humble state  
Only attends on Nature's easy business,  
And brings white heirs down to a quiet Grave,  
Falling to earth, as gently as the Snow.  Alarm! Enter a Son bearing his Father. 
Here comes a wretch laden, as he believes,  
With happy Fortune, 'tis with bloody folly,  
And Heaven has carved Fool on his breast with wounds.  Son. 
Who e'er thou art thy life has cost me dear,  
But I'll repay myself out of thy Gold;  
If thou hast any; with the hopes of that  
I took such pains to kill thee. And yet I  
Who plunder thee, may be compelled  Night,  
To give my life, and plunder to another.  
What's this? Oh! Heaven! I have killed my Father.  
Oh Father pardon me, I did not know thee.  
I was in London pressed to serve the King,  
And thou the Earl of Warwick's servant pressed,  
To fight on th' other side, and so unknown  
We met and Fought; and so unknown I killed thee.  
Oh from thy Bosom I will wash away,  
With tears, the marks of this unnatural Crime.  Hen. 
Oh piteous spectacle! Oh sad confusions!  
What horrid errors, and unnatural ills  
Our horrid and unnatural war produces!  
Poor wretch, didst thou want tears I could supply thee.  Enter a Father bearing his Son. Fath. 
Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me;  
Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold,  
For I have bought it with a hundred blows.  
Ha! let me see, is this my Enemy?  
Ah no, my Son, I've killed my only Son.  Hen. 
Ah woe on woe, Heaven stop these bloody mischiefs,  
Though by the Death of me and all my Race.  Son. 
Oh I have ta'en his life who gave me mine.  Fath. 
Oh! I've killed him for whom I would have died.  Son. 
How will my Mother for my Father's death  
Take on with me?  Fath 
How will my mourning Wife,  
Accuse me of the slaughter of my Son?  Hen. 
How will my people charge all this on me?  Son. 
I'll bear thee hence and weep, but fight no more. Ex.  Fath. 
I'll bear thee hence and weep; but kill no more,  
Except myself with sorrow. Ex.  Hen. 
Oh! poor men!  
Here is a King more woeful than you all;  
For you grieve for yourselves, I for you all.  
Oh you, who when you suffer by your Kings,  
Think to mend all by War, and by Rebellion!  
See here, your sad mistakes! how dreadfully  
You scourge yourselves! learn here the greatest Tyrant  
Is to be chose before the least Rebellion.  
And Oh you Kings, who let your people rule,  
Till they have run themselves into confusion,  
See here your gentleness is greatest Tyranny!  Enter Prince, and Queen. Pr. 
Fly, Father fly, all's lost, your Friends are fled,  Qu. 
The day is lost, and with the day, the Kingdom.  Hen. 
Where's Clifford?  Qu. 
I believe he's dead by this time,  
I met him bleeding with a hundred wounds.  
He all the day rolled like a fiery meteor,  
About the field, and burnt up men like reeds;  
But now in lakes of blood his fire is quenched.  
Post you to Scotland with all haste you can;  
I will to France, to beg that King's assistance. Ex. Qu. Pr.  Hen. 
I go, but care not what becomes o' me. Ex.  Enter Clifford wounded. Cl. 
Here burns my Candle out, that lighted Henry.  
Warwick, and all Plantagenets three Sons.  
And all King Henry's malicious Planets  
With much ado to day have killed one man.  
Henry's Stars ruin me and my fall him.  
But his soft sway made way for his destruction:  
Oh! Henry, hadst thou ruled as Kings should do,  
Or as thy Father, or his Father did,  
These Summer flies had never sprung to sting thee,  
Rebels you thrive, and may Rebellion thrive  
That Rogues may cut your throats as you do ours.  
The Air has got into my deadly wounds;  
I am too faint to Fight or Fly; and Mercy,  
I deserve none, and will have none from Rebels,  
I scorn to live by them who deserve death.  
Fate Guards the Scaffold, but she hates the Office,  
And will e'er long let Rebels have their own.  
I'm going! All you of Plantagenets Race—  
My comfort is in death: I killed your Father. Falls  Enter Edward, George, Richard, Warwick. Ed. 
Now the great cause is come to its decision:  
Are any Troops gone to pursue the Queen?  
On her tame Henry's fortune does depend  
As the Seas ebb and flow does on the Moon.  War. 
Yes, I took care o' that.  Rich: 
My chief care was,  
To hunt the bloody Clifford, but I could not  
Find him among the living, or the dead.  War. 
I thought you set death's mark so deep upon him,  
Death could not miss him.  Geo. 
Fortune at us all  
Played him to day, but when he was in danger,  
Snatched him away again, as who should say,  
When I have lost this card my game is gone.  Cl. 
Oh!—  (Groans) Ed. 
What Soul is that, that takes her heavy leave?  
See who it is, and be he Friend or Enemy  
Use him with mercy.  Ric. 
No— 'tis bloody Clifford.  Ed. 
Clifford?—  War. 
Clifford?—  Geo. 
Clifford?—  Rich. 
He's dead! oh that he had but life,  
And sense enough to see and hear, and know us!  
That we might scoff him as he did our Father.  Ric. 
Damn him, he counterfeits to shun our taunts.  
Clifford, you know me, ask me mercy, Clifford;  
I am the Son of your dear Friend, Plantagenet,  
I'll pity you, for you did pity Rutland.  Geo. 
No answer? prithee swear as thou wast wont.  War. 
He's dead I'm certain, if he does not swear.  Cl. 
Damnation on you all—  Ed. 
He Curses! he Curses!  War. 
Then there is hopes of him.  Ed. 
'Twas his last Prayer:  
Off with his Head, and place it on the pinnacle,  
Where the bold bloody Slave durst place our Fathers.  War. 
Now let the Trumpets proclaim Edward King.  A Flourish of Trumpets. Trum. 
Long live Edward the fourth, King of England and France,  
And Lord of Ireland. (a Shout.)  War. 
Now march to London, Sir, I will to France,  
About the Marriage you so much approved of  
With the fair Lady Bona that Queen's Sister.  Ed. 
Oh! thou hast made me much in love with her  
And all Relations have increased my Passion.  War. 
Sir, She's the fairest Creature in the Woorld;  
And in that Marriage you will not only  
Have a fair bedfellow for your delight,  
But that great King your friend for your security.  Ed. 
I cannot marry better; haste away.  War. 
I'm glad of this, I have secured my Mistress. Aside.  
Some days ago (as you commanded me)  
I did dispatch an Envoy to King Lewis,  
To make the offer, and he seemed unwilling,  
Not knowing what th' event of War would be.  
But now I with the Sword, that conquered Henry,  
Will go myself Ambassador, and try,  
If a French King dares deny any thing  
To an English conquering Sword.  Ed. 
Oh! thou hast given me  
A Crown, give me this Beauty, and thou art  
A God to me, thy gifts are all divine.  Geo. 
My life too on his bounty does depend.  War. 
Is it in me to give you happiness?  Geo. 
Yes, if a Father can bestow a Daughter.  War. 
I shall be very proud, you will accept her.  Geo. 
I shall be very happy to attain her.  War. 
She shall be yours, if the King give consent.  Ed. 
My Brother could not have obliged me more  
Than in this choice.  War. 
Then she's at his devotion.  Geo. 
Then I'm a happy man.  Ed. 
The Earl of Warwick  
Is the good Angel of our Family.  Ric. 
Of what strange stuff so different from my Brother's  
Am I made? they are all-over love;  
I have appetite, but not one grain of Love.  Ed. 
Thou art not of a mould for love to grow in;  
Men plant not flowers in a Kitchen garden.  
Well, Brother, I create you Duke of Clarence.  
You, Brother Richard, I make Duke of Gloucester.  Ric. 
I do not like the Title, it is ominous.  Ed. 
A foolish observation!—  War. 
Royal Sir,  
I'll take my leave.—  Ed. 
Success attend thy Embassy. Ex.  Geo. 
I'll take my leave.—  Ed. 
Success attend your love— Ex.  

Scene a Chamber.  Enter Lady Grey, and her Woman. La. Gr. 
King Henry beaten? poor unfortunate King!  
I and my Children are all ruined with him;  
The conquerors will seize my Husband's lands.  War. 
Madam, the greatest Conqueror is your Friend,  
The Earl of Warwick, he'll preserve your Fortune,  
Yes, and advance 'em, if you'll give him leave.  La. Gr. 
Name not that insolent great man, I hate him.  Enter a Page. Pa, 
Madam, the Earl of Warwick's coming up.  La. Gr. 
He coming up? how knows he I am here?  Pa. 
His Servants learned it accidentally.  Enter Earl of Warwick. War. 
So near fair Widow, and my beating pulses,  
And quivering flesh give me no notice of it?  
For the kind needle never fails to tremble  
When it approaches it's beloved Pole.  
What have you paid formality her wages,  
And turned off that old Governess of Women?  
Have you yet dried your eyes, and drawn your Curtains?  
Is the Son good enough to be admitted o you?  
If so I hope his humble kindred may,  
For I am near akin to him in heat.  
In short you shall be mine, if I can give  
Others a Crown, I'll give myself a wife.  La. Gr. 
If you were serious, as I think you are not,  
You give me a brave occasion to revenge  
My Husband's blood and your affronts to me,  
By making you unhappy in a Wife.  War. 
Were you the first of Widows that talked thus,  
I must confess I think 'twould damp my courage,  
But when this is the constant language spoke  
In the dark shady Land of Veils and mourning,  
Should I be scared, I were as rank a fool  
As the dull Hero that should leave a pleasant  
Country he conquered, 'cause the people speak  
A strange odd Language; you are a conquered Province  
And you may keep your Language and your Customs;  
But I will have the Government and Tribute.  La. Gr. 
My Lord, I have affairs of greater consequence  
Than this fond talk, and so your humble Servant.  War 
So have not I, and therefore you shall stay.  La. Gr. 
What do you mean my Lord?  War. 
I mean, my Lady,  
To marry you this day, enjoy you this night.  La. Gr. 
My Lord, I tell you plainly I do not love you.  War. 
All's one, I tell you plainly I will have you▪  
I know you are a woman of great virtue,  
And time will file away these rugged humours.  
But if it do not, though your soul be rough,  
Your body will be smooth, your Cheeks be soft,  
Your eyes be sparkling, and your lips be tempting:  
And more perhaps might make me mad with love.  
Ho! call a Parson!  La. Gr. 
Now my Lord?  War. 
Ay! now.  La. Gr. 
What, and my Husband died so very lately?  War. 
What then? what has the dead to do with us?  La. Gr. 
I'll rather go a begging with my Children.  War. 
Come leave this fooling!— by this kiss you shall.  La. Gr. 
I'll die  suffer all this barbarous rudeness.  War. 
Well thou art a most beauteous Creature,  
I'm going now Ambassador for France,  
I'll let thee keep thy humour one month more;  
But then at my return be sure I find thee  
Divorced from sorrow and the dead for ever;  
Give not one sigh or to the dead or living.  
Sigh thou for any Man alive but me  
And though a King he had better be a slave,  
Sigh for the dead, I'll tear him from his Grave.— Ex  La. Gr. 
What shall I do? for I abhor this man.  
What comes into my thoughts? is it not said  
King Edward (for we now must call him so)  
Lodges to night at his own Neighbouring Castle?  Wom. 
Yes, Madam.  La. Gr. 
I'm informed he is a Prince  
Of a most noble Nature; I'm resolved  
To fling myself in sorrow at his Feet,  
And beg him to have pity on my Children,  
What e'er their Father was, they are not his Enemies;  
And if I can obtain their Father's Lands,  
Then I shall 'scape this man, I so much hate. Ex.   

Scene a Room of State.  Enter Edward, Richard, Guards. Ed. 
The Situation of this Castle pleases me.  Rich. 
But, Sir, not me, for I'm afraid it stands  
Too near a Beauty that once stopped your way,  
And I'm afraid will do it once again.  Ed. 
Women are moving Creatures, and may follow us.  Rich. 
Pardon my confidence, I love to serve  
My Friends as boldly as I fight my Enemies.  Ed. 
You say well, Brother, and I'll promise you,  
Nothing shall stay me here, beyond this night.  Enter a Lord. Lord. 
A Lady, Sir, desires to kiss your hands.  Ric. 
A Lady? Pox o' Ladies; he is tinder  
To every Lady, and will catch new fire.  Enter Lady Grey, and her Women: She knelt, kisses King Edward's hand, he raises her, and Salutes her. Rich. 
A very lovely woman! he is ruined!  Ed. 
I ne'er had Eyes, or my eyes ne'er saw beauty,  
Till this amazing minute.  Ric. 
So! he's gone:  
Any one may have London now that will.  La. Gr. 
Sir, I present you humbly the petition  Knelt again, and the King gazes. 
Of a poor Widow, and her little Orphans:  
I am the Widow of one Sir John Grey,  
Who in S. Alban's Battle lost his life,  
In the defence of him we thought our King.  
If my poor Husband's Loyalty did err,  
He dearly for that fatal error paid.  
My humble prayer is, that my poor Orphans  
May not be punished for their Father's Faults,  
If erring Loyalty can be a fault.  Ed. 
I am so rapt, I mind not what she say;  
Nor that she is all this while upon her knees:  
Pray, Madam, rise,— leave us— To the Attendants.  Ric. 
So she (I find)  
Must grant a thing, before her thing be granted. Ex.  Ed. 
Had you a Husband, Madam, did you say?  La. Gr. 
Yes, Sir, I had one at S. Alban's Battle;  
His Name was Sir John Grey.  Ed. 
Oh happy man!  
What excellence had he above mankind,  
That he should be more blessed than all mankind?  
And have you Children?  La. Gr. 
Many poor young Orphans.  Ed. 
Oh! wondrous happy man t' enjoy this Woman!  
I must inquire about her, I was never,  (Aside.) 
Never so charmed before. My Lord, come hither,  
Pray do you know this Lady?  Lord. 
Yes, Sir, well.  
She is the Widow of Sir John Grey of Grooby,  
A man of Quality, and great Estate.  
But a most vehement Lancastrian.  Ed. 
No matter: of what Family is she?  Lord. 
Her quality does far exceed her Husbands;  
And yet her Virtue does exceed her quality.  
She is the Daughter of Sir Richard Woodvile,  
Her Mother was sometimes Duchess of Bedford.  Ed. 
Duchess of Bedford? Ha!  Lord. 
Duchess of Bedford.  
And Daughter of the Earl of S. Pool.  Ed. 
Of noble birth, and by her Mother's side  
Related to the house of Lancaster.  Lord. 
She is by Marriage, Sir; that was the cause  
That Sir John Grey was such a fierce Lancastrian.  Ed. 
She has Beauty, she has Virtue, she has Birth:  (Aside) 
Why may not this fair Lady be a Queen?  
But she's a Subject, England will not like it.  
And th' English Nation, like the Sea it governs,  
Is bold and turbulent, and easily moved,  
And always beats against the shore, that bounds it.  
What? is the people free, and not the King?  
Not free where every Slave is free, his bed?  
Yes, so it is, it seems, and English fury  
Will easily with any wind be raised,  
To dash the Palaces, and Beds of Kings.  
Come what come will, this Lady shall be mine.  
She shall be, or my Mistress, or my Wife.  
What was it, Madam, you desired o' me?  La. Gr. 
To give poor Orphans, Sir, their Father's Lands.  Ed. 
Heaven forbidden I should retain 'em from 'em!  La. Gr. 
Then, Sir, with humble thanks I take my leave.  Ed. 
Hold, Madam, for I must have one word more,  
I must impose a Tax upon this Land.  La. Gr. 
It shall be thankfully, and gladly paid.  Ed. 
It will I'm sure more gladly be received.  
It is an easy Tax, no more but Love.  La. Gr. 
No Loyal Subjects, Sir, but love their King.  Ed. 
But this is love, that none but you can grant.  La. Gr. 
I do not understand your meaning, Sir.  Ed. 
Truly, I scarcely understand myself,  
For I have gazed myself out of my Reason.  La. Gr. 
With your permission, Sir, I'll take my leave.  Ed. 
Oh! you shall never, never part from me.  La. Gr. 
What do you mean, Sir?  Ed. 
I mean all the Love,  
 was or can be in the heart of man.  La. Gr. 
Love, Sir?  Ed. 
Ay Love.  La. Gr. 
I dare not understand you,  
Because I dare not think ill of my Prince.  Ed. 
Can there be ill in Love? there will be all  
The happiness to me, glory to you,  
Your heart and mine can possibly desire.  
Why do you tremble, and draw back your hand?  
You must not, shall not stir till you have granted,  
What all this languishing, and pressing means.  La. Gr. 
Oh! I shall swoon! would I had ne'er come here!  
Sir, I thus low most humbly beg of you,  
Let it suffice your conquering arms have seized  
My Husband's life, your laws have seized his Lands,  
Seek not to take my honour, and my Virtue.  
I never fought against you, ne'er opposed you.  Ed. 
I wrong her beauty, it deserves a Crown, Aside  
every look claims a Kingdom as it's due;  
and I, who gained my right, should not wrong others.  
Madam, I mean nothing but honour to you,  
● am resolved to make you Queen of England.  La. Gr. 
Now, Sir, you mean dishonour to yourself.  
● am as much unworthy to be Queen,  
●s I'm above serving an ill design.  Ed. 
Rather the crown's unworthy of your Beauty.  La. Gr. 
It is impossible, you should descend  
no such mean thoughts.  Ed. 
It is impossible,  
● should have happiness without your Love.  
● had rather with your Love be your dead Husband,  
Than with your hatred be a living King.  La. Gr. 
I lately wished I never had come here  
for my own sake, I wish it now for yours:  
Oh! think Sir, what will all your Subjects say?  Ed. 
They'll say, I am in Love.  La. Gr. 
But will they not  
be much displeased, their Prince should love so low?  Ed. 
I give them leave to choose where they like best;  
Why should I be the only man imposed on?  La. Gr. 
But I'm a Widow, and have many Children.  Ed. 
And I have Children too, though I'm a Bachelor;  
〈◊〉 we are tried, and shall be sure of Heirs.  La. Gr. 
But you have sent to Court a foreign Princess,  
●ay bring your Kingdom great advantages.  Ed. 
Then set my Kingdom go and marry her.  La. Gr. 
Consider, you may enrage the Earl of Warwick.  Ed. 
He is my Friend, and Servant, not my Guardian.  La. Gr. 
But, Sir, they say you are promised to another.  Ed. 
When I'm a priest I will do penance for it.  La. Gr. 
I am afraid you'll lose your Subjects love.  Ed. 
Why should I lose their love, by loving Subjects?  La. Gr. 
But you have many Subjects of more Beauty.  Ed. 
My Subjects if they please may marry 'em.  
● give them freedom, and I'll take my own,  
● take it too this minute.  La. Gr. 
At first sight?  
'll'l think me, Sir, immodest, should I grant.  Ed. 
A King is above forms; I'll have it so.  
●●en come away.  La. Gr. 
What in this Mourning habit?  Ed. 
I marry not your habit, but yourself.  La. Gr. 
The world will much condemn you, Sir.  Ed. 
I care not,  
I had rather live a minute in your Arms,  
Than many ages in the praise of Fools.  Enter a Gentleman. Gent. 
Most happy tidings, Sir! Henry your Enemy,  
Wand'ring alone, disguised in homely habit,  
Was taken by the Keepers of the Forest,  
As he was reading in shady Covert.  Ed. 
Good news indeed! where is he? bring him to me.  Enter King Henry in a poor habit, brought in by a Couple of Foresters. 
Why how now Henry? in this humble dress?  Hen. 
Insult not, Edward, over my misfortunes,  
But from this garb, in which thou scarce canst know me,  
Learn thou to know thyself; for in my fall  
Heaven humbles every King as well as me.  Ed. 
Henry, I pity thee, thou dost not suffer  
For thy own Crimes, but those of thy usurping  
And traitorous Ancestors. To London with him.  
And keep him a close Prisoner in the Tower.  
But let him there command all things but Liberty. Ex. Hen. with a guard.  
How all my happinesses flow together:  
A Crown upon my Head, my chiefest Enemy  
Under my Feet, and Beauty in my Arms. Ex.  Enter Richard. Ric. 
What's this? a Chaplain called for? he is mad—.  
He'll marry her, and marry at first sight.  
Marry a Subject, nay, and a mean Subject,  
Nay, the poor wretched leave of a Subject,  
A Widow, and the Widow of a Knight!  
I fear this Marriage will enrage the Kingdom,  
But I fear more the furious Warwick's Rage,  
Whose haughty temper will not bear the affront  
Of being sent on a mock-Embassy.  
Now, though I'd have him fight him, have him kill him,  
Kill both my Brothers, if he'd set up me:  
But that he cannot do, for he must fight  
In Henry's Name, and so must set up Henry.  
He's not far from hence, I'll after him,  
And for my own sake I will pacify him;  
And let the King mean while finish his marriage.  
For I would have him finish it, because  
I'm told he has another Wife, if so,  
The Children of this Marriage must be Bastards,  
Then when I've killed Henry, and his Son,  
And by some Arts destroyed my Brother Clarence,  
The King once dead, I'll Bastardise his Children;  
Then am I King, but some will say by Villainy:  
That's Villainy, that by its ill success  
Betray's a man and into ruin throws;  
When once it gains a Crown, it virtue grows. Ex.   

The Scene a Chapel  Edward, and Lady Grey, A Priest, Attendants. The solemnity ended. Enter Lady Elinor Butler. La. El. 
Ha! is it so? and can the news be true?  
It cannot be, I'll not believe my Eyes,  
I'll know the truth— King Edward.  Ed. 
Lady Elinor?—  La. El. 
My heart's so full I cannot speak to him.  
Ha! is he shunning me? Nay, then he's guilty.  
What is the cause, King Edward, you would shun me?  
Am I so strangely changed since I last saw you,  
You cannot bear my sight?  Ed. 
No surely, Madam,  
You are not altered for the worse, I'm certain,  
And for the better 'tis impossible.  La. El. 
Oh! Sir, your passion's dead, and you are weaving  
Garlands of fine expressions for its Funeral.  
If my small beauty were extremely improved,  
I were a horrid sight to thee; an Angel  
Is a most dreadful Vision to a sinner.  La. Gr. 
Who is this?  Ed. 
One your beauty Triumphs over.  La. El. 
Come to the Bar, and answer me, great sinner,  
What dost thou with this wretched Woman here?  
How far hast thou undone thy Soul and her?  
I'm told, thou hast sinned with her even to Marriage.  
Thou durst not do it sure!— say, is it true?  Ed. 
Madam, I must confess, 'tis very true.  La. El. 
How? is it true?  Ed. 
Yes, Madam, it is true.  La. El. 
What after all the Oaths thou hast sworn to me?  Ed. 
Beauties, like palaces, have several ways  
Of access to 'em; I believed those Oaths  
A form of speaking, which did please you best.  
What form o' damning in do you expect?  
The lowest place in Hell?  Ed. 
Rather a place  
Among the Saints of the Old Testament.  La. El. 
Yes, Jewish Saints; but pray, will Christian Saintship  
Admit such things?  Ed. 
Oh! yes! I, when I please,  
Can have a dispensation from his Holiness.  La El. 
What then his Holiness will be your pardon?  
A very excellent office for a Pope!  
To be the Universal Bawd of Christendom!  
A very excellent Shepherd, that will give  
His sheep a dispensation to be rotten!  Ed. 
Well, you shall be my fair Confessor then,  
I'll own my sins to you, and ask your pardon.  La. El. 
And dost thou hope to have it?  Ed. 
I will give you  
Any other satisfaction.  La. El. 
What? thy blood?  
Do, kill thyself I swear I'll pardon thee.  Ed. 
I would do much for that; but I would live  
A little while to mend and to repent.  La. El. 
Wouldst thou repent? oh! I will pray thou mayst.  
Oh may heaven lash thee with so many plagues,  
May fill thee, and surround thee with repentance!  
I will not curse this most unhappy Woman;  
For she alas! is cursed enough in thee.  
Poor Woman, he has gulled thee horridly,  
For he has only picked the name of wife  
Out of my Marriage sheets, to hid thy shame with.  
As for his love in which thou thinkest thee happy,  
'Tis like a Green-land-Summer, short and hot,  
And whilst it lasts 'tis day, all smiling day,  
But soon he goes to visit other provinces,  
But oh! he never like the Sun returns.  
Farewell, poor wretch, pitied not envied by me,  
Thou thinkest we part with very different fortunes,  
I go to sorrow, and thou stayest with joy;  
Alas! I leave thee but in a fools paradise, Ex  
And very shortly we shall meet in Bedlam.  La. Gr. 
Oh, Sir, I like not this! this is an ill  
Beginning o' this day.  Ed. 
Why so, my Love?  
That's well begun, that is begun with sacrifice,  
She is thy sacrifice.  A Cry within, Arm, Arm. Treason, Warwick! Warwick! Then Enter Warwick and his Soldiers, and seize Edward, and Lady Grey. Ed. 
Why how now Warwick? What dost mean by this?  War. 
What meanest thou Duke to put this scorn upon me?  Ed. 
Duke! when we parted thou didst call me King.  War. 
Then I disgraced the Title, and I gave it  
To one, who merit's not the name of Friend.  
Were I a King, I'd hang that common Fellow,  
That should abuse a Friend, as thou hast me,  
And such a friend as I have been to thee.  Ed. 
Thou dost abuse thyself, in talking thus.  War. 
Then it is no abuse to me, to make me  
The scorn of every French Page, and waiting Woman.  
The Marriage is agreed on, nothing wanting  
To complete all, but my arrival there,  
And all my Equipage and Train are gone.  
Now, when instead of me, this news arrives,  
I shall have all my Servants hist from France,  
Myself be made a Common public jest,  
I shall be called the great Ambassador,  
That goes with splendour to negotiate nothing.  
But my Embassage is but like my conquest,  
For I have fought for thee, that is, for nothing.  
I've stole the Royal Robes to adorn nothing,  
And help it to another nothing— Woman.  La. Gr. 
I'll tell you, Sir, whence all this fury spring's;  
This haughty Lord, who thinks his Sword has given  
Chains to our Sex, as well as to the men,  
Did strive to drag me to his marriage bed.  
And using many threats, I out of fear,  
Made some faint yield, but he finding now  
I'm placed above his reach, his burning envy  
Seek's to destroy what he cannot attain;  
Then calls his fury his revenge of honour.  Ed. 
Is that the mystery indeed?  War. 
Yes, Duke;  
Thou with a Crown hast bought a Widow from me;  
And bought her with the Kingdom which I gave thee.  Ed. 
Comest thou to ruin me for love of beauty,  
And thou thyself rebel for love of it?  War. 
I come to punish thy ingratitude.  Ed. 
I did not know thy Love, but say I did,  
If I commit a fault to take a Woman,  
To whom thou hast no right, then what dost thou,  
Who plunder'st thy Kings Right, thy countries' peace?  War. 
Thy glory's mine, my Sword created it.  
My Crime is thine, thy wrongs to me created it.  Ed. 
I'm a great Criminal to wrong a Subject,  
Thou none, to ruin both the King and Kingdom.  
Thus men, like Bears, devour the young of others;  
But strive to lick their own fowl Cubs to shape.  War. 
I do no wrong in ruining you all,  
I but restore to every thing it's own.  
I to the Kingdom shall restore the damned  
Confusion, which my Sword took away from it.  
I shall restore this Woman to her tears.  
I found her weeping over her dead Husband:  
I'll leave her weeping over thy dead fortunes.  
I will restore thee, and all thy Family  
To the subjection from which I advanced it.  
Thy fortunes to their proper state I'll bring,  
Beauty shallbe thy plague, thy foe thy King. Ex.    

ACT. V.  

Scene London.  Enter King Henry in a rich Robe, under a Canopy: The Queen and Prince followed by Warwick, and Guards, with their Swords drawn. Shouts, and Acclamations. They pass over the Stage. The Scene changes to the Palace. Enter King Henry, Queen, Prince, Warwick. Qu. 
NOw, Sir, you are King again, this valiant Lord  
Has left the horrid deserts of Rebellion;  
Where he, and all his glorious deeds were lost,  
And found the Road of Honour.  War. 
I confess,  
Fortune did misled me, and I the Kingdom,  
To give your Royal Rights to a false Prince,  
Who has the Royal blood, no Royal Virtues;  
So has no right to Crowns those virtues gained.  Hen. 
I give you thanks, my Lord, for your great gifts;  
Life, Freedom, and a Crown; I call 'em gifts,  
'Cause you can take 'em from me, or let me keep 'em.  
To Life, and Freedom, I have a clear Title;  
Because I ne'er did any ill, to forfeit 'em.  
But oh! I am afraid to wear the Crown  
For fear I share the murder that procured it.  Qu. 
Oh! Spiritless Prince! born for a Chain, a Prison:  
What if your Grandfather murdered his King?  
Must you take Physic for his sicknesses?  
Nay, must you die? for a King's Crown and Life  
Go both together; So King Richard found it.  Pr. 
Sir, all our lives wholly depend on yours.  
And for one fault of my dead Grandfather,  
Which he perhaps repent, will you punish  
Thousands? You will sin to lose a Crown,  
More than my Grandfather did do to gain one.  Qu. 
If you will doom yourself to be deposed,  
Because the Crown was gotten by ill means;  
By the same law  
You may hang half your Kingdom:  
If men by inheriting their Father's Fortunes,  
Inherit the Crimes, by which their Fathers gained 'em,  
Where is the Nation would not deserve hanging?  War. 
Sir, talk no more; you are, and shall be King.  
All power is from Heaven, Earth, or Hell.  
Heaven send's you his consent in my success,  
The People send you all their votes in me;  Hen. 
My Lord, I have a Conscience I'll not part with  
For this and many Kingdoms; but you tell me,  
That Royal Virtue first gave royal Power;  
Now I have Royal Virtue, Edward none;  
And therefore I must Reign, and he be ruined.  
Oh! my Lord, this is a confounding principle.  
If Kings may lose their Rights for want of Virtue,  
And Subjects are the Judges of that Virtue;  
Then Kings are Subjects, and all Subjects Kings:  
And by that Law that Subjects may destroy  
Their Kings for want of Virtue, other Subjects  
May think those Subjects Rogues, and cut their throats.  
Thus Babel might be builded, but no Kingdom.  Pr. 
Sir, if you be no King, we are all Rebels,  
And aught to die.  War. 
And you shall reign or die;  
If you refuse the Crown, I'll carry it back;  
And with it both your heads, to ransom mine.  
I'll quench your lives, as Mariners would do  
False lights, that lead their Vessels to destruction.  Qu. 
Why do you pause, Sir, will you rather die,  
And let your Son die too,  be a King?  Hen. 
Powerful Nature is too hard for me.  
Will it not cost more blood, if I should Reign?  War. 
The War is at an end, Edward's my Prisoner;  
Not only doomed by Heaven unfit to Reign;  
But by his flesh and blood, his Brother Clarence,  
Who has revolted from him, and brought all  
His Troops to mine, and to create between us  
A lasting league, marries my youngest Daughter.  Pr. 
And I have given my heart, Sir, to her sister.  
Oh! do not make me wretched every way.  Hen. 
Oh! Nature conquer's me!  Qu. 
Oh! happy conquest.  Pr. 
Upon my knees, Sir, I return you thanks.  Enter George. War. 
See, here comes he, who gallantly to serve  
His King and Country will forsake his Brother.  Geo. 
I thought my blood derived a Crown to us,  
But now I find it derives only Treason,  
To clear the taint, I come to set it boiling  
Over a flaming zeal for the King's service.  War. 
What think you now, Sir? do you judge your title  
Good, when your very Enemies proclaim it?  Hen. 
I find its heavens will, that I should Reign.  
My noble Friends, let me embrace you both.  
My Lord of Warwick you are fortunate,  
I must beg you to rule, for I'm afraid,  
My thwarting Stars will blast this blessed Land.  War. 
Your Majesty is wise, to foresee evils,  
And good, that you would save your people from 'em.  
Here stands a Prince most worthy of command.  Geo. 
The world has not more worth, than th' Earl of Warwick.  Hen. 
Give me your hands, I join you both together.  
I make you both Protectors of the Kingdom,  
Rule you, while I wait only on devotion.  Qu. 
So, now, my Son, thy inheritance is safe.  Pr. 
May I be happy in my Mistress too?  Qu. 
Yes, if the King consent.  Hen. 
With all my heart.  War. 
The Marriages shall then be both this minute.  Hen. 
With whom is Edward trusted?  War. 
With my Brother,  
The Archbishop of York.  Geo. 
I'm told he gives him liberty  
To hunt; and let's him go out slender guarded.  War. 
I will have that reformed; in the mean while,  
We openly will proclaim Edward a Traitor,  
And seize his Lands.  Geo. 
Let's guard this City well;  
He has friends here, chief among the Women;  
And they rule men.   

Scene London.  Enter Edward, Richard, disguised. Ed. 
Usurping Henry, and false changing Warwick  
Little think certain ruin is so near 'em.  Ric. 
I cannot tell what absolution  
The Priest of York may give his Brother Warwick,  
For all his horrid perjury's and Treason's,  
Warwick will give him none for your escape.  Ed. 
I should be sorry if mine host, th' Archbishop,  
For all his civil entertainment of me,  
Should have his reckoning paid him with an Ax.  Ric. 
So ' should I too, for if instead of giving you  
The public Freedom, which you had to hunt;  
He had confined you to Domitian's chase,  
Only to hunt flies in a bedchamber,  
You had not now been here to hunt his Brother.  
Well, Sir, Go you to all your City Friends,  
I'll to the Court; I have intelligence,  
How I may easily surprise your Enemies,  
If it be feazible, I'll venture on it.— Ex   

The Scene a Chapel.  Prince, George, their Brides, and a Priest at the Altar; near 'em King Henry, Queen, Warwick, Guards, Attendants. A Shout; Enter an Officer. Off. 
Arm! Arm! Arm! Lord Edward's in the City.  War. 
Thou art mad.  Off. 
I wish I were. I say, Lord Edward  
Is in the City.  War. 
In the women's hearts?  Off. 
No, in the head of Troops of men and Women.  
There's nothing that can get a Pike or Spit,  
But cry they'll live and die by brave King Edward.  
Richard is with him; they are all marching hither.  War. 
Oh! good Archbishop,  
You are a faithful Brother,  
We are very wise to trust our souls with priests,  
When their own Brothers cannot trust their heads with 'em:  
I know this Traitorous Priest has sold my head  
To Edward, for th' Archbishopric of Canterbury.  Hen. 
Do not too rashly censure an Archbishop.  
Edward might 'scape by wiles.  War. 
How? cheat a Priest?  
Then he deserves the Kingdom for his cunning.  
Do you think it is easy to cheat priests,  
Who by the help, but of some barbarous words;  
As, Entity, Unity, Verity, Bonity,  
Quiddity, Quantity, Quality, Causality,  
Have conjured all you Kings out of their Kingdoms?  
And Edward cheat a Priest,  
Who let a Widow cheat him of his Kingdom?  
Oh! but you'll say, a Woman cheated Adam.  
But Priests cheat women, cheat 'em too of things  
Dear to 'em as their lives, their bawdy secrets.  
They make S. Peter's Keys  
Open all Italian locks— enough of prating.  
I'll go beat Edward, and then hang my Brother.  
My Lord,  
Draw up your Troops; you, Sir, stay here: To K. Hen.  
You are unfortunate,  
I do not care,  
To have your cursed Stars among my men. Ex.  Qu. 
I'll follow, and do you, Son, leave your Bride,  
And go with us, for I'm resolved to see thee  
Heir to the Crown, or dying at my Feet. Ex.  Pr. 
Fear nothing, Love, I shall return victorious  
Your Royal blessing!— Knelt to the King.  Hen. 
What sad divining thoughts are these within me?  Pr. 
Oh Sir, why do you weep?  Hen. 
For thee, my Son.  
I'm bound in duty to thy soul to tell thee,  
Something from Heaven suggests our deaths are near.  
Thou first must die, I must behold the loss  
Of all that's dear to me, and then must die.  Pr. 
Oh Sir!—  Hen. 
'Tis so! we never in this world  
Must meet again.  Pr. 
Oh how shall I be able  
To fight, when e'er I see the enemy,  
My King and Father wounds me to the heart?  
See, my Love's weeping too, I'm shot o' both sides;  
And in my heart the deadly Arrows meet:  
I'll rather run among the Enemy's Swords,  
Than here be killed with sorrow by my Friends. Ex.  Geo. 
So, now will I go join my Brother Edward:  (Aside.) 
I am secure of Warwick's beauteous daughter.  
Now let the Devil take Warwick and his Treason,  
He made me take that brass Coin with his Daughter;  
But I will pay him the damned portion back again.  
He made me swear he'll say, but war's a game,  
And so is Love, and Gamesters Oaths are nothing.  
My Brother's Soldiers are got in the palace, An Alarm.  
They seek their Enemies, but shall find Friends. Ex.  An Alarm. Enter Richard, George, Soldiers, and seize Henry and the Women. Ric. 
How now! thou Traitor! thou unnatural Traitor!  Geo. 
Thou wrong'st me, I am as Loyal as thyself.  
What I have done, was only in design  
To gain this beauty, and now she is mine  
My Loyalty is mine.  Ric. 
Can this be true?  Geo. 
Thou saw'st it true, thou saw'st I fought for thee.  Ric. 
Thou didst; but I believed it was thy Cowardice,  
That made thee now betray thy Friend, as lust  
Made thee betray thy Brother.  Geo. 
It is false.  
And if I don't appear to day in Battle,  
As valiant, and as Loyal as thyself,  
I'll kill myself.  Ric. 
Do that, and I'll embrace thee.  
But let's away: our Royal Brother wants us.— Ex.   

The Scene the Field.  Enter Warwick, Queen, Prince, guards. Qu. 
Oh! cursed Traitor! why would you e'er trust  
One that was always false?  War. 
I was bewitched,  
To trust a man, who had betrayed his Brother.  Pr. 
My Father's words now sink into my breast;  
He said at parting, we should never meet  
On Earth again.  War. 
Well if the Villains murder him,  
I will revenge his blood, and make you King.  
When e'er I went to work to make a King,  
I ne'er yet failed, whatever stuff I had;  
But hark the Traitors come! let us fall on. Ex. Trumpets.  An Alarm. Enter Edward, Enter Lady Elinor in man's habit. La. El. 
Turn this way, Edward; here's an Enemy,  
Thirsts for thy blood.  La. El. and Ed. Fight, La. El. falls. Ed. 
What bold young man is this?  
Thou art dispatched, I wonder who thou art.  La. El. 
Look on me well— see if thou dost not know me.  Ed. 
May I believe my eyes!  La. El. 
Thou may'st, King Edward,  
They speak more truth, than e'er thou didst to me.  Ed. 
Oh! kill sight!  La. El. 
Woven thou hadst never seen me,  
The cold Earth had not been my Deathbed then,  
Nor had I needed (as I do) two graves,  
One for myself, the other for my name.  Ed. 
Oh Heaven!  
How have I wronged this beauteous Creature!  
First robbed her of her Fame, now of her Life!  La. El. 
Ah! Monarch, do I merit this for Love?  Ed. 
Oh no, but I deserve a thousand plagues;  
And I have here with my own hand broke open  
A fair Pandora's box to let 'em out,  
To fly about my head.  La. El. 
Indeed, King Edward,  
My injuries have already found thee out,  
Have driven thee from thy throne, how far will drive thee,  
I cannot tell, I will not curse thee now:  
Cursing is not a language spoke in Heaven,  
And I am very near that glorious Kingdom,  
Therefore I'll speak the language that is blessing.  
May this be the last day of all thy Troubles!  
And I be the last woman thou shalt wrong!  
May Heaven forgive thy broken Vows, as I do,  
And quicklier forget 'em all than thou didst!  
And this one poor request I beg of thee:  
Since I was all the stain of my great Family,  
And I have made thyself, who wert the cause of it,  
With thy own Sword, cut out the ruined piece,  
Oh hid it, where it may no more be seen,  
But be forgot by all, as 'twill by thee! Dies.  Ed. 
She's gone! She's gone!  
Oh! thou sweet injured beauty,  
I never shall forget thee whilst I live,  
Thy wrongs I fear will haunt my mind and fortune,  
In this sweet spot of Earth I fear I've planted  
Much mischief for myself; I gathered all  
The Sweets, and now Thorns will spring up to tear me.  Enter an Officer. Offi. 
Oh Sir, the Earl of Warwick ranges o'er  
The Field, with so much fury, and success  
Your Troops are just upon the point of flying.  Ed. 
My punishment so soon pursue my Crime!  
This beauties wrongs steel that proud Rebel's Sword,  
And give it all the kneenness that it has.  
Oh Heaven hid thy eyes from this sweet Creature,  
At least for this one hour; and here I vow,  
I will give o'er robbing such spicy Isles,  
And take an honest dwelling at my own,  
Lest sailing to a fro a Tempest fall,  
That shall revenge the injuries of 'em all. Ex.  Enter Edward and Warwick Fight, War. falls. Ed. 
Now I am King of England; and I own,  
My Crown to my own Sword, and not to thine.  War. 
Insult not, Edward. for I am not killed  
By thee, but Henry's cursed Destiny.  
I'm crushed under the wheels of his damned fortune,  
I am ground all to pieces by his Stars.  
My fortune sickened when I first came under 'em;  
Truth is, my Spirit led her such a dance,  
She could not keep me company, but tired,  
Now sits her down, and like a poor cast Whore,  
Is glad to be picked up by any body.  
Now thou mayst banish fear, for I am dying;  
Who, when I lived, could frown thee into a Subject,  
Bury thee in the wrinkle of my brow.  Ed. 
Talk not of burying Kings, but rather think  
Of burying all thy Crimes in penitence.  War. 
My greatest Crime is, that I e'er served thee,  
Whose base ingratitude has ruined me;  
I gave thee Kingdoms, and thou giv'st me death. Dies.  Ed. 
I ne'er wronged thee, nor didst thou  serve me,  
Thou hast been wronged by nothing, but my ignorance,  
And hast served nothing, but thy vanity;  
And nothing else I fear will e'er reward thee.  Enter George, Richard, and Guards. Geo. 
Now, Sir, I hope you will forgive my errors  
For Beauty's sake, for Beauty drew me in,  
And you have felt the mighty power of Beauty.  Ed, 
Brother, your errors are all buried under  
Heaps of my Enemies, you have killed today.  
I have dispatched my greatest Enemy;  
Warwick will make, and unmake no more Kings.  Ric. 
And the bold Amazon Queen, and insolent Boy,  
Her fierce Son Edward, are both taken Prisoners.  
I've ordered, Sir, they shall attend you here.  
And here they are.  Enter Queen, Prince, Guarded as Prisoners. Ed. 
So, Madam!— and young Edward,  
What satisfaction will you make to me,  
For all the Mischief you have done my Kingdom,  
And all the Trouble you have given me?  Pr. 
What satisfaction wilt thou make my Father,  
Me, and the Kingdom, for thy bold usurping  
My Father's Crown, and my inheritance,  
Ruining us, and slaughtering our people?  Qu. 
Oh! that thy Father had been so resolved!  Ric. 
That so your Distaff might have been our Sceptre.  Pr. 
Why, how now Aesop? Nay, mistake me not,  
Aesop I mean in Body not in mind.  Ric. 
Brat!— I will crush thy brains out.  Ed. 
Hold, forbear—  
He is a Boy.  Ric. 
Why, then to School with him,  
To learn him manners,  Pr. 
If I learn thy manners,  
The Devil must be my Tutor.  Ed. 
Hold your peace,  
You foolish Child.  Geo. 
The Boy's too malapert.  Pr. 
The man is too perjured, I mean perjured George,  
And you are all Traitors to me your Prince.  Ed. 
How now, proud Boy? take that.  Strikes him with his hand. Ric. 
Nay, then take that—  Geo. 
And that for twitting me with Perjury.  Rich. and Geo. draw, and kill him. Qu. 
Oh! they have killed my Son— oh murderers!  
Oh! kill me too.  Ric. 
Marry with all my heart!  The Qu. swoons upon the Prince. Ed. 
Hold, Brother, we have done too much already.  
Why would you cruelly kill the poor Boy?  
I struck him in my Choler, but I meant him  
No farther harm.  Ric. 
Who could forbear?— besides,  
Should we have let him live to cut our Throats?  Geo. 
What would have grown up with him but Rebelion?  
Why should a Sprig grow up to be a Tree,  
That would breed nothing else but Caterpillars?  Ed. 
His Mother Swoon's, use means for her recovery.  Qu. 
Oh, my dear Son is killed! my Son is killed!  
Speak to thy Mother, Son! canst thou not speak?  
Oh murderers, Butchers, Traitors, Cannibals.  Ric. 
Hence with this railing Woman.  Qu. 
Ay hence with me,  
Out of the world; I prithee, Richard, kill me:  
Murder is all the Alms thou givest the miserable;  
Bestow thy bloody Charity upon me;  
Have pity on a Queen that begs it of thee.  Ric. 
We pity not those that are born to beggary;  
If thou dost beg, 'tis but thy native poverty.  Ed. 
Insult not o'er a miserable Woman;  
Madam, I pray go hence, you shall be used  
With all respect.  Qu. 
All the respect of Murderers  
Is death; Oh! bloody George do thou bestow it.  Geo. 
I swear I will not do thee so much kindness.  Qu. 
Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself.  Ed. 
Madam, pray go—  Qu. 
Oh! Edward, Richard, George,  
Be it to you, and yours, as to this Prince,  
For 'twere a shame the Sons of Executioners  
Should e'er be Kings.  Ric. 
Away, with her!— away with her.  The Guard lead out the Cue and carry out the Pr. 
Now I will to the Tower to dispatch Henry, Aside.  
Till he be killed our work is done by halves. Ex.  Geo. 
Sir, If you please, I'll visit my young Bride. Ex.  Ed. 
I have a Beauteous Bride to visit too— Ex.  Scene, a Room in the Tower, Henry Sleeping. Enter the Ghost of Richard the Second. Gh. 
Wake, Henry, wake to weep, then sleep for ever;  
Thy Kingdom's gone, thy only son is killed,  
A Dagger is preparing for thy Bosom;  
And when thy blood is shed, my blood will sleep.  
I'm that King Richard, whom thy Grandfather  
Deposed, and murdered; and both long and loud  
My blood for vengeance called, and vengeance had,  
First in the wounded Conscience of thy Grandfather,  
Whom all the Royal Ointment could not heal.  
He lived in trouble, and he died with horror.  
And next on the short life of thy great Father;  
Who lived no longer than to beget thee,  
Who hast lost all the glories of thy Father,  
And dost inherit nothing but the curses,  
Due to thy Grandfather; nor does the storm  
Of vengeance only fall on the Usurpers,  
But on the Souls, and miserable Race  
Of all the Traitors, and the Fools, that Flattered  
Thy Grandfather's successful Villainy;  
Who did not know, Kings cannot die alone.  
And now their names are rotting, Children dying,  
Their Houses burnt on Earth, their Souls in Hell.  
Grin at your Grandfathers, you dying wretches  
Covered all o'er with shame, and dust, and blood:  
For this Estate their Villainy conveyed you,  
Th' ascending dirty Vapours of the Earth  
Breed all the storms i'th' Ayr. When e'er Oh! England,  
Thou hast a mind to see thy Cities fired,  
Thy people slaughtered, and thy Country desolate,  
Send all the dirty Traitors in the Kingdom  
To climb the Royal Rights, and Throne invade,  
Then a high road for vast destruction's made.  The Ghost goes out, and enters with soft Music one clad in a white Robe. Spir. 
Let not this frightful Vision, pious Henry,  
Disturb thy gentle Soul; it is not raised,  
To breed a storm, now thou art near thy Haven;  
Rather to calm the Tempest in thy mind,  
By pointing to thee, on what dismal Rock  
Thy Kingdom, and thy life are cast away,  
The bloody usurpation of thy Grandfather.  
The Crown of England is not made of Clay  
The Common people, so can ne'er be crumbled  
Into that dirt, 'tis not composed if it:  
Nor made of Iron, the Sword, so cannot rust;  
But of unmingled solid lasting Gold,  
Of Ancient Rights, and 'tis the gift of Heaven,  
Therefore to Heaven only can be forfeited,  
Therefore 'tis called Imperial and Sacred,  
And therefore carefully railed in by Laws;  
And torn will be his sacrilegious hand,  
Who has no Right to it, and yet dares reach it,  
And dares presumptuously pretend a Right,  
Because he stands upon the people's heads,  
Such was the bold Ambition of thy Grandfather,  
And heaven frowns upon his Sins, not thee:  
Then do not think thyself unkindly used,  
Religious Henry, that Heaven takes away,  
What is not thine; all that is truly thine  
Thou shalt not part with, but for great advantages,  
Thy Son is taken from thee here; to live with thee  
Above for ever; thou shalt lose thy life,  
Only to exchange it for Eternity;  
Lose humble quiet, for exalted Joy;  
A taste of which wafted in Heavenly Harmony,  
Pure as this lower drossy air admits,  
I bring thee down to raise thy Spirits high.  

A SONG Sung by Spirits to King Henry as he lies asleep.  

COme, Heavenly Spirits, comforts bring,  
To the most miserable thing,  
Can be on Earth, a Ruined King.   

As all the Joys on Earth Unite,  
To make his prosperous Fortune bright;  
So every woe, to shade his Night.   

He has but one poor Joy, the Grave,  
A thing that's free to every Slave,  
And that with ease he cannot have.   

For Daggers, Swords, and Poison lie  
To guard his Tomb, and make him buy  
With pain the wretched ease to die.   

But comfort, Prince, thy death is near,  
For Dead thou hast no more to fear,  
A fallen Monarches Hell is here.   

To Fortune he can nothing owe,  
For all that e'er she did bestow,  
He pays again in heavy woe.    They Vanish; and Henry wakes. Hen. 
What have I seen and heard?— Oh! come my murderers,  
And set me forwards on my way to Heaven,  
Whilst I've such rich provisions for my journey.  Enter Richard and the Keeper. 
Here comes my murderer, less horrid to me  
In bringing Death, than bringing to my sight  
The horrid Author of my sweet Son's death  
For so in dream it was revealed to me▪  
My bloody Grandfather destroyed King Richard,  
And now a bloody Richard destroys me.  Ric. 
Go, leave us to ourselves, we must confer.  Hen. 
What bloody Scene has Roscius now to Act?  Ric. 
Do you suspect me? fear haunts guilty minds;  
The Thief thinks every bush an Officer.  Hen. 
The Bird that sees the Bush where once itself  
Was limned, and it's sweet young limned caught and killed,  
Cannot but hover round it with misdoubt.  Ric. 
What an aspiring Fool was he of Crect,  
Who taught his Son the office of a Fowl?  
And drowned the Boy by teaching him to fly.  Hen. 
Indeed my Boy was Icarus, thy Brother  
Edward the Sun that did dissolve his wings,  
And thou the gulf that swallowed up his life.  
But many a thousand wretched Father more,  
And many an Orphans water-standing eye,  
And many a Widows Groan, and old man's Sigh  
Shall rue the Hour that ever thou wast born.  
When thou wast born, nature by horrid signs  
Gave notice to the world of coming Mischief;  
The Birds of night did shrieke and cry to tell,  
That Hour there was a Child of darkness born.  
Winds blew down Trees as hell were making gallows,  
Thy mother had a kind of Hellish pain  
As She had been in labour of a Devil.  
Thy legs came first, and thou wert born with Teeth,  
And cam'st to by't—  Ric. 
I'll hear no more— die Prophet, Stab. Hen.  
For this (among the rest) I was ordained!  Hen. 
I, and for much more slaughter after this.  
Heaven forgive me my sins, and thee this murder!  Ric. 
Thou didst say truth, I came with my legs forward  
Into the World, but 'twas to o'er take thee,  
And all that stand between the Crown and me.  Enter the Lieutenant. Ric. 
What noise is that?  Lieu. 
The King is coming, Sir,  
And all the Court with him, to see the Prisoner,  
And comfort him; the King intends to keep  
His Court here till his Coronation.  Rich. 
Nay, than I must be gone, he will be angry  
At what I've done— Ex.  Enter Edward, George, again, Guard. Ed. 
Where is your prisoner?  Lieu. 
He's murdered.  Ed. 
Murdered? Oh! thou bloody Villain  
Durst thou do this, when I commanded thee  
To give him all Princely respect and usage?  Lieu. 
Sir, on my knees I do beseech you hear me:  
Your Brother, my Lord Richard, came to visit him,  
And was left with him by his own command,  
And now he's fled; that none but he could do this deed.  Geo. 
Sir, I believe him; this is like my Brother.  Ed. 
Heaven to his crooked shape has bend his soul.  
He was designed for mischief, and thrust forward  
Unfinished in the World to lose no time  
And I believe if we don't watch him narrowly,  
He'll make no scruple to use us as rudely,  
For crowding rudely into the world before him;  
But I believe I'm safe, England, by this time,  
Has had enough of Rebels, and Usurpers.  
I fancy now the Sons of those poor Gentlemen,  
Those honest foolish cheated Gentlemen,  
Who did turn Rebels but they meant no harm,  
Who fought their King, slaughtered their Friends, and Kinsmen,  
Destroyed their Country, but they meant no harm,  
And for reward had all their houses burned.  
Their Wives and Daughters ravished, their lands seized,  
And themselves knocked o'th' head, but meant no harm.  
I say, I fancy their unhappy Offspring  
Will prove exceeding honest Loyal Subjects,  
For by their Father's Ruin they have learned Wit..  Geo. 
That's all a Nation gets by Civil War.  Ed. 
Yes, with the Prodigal thoburn, 'tis better  
Obeying their Kings, the Fathers of their Country,  
Than run and waste their Fortune and their Liberties,  
And do the drudgeries of proud Usurpers,  
Who will perhaps set 'em to keep their Swine.  
And after a long beggary and slavery  
Return with shame and sorrow to their Loyalty.  
Take up the Body of that unfortunate Prince,  
I will bestow Royal interrement on it.  
His, and the Kingdom's dreadful Ruins prove,  
A Monarch's Right is an unshaken Rock,  
No storms of War nor time can wear away,  
And Wracks those Pirates that come there for prey. Ex.     

EPILOGUE.  
TO 〈…〉  
How palled 〈…〉  
He 〈…〉  
Damn 〈…〉  
So naustous 〈…〉  
All the delights 〈…〉  
No Don 〈…〉  
then sinners now devout, they 〈…〉  
The Nation, of 〈…〉  
That in vile 〈…〉  
The aid of Rascals for 〈…〉  
Is in a malady 〈…〉  
As the young Spark, who 〈…〉 scorned▪  
Grown deadly sick, is a Fanatic turned▪  
And beg in his o' Paper 〈◊〉 and down▪  
The Prayers of all the 〈…〉  
Oh! we are sick, at least our 〈…〉  
England, is ne'er, devout 〈…〉  
Our Fathers to their cost 〈…〉  
And small things will make mad men fight, you know,  
Oh! what a Bedlam o● 〈◊〉 this sweet place,  
When graceless Rogues did fight about free grace?  
And wilful Fool would 〈…〉  
His blood, who durst say 〈◊〉 had a freewill?  
Of all our Civil 〈…〉 shown  
To day, our Nation with least 〈◊〉 may own.  
For Subjects then for loyalty did fight,  
And Princes to maintain 〈…〉  
Ye●●hos● rich Ornaments 〈…〉  
From gracing that fowl 〈…〉  
How ugly then 〈…〉  
With 〈◊〉 before, but 〈…〉  
Such a poor Nation 〈…〉  
Those two would ride 〈…〉 Devil  
Learn then, by what 〈…〉  
To keep your wit, 〈…〉  
Better at Dice to throw away your 〈◊〉  
Your time at 〈…〉  
Than by dam●● 〈◊〉 bloody strife 〈◊〉  
No one knows 〈…〉 by the Rent▪  
Have your 〈…〉 plundered, and your brains bear 〈◊〉  
And die like Jesuits to by the 〈…〉  
FINIS