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But now it is impossible we should:
Suffolk, the new made duke, that rules the roast,
Hath given the dutchies of Anjou and Maine
Unto the poor king Reignier, whose large style
Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.

Sal. Now, by the death of him that died for all,
These counties were the keys of Normandy:-
But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?
War. For grief that they are past recovery:
For, were there hope to conquer them again,
My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears.
Anjou and Maine! myself did win them both;
Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer:
And are the cities, that I got with wounds,
Deliver'd up again with peaceful words?
Mort Dieu!

York. For Suffolk's duke may he be suffocate,
That dims the honour of this warlike isle !
France should have torn and rent my very heart,
Before I would have yielded to this league.
I never read but England's kings have had
Large sums of gold, and dowries with their wives
And our king Henry gives away his own,
To match with her that brings no vantages.

Glo. A proper jest, and never heard before,
That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth,
For costs and charges in transporting her!
She should have staid in France, and starved in France,

Car. My lord of Gloster, now you grow too hot;
It was the pleasure of my lord the king.

Glo. My lord of Winchester, I know your mind;
Tis not my speeches that you do mislike,
But 'tis my presence that doth trouble you.
Rancour will out: Proud prelate, in thy face
I see thy fury: if I longer stay,
We shall begin our ancient bickerings.—
Lordings, farewell; and say, when I am gone,
I prophesied-France will be lost ere long.

Car. So, there goes our protector in a rage.
"Tis known to you he is mine enemy:
Nay, more, an enemy unto you all;
And no great friend, I fear me, to the king.
Consider, lords, he is the next of blood,
And heir apparent to the English crown;
Had Henry got an empire by his marriage,
And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west,
There's reason he should be displeased at it.
Look to it, lords; let not his smoothing words
Bewitch your hearts; be wise, and circumspect,
What though the common people favour hím.
Calling him-Humphrey, the good duke of Gloster ;
Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice-


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Jesu maintain your royal excellence!
With-God preserve the good duke Humphrey!
I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss,
He will be found a dangerous protector.

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Buck. Why should he then protect our sovereign,
He being of age to govern of himself?
Cousin of Somerset, join you with me,
And all together-with the duke of Suffolk,
We'll quickly hoise duke Humphrey from his seat.
Car. This weighty business will not brook delay;
I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently.




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Som. Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey's pride, And greatness of his place be grief to us, Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal;dr som adr His insolence is more intolerable Than all the princes in the land beside; If Gloster be displaced, he'll be protector. Buck. Or thou, or I, Somerset, will be protector,dif Despight duke Humphrey, or the cardinal. for ones [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and SOMERSET. Sal. Pride went before, ambition follows him. lunot revon While these do labour for their own preferment, as wel Behoves it us to labour for the realm. cooll sub quo bit. I never saw but Humphrey duke of Gloster od firm to T Did bear him like a noble gentleman. Oft have I seen the haughty cardinalMore like a soldier, than a man o' the church, As stout, and proud, as he were lord of all, Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself Unlike the ruler of a common-weal.Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age! Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy house-keeping, Hath won the greatest favour of the commons, Excepting none but good duke Humphrey.And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, In bringing them to civil discipline; Thy late exploits, done in the heart of France, When thou wert regent for our sovereign, that yo Have made thee fear'd, and honoured, of the people: Join we together for the public good; In what we can to bridle and suppress The pride of Suffolk, and the cardinal, With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition; And, as we may, cherish duke Humphrey's deeds, not appiam While they do tend the profit of the land. novage bind back

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War. So God help. Warwick, as he loves the land, Tal bri And common profit of his country!obud


York. And so says York, for he hath greatest cause. Sal. Then let's make haste away, and look unto the main. War. Unto the main! O father, Maine is lost; That Maine, which by main force Warwick did win, podt ted f And would have kept, so long as breath did last


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Main chance, father, you meant; but I meant Maine;
Which I will win from France, or else be slain.
York. Anjou and Maine are given to the French;
Paris is lost; the state of Normandy
Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone:
Suffolk concluded on the articles;
The peers agreed; and Henry was well pleas'd,
To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter.
I cannot blame them all; what is't to them
Tis thine they give away, and not their own.
Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage,
And purchase friends, and give to courtezans,
Still revelling, like lords, till all be gone:
While as the silly owner of the goods
Weeps over them, and rings his hapless hands,
And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof,
While all is shared, and all is borne away;
Ready to starve, and dare not touch his own.
So York must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue,
While his own lands are bargain'd for, and sold.
Methinks, the realms of England, France, and Ireland,
Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood,
As did the fatal brand Al burn'd,
Unto the prince's heart of Calydon,t
Anjou and Maine, both given unto the French!
Cold news for me; for I had hope of France,
Even as I have of fertile England's soil.
A day will come, when York shall claim his own;
And therefore I will take the Nevil's parts,
And make a show of love to proud duke Humphrey,
And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown,
For that's the golden mark I seek to hit:
Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right,
Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head,
Whose church-like humours fit not for a crown.
Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve:
Watch thou, and wake, when others be asleep,
To pry into the secrets of the state;
Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love,
With his new bride, and England's dear-bought queen,
And Humphrey with the peers be fallen at jars:
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose,
With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd;
And in my standard bear the arms of York,
To grapple with the house of Lancaster;
And, force perforce, I'll make him yield the crown,
Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down.

* For ticklish,

+ Meleager.

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SCENE II-The same. A Room in the Duke of GLOSTER'S House.

Enter GLOSTER and the DUCHESS.

Duch. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn,
Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load?
Why doth the great duke Humphrey knit his brows,
As frowning at the favours of the world?
Why are thine eyes fixed to the sullen earth,
Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight?
What see'st thou there? king Henry's diadem,
Enchased with all the honours of the world?
If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face,
Until thy head be circled with the same.
Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold:-
What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine:
And, having both together heav'd it up,
We'll both together lift our heads to heaven;
And never more abase our sight so low,
As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.

Glo. Methought, this staff, mine office-badge in court,
Was broke in twain, by whom, I have forgot,
But, as I think, it was by the cardinal;
And on the pieces of the broken wand

Were placed the heads of Edmund duke of Somerset,
And William de la Poole first duke of Suffolk.
This was my dream; what it doth bode, God knows.
Duch. Tut, this was nothing but an argument,
That he that breaks a stick of Gloster's grove,
Shall lose his head for his presumption.

But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke:
Methought, I sat in seat of majesty,

In the cathedral church of Westminster,

And in that chair where kings and queens are crown'd;
Where Henry, and dame Margaret, kneel'd to me,
And on my head did set the diadem.

Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright:
Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtured* Eleanor !
Art thou not second woman in the realm;
And the protector's wife, beloved of him?
Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command,
Above the reach or compass of thy thought?


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Glo. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord,
Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts:
And may that thought, when I imagine ill
Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry,
Be my last breathing in this mortal world!
My troublous dream this night doth make me sad.

Duch. What dream'd my lord? tell me, and I'll requite it
With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream.

And wilt thou still be hammering treachery,
To tumble down thy husband and thyself,
From top of honour to disgrace's feet?
Away from me, and let me hear no more.

Duch. What, what, my lord! are you so choleric
With Eleanor, for telling but her dream?
Next time, I'll keep my dreams unto myself,
And not be check'd.

Glo. Nay, be not angry, I am pleased again.


Mess. My lord protector, 'tis his highness' pleasure,
You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans,
Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk.
Glo. I go.-Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us?
Duch. Yes, good my lord, I'll follow presently.

Follow I must, I cannot go before,
While Gloster bears this base and humble mind.
Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,
I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks,
And smooth my way upon their headless necks:
And, being a woman, I will not be slack
To play my part in fortune's pageant.
Where are you there? Sir John!+ nay, fear not, man,
We are alone; here none but thee, and I.

Enter HUME.

Hume. Jesu preserve your royal majesty!

Duch. What say'st thou, majesty! I am but grace.
Hume. But by the grace of God, and Hume's advice,
Your grace's title shall be multiplied.

Duch. What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet conferr'd
With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch;
And Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer?

And will they undertake to do me good?

Hume. This they have promised,-to show your highness
A spirit raised from depth of under ground,
That shall make answer to such questions,
As by your grace shall be propounded him.

Duch. It is enough; I'll think upon the questions :
When from Saint Albans we do make return,
We'll see these things effected to the full.
Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man,
With thy confederates in this weighty cause.


Hume. Hume must make merry with the duchess' gold;
Marry, and shall. But how now, Sir John Hume?
Seal up your lips, and give no words but-mum!
The business asketh silent secrecy.
Dame Eleanor gives gold, to bring the witch:

• Where.

† A title frequently bestowed on the clergy.

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