When ev'ry one will give the time of day,
He knits his brow, and fhews an angry eye,
And paffeth by with stiff unbowed knee,
Difdaining duty that to us belongs.

Small curs are not regarded when they grin?
But great men tremble when the lion roars,
And Humphry is no little man in England.
First note, that he is near you in defcent;
And should you fall, he is the next will mount.
Me feemeth then, it is no policy,

(Refpecting what a ranc'rous mind he bears,
And his advantage following your decease,)
That he should come about your royal perfon,
Or be admitted to your Highness' council.
By flatt'ry hath he won the commons' hearts:
And when he'll please to make commotion,
'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him.
Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are fhallow-rooted,
Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden,
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.
The reverent care I bear unto my Lord,
Made me collect thefe dangers in the Duke.
If it be fond, call it a woman's fear:
Which fear, if better reasons can fupplant,
I will subscribe, and fay, I wrong'd the Duke.
My Lords of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York,
Reprove my allegation, if you can,

Or elfe conclude my words effectual.

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

I think I fhould have told your Grace's tale.
The Dutchefs, by his fubordination,
Upon my life, began her devilish practices;
Or if he were not privy to thofe faults,
Yet, by reputing of his high defcent,
As next the King he was fucceffive heir,
And fuch high vaunts of his nobility,
Did inftigate the bedlam brain-fick Dutchefs,
By wicked means to frame our Sov'reign's fall.
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep,
And in his fimple fhew he harbours treason.
The fox barks not when he would fteal the lamb.

No,

No, no, my Sovereign; Glo'fter is a man
Unfounded yet, and full of deep deceit.

Car. Did he not, contrary to form of law,
Devise strange deaths for fmall offences done?
Tork. And did he not, in his Protectorship,
Levy great fums of money through the realm
For foldiers' pay in France, and never fent it?
By means whereof the towns each day revolted.

Buck. Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown, Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphry.

K. Henry. My Lords, at once; the care you have of us, To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot, Is worthy praife. But fhall I fpeak my confcience? Our kinfman Glo'fter is as innocent

From meaning treafon to our royal perfon,

As is the fucking lamb or harmless dove.

The Duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given
To dream on evil, or to work my downfal.

2. Mar. Ah! what's more dang'rous than this fond
affiance?

Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrow'd;
For he's difpofed as the hateful raven.

Is he a lamb? his fkin is furely lent him;
For he's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf.
Who cannot fteal a shape that means deceit ?
Take heed, my Lord; the welfare of us all
Hangs on the cutting fhort that fraudful man.

Enter Somerfet.

Som. All health unto my gracious Sovereign!
K. Henry. Welcome, Lord Somerfet; what news from
France?

Som. That all your int'reft in thofe territories
Is utterly bereft you; all is loft.

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

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

Thus are my

blossoms blasted in the bud, And caterpillars eat my leaves away.

But

[Afide.

But I will remedy this gear ere long,

Or fell my title for a glorious grave.

SCENE II. Enter Gloucefter.

Glo. All happinefs unto my Lord the King! Pardon, my Liege, that I have ftaid fo long.

Suff. Nay, Glo'fter, know, that thou art come too Unlels thou wert more loyal than thou art.

I do arreft thee of high treason here.

[foon,

Glo. Well, Suffolk, yet thou shalt not fee me blush, Nor change my countenance for this arrest. A heart unspotted is not eafily daunted. The pureft fpring is not fo free from mud, As I am clear from treafon to my Sovereign. Who can accufe me? wherein am I guilty!

York. 'Tis thought, my Lord, that you took br ibe of France;

And, being Protector, ftaid the foldiers' pay;
By means whereof his Highness hath loft France.

Glo. Is it but thought fo? what are they that think it? I never robb'd the foldiers of their pay,

Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.

So help me God, as I have watch'd the night,

Ay, night by night, in ftudying good for England!
That doit that e'er I wrefted from the King,

Or any groat I hoarded to my ufe,

Be brought againft me at my trial-day!
No; many a pound of my own proper-store,
Becaufe I would not tax the needy commons,
Have I difburfed to the garrifons,

And never afk'd for reftitution.

Car. It ferves you well, my Lord, to say so much.
Glo. 1 fay no more than truth; so help me God!
York. In your protectorship you did devise

Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of,

That England was defam'd by tyranny.

Glo. Why, 'tis well known, that, whiles I was Pro

Pity was all the fault that was in me:

For I fhould melt at an offender's tears,

And lowly words were ransom for their fault.

Unless it were a bloody murderer,

[tector,

Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor paffengers,

VOL. V.

D

I

I never gave them condign punishment.

Murder, indeed, that bloody fin, I tortur'd
Above the felon, or what trefpafs else.

Suff. My Lord, these faults are eafy, quickly anfwer'd;

But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge,
Whereof you cannot eafily purge yourself.
I do arreft you in his Highness' name,
And here commit you to my Lord Cardinal
To keep, until your further time of trial.

K. Henry. My Lord of Glo'fter, 'tis my fpecial hope, That you will clear yourself from all fufpicion;

My confcience tells me you are innocent.

Glo. Ah, gracious Lord, thefe days are dangerous.
Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition,

And Charity chas'd hence by Rancour's hand.
Foul Subornation is predominate,

And equity exil'd your Highness' land.
I know their complot is to have my life:
And, if my death might make this ifland happy,
And prove the period of their tyranny,

I would expend it with all willingness.
But mine is made the prologue to their play:
For thousands more, that yet fufpect no peril,
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.

Beaufort's red fparkling eyes blab his heart's malice,
And Suffolk's cloudy brow his ftormed hate;
Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue
The envious load that lies upon his heart;
And dogged York that reaches at the moon,
Whofe over-weening arm I have pluck'd back,
By falfe accufe doth level at my life.

And you, my Sovereign Lady, with the reft,
Caufelefs have laid difgraces on my head,
And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up
My liefeft Liege to be mine enemy:
Ay, all of you have laid your heads together,
(Myself had notice of your conventicles,)
And all to make away my guiltlefs life.
I shall not want false witnefs to condemn me,
Nor ftore of treafons to augment my guilt:
The ancient proverb will be well effected,

Aftaff is quickly found to beat a dog.

Car. My Liege, his railing is intolerable.
If those that care to keep your royal perfon
From treafon's fecret knife and traitor's rage,
Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,
And the offender granted scope of speech,

"Twill make them cool in zeal unto your Grace.

Suff. Hath he not twit our Sovereign Lady here With ignominious words, though clarkly couch'd? As if he had fuborned fome to fwear

Falfe allegations, to o'erthrow his ftate.

2. Mar. But I can give the lofer leave to chide.
Glo. Far truer fpoke than meant; I lofe, indeed;
Befhrew the winners, for they play'd me false;
And well fuch lofers may have leave to speak.

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

Gar. Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him fure. Glo. Ah, thus King Henry throws away his crutch, Before his legs be firm to bear his body:

Thus is the fhepherd beaten from thy fide,

And wolves are gnarling who fhall gnaw thee first.

Ah, that my fear were falfe! ah that it were!

For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear. [Exit guarded.

SCENE III.

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

[beft, 2. Mar. What will your Highness leave the parlia

ment?

K. Henry. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with Whofe flood begins to flow within my eyes;

My body round ingirt with mifery :

For what's more miferable than difcontent?
Ah, uncle Humphry! in thy face I fee
The map of honour, truth, and loyalty;

And yet, good Humphry, is the hour to come,
That e'er I prov'd thee falfe, or fear'd thy faith.
What low'ring ftar now envies thy estate,
That these great Lords, and Margaret our Queen,
Do feek fubverfion of thy harmless life,
That never didit them wrong, nor no man wrong?

D 2

[grief,

And