Henry the Sixth with the murder of Humphrey, Duke of Glocester : as it was acted at the Dukes Theatre / written by Mr. Crown.

HENRY the Sixth, The Firſt PART.

WITH THE MURDER OF HUMPHREY Duke of Gloceſter.

As it was Acted at the Dukes 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 obtain'd, From th' Author who this good old Play did mend. He ſaid a Prologue was a Painted Clout, Only to tell the Shew within, hung out, And he no pains wou'd on the Clout beſtow, When very few wou'd come to ſee the Show. The Comet that laſt Summer flam'd obove, Has dropt his Pitch in every Diſh you love. Poor ſlighted Wit is flung among the Swine, Like Grapes in France, now you forbid their Wine. Play-Houſes like forſaken Barns are grown, The luſty Threſhers of both ends of Town. Let the Corn rot, and give their Labour o're, 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 Reliques ſeize, And the poor Girles for Painted Images. Thus all your Pleaſures wither and decay, You 've ſuck'd the Globe, and flung the ſhell away. As for our wretched ſelves we are forc'd 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 Stomacks we make bold, To Cram you every day with New or Old. To day we bring old gather'd Herbs, 'tis true, But ſuch as in ſweet Shakeſpears Garden grew. And all his Plants immortal you eſteem, Your Mouthes are never out of taſte with him. Howe're to make your Appetites more keen, Not only oyly Words are ſprinkled in; But what to pleaſe you gives us better hop • , A little Vineger againſt the Pope.

The Perſons Repreſented in the PLAY. King Henry the Sixth, By Mr. Joſ. Williams. Humphry Duke of Gloceſter, 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 Humphry. 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. Elianor, Ducheſs of Gloceſter, Wife to the Lord Protector. By Mrs. Batterton. Sheriff of London, Sir John Stanly. 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 Poets 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 Inchanted 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 convoy'd 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 Satyre upon the moſt p • mpous 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 e'm in all Ages and Nations? How came Wiſdom to live among the Antients in Porches and Tubs, and Fools to ſhine in Palaces whilſt living, and in Temples when dead? How came Truth among Chriſtians to be troden under foot, for ſeveral hundreds of Years, whilſt Error and Folly rode on mens Shoulders, and trod on Princes Necks? Mens Shoulders had never been ſo ill us'd, if their Heads had been good. And when a Germane Fryar d • ſcovered 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 e'm 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 begins 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 ſerv'd, I left it as ſoon as I could. For though Shakeſpear 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 then 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 then ever Prieſt was. And he has hudled up the Murder of Duke Humphry, as if he had been guilty of himſelf, and was afraid to ſhew 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 us'd in the murder of Duke Humphry in this Play, but what is taken out of their own Church Armory, nor a word put into the mouth of the Cardinal and his fooliſh Inſtruments, but what firſt dropt from the Heads that adorn their own Church Battlements. I cou'd be large in Quotations did I not nauſeate Pedantry. I ſhall only ſhew 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 cou'd not thrive, though he kept every Day a Holy-day in honour of ſome Saint. Now nothing is more known then that in thoſe Countries, the great Trafique between them and their Saints, almoſt ruine all other Trades. The People are forced to keep ſo many Holy-days, that they have not Working-days enough to keep themſelves; when they ſhou'd be labouring to fill their Bellies, they are cramming Latine into their Mouths, in the honour of ſome Saint, who perhaps underſtands not a word of the Language, unleſs he learnt 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 Manufactury 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 then France, is recommended to the Faith and Devotion of no leſs a Prince then the Dauphin, in a little Book entituled, HEVRES Dedidees a Monſiegneur le Dauphin, contenant L' Office qui ſe dit en L' Egliſe, ave l' Exercice du Matin, & en ſoir, & le Catechiſme dreſſe 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 Germane 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 annext to it, that whoſoever did but carry it about him, ſhou'd never ſuffer by Sea or by Land, &c. 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 Catholick Faith, and recommended to the People with an extraordinary Approbation; by what Charter theſe Prayers claim ſuch great Priviledges, 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 your ſelf have of late to your very great Honour, employ'd your Intereſt and excellent Ʋnderſtanding in the ſame deſign. And though you can do it better in common Converſation, then 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 ſhou'd be read, and every one will read it, if they think you like it. I know few Ʋnderſtandings ſo univerſally eſteem'd as yours, and for ſo good Reaſon. It wou'd 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 my ſelf, his Heir, was ſtript long ſince (by the advice of ſome ill great Men, who ſacrifice both private and publick Intereſt to their own) of the Moity 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, call'd Poetry, and inhabit that Bedlam, call'd 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 appear'd. I wiſh I knew 'em, that I might thank 'em for the Kindneſs they have done me, though they deſign'd 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 puzle Philoſophers. This convinces me, 'tis neceſſary for me to flie to ſome Wiſe Mans protection; and I cannot be ſafer than under yours. Poets are too poor to be beg'd, '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 Mad-mans Eſtate, now I have told you for what good uſes it 'tis deſign'd. 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 publick 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 Gloceſter. The FIRST PART.

ACT. I. Enter Humphry Duke of Gloceſter, 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'le 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 wellcome? I hate him, but I will not let him know it, Till I can let him know it to his ruine. 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're the favourable Winds unlockt The floating Gates of this our little World, To let out that our brave Warriors to invade it, That France not only did confeſs it ſelf A Vaſſal to his Royal Engliſh Blood; But the whole Empire of the World did ſeem To own it ſelf the Birth right of his Valour? Yo. Eternity ſhall ne'r wear out the Characters Of his Renown, which his keen Sword engrav'd. Glo. Ay, yes his fame ſhall laſt; but not his Empire: He's dead, and with him his great Empire dies: All that hi • Valour got, all that the vigilance And wiſdom of my Brother Bedford kept: All that your ſelves and I, have early and late Study'd 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 beautious boſom, Given away to purchaſe a Fair Face. A fatal Marriage in one fatal minute Has ſpoyld 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 ſluces 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 • eignier, 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 Wil 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 wou'd not weep to ſee his own Blood cheapned 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'r 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 Gloceſter, this is hot diſcourſe, And, as I think, to very little purpoſe; Since what is done, now cannot be recall'd; 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 Feſter'd Mind, and 'twill break out; I ſaw it in your Face; if I ſtay longer We ſhall begin our antient Bickerings: But ſuch ſmall matters ſhall not trouble me, I will be gone; but e're I go I'le Propheſy, 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 wrapt in theſe Formalities, that hold my hands from Blood? I'm fitter 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 Unckle, and a Prieſt, am thus abus'd. You ſee how well his Enmity is heal'd; And he has much the ſame ki • dneſs for you, And indeed for the King. He makes great ſhew 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 Ro • al Excellence, And call him always the good Duke of Gloceſter? They are Fools, and know not Men, nor what they love; Uncheat e'm; but however ſave the King, Protect him from his dangerous Protector. Buck. Why ſhou'd the King, my Lords, have a Protector? He is of age (I think) to rule himſelf. My Lord of Somerſet joyn you with me, We, with the Duke of Suffolks ayd, will hoyſe Duke Humphry from his Seat. Card. This weighty buſineſs Brooks no delay; I'le to the Duke of Suffolk— Exit. Som. Though the Protector's Pride and Greatneſs vex us, The Cardinal's Inſ • lence is more intolerable; If Gloſter be diſplac'd he'l be Protector. Buck. If Gloſter falls, or you or I'le 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 Gloceſter Bore himſelf like a Noble Gentleman; But I have ſeen the Cardinal demean himſelf More like a Soldier than a Prieſt; he'l 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 val • a • t Brother, let us joyn together, And ſh • w the Kingdom has ſome good Men in it, Who faithfully will ſerve their King and Country, And ayd 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 Dukes 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 penny-worths of their Pillage. Whilſt the poor injur'd owner ſtands aloofe, 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'le take. Exit. Enter Duke of Gloceſter, and his Dutcheſs Elianor. 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 m • ghty 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 thy ſelf, Baniſh the Canker of Ambitious thoughts, They will devour thy Peace, thy Life, thy Soul. May the curſt hour, when I imagine ill Againſt my Royal Nephew, vertuous 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 e'm, and pull e'm 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 tortur'd with a Crown. Gloc. Oh Elianour! away with thy fond words, Thou mayſt deceive thy ſelf, thou canſt not me: Haſt thou in my Embraces layn ſo long, And am I yet wholly a ſtranger to thee? I find thy high aſpiring thoughts did ſtudy My honor, and my offices, not me. Thou know'ſt them well, thou haſt weigh'd them exactly, But me thou art an utter ſtranger to, Or thou woud'ſt 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 your ſelf, And your own fame; becauſe to take the Crown The World wou'd call Diſloyalty and Treaſon; You wrong the King, to ſave your own renown. Glo. Away, away fond Elianor! — as Nature Has given you Women thinner skins than Men, Through which your working blood is eaſier ſeen; So thinner Arts to hide your laboring 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 my ſelf down to Villany, 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 Elianor! now I muſt Chide outright; Preſumptuous, unkind, ill-minded Elianor! 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 honors, till pil'd heap on heap They fall, and overwhelm thy ſelf and me? E • i. 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 ſubdu'd by us into a Province; And ſhe a Beggar in that Conquer'd Province, Become the Queen, and Miſtriſs 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 wou'd not bear it—but you have it not. The mighty fire, that burnt 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 ſhou'd rule it. And yet were I but Queen of England once, I wou'd not doubt but to keep Conquer'd France. Though Kings, and Lord Protectors cannot do it. Glo. Talk not of ruling Kingdoms, rule your ſelf. That I lament the King's moſt fatal Marriage, The Queen her ſelf, 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 dye that wrought e'm, trayterous Suffolk. Eli. If Suffolk dyes for bringing ſuch a Curſe on us, What ſhou'd 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 your ſelf — Eli. I almoſt ſcorn to have ſo poor a Subject. Glo. Ah, Elianor! thy Pride, and my fond Love To thee, will bring deſtruction on us both. Have I not Griefs enow already on me, And Enemies enow that plot my ruine? But you muſt be among the number of e'm? Eli. I'em Enemy to nothing but the Queen; And I'le to her be an implacable And Devilliſh Enemy, whil'ſt 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 Majeſties pleaſure You prepare to ride to S. Albans, Where both the King and Queen are a going to Hawke. Glo. I go! — Come Nell—Wilt thou along with us?— Ex. Eli. Yes, my good Lord, I'le follow preſently. Follow — I that's the Word—follow I muſt, Whil'ſt Gloceſter bears this baſe and humble mind. My Spirit cries, go firſt; the Duke ſayes, follow: Shall I obey my Husband, or my Soul? My Soul is my ſelf, 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 conferr'd with e'm? Hume. Madam I have. Eli. And Will they undertake to do me ſervice? Hume They have promiſed from the infernal deeps to dragge 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'le 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 damn'd Minion, Trayterous Suffolk. That I were now a Peſtilence to cover her From head to foot with tort'ring 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'le climbe the Throne, or elſe to Hell I'le 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 look'd upon me, As ſhe paſt by? Suff. I ſaw it, and I laugh'd 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 Armorers Man being one. 1. Pet. May it pleaſe your Grace. Suff. What woud'ſt 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 Kingdoms ſupplications all to him, And all the Ladies follow his Wives Train: The King and I are only Royal Cyphers, Flouriſh'd and guilded only with fine Titles. Come, What are your Petitions? let me ſee e'm. 1. Pet.

Mine is, an't pleaſe you Madam, againſt John Goodman, my Lord Cardinall'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'l hear more of this Matter before the King. Qu. You, here; who ſhroud your ſelves under the Protector, Begin your Suits anew, and ſue to him. Tears their Petition • This is the Duke of Suffolk, I'me 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 Governour? Am I a Queen, yet Subject to a Duke? Oh my La Poole! when in the City Tours Thou rann'ſt a tilt in honour of my Love, And ſtol'ſt away the Ladies hearts of France; I from thy Graces copyed 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'r was Woman ſo deceiv'd At the firſt ſight of the Kings 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 patient, for I Married you, Not to the poor weak King, but to the brave Kingdom, And that I'le make a glorious Husband to you. Qu▪ Indeed the Marriage 'tween 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'r ſince that Glorious Sun, his Father, ſet. And France and England, like two metled Steeds Bound, ſtartle, break their reins, and run away, At ſight of this pale Ghoſt; nor will be Govern'd. 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 i • 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 Troopes 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' expences of a little Princes Court. She Swim's along the Court, like a Guilt Ship; New come from India, laden all with Jewels, And then ſhe ſcorns to ſtrike her Sayl to me, But over-looks me, like a little Pinke Laden with Toyes and Fripperies from France. This ſlave to Pride, that ſhou'd be ſlave to me, Vaunted amongſt her Minions the other day, The very Train of her worſt wearing Gown, Was better worth then all my Fathers 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 Lyoneſs. Who, greedy of Honor, ranges to the very Suburbs of Hell for it; and I've turn'd looſe Jackalls to tempt her to the Pit in ſhew, 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 bribes this Gentleman, To find out ſome of the Devil's Spyes and Agents, To ayd her in a Correſpondence with him. Humes. Madam, it is moſt true, and I've found out One Margery Jordan, an experienc'd Witch, And Roger Bullingbrook a Conjurer, And they pretend they'l raiſe from Hell a Spirit Shall tell her all ſhe'l aske. Qu. Sure they are Cheats. Suff. They ſhall be Cheats to her, and her Duke Humphry. Two mortal Devils, call'd York and Buckingham, Shall ſend their Devil to Hell, and carry her To what ſhe more than Hell abhors, to ſhame And ruine, 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 bleſt by thee, thou doſt delight My Love, and my Revenge, and my Ambition. Now all the Ladies that in ſcorn of me, Flatter'd and waited on proud Gloſter's Wife, Shall ſuddenly repent their ſawcy 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'l tumble e'm all down. Qu. And on the Ruines of 'em all, we'l revel. Suff. And England at the Queen's command ſhall be. Qu. I'le Govern that, and thou ſhalt govern me.

ACT II. The King and Queen ſat in State, Duke Humphry, 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 demean'd my ſelf in France, Then let me be deny'd 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 wou'd gladly give e'm all to buy The holy Peace, any of you may have. Yet you diſturb your ſelves and me for Rule, Which I account a Pennance for my ſins. Qu. Is this a King that ſpeaks? or ſome poor Pilgrim, That having loſt his way, ſeates 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 Gratious Soveraign! 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 e'm up, both to your eaſe and glory. Sal. And for the Government of France, my Lord Of York, no Man ſo fitting as your ſelf. And pray my Lord of Buckingham, ſhew 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 Womens 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 Common-wealth has daily run to ruine. The Dauphin ſeiz'd our Provinces in France, And you our Liberties and Honors here. Car. The Commons you have Rack't, the Clergies Bags Are lank and lean with your Extortions. Som. You ſpend the Publick 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 Publick 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 prov'd, ſhou'd make him loſe his Head. Glo. How am I baited beyond Human ſufferance? I will go out and coole, leſt I be tempted To act or ſpeak any thing Unworthy of my ſelf, 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 e'm dark; But I have Read e'm when you thought it not, And I my ſelf 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 Howles of Wolves, and Yelpes of Foxes, Though I regard e'm not, nor mind at all To ſhun e'm, or to fortifie againſt e'm. Card. I hope the King rankes not among the Wolves One of the Shepherds of the Sacred Flock. King. I ſhou'd be glad I had no cauſe at all. Suff. I hope there's none of us has ſpoken any thing But from deep ſence of Loyalty and Honor Againſt a Traytor to the King and Kingdom. King. I'le Judge ſo honourably of you all, To think, you only eccho Publick Rumor; And Ecchoes that miſcall the Paſſenger Injure him not, but they that ſet e'm talking. Publick Report then 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 then Talke. 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 e'm, ſcarce knows what they mean. Elia. Come, Sir, all this is ſpoken out of envy, Low crawling envy, envy that is chok'd 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 Cloaths? Oh! beggarly! Some poor French Pedler 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. Lets fall her Fan. Give me my Fan! — What, Minion, Can you not? She gives the Ducheſs a Box o'th' •• re. 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 cou'd not give thee Gold enough Only to Guild one of the Kings Prayer-Books. The King was forc'd 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. Fye Madam! Fye! this is too much: Pray Rule your ſelf, 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 unreveng'd— 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'l gallop faſt enough to her deſtruction. Card. And let her gallop, and the Devil ſpeed her— Ex. Buck. Enter Duke Humphry. Glo. My Lords, I've walk'd 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 your ſelves, for me you cannot hurt. Bring any Proofs of what you have accuſed me, And I lye open to the Law as any Man, At leaſt I will do ſo; for if you think My Office fences me, I'le 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 ſhew 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 wonn; he had rather it were loſt, Than any one ſhou'd rule it but himſelf. Laſt time I danc'd Attendance on his will, Till Paris was beſieg'd, famiſh'd, and loſt. War. That I can witneſs, and a blacker Treaſon Was ne'r 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 Traytor? 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 accus'd. Pet.

By theſe ten bones, he ſpoke e'm 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 hang'd for this Moſt Trayt'rous 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 Prentice, and I correcting him For his Fault the other day, he Vow'd on's knees He'd be reveng'd on me, I have good witneſs; Therefore I beſeech your Majeſty, caſt not away An Honeſt Man, for a Rogues Accuſation. One that has been a Rogue, Sir, all his Life, A moſt notorious Rogue, Sir, I beſeech you. King. Unckle, What ſhall we ſay to this in Law? Glo. If I may Judge, Sir, let the Duke of Somerſet Be Regent o'r the French, becauſe the Duke Of York lies under violent ſuſpition. And let theſe have a day appointed e'm For ſingle Combate, '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. Alaſs! 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 hang'd. King. Away with e'm 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 Gloceſter: 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-manar'd Law calls Baſtard. And 'cauſe the Law has thruſt me from Succeſſion To the great Temporal Glories of my Father, They wrap'd me up in a Prieſt's Robe, and lay me Out of the World; and in the way of Heaven. They ſhou'd have dreſt poor Henry in this Child's Coat, And laid him in the Cradle of the Church, And hum'd him faſt aſleep with Holy Stories; His little Soul was fitter for thoſe things. Well, I will go to Heaven; but in my way I at the Lord Protectorſhip will bayt, Or I will lye abroad in ſtormes of Blood. My Coſins themſelves Legitimate may call; Their Souls compar'd with mine are Baſtards all. Exit. Enter Elianor, 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 e'm. 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 equals him in Power and Art, Her Name is Jordan. Elia. Come, begin your Charmes. 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 gain'd my Art by Prayer, and profound Study; Then nothing fear. Elia. I ne'r 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 R • bberies and Murders are committed; When Bandogs Howle, and Shreich-Owles Warn the Dying; When Spir ts 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 Coales. Bull. Fling Incenſe in, then grovel on the Earth. The Witch fling's ſomething on the Coales, and then the Conjurer immediately falls▪ proſtrate, makes a Circle with his Wand, then takes a Book and Reades. 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 damn'd; By that Authority he gives me o'r thee, Who hurl'd 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 Sprit riſes. 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 prethee 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 out-live, and dye 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. H'a done, for more I hardly can endure. Bull. Deſcend to darkneſs, and the Burning Lake. Be gon! be gon!— The Spirit deſcends with Thunder and Lightning. Enter the Dukes of York and Buckingham with a Guard, and ſeize e'm. Yo. Lay hands upon theſe Traytors, and their Traſh. Elia. Ha! Yo. Madam, yes, I think we have watch'd 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 then Devils with your ſelves, my Lords. But I've it ſeems diſturb'd 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 commited, Madam, then no crime It ſeems—away with thoſe, and Guard e'm cloſe; Keep e'm aſunder; ſee that all their Trinkets Be forth-coming—Madam, you muſt with us. Guard lead out Elia. Witch and Conjurer. Yo 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 dye a violent death. Buck. This is juſt Aio te Aeacida Romanos vincere poſſe. Yo. The Devil ſtill keeps to his old trade of Quibling. Buck. He is the Father of all Lyers 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. Albans, With him the Husband of this lowly Lady. Whether go all theſe Cloudy Oracles As faſt as Horſe can carry e'm — 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. Intreat 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, Cardi • al, Suffolk, as from Hawking. Attendants, Somerſet, Salisbury, Warwick. Qu. Believe me, Lords, for flying at the Brook I ne'r 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 towre 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 wou'd be above the Clouds. Gl. Ay, my Lord Cardinal, how think you by that? Wou'd 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, Pernitious, haughty, treacherous Protector! Who ſmooth it thus both with the King and Kingdom. Gl. How, Cardinal! Tantaeve animis Coeleſtibus irae! Church-Men ſo hot? Uncle, for ſhame let your Robe hide 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 your Self, my Lord Protector. Gl. My Lord of Suffolk, England knows your Inſolence. Qu. And your Ambition, my Lord of Gloceſter. K. How, Madam! You a Stirrer of Debate? Theſe are the pleaſant Sounds that follow me Where-e'er I go: I'm an Inchanted Iſle, Surrounded with Eternal raging Storms, Whoe'er 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 us'd To charm you, Sir, that you can ſee all Loyalty In him who means you hurt? and none in us, Who ſhew our Loyal Zeal to guard you from him? Were it but one of us that ſhewed 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 wou'd 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 your ſelves 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 tir'd 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 Souldier godly? Suff. Come to the King, and tell him, Friend, what Miracle. One. Forſooth a Blind Man at St. Albans Shrine, Within this half hour has receiv'd 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 prais'd, 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 hang'd, if this be not ſome damn'd cheat Aſide. Plaid by the Fryars: I who wait at the Altar, Know well what tricks are plaid behind the Altar, Yet I muſt countenance it with a grave look, But 'tis ſtrange truth that ſtands in need of lyes. Well, Heaven be prais'd, Sir, for this miracle; To the K. Here come the Fryars and Townſmen on Proceſſion, To preſent your Majeſty with the man. Enter Abbot, Fryars, Mayor of St. Albans, 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 Majeſties pleaſure to talk with him. K. Good Fellow, tell us all the circumſtances, That all of us may glorifie 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 cou'dſt better Have told. Suff. What thinks your Majeſty of this? To the Qu. Qu. Some trick o' the Fryars to cheat the ſilly people: Aſide. They are all a pack o' Rogues. Suff. Oh! damn'd 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 Albans, 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 wou'd 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 open'd a new gate of comforts to thee, Shewed thee the richeſt brighteſt half of time, Turn'd o'er the guilded leaves of Natures Book, Where thou ſhalt read things thou cou'dſt ne'er imagine, Coyn 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 cou'd 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 it's 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 call'd I'm confident a hundred times, And oftner in my ſleep by good Saint Albans. Suff. How didſt thou know it was Saint Albans call'd thee? Simp. He ſaid he was Saint Albans, if it pleaſe you. Suff. He told thee in thy ſleep ſo? Simp. Yes, an't pleaſe you. Suff. What ſaid Saint Albans? 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 my ſelf 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 Albans 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 cou'd not Deny her any thing, I lov'd 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. Albans. Gl. Sayſt 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, Coal-black as Jet forſooth. K. Why, then thou know'ſt 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. VVhat's my Name, Sirrah? Simp. Maſter, I know not. Gl. VVhat is his Name? Simp. Indeed I know not, Maſter. Glo. No? Simp. No indeed. Glo. Nor his? Simp. No truly Maſter. Glo What's thy own Name? Can'ſt 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 be • n 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. Albans 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 cou'd. Suff. How came St. Albans 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 e'm then? Simp. I know not, Maſter; If it had pleas'd him to have Cur'd my Legs, I ſhou'd ha' been moſt mightily behold to him. Glo. I'le eaſe him of that trouble, I will Cure thee. Simpl. Ah, Maſter, that you cou'd. Glo. I'le do't I ſay: Have you no Beadles Mr. Mayor? and things call'd 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 your ſelf From Whipping, leap o'r this Stool and run away. Simp. Alaſs! 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'r 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. Do'ſt thou behold thir Heaven? and bear thus long? Glo. Bring back the Rogue, and take this Drabbe away. Wife. Alaſs! we did it for pure need, forſooth. Glo. Let e'm be Whipt through every Market Town, Till they come to Berwick, from whence they came. Car. Heark you, Are not you a Company of Damn'd Fools To employ ſuch a Silly Rogue as this? Softly to a Fryer. That has ſhewn 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 Couzen 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 practis'd horridly, And dangerouſly againſt your Majeſties Life— H'as dealt with Helliſh Conjurers and Witches To raiſe up wicked Spirits from under Ground To acquaint her with your deſtiny, and Councel her How ſhe may ayd your Fate, and haſten it. She's enquir'd too of the Infernal Oracle The Fates of ſeveral of your Majeſties Council; We apprehended e'm 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 Prais'd, 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 vanquiſht me, The baſeſt Groom may trample on me now. King. What horrid things are practis'd in this World? How vile ones heap confuſion on their heads? Qu My Lord, my Lord, you ſee your neſt is tainted; Look that your ſelf be faultleſs you had beſt. Glo. Madam, I will not anſwer for a Woman: For my own ſelf, to heaven I appeal, Who knowes how I have lov'd 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 Honor and Vertue, 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 Heap'ſt 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 Elianor. 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 cou'd not ſtay Till things cou'd ripen. Qu. Oh! thou art my Sun: My joyes and glories ripen, grow and flouriſh Under thy beautiful and glorious beams. Come lets go ſee Dame Elianor in her ſhame, The pleaſing'ſt ſight in the whole World, next thee. Suff. Next ſight I'le ſhew you, ſhall be Gloſter's fall; The good fond Husband will be loth 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 ſhewed bounty divine, I wou'd have ſaid, Let Suffolk heaven be mine.— Ex.

ACT III. Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick.

The SCENE the Duke of York's Houſe, long Scrowles lying on a Table. York. NOw my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick, You have perus'd my Title to the Crown, I pray deliver me both your opinions. War. My Lord, 'tis very plain, the Right is yours; King Henry claimes the Crown from John of Gaunt, Fourth Son of Edward the Third; Your Grace claims it From Lyonell Duke of Clarence the Third Son: Till Lyonell's Iſſue fails, his ſhou'd not Reign. It failes not yet, but flouriſhes in you, • nd 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 Soveraign, With the honor of his Birth-right 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 Crown'd, And my Sword ſlayn'd in the heart blood of all The Houſe of Lancaſter; and that's not ſuddenly, Nor very eaſily to be perform'd: We muſt uſe Counſel, Secreſy, 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 e'm, Till they have ſnar'd the good and wiſe Duke Humphry, Whoſe Vertues 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 Propheſie. 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 Gloceſter, Cardinal, Elianor 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; • nd 'tis notorious falſe reaſoning • ou ſhou'd be ſpar'd, becauſe you are great and Noble; he World is us'd to ſuch falſe Reaſonings, • nd 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 tort'ring ſhame of open Pennance: And ſince to live depos'd of all your Honors 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 thy ſelf? Did not I timely warn thee of Ambition; And ſay, one day 'twou'd do ſome diſmal deed? The King has paſt a righteous Sentence on thee; And none have reaſon to complain but I, Who innocently ſuffer in thy ſhame: My honor ſhares in all thy ſad reproach, And my love ſuffers in thy Baniſhment, That I am puniſh'd equally with thee, Though I am innocent; and yet the King Does me no wrong at all: no Elianor, I've reaſon to complain of none but thee, Who woud'ſt not take the Counſels that I gave thee, Out of dear Love to thee. Elia. I ſee my folly. Glo. Now haſt thou brought diſhonor 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 diſhonor The King and I both ſuffer'd by her Inſolence. You weep, 'cauſe ſhe muſt ſuffer an hou • s Pennance; But ſhe has made me ſuffer horrid Pennance E'er ſince I was her Queen, both to my own, And the King's ſhame and grief, that you ne'r wept for. She muſt walk barefoot now upon the ſtones: Time was, ſhe trod on me, I was her way; Which I endur'd 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 doom'd her • o 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 poiz'd it well, conceives; Do not be heaping till it grows injuſtice. Qu. My Lord, ſhe deſerves more then ſhe ſhall ſuffer; Only for the intolerable rudeneſs Wherewith ſhe treated me her Queen to day; To call me to my Face a Beggars 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 proofe; and they did well To bring you to ſubjection by degrees. Car. All the reflection I ſhall make is this; He who was Govern'd by ſo ill a Woman, Is very unfit to be the Kingdoms 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 ruine. I had long ſince remov'd out of your way, If duty to my King had not detain'd 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'le 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'l take you at your word. I ſee no reaſon, why a King of years Shou'd be Protected like a little Child: Reſign your Staffe, and give the King his Kingdom, The King by heaven's help may Govern it. King. Do, do my Lord, ſince they'l 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 belov'd, by me, and all good Men. Enter York. Glo. Then here, moſt Sacred Sovereign, is my Staffe; As willingly do I reſign it to you, As e're your glorious Father made it mine. As willingly I lay it at your feet, As others wou'd 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 Pennance? King. Now, immediately. Glo. Come, Elianor, 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 Gloceſter, Elianor 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 reſign'd the Government? Qu. Yes; Henry now is King; and I am Queen; And Humphry Duke of Gloceſter ſcarce himſelf: Two of his ſtately Branches are lopt from him; His Wife is Baniſh'd, and his Staffe reſign'd, And he will ſhortly wither with the Mayme. Yo. As I wou'd wiſh: How have theſe haughty Lords aſid • Moſt ſubtilly wrought their own deſtruction? For now the King lies open to my Sword; But they ſhall periſh with him for their Villanies. A Shout: Enter Buckingham. King. Now! What's the News? Buck. May it pleaſe your Majeſty, The Combate 'tween the Armourer and his Man, The Appellant, and Defendant has been fought, According as your Majeſty appointed: Truth has prevail'd; the Guilty Armourer, Worſted by his Servant, has confeſt 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 deny'd 'em. Ar. I was unwilling to be hang'd 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 prevail'd. 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 beate his Maſter by his Innocence. Arm. It was my Conſcience beate me, and not he; If my own Conſcience had not fought againſt me, I cou'd have beaten twenty ſuch as he. Pet. I do not know that, for though I was afraid E're 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 tamper'd with, To try how they will like a change of Princes; And to make way for it, my right is queſtion'd, 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 Traytor to the Death he merits, Thou honeſt man, whoſe truth and innocence Heaven has reveal'd, 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 Conjurers Circle, The King and Kingdom both out of our reach. Suff. Did not I promiſe you there ſhou'd be nothing In England, Madam, that your Soul cou'd wiſh for I'd not make yours? Qu. And thou haſt kept thy Word. Suff. I think I promis'd you, that wonderful, That raviſhing moment, when I firſt beheld you, When Fortune prodigally propitious to me, With Lawrels crown'd my Sword, my Arms with Beauty. Flung Captive in my Arms ſuch wondrous Beauty, That when I ſaw it, I cry'd out amaz'd, Our thundring Canons ſure, has tore the Heavens, And through the Chryſtal breach, an Angel's dropt. 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 my ſelf, I'le 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 crackt the Windows; Then like a laden Thief, that ſtole more Wealth Than he cou'd ſpend in all his Life, runs back And lock't 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 enter'd, and poſſeſs the Palace, How I then wonder'd, and how ſince I lov'd, 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 ſcatter'd 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's Picture, no nor Venus's ſelf, Cou'd have extracted a regard from me. Qu. How often has our Love in Groves and Gardens Fill'd every Creature near us with ſuch Spirit, That they have danc'd to Death as they were ſtung; The Birds have chirp'd their little ſouls away, The Turtles bill'd till they have no breath; The Winds have ſported wantonly around us, Till they have ſwoun'd away into a Calm. Suff. Yet all this Love and Beauty which cou'd 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 ſhou'd you expect them otherwiſe? He comes from kiſſing Brazen Images, And Bones, and Sculs of Saints, that were more cold When they were living, than you'l be when dead. Qu. Well, next to Love, Revenge has ſweeteſt taſte, Let us go take ſome private ſtand, and ſee Dame Elianor 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 Belconies fill'd With laughing Ladies, whom ſhe onc'd contemn'd. A ſhout. Heark! they are coming, let's not looſe the Pleaſure. Exit.

The SCENE a Street. Enter Duke Humphry, and his Men in Mourning Cloaks. Gl. Oh! What a Change is here in my condition? Fallen from the higheſt Pinacle of Glory, Down to the loweſt depth of Shame and Ruine. From being Ruler of the King and Kingdom, To be the Scorn and Sport of common Fellows. Oh! Elianor! I've wrong'd my ſelf 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'le 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 flung on 'em, Might they be bleſt out with a look from thee. A ſhout. But ſoft! I think ſhe come's! and I'le prepare My Tear-ſtain'd Eyes, to ſee her Miſeries. Serv. 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 pleas'd 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 your ſelf, 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! hide you from their odious looks, And ſhut up in your Cloſet, mourn my ſhame, And curſe mine Enemies, both mine and yours. Gl. Be patient gentle Nell, forget this grief. El. Firſt teach me to forget my ſelf and you; For whilſt I think I am your Wife, and you A Prince, and Lord Protector of the Kingdom, Methinks this ſhou'd not be my Garb, and Pomp, I ſhou'd not thus be lead along the Streets Wrapt up in ſhame, with Papers on my Back, And followed by a Rabble, that rejoyce To ſee my Tears, and hear my deep-fetch'd 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 ſhew their low degenerate natures. Wert thou condemn'd into a Wilderneſs, Would'ſt thou expect to have the Tygers 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 boyls 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 Governour of England: Yet ſo he Rul'd, 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 wou'dſt thou have me do? El. Nay, nothing, nothing, Be mild, and tame, and bluſh not at my ſhame. Be ſtirr'd at nothing, 'till the Ax of Death Fall on thy ſelf, 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 ſnar'd, 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 e'm had twenty times their power, Not all of e'm cou'd work me any damage So long as I am Loyal, True, and Faultleſs: But thou wou'd'ſt have me reſcue thee from ſhame; I cannot do it, from theſe Officers If I ſhou'd force thee, I can ne're 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 Majeſties Parliament Holden at Bury, the firſt of this next Month. Gl. And my conſent ne're ask'd 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 deſign'd me. But if my Innocence will not protect me, Guilt 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 Stanly is appointed now, To take her with him to the Iſle of Man. Stanly. 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 farewel. El. Oh! ſtay! and do not make our farewel ſhort, For this is the laſt time I e're 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 e'm. Gl. I hope not ſo, I doubt not but to ſcape From all their Snares; and if I do, I'le come And find thee out in thy poor barren Iſland, There we'l be all the World to one another. In that moſt deſolate mournful abode We will be happier, then e're 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 farewel. —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 wiſh't this World's eternity; But now I wiſh the World were at an end. Stanly, I prethy 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'l murder him amongſt e'm, And I ſhall never never ſee him more. Prethee conveigh me where thou art commanded. Stan. Why, Madam, that is to the Iſle of Man, There to be us'd 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 us'd. 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 diſcharg'd. Come, Stanly, 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 IV. Enter King, Queen, Cardinal, Suffolk, York, Buckingham. King. I Admire my Lord of Gloceſter is not come, 'Tis not his wont to be the hindmoſt Man, What e're occaſion keeps him from us now. Queen. Do you not ſee his alter'd Countenance? With what a Majeſty he bears himſelf? How proud, how peremptory, how unlike himſelf? We know the time when he was mi • d and affable, And if we did but glance a far-off look, Immediately he was upon his Knee, That all the Court admir'd his great humility. But now he frowns, and paſſes ſtifly by, Scorning to ſhew us any regard at all. Suff. Madam, moſt true, Has not the King obſerv'd 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 ſhou'd fall He is the next that Mounts; that 'tis ill policy To truſt him with your Royal Perſon and Councels, Whoſe rancorous mind is now prepar'd for miſchief, And whoſe advantage is the King's deſtruction, Who elſe will gain by it? We ſhall be ſad looſers; But he will compaſs all his heart can wiſh, Your Kingdoms, and revenge upon his Enemies. Card. The two great Idols of a proud mans heart. Suff. Oh! his Soul ſwell's with rancour as 'twere poyſon'd, 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 meaſur'd oft the King from Head to Foot With a diſdainful eye, as who ſhou'd ſay, Henry, Thou art too little for thy Throne, Then wou'd he ca • 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 ſtampt, and pointed Towards Paul's, where his Wife lately did Penance, As who ſhou'd 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, frantique and intolerable, That I believe the Devil which his Wife Conjur'd from Hell, is gotten into his Breaſt. Card. He was a great frequenter of the Chappel, 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 gain'd all the Heaven, He aim'd at by devotion, the Kingdom; He Knees no more lick up the Chappel Duſt To blind the People's eyes, they are blind enough He takes no more the Chappel in his way, He thinks he is at his journeys end, the Throne. Qu. That's the next thing, Sir, makes him dangerous: He has, by his Hypocriſie and Flattery, So gull'd the credulous Commons of their hearts, They'l 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 e'm; 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 ſhew what high deſigns he had near Birth, Made the proud frantique 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 Gloceſter 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 Tript up the heels of any of his Enemies, And thrown e'm in his power, he tortur'd e'm 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 ſuffer'd that devoutly wou'd 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 ſqueez'd 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 ſtarv'd 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'me ſure, no Monarch ſhou'd diſſemble, I do not, cannot think the Duke of Gloceſter That horrid thing you repreſent him to me. Card. Then what are we, Sir? King. My Lord Cardinal, I'le tell you what my Father ſaid you were, His Reaſon was as piercing as his Sword; And he from depth of Knowledg, not from Propheſie, Said, That if e're you were a Cardinal. You'd make your Cap vye with your Prince's Crown. As for theſe Lords, I wo'ld entreat of them To think that I have Eyes as well as they. If my Lord Duke of Gloceſter had ſuch Sores Break out of him as theſe, I ſhou'd ha' ſeen e'm Some time or other, ſure, as well as they. If he had plaid ſuch Proteus tricks as theſe, Some time or other, ſure, I ſhou'd have catch'd him. But if he be the Monſter they have painted him, Then what a horrid villanous thing is Man? Who wou'd not rather live with Wolves than Men? For a Wolf ſhews his nature, but a Man Appears a Lamb, when he is moſt a Wolf. If ſo, then I muſt fly from all of you; For now when you ſeem Lambs, you may be Tygers. Qu. Sir, on my knees I humbly fall before you. (Kneels.) And beg with Tears, do not give up your ſelf 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 improv'd. And, Sir, my baniſh't Enemy the Ducheſs, Will in the Rocks of her poor barren Iſland, Sit brooding Vengeance, and when you are dead, The Eagles ſhe has hatcht 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 our ſelves, And in your preſervation ſeek our own. King. Riſe my dear Love; riſe all of you my Lords; If I have injur'd you by my ſuſpitions, I pray forgive me, you perhaps have ſeen More in the Duke of Gloceſter, than I have. I muſt confeſs I'me of a temper fram'd Wakeful to holy thinks, drowzy to earthly; I'me as unfit for Earth, as ſome for Heaven. Yet knowing I'me the Shepherd of my Flock, I rouſe my ſelf to attend upon my Duty, But oft I charm my ſelf aſleep again With the Caeleſtial Muſick 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 diſcharg'd our Conſciences. King. You have done well, I thank you all; but pray Give me good proofs of what you have alledged. 'Tis not enough to ſay, in ſuch a Buſh There lies a Thief, in ſuch a Cave a Beaſt, But you muſt ſhew him to me e're I ſhoot, Elſe I may kill one of my ſtragling Sheep, I'me fond of no mans Perſon but his Vertue. 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 Gloceſter, 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 Gloceſter, 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 e'm 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, ſtaid the Souldiers 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 rob'd the Souldiers of their Pay. Nor ever had one penny Bribe from France. But I have rob'd my ſelf both day and night Of all my reſt, to ſtudy good for England. The Farthing that e're 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 wou'd not Tax the needy Commons, And never ask'd 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 defam'd by Tyranny. Gl. It is well known, Pity was all my fault; For I ſhou'd melt at an Offenders tears, And humble words were Ranſom oft for Faults. I never gave condign Puniſhment, Unleſs the Offender were a bloody Murtherer, Or ravenous Thief, that fleaec'd poor Paſſengers. Suff. My Lord, theſe Faults are eaſie, quickly anſwer'd: But mightier Crimes ſhall be laid to your Charge, From which you cannot eaſily purge your ſelf. I then Arreſt you in his Majeſtie'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 e'm out. My Lord of Gloceſter, 'tis my ſpecial hope, That you will clear your ſelf from all Suſpition; My Conſcience tells me you are Innocent. Gl. Ah! Gracious Prince, theſe Days are dangerous: Vertue ne're ſaw good Times, but one wou'd think If ever it ſhou'd find e'm 'twou'd 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 downfal 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 cou'd ſerve my King and Country, I'de 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 e'm. Beauford's red ſparkling eyes tell his hearts 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 pluck'd back his roaming Arm, Endeavours to pull Vengeance on my Head, Nay, my Queen has with the reſt conſpir'd, And with her beſt endeavour has ſtirr'd 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 Guilt. Card. His railing, Sir, is moſt intolerable. If thoſe that watch to keep your Royal Perſon From Treaſon's ſecret Knife, and Traytor'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 ſubtilly coucht? As if ſhe had ſuborned Villains to ſwear Falſe Allegations, to deſtroy his Life? Qu. But I can give the looſer leave to rail. Beſhrew the Winners, for they play me falſe, And well ſuch Looſers may have leave to ſpeak. Buck. He'l wreſt the ſence, 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. Farewel moſt gracious Sovereign, Heaven protect you, You ne're ſtood more in need of his Protection, For I'me 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're 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're 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 Councellor, my faithful'ſt Servant, And the great torment forces me to ſpeak. Ah! yet, good Uncle, is the hour yet to come That e're I found you falſe, or fear'd 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 e'm. Gl. Ah, gracious Sovereign, ſend me quickly hence, What ever innocence I had before, I'me growing a great Criminal, my ſtay Does make me guilty of your Royal Sorrows. King. Thou need'ſt 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 Cou'd part, with greater joy than e're man left A howling Deſert full of Savage Beaſts, Did I not leave my Sovereign behind. But, Oh! the joy of my eſcape is daſh'd, When I remember I have left him there Bewildred, and no one to be his guid, Begirt by Wolves, and none to be his guard. Card. What, are we Wolves? He does improve in railing. Gl. Prove your ſelves otherwiſe, I ſhall be glad; Let all your wickedneſs end at my death, And I'le forgive you that with all my heart. I will thank Heaven for my deſtiny, If as the Roman Curtius, ſtop'd the Plague By leaping down into the gaping Earth; So I by being thrown into the Grave, Cou'd ſtop the plague of your Ambition. But I'me 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. Farewel, good Man. Gl. Farewel, oh! beſt of Kings. (Exit with a Guard.) King. So the inhumane Souldier 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 dim'd eyes Look after him, and cannot do him good, So mighty are his vowed Enemies; Whom he I'me ſure ne're wrong'd, he ne're wrong'd 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 ſhew beguiles his eaſie mind, Juſt as a Snake roul'd in a flowry Bank, Which ſhining checker'd ſlough does ſting a Child, That for the beauty thinks it excellent. Believe me, Lords, were none more wiſe than I, And I believe my ſelf not dull in this, This Gloceſter ſhou'd be quickly rid of the World, To free the King from danger, us from fear. Card. That he ſhou'd 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 our ſelves of Malice; And ſo inſtead of bringing him to death, Expoſe our ſelves to all the People's fury. True, we have Jealouſie back'd 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 ſalley out, and make ſlaughter on us. Yo. I'me o' your mind, it is diſtraction To ſail with him into his own ſafe Harbour The People's rage, and not be well coyl'd 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 our ſelves to die; For I had rather periſh once for all, Than die each hour a lingring 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 our ſelves, and do Subſtantial wrong to all, becauſe we cannot Do againſt him a formal piece of Juſtice. Muſt Juſtice ſtarve, becauſe we want a Lawyers 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 ſhew my Heart and Tongue fully agree, Say but the word, I'le be the Executioner; And think I do a meritorious deed. I know the Duke means Treaſon to the King, Why ſhou'd I ſtay for proofs of what I know? Does any one refuſe to kill a Wolf, Till he has ſtain'd his Chops, with Crimſon Blood? No, 'tis enough he knows him for a Wolf, His nature's Crime enough to deſerve death. He then does beſt, that does diſpatch him ſooneſt. 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 ſtaid 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 our ſelves, 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 ſhun with care; thoſe that are kind and pleaſant, Witty and good natur'd, gladly they Conſort withal, So we ne're 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 e'm. Suff. And pray, what is this Spirit? let us taſte it. Card. This! Did ſome ask me if this deed were lawful, I wou'd ſay no, it is a horrid Murder. If any Man offend's againſt the Publick, He to the Publick muſt give ſatisfaction; That private Man that kills him is a Murderer, And a bold Robber of the publick 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 ſhou'd ſay ſo he wou'd not believe it, So he might wound the Church with its own Weapons: I'd pronounce all ſuch damn'd, ſhould kill the Duke, But I'le pronounce you damn'd 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 Churches Power is call'd 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 e'm, 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 then is one of Heaven's back Stairs. Kill him, his Blood will oyl the Churches Keys, That you ſhall chooſe what Room in Heaven you pleaſe. Yo. I ne're heard any thing that pleas'd 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, call'd Subtilties, 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'le ſee it done. Qu. I give conſent. Yo. I'le joyn; and now we four Agree in it, who dares oppoſe a Cenſure? Suff. We muſt get fitting People to aſſiſt us. Card. I'le find you ſuch, I'le mould e'm for the purpoſe. When we have kill'd the Duke, we will give out He kill'd himſelf to prevent publick ſhame, Or his heart broke becauſe he was diſcovered. Suff. But will not thoſe be Lyes? 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 falſhoods. My Lords, the Church has ſeveral kind of Garments, Courſe home-ſpun Clothes for Fools, fine Robes for Wits. Now though a Fool may be let into Heaven With his courſe Coat on, they will ne're 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 rais'd. My Lord of York, Pray do you Head e'm, 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 Souldiers, 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 Humphry. Card. Let us about the work immediately. Things of great weight muſt not be carried long For fear we ſhou'd tire under e'm; 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 beck • ns us methinks with her black hand, To do that gallant work under her Wings, Will make her fam'd 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 my ſelf. 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 prepar'd, Which I can mould into what ſhape I pleaſe. Suff. Madam, pleaſe you to go to your Repoſe, And dream of Crowns and Scepters, the high Wall That kept you from e'm, ſhall fall down to Night, And your way open'd 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 e'm me; I wanted Gloceſter's death, you give me that too. Now lies the King as open to deſtruction, As a poor Ship toſt on the open Sea, With Maſts all broken, and the Sailers mad. I have ſeduc'd 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-quill'd 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'ne and Rack'd, he'l ne're confeſs. And if he thrives, I'le reap the Raſcal's harveſt. Then pious Henry to a Covent gone, And Humphry to his Tomb, I'le climb the Throne. Exit. Enter the Cardinal, Suffolk, and three Murderers. Suff. Are you provided, my Lord Cardinal? Card. Of three brave Fellows. Suff. What? old hardned Villains? Card. Of better inſtruments, of ſoft Church Tools Which I have heated with the fire of Zeal, And I can bow e'm any way I pleaſe. Theſe are the honeſt men! — Come honeſt men! You are deſign'd to be moſt glorious men; Glorious on Earth, and glorious in Heaven. Suff I will provide for e'm on Earth, my Lord, The other place do you look after, for e'm. Card. How? I provide for e'm in Heaven, my Lord? They'l have more ſhare in Heaven than my ſelf. 1. Mur. Oh! my good Lord! Card. Nay, it is true, my Friends. Suff. My Lord, you will inſtruct e'm what to do. Card. I have inſtructed, and encourag'd e'm, Told e'm their buſineſs, and the nature of it, That 'tis a charity to the whole Church. I've told e'm, ſtopping of a Heretick's Windpipe, Is ſtopping a wide Leak ſprung in the Church, Where ſtreams of Hereſie flow in to drown it; Which if they will not ſtop, eſpecially When I a Pilot in the Church command e'm, They will not only caſt away their own Poor ruin'd 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 do'nt like it. 'Tis not ſo plain, I'me ſure, as I want Money. Aſide. Card. Well, I need ſay no more, I'le only give e'm An Oath of ſecrecy; come to me preſently About that Buſineſs. 1. Mur. 2. Mur. We'l attend your Grace. Ex. Card. Suff. 3. Mur. I don't know what to think o' this damn'd buſineſs. 1. Mur. What ſhou'd 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 Holy-day, 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 ſhou'd obtain what e're I ask'd for. I did, and at the end of thirty days, I pray'd to Heaven to give me thirty pounds; Then I watch'd night and day, almoſt a Week, To ſee if any thing wou'd 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 bad me go to Canterbury, And pray devoutly to St. Thomas Becket. I went and pray'd to St. Thomas, and St. Thomas, But might as well have pray'd 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 wou'd not do, then nothing wou'd. He ſaid, the other day in Germany, A high dutch Lady had her Head cut off, And yet liv'd 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 cou'd not die Till ſhe Confeſt, 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're 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 wou'd 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 ſhou'd I believe It came from them? for both their Throats were cut; Why ſhou'd I think that they love cutting Throats? They cou'd not find it ſuch a pleaſant buſineſs. 1. Mur. They love to cut the throat of a vile Heretick. 3. Mur. How do I know Duke Humphry is a Heretick? 2. Mur. The Cardinal ſays he is one. 3. Mur. How if the Cardinal Shou'd be miſtaken? 1. Mur. He will anſwer for it. 3. Mur. And ſo he ſhall, for I'me an honeſt Fellow, And if to kill Duke Humphry be a ſin, I'le either lay it at the Cardinal's door, Or put it on the high dutch Lady's ſcore. —Ex. Mur. Enter Cardinal and three Murderers. 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 e're it is done, Or to repent and tell it when 'tis done; If ſo you are trebly Damn'd. 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're regarded it. 3 Mur. May I be bold to ask your Grace one queſtion? Card. Ay, prethee do. 3 Mur. Suppoſe a Prieſt, an't pleaſe you, Miſtake, and I ſhou'd ſin by his command, Will he be damn'd for me? and ſhall I eſcape? Card. A Prieſt miſtake? Sirrah, were you ne're catechis'd, That you are ignorant of Firſt Principles? 1 Mur. Why, look you now, you will be asking 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. Prethee give over, don't ſtand asking 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 damn'd Rogue! —a Heretick! Sirrah, don't you believe the Church? I'le burn you. 2 Mur. So, ſo, you have brought your ſelf into a fine pickle. 3 Mur. Oh! yes, Sir, I believe! 1 Mur. Oh! do you ſo. 2 Mur. 'Tis time you ſhou'd. 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 Traytor, Yes, and a Heretick. 3 Mur. I'le 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 ſuſpition, And make the World believe, Grief broke his heart; For ſo we will give out. 1 Mur. We'l 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 Gloceſter ſitting and reading in his Night-Gown. 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 indiſpos'd; 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 it ſelf, why ſhou'd 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 fore-running damps, Oh! Heaven prepare me for it. 3 Mur. How he prays! Aſide. 2 Mur. What if he does? What are a Hereticks 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're my Perſon, Greatneſs, or Authority, Did injure any one, forgive the fault, And in the boſome of the injur'd perſon, Pour down a thouſand bleſſings. —Above all things Preſerve the King from all his Enemies. If I by Wickedneſs and Falſhood periſh, Oh! give my bloody Enemies repentance, And let my Death be an occaſion Of good to them, but ruine to their wickedneſs. 3 Mur. Heark, how he prays for us that are his murderers! Aſide 1 Mur. What if he does? he is a Heretick. His Prayers are Curſes, we are the worſe for e'm. 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 diſpatch'd 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 wou'd this deed were to be done again, My Family ſhou'd ſtarve e're I wou'd do it. Card. I hear a noiſe without. 3 Mur. A noiſe without! I'me ſure I hear a curſed noiſe within me, A bawling Conſcience. Card. Place the Body ſome way As may give leaſt ſuſpition, 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 • o 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 ſhou'd be. Qu. Why, Sir, have you ſo great miſtruſt of e'm? King. I wiſh I had no cauſe; I've ſent Commands to e'm, 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 Gloceſter; I have lodg'd My noble Priſoner but in the next Rooms. King. Methinks he ſhou'd not be the man you make him. Card. Your Majeſty has your eyes always fixt 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 do'ſt 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 forbid! Suff. 'Tis true. Card. Heaven's ſecret Judgments. I fear'd ſome dreadful judgment wou'd o'retake 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! Wo is me for Gloceſter! 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 hide your Face? I am no loathſome Leaper, look on me. Ah! wo is me, more wretched than he is. Did I for this expoſe my ſelf to Winds, And Rocks, and Seas, and twice was almoſt wrack'd, And twice was driven back, as if the Winds Forewarn'd me landing on this unkind Shore! The vaulting Sea danc'd with me to and fro, As it were loth to bring me to this Coaſt. The Rocks cover'd in the Waves, and hid themſelves, As ſhaming to owe kindred to an Iſland, Whoſe cruel King wou'd 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 Traytor better Than all his living Friends! Farewel,— I'me ſorry Sir, To ſee you hate your Friends, and love your Enemies. Ex. King. Where is my dead Friend? I'le ſee him— lead me to him. Suff. In the next Room, Sir: Ho, open theſe doors. The Scene is drawn, and the Duke of Gloceſter is ſhewn dead in a Chair. King. Oh! thou good man! And haſt thou thus been us'd? 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 Humphry treacherouſly is murder'd, 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 endeavour'd 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 plaid him for his Life. Oh Heaven! to whom Judgment alone belongs, Forgive me if I injure any one With falſe ſuſpitions. 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 ſwell'd with ſettled Blood, Which ſhews the paſſage to the Heart was ſtopt, 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're returns, but leaves the face all pale. His eyes ſtand gaſtly from his Head, and almoſt Come out to meet us to complain of ſtrangling. His gaping noſtrils are ſtretch'd out with ſtriving, His hands are ſpread abroad, as one that graſp'd And tugg'd for Life, but was by ſtrength o're-maſter'd. His well proportion'd Beard, is rugged made Like Summer's Corn, by furious tempeſt lodg'd. See a blew Ring encompaſſes his Neck. Oh! Murder here has danc'd her fairy round. If the Duke was not ſtrangled, ne're was man. Suff. Why, who ſhou'd do it, my Lord? none but my ſelf And Cardinal Beauford, had him in protection. War. Who finds the Heifer dead, and bleeding freſh, And ſees a Butcher with his Ax 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, ſlaunders your Honour. Suff. Blunt-witted Lord, thy evil manners ſay, Thy Mother took into her blameful Bed Some rough untutour'd Churl, and grafted there On N • vil's noble race a rugged Clown. War. Did not my Sovereign's preſence check my fury, I'de make thee kneel for pardon for this ſpeech, And ſay, 'twas thy own Mother that thou mean'ſt, And after this low homage, I wou'd kill thee, Thou treacherous murderer of ſleeping men. Suff. Thou ſhalt be waking when I ſhed thy blood; If er'e I meet thee from this royal preſence. War. Away, or I will drag thee! —though I ſcorn thee, I'le 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 Baniſh'd inſtantly; for elſe they threaten, They'l 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 deſir'd to ſleep, and charg'd No one on pain of Death ſhou'd dare to wake you; Yet if they ſaw a Serpent in your Boſom, They with the hazard of their lives wou'd wake you, And drive him from you whether you wou'd or no. They ſay the Duke of Suffolk is that Serpent, By whoſe envenom'd ſting your Uncle periſh'd; A Prince a thouſand times of Suffolk's value, From him they alſo fear your Majeſtie's Death. Suff. They durſt not ſend this meſſage to their King, My noble Lord Embaſſador from Weavers. King. My Lord of Salisbury, Tell e'm from me, I thank e'm for their Loyal care of me; That I have been awake long e're they rouz'd me, And ſeen the dangerous Serpent I have cheriſh'd To my great danger, and my Friends deſtruction. For oh! the ſlimy paths the Serpent crawl'd To ſting my Friend to Death, ſhine in my eyes. Suff. Sir, will you judg me e're you know my innocnece? King. Go tell e'm, 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'me tried. Qu. Oh! let me plead, Sir, for this injur'd Lord. King. Oh fye, 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 ſhou'd ha chang'd 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 cou'd turn My Breath and Spirits all, all into Curſes, Curſe all thy Enemies, and all the World. I prethee joyn with me, and let us Curſe e'm. Suff. A Plague upon e'm! Wherefore ſhou'd I curſe e'm? Were Curſes killing as the groans of Mandrakes. I'de ſtay to curſe e'm were the Palace burning, And every word I ſaid were half on't fire, And I, my Curſes ended, ſhou'd be Aſhes. For what's the difference 'tween being Aſhes, Or Water, as I ſoon ſhall be with Sorrow? Qu. I muſt betake my ſelf 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 baniſh'd Heaven. I ſtand upon the ſhining Precipice, And look with grief on all the Joys I'me leaving; Then down with Terror on my deſperate fall, Then grin with rage becauſe I cannot help my ſelf; And amidſt all theſe Paſſions, I'me more tortur'd In Heaven, than I ſh • ll be when fallen to Hell. Qu. My griefs no fleſh can bear, no ſoul can gueſs. Oh! that the moment when thou took'ſt me Priſoner, Thy Sword had ſeperated my Soul and Body, Then had I been at eaſe; but now thy Baniſhment Divides e'm, and I live to feel the torment. Suff. I'le ſtay with you, what ever ſhall befal me. Qu. What ſhou'd befal but Death to both of us? The ſtrong convulſions of my griefs have tir'd, Waſted, and weakned ſo my vanquiſh't 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 Lillies, 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 lingring 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,— Farewel! Qu. Oh! ſad heart-breaking word! —Where e're thou wandreſt 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 joyn'd 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 wou'd every Shepherdeſs have call'd thee) I wou'd have rather been thy humble Wife, Than Queen to Henry. Suff. If I ſhou'd ſtay here Till I told o're the Wealth I wou'd have given, For ſuch a happineſs, we ne're ſhou'd 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, e're my heart was ſo: Chains lay at th' entrance of the gate of Love, And pa • l Diſpair forbad me entring in; Yet ſuch ſweet Proſpects drew my heart along, It entred in, and now is loſt for ever. Suff. Say not for ever; Do not cruelly Put out the eyes of our Prophetick hopes, Which like ſo many Angel-guides, will lead Our Souls to pleaſant Proſpects of delight, Where we may gaze till Fate is tir'd with frowning, And Time with holding two ſo bent to meet, Shall looſe his hold, and let us flie together. Till then farewel. Qu. Take with thee my poor heart. Suff. A Jewel lock'd into the wofull'ſt Cabinet That ever did contain ſo great a Treaſure. Juſt like a ſplitted Bark, ſo ſunder we. This way ſink I to ruine. Qu. This way I.— Exeunt ſeveral ways.

The SCENE the Cardinals Apartment. Enter the Cardinal. Card. I'me vext! I'me more, I'me wrack'd! By what? who knows? By a thing within me call'd 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 Worl • of one Diſeaſe, you free Thouſands from Miſchief, and you eaſe the man. Yet if one do a man ſo great a kindneſs, The damn'd 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 Phyſitian. Stay there! — What ſhou'd I do with a Phyſitian? No Phyſick can give me any eaſe, but Poyſon. The gravel of the Grave is the beſt ſcowring For ſuch fierce Hawks as I am, after feeding. Go, now I think on't, call my Confeſſor. Let him alone! — What ſhou'd 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 Humphry 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'le run for his Phyſitians. Ex. 4 Ser. I'le give notice To all the Court. Ex. Enter the three Murtherers. Card. Stand off, and let the Duke of Gloceſter ſpeak to me. Speak, ſpeak, I ſay! What wou'dſt thou have with me? 2 Mur. He names the Duke of Gloceſter. 1 Mur. Oh! Does he ſo? Is his Infallibility come to that? A Pox of his Doctrines, He has damn'd 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 e'm, 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 be'ſt Death, I'le 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 prepar'd, 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 Guilt? King. Let us not Cenſure him. Car. Alive again, do you ſay? Ha! ſhew him me! I'le 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 e'm, Comb down his hair! —look! — look! it ſtands upright Like Limetwigs, ſet to catch my flying Soul. I prethee do not carry me along with thee, And I'le do cruel Pennance all my life; Hunger ſhall tear my Entrals, Whips my Fleſh, Thorns my bare Feet; my habit ſhall be Hair-cloth, The Rock my Bed, hard Roots my only food, Foul Puddle all my drink; if this ſuffice not, I'le ſell my ſelf 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 Guilt. 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 robb'd 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're 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'l bring Age on you in Youth, If you weep thus. Qu. I wou'd if I cou'd, 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 ſpoil'd 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. Shews 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 her ſelf again. Qu. Why have you wak'd me from this pleaſing ſlumber, In which I had forgotten my vaſt miſery? Where is the bloody Spectacle you ſhewed me? 1 Lady. Away with it! Qu. Shew 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 murder'd Duke! Is this the meeting Which we at parting promiſed to each other? Love promis'd more than Deſtiny cou'd pay. Who did this curſed deed? Gent. A curſed Pyrate, Who in the Rivers Mouth clapt him aboard, And took the Duke and all of us his Priſoners. The Duke they knew not till they ſpy'd his George, And then he own'd himſelf, and for his Ranſome, Offer'd what ſums of Gold they wou'd demand; He chanc'd to be one Walter Whitmore's Prize, Who loſt in Fight his eye. Qu. And to revenge it, He wou'd put out the Sun. Gent. Yes, kill the Duke. And he was ſtirr'd to greater inſolence. By that damn'd Villain, which they call'd their Captain, Who ſaid the Duke had murder'd good Duke Humphry, Begger'd 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 injur'd the King's Bed. Qu. Impudent Villain! Gent. For all which foul Crimes, He ſaid he wou'd 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 ſhou'd die by Water, He thought at firſt the Fiend had quibbled with him, And he ſhou'd die by one who was call'd Water; But then remembring that he was at Sea, He found the Devil had two ſtrings to his Bow, So Saw himſelf encompaſt round with Deſtiny. Then lifting up his Eyes to Heaven he ſmil'd, As if he in his noble thoughts derided The ſport Fate makes with great mens Lives and Fortunes. Then looking down with ſcorn on his baſe Enemies, He gave a ſigh, at which he nam'd Queen Margaret, And with that grace he acted every thing, He bowed his Head, and had it ſtricken off. Qu. Oh! execrable Villains! cou'd this face Which govern'd 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 cou'd not bear. No wonder the vile envy of the baſe Purſued thee, when the Noble cou'd not bear thee, They curſed thee as the Negroes do the Sun, Becauſe thy ſhining Glories blackned e'm. For which, Oh England! thus I pray for thee! May'ſt thou ne're breed brave Man, or if thou doſt, Oh! let him be thy Ruine, or thou his. May all thy Witty men be ſadly Vitious, 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 e'm looſe their Heads. Let thy Brave Men againſt thy ſelf 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 Sommerſet, But moſt believe he ſecretly intends To reap the benefit of Cade's Rebellion. That I am like a Ship beſet with danger, Threatned with Wracking by the Kentiſh Storm, Or to be Boarded by that Pyrate, York. Qu. So! ſo my Curſe on England ſprings already. Aſide. Oh! this were Muſick to me, were it not Allay'd 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 Crown'd 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 ſtain his hands in innocent Blood. Which Crime forgive me Heaven, and let the Duke Of Suffolk's Blood be all my Puniſhment. Enter Sommerſet and Buckingham. Buck. Oh! fly Sir, fly, the Rebels are in Southwark; The Citizens through fear forſake their Houſes. The Raſcal People all joyn with the Traytors, Threatning 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'le ſend a holy Biſhop to entreat e'm To ſpare their Souls and Bodies; I will promiſe e'm 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 e'm To harden e'm; King's a Royal Building, That ſhou'd have no ſoft Clay in it at all. Adverſity has always reign'd 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 turn'd 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're 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 Foundred all the Poets in the Town. Alas, their Strength and Courage may abate, Ʋnder the Critique's Spur, and the Fools Weight. And Deſtiny is playing wanton Tricks, Turning the Nation round to Politiques; The Romiſh Beaſt has fear'd 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 then Men fiercely did beſtride, And Muſqueteers that Wooden Horſe did ride. Thoſe damn'd Diſeaſes by time purg'd away, The Nation ſtreight grew Young again and Gay. Balls aſſign'd, as Maſquerades and Plays, Were all the Buſineſs of thoſe happy Days. You flock'd 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 Husbands Capon-legs I do not mean. Then we were pretious things, purchas'd tis known, By Cloaths 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, Su • with Duke Humphry 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 Dukes Theatre.

Written by Mr. CROWN.

LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley, and M. Magnes, in Ruſſel-Street, in Covent-Garden. 1681.

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PROLOGUE. REligious Broyles 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 Play-Houſe may agree, The Stage is priviledg'd from Piety. 'Tis pleaſant, Sirs, to ſee you fight and brawl About Religion, but have none at all. Moſt fiercely for the Road to Heav'n contend, But never care to reach the Journeys end. Though you loſe Heaven, you will keep the Way, The Pope ſha'n't have you, though the Devil may. Theſe things ſuch buſineſs for the Criticks find, They're not at leaſure Poetry to mind, Well for the Poet 'tis they're ſo employ'd; Elſe this poor Work of his wou'd be deſtroy'd. For by his feeble Skill 'tis built alone, The Divine Shakeſpear 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 liv'd, call'd Civil Strife. The Engliſh Nation, like a Ruſſian Wife, Is to a gentle Husband always curſt, 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 ſhews to day, Let them be damn'd 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 Fathers 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, belov'd and at length married by King Edward the fourth, By Mrs. Batterton. Lady Elianor 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 Fighting; 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 Souldier running. Sould.

Jack Cade, Jack! Jack!

Cade.

Knock down that ſawcy 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 Cobler, with a Scrivener. Cob. My Lord! my Lord! Cade. Well ſaid, a mannerly Fellow. Cob. I have catch'd a Scrivener here, ſetting Boyes 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 dye unleſs I find him Guilty. Cob. He ſhall die, Guilty or not Guilty; I brought him to be Hang'd, 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 holy-day, and I will keep Coblers holy-day. 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 hang'd. Cade. I will examine him.—Sirrah! what's thy Name! Scriv. 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? Scriv. Sir. I thank Heaven, I have been ſo well bred, That I can write my name. All. He has confeſt, 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 Ho •• r 〈◊〉 Here's the Lord Say, who ſold the Townes in France, And made us pay one and twenty Fifteens 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, Traytor, by theſe preſents, Even by the preſence of my ſelf, Lord Mortimer, That I will ſweep the world clean of ſuch filth. Thou Trayterouſly haſt built a Grammar-School, To debauch all the youth, and whereas formerly Our Grandſiers us'd no Book, but Score and Tally, Thou haſt caus'd wicked Printing to be us'd, And contrary to the King, his Crown and Dignity, Haſt built a Paper-Mill. It will be prov'd, That thou haſt Servants talk of Nouns and Verbs, And ſuch vile Words no Chriſtian er'e can here. Thou haſt appointed Juſtices of Peace, To call poor men before 'em, about matters They cou'd not anſwer; yes, and thou haſt hang'd 'em, Becauſe they cou'd 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 ſhou'd weare 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 Traytor, he ſpeaks Latin in my preſence. Go hang him, hang him. Say. Hear me, Country-men. 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 counſel'd Butcher, counſel'd 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 Taylour, 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 Cobler, and live by thoſe. Tayl. But by your favour, Sir, I am a Taylor And, Sir, I live by Lords and Gentlemen; I only wou'd hang thoſe that owe me money, And will not pay me. Cade. Why, thou ſtiching Coxcomb! We will be Lords and Gentlemen our ſelves. 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 lab'ring men ought to be Magiſtrates; And I will be Lord Cobler, and a Counſellor. Carp. I'le be Lord Carpenter, for 'tis a ſhame That none of the Kings 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 our ſelves. 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 meerly chouſe us. Butch. How! meerly chouſe us? Cade. I ſay meerly chouſe us. All the fine words and money that they give us Is nothing elſe but buying of Calves-heads. Butch. My Cleaver then ſhall chouſe 'em of their Brains. Cade. When they have done with us, they'l turn us off. Butch. Here are brave Knaves. Tayl. His Honour underſtands 'em. Cob. I Gad, my Lord's a deviliſh parlous Fellow. Prethee, my Lord, what ail's theſe plaguy Lords To keep this coyl, when they have a power o' money, Brave Lands, and gallant Wenches to their Wives? Cade. I'll tell thee Tom the Cobler, here's my ſhoe; Doſt thou believe my ſhoe, if it had wit, Wou'd carry me up and down all day i'th dirt; Or doſt thou think my Breeches wou'd be ſat on, Or Doublet cloath my Back, and by that means Be often cudgell'd, if they had any wit; No, if they had any wit, they would be Caps. Cob. True, but thy worſhip's Cap is ſometimes cudgell'd: 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 tayl. But by their good wills they would all be Caps, And ſo wou'd 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. Cad. Butcher, thoſe promiſes are but a meer cheat, Theſe men puff thee, juſt as thou blowſt 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 hang'd. 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 half-penny 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 Shoo-leather in going to Weſt-Minſter-Hall, and employ Coblers much. Beſides they help to undo Lords, and Gentlemen. But now I think on't we can undo 'em Faſt enough our ſelves, 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 lets 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 wou'd wiſh, a Roguy Lawyer Will ruine all again with a meer 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 Cobler and Butcher! Civil VVars Among our ſelves. Cob. I hate Scholars, I will have no man live Among us that knows more than I. But I wou'd 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 hatch'd, I Gad the rotten Law Fall's 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. Cobler 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 ſhou'd we keep Mouldy Records of what our Grandſiers did? For we do what we will for all our Grandſiers On London bridge hang Traytours 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 Souldier. 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, VVhy doſt thou thus diſturb the King, and Kingdome? Cade. Thou Fool, to have my own, I'm heir to the Crown. Old Cl. Impudent Slave, thy Father was a Plaiſterer. Cob. Yes, and his Mother was a Midwife, what's that? Cade. VVell, Adam was a Gardiner, 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 damn'd curſed jade) and by that means The Princely Infant was bred up a Brick-layer, And I'm the Princely Off-ſpring of that Infant. Old Cl. Plantagenet invented this fine ſtory. Cade. You lye, for I invented it my ſelf. Old Cl. I am ſent by the King to offer pardon To all that will forſake thee, and go home. VVhat ſay you Countrymen, will you be happy And leave this Rogue, or follow him and be hang'd? All. I don't know what to think on't? All mutter. Cade. Are you muttering? VVhy, you damn'd fools, will you believe a Lord? Do they not often run into your Debts, And promiſe payment, and ne're keep their words? Do they not often with fine promiſes Delude your Daughters, and when they have enjoyed them, Do they e're 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 robb and kill your Country-men, The fearful French whom you but lately vanquiſht, Shou'd make a ſtart o're 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? VVho'll ever truſt ſuch curſed whifling Raſcals? Enter young Clifford and Followers. 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 Kings 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 ſhou'd 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 pleas'd 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 Fathers Sword, dropt the victorious point, And let fall all the Lawrels that adorn'd it, And French and Engliſh fell a ſcrambling for 'em, So loſt I France; now am I threatned 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 kill'd by brave young Clifford. Hen. Kill'd! Qu. Kill'd, and all the Rebels beg your mercy. Hen. Oh! Heav'n 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 cruſh'd between two mighty Joyes; Your Royal ſafety, and my Sons 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, e're I be paid, I have only now pull'd down a paltry Scaffold, On which Plantagenet deſign'd to climbe, To build his Trayt'rous Projects. Hen. True indeed, He is approaching me with a great Army; But he gives out he only does intend 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 forc'd To cover it all o're with gaudy Trappings. They mark it in the Forehead with white ſtarrs, 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 Kings Petitions upon Pikes. Old Cl. Sir, let the Rebels come, we are prepar'd. 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 my ſelf The guilt of all the ill that may enſue. He ſhall not ſay that I refus'd to hear, Or to redreſs any juſt grievances. Y. Cl. Sir, you will find your ſelf 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 come's Arreſt him of High-Treaſon. Old. Cl. I will do it, Madam. Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Richard, George: Plant. kneels, and kiſſes the Kings Hand. Hen. Welcome dear Couſin. Pray acquaint me faithfully, What do you mean by all the Troops you bring? Pl. Only to drive ſome Traytours from your preſence. Qu. I know no greater Traytors than your ſelf. 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 promis'd 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 Kings Name. Pl. Then I'll unfold my ſelf. Know hitherto I've been like a dark Cloud, Where ſcorching heat has been ingendring Thunder: The grumbling and the rowling 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 convinc'd 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 Sov'reign Richard, Mine are defenders of their true King Richard, I mean my ſelf. 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 ſcorn'd. Ed. 'Tis ſaid when the brave Duke of Suffolk liv'd, 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 lye Sick of the impotence of a Weak King. Qu. Ill manner'd 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're ſhe ſaw him, Nor from his Cradle never wou'd 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 deform'd Than humane ſhape can be, his wickedneſs. Pl. I've ſhewed 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 VVarwick. 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 did'ſt 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 • ichard the ſecond, not content with that, • e trampled on the rights of the next heirs. • our Father warlick Henry, I confeſs, • ad in deſert what he did want in Title. • ut merit makes no lawful claim to Crowns, • r if it did, I wou'd 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 Traytours. Old Cl. Moſt impudent of Traytours. Y. Cl. Moſt impudent of Traytours. 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 your ſelf 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 Traytours conquer'd us already, They talk at this bold rate? Thou Traytour Warwick!— Warwick? no!—when thou didſt unking thy King Thou mad'ſt thy ſelf a Groom; by the ſame law, Thou trampleſt on thy King, a ſawcy 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. VVhence haſt thou this? from Lawyers, and from Scriblers? Say, the King's Grand-father Murther'd his King And damn'd his Soul for it, what's that to thee? Say, our proſterity ſhou'd wrong each other, VVhat muſt their Servants cudgel 'em to honeſty? Oh! But old ſtories cenſure the King's Title; Are royal Robes made of ſuch raggs as Pamphlets? Yes, when a beggar feign wou'd put 'em on, One that wou'd beg the Kingdom from the people, And ſuch a beggar is Plantagenet. Oh! but the lawyers like not the Kings Title: VVhat ſhall the lawyers be the Kingdoms Oracles, And judge their Kings, who ſpeak but as inſpir'd By the Kings Image ſtampt upon his Gold? Let the King give 'em ſtore of golden Pictures And they will give him a ſubſtantial title. And then the Noble-men muſt be the Bayliffs To execute the ſentence of the Coyfe. Damn thy pedantick Treaſon; thou art as far From wit as honour, and that's far enough. VVho ſtopps a River's head up, drie's the ſtream; Thou haſt divided thy ſelf 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 mans 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, fixt on loyal Clifford, Stand like a Cedar on a Mountain top Securely rooted, and deſpiſe all ſtorms. Hen. My cauſe is fixt on Heav'n, for it is juſt. War. Then ſound to Armes. All. To Armes, to Armes, to Armes.— Exit

ACT II. An Alarm. Enter Warwick and Souldiers chaſing others over the Stage. Enter Plantagenet, and Old Clifford fighting.— Old Clifford falls. P FArewell, old valiant Clifford, I ſhou'd now Be ſorry for thee, wer't thou not my Enemy. Ex. Old Cl. Be ſorry for thy ſelf, thou art a Traytour, And I for loyalty die honourably. Enter Young Clifford. Y. Cl. Shame and Confuſion, all is on the rout. My men are fled or kill'd, and I alone Stand like a lofty Maſt, ſhewing 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 lyes! All weltring 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 my ſelf 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!—Farewel— Dyes. 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 pitty, Tears ſhall be to me as the dew to fire, I will be famous for inhumane cruelty, My Father hear's me not, he's dead! he's gone. Come thou new ruin of Old Clifford's houſe, I'll bear thee on my ſhouldiers 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 Souldiers. 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 flye. 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. Kill'd by Plantagenet. Qu. Take comfort, Clifford. We'll ſtreight to London, where we have pow'r enough To revenge our ſelves 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 my ſelf, 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 gobbits will I cut 'em As wild Medea did the young Abſyrtis, 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, Souldiers. Plantagenet embraces VVarwick. Pl. Let me embrace the greateſt man that breaths. 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, VVhen e're 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 Lyon, that had long Endur'd the bruſh of time, fought with that heat, As he had been but in the ſpring of youth. Like arras-hangings 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 eſcap'd 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 cleft 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, 'twou'd have ſpoil'd 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 fence's 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. Albons. 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 fighting 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 ſawcy, 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 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉〈1 page duplicate〉 1. She is come to her ſelf, War. But I'm ſo loſt, That I ſhall never be my ſelf again. La. Gr. Oh! my dear Husband! War. See! ſee! ſhe embalmes His Body with her pretious 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, Inſects engendred of corrupt falſe Wit. I will ride o're you in my way to joy; Though this is the firſt time I ever ſaw her, And ſhe lies drown'd in Tears o're her dead Husband Drown'd in his blood, ſhed may be by my ſelf; 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 chang'd 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 Husbands Body decent Burial. War. Madam, with all my heart; and I cou'd wiſh He had been buried when he firſt ſaw light, And never liv'd to do Prodigious miſchiefs. La. Gr. What wondrous miſchiefs dying for his King? War. Oh! he has done more ill, than Frantick Alexander When he ſet fair Perſepolis o' Fire, Or him that burnt the fam'd Epheſian Temple. La. Gr. Who did all this? War. He, whom Heav'n there has puniſht, And did it, Madam, by enjoying you, By kindling in your heart love for himſelf, He fir'd a ſtately Palace, only fit For hearts of mighty Kings, He burnt a Temple The maſter piece of Nature, the Worlds wonder. La. Gr. Is this fit talk to one in my condition? War. I know old Tyrant Cuſtom does command You Widows to be ſtretch'd 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 Nights livery. And you muſt ſigh and weep to tell the World What skill you have in man, for who e're weeps For loſs of that whoſe value they ne're knew? Fy! 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 begins to rally. War. Go fight 'em, for I'm buſily employ'd. Enter a Second. 2. Mount, mount, my Lord, or you'l 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 your ſelf 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 my ſelf, Warwick, be thou Poſſeſſour 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 ſpight of me I am compel'd to ſpeak, I ſwear by the dead body of my Husband, By my unſpotted fame moſt ſacred to me, I rather will chuſe death than any man, But I'll chuſe Hell e're 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, E're they renew another life in love. Then, Madam, take your fallen tenement, And pay all cuſtom'd dues, 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, E're I will be oblig'd to you for any thing, I'll dye upon him and be all his monument. War. Oh Beauteous Monument! all men wou'd 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, Farewel, moſt cruel, but moſt beauteous creature. La. Gr. Farewel moſt rude and moſt abhorr'd of men. War. [Softly to his men.] Guard her ſafe hence, but do not let her know it, Leſt ſhe refuſe it, and ſhou'd 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 VVom • n? Some Women are but petty Inns to lodg at, And though perhaps rather than want a lodging, We wou'd pay all they ask, though moſt unreaſonable: But if they wou'd pay me, I wou'd 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 Charmes 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 Elianor Butler. L. El. But when you have enjoy'd Lady Elianour Butler, She'l ſeem as very a triſle as the reſt. Ed. Then what a perjur'd Villain muſt I be? L. El. VVhen you are Prince of Wales, perhaps you'l think The Prince of Wales is not obliged to keep Lord Edwards 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 forc'd 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 Princeſſe of Wales I ſneak away poor cheated Elianor Butler. Ed. Well this is very unkind to make me throw So ſweet a Night ſo fooliſhly away. I thought you wou'd have given me a clear draught Of Love without the dreggs of Oaths and Vows. L. El. Oh! you are too charming not to be belov'd, And when once lov'd, not to be lov'd for ever. I know I've not deſert to keep you conſtant; And 'tis enough for me that you once lov'd me, To blame you that you will not love me always, as a beggar blam'd 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 wou'd 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 hide two loytring lovers to no purpoſe. Then come away. L. El. Oh ſwear to me once more. Ed. I'll ſwear no more, whil'ſt we by fooliſh Oaths▪ Secure delights to come, we loſe the preſent. Then come away, for elſe I ſhall be call'd. Oh Heaven's! ſee! the day is broke already. The vaſt and heavy buſineſs of a Kingdom Heave up the ſcale of Morn before it's 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 call'd, I'm ruin'd. 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 wou'd do? Confound my Lord Richard, tell him I'm not here. Wo. He ſays you are here, and he'l not part with you. Ed. So, we have manag'd 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. Heark he calls! I muſt be gone, Farewel, my dear, remember what you have promis'd. L. El. Remember you your Vows of conſtancy. Rich. within. Brother, what do you mean? leave your damn'd Women, For I'm ſure 'tis ſome damn'd 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 natur'd honeſt vertuous Brother; How proud this Leper is of one ſound place? Though he has all the vices in the world, Yet he inſults o're 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 Haggs 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 dragg 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, Sit down, and from this hour be King of England. Pl. I think if mighty Warwick ſaid, be Emperour Of the whole world, the Genii of all Kingdoms Wou'd 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. Wheres my Son Edward? 'S'wound's! why loiter you? War. Sir, why do you neglect your Father thus? Ed. Reprov'd 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 Crown'd or kill'd: —if I ſhou'd fall, Son Edward, claim the Crown, if you fall with me, Then, George, the Crown is thine, if both you dye, Then, Richard, thou art King. War. Three goodly Pillars, Pl. And laſt in birth but not in my Affection. Here is my litle 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 timerous Henry. Rut. Sir, let him come, and all his Souldiers with him. If you will beat his Souldiers, I'll beat him. Pl. Well ſaid my boy; and heark; I think he comes. Enter King Henry in his Robes, his Crown on his head, the Sword born before him, Attended by Clifford, Northumberland, Weſtmorland, 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 arm'd with innocence. But I confeſs I do fear Civil War; Not for my own, but for my peoples 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 peices, 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 uneaſie poſture, But ſoon put's all things in their proper places. Pl. Thy own mouth, Henry, has pronounc'd thy doom. Succeſsful Murder, and Rebellion, Swell'd for two Generations of thy race Over all right, and all that durſt oppoſe 'em; But Heaven in thee has dryed up the black ſtream, And made it ſuch a Brook all trample over it. Hen. I've oft been told by thee, my Grand-father Depos'd his King. Pl. And I did tell thee truth. Hen. Cannot a King adopt an Heir? Pl. VVhat then? Hen. Did not King Richard to my Grand-father Reſign the Crown in open Parliament? Pl. Did not thy Grand-father compel him to it By force of Arms? and then the Parliament, To their eternal ſhame, if not Damnation, Flatter'd the wicked fortunate Uſurper. War. But ſay, the King had done it unconſtrain'd, He cou'd not give away another's right. Henry uſurp'd 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 dyeſt, 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're I kneel to him who kill'd my Father. War. Ho! there within.— Cl. I am prepar'd for you. War. ſtamps, and enter Souldiers of his ſide. Cl. does the ſame and enter Souldiers 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 lyes already on my head The Blood of Richard, murder'd by my Grand-father, And I'd be loth to add my peoples 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 Kneels 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. VVhat have you done? War. Good to himſelf and England. Cl. VVrong to his Son, his Subjects, and himſelf. Ex. VVhy ſigh you, Sir? King Hen. ſight. Hen. For my poor Son I've wrong'd. War. You have not wrong'd 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 wou'd torture him in Heaven Plantagenet, when that great Monarch liv'd, Thou durſt have ſooner let into thy Soul Ten thouſand Devils than a Traytrous Thought: Farewel degenerate faint-hearted King, May'ſt thou be beat in War, and ſcorn'd in Peace. Exit. Pl. Sons, head the Troops before the Palace Gate, Leſt furious Clifford ſhou'd 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 Trayterous 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, timerous mean VVretch, 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 ſhou'd entail Heaven's Vengeance on his head. Qu. Who ſays the Crown's not yours? Hen. I am convinc'd By powerful Arguments. Qu. By Pikes and Swords. Had I been here when thou mad'ſt this Agreement, The Souldiers ſhou'd have toſt me on their Pikes, E're I'd have ſtoop'd to ſuch unnatural baſeneſs. Oh! how came thee and I in Marriage joyn'd? For I am Fire, thou art weak floating Water. Driven by the breath of Rebels any way. Wou'd I had dy'd 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 whil'ſt 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 elſe-where to conquer 'em, and puniſh 'em. And I will make my Son a Glorious Prince; Whil'ſt thou, tame Prince, ſhalt be a ſlave to Traytors: Made to aſſiſt in conquering thy ſelf, 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 forc'd 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 my ſelf For ever from thy Bed, thou art no King, And thou ſhalt have no Sons of me to ruine; 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, VVhilſt I will to the North, and ſo between us VVe'll wall her in, and keep that fire from ſpreading. Hen. Pray, my Lords, do, I will aſſiſt you both Againſt my ſelf, I'll do to others right, Though on my ſelf 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 charm'd 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 ſtrait. Ed. I think not, Sir, brave men are never in a ſtrait When they have Arms and Liberty to fight. Pl. I ſhou'd ſlight odds, if the Enemy were French, But now our preſent Enemies are Engliſh, Made of the ſame brave ſtuff as we our ſelves. Rich. But ſuch brave ſtuff as we have ſoundly beaten, And ſuch as are conducted by a Woman. And men ne're think of fighting under Petticoats. Pl. I've ſent your Brother George to raiſe ſome Troops, I hop'd he might have been with me er'e 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're 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 pretious Darling, as of their own Souls. Rut. Why do you talk thus, Sir? you make me weep, If you muſt dye, I hope I ſhall dye with you; I had rather dye 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 Brothers notice of his flight. Ex. Pl. Ed. Rich. one way, another Rutl. with a Guard. An Allarm, ſhouts of Victory, the Scene continues. Enter Clifford and his Souldiers. Cl.

Purſue, purſue, purſue, and give no quarter, charge you do not ſpare Man, Woman, or Child. Ex.

An Allarm, 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 murder'd hold, my Lord, Hear me but ſpeak one word before I dye. Cl. What canſt thou ſay, fond Boy, that's worth my hearing? Rut. I'd only beg you to regard your ſelf; You are a valiant man, I am a Boy; Stain not your fame by killing a poor Boy, I wou'd not for your own ſake you ſhou'd 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 Hypocriſie? your Prieſt? Give o're, give o're! for were there in thy Voice Celeſtial Harmony, my Father's Blood Has ſtop'd the paſſage where the ſound ſhou'd enter. Rut. I did not ſhed his Blood. Cl. Thy Father did. Rut. Then fight my Father, that will get you honour. Cl. Shou'd I kill thee, thy Father, all thy Brothers, Nay ſhou'd I dig up thy Fore-father's Graves, And hang their rotten Coffins up in Chains, My rage wou'd not be quench'd. Rut. That's very ſtrange; VVhy ſhou'd your fury burn againſt the innocent? Cl. I kill thee out of hatred to thy kind, As I wou'd 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 ſhou'd deſtroy your Son for yours, And he be miſerably kill'd 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 Fathers race Live upon Earth, I live on Earth?—then dye— Rut. Oh! ſhall I have no pity at your hands? Cl. Such pity as my Rapiers point affords! Wounds him. Rut. May'ſt thou ne're get more fame than by this deed; Oh my poor Father! Oh! my death will kill him. Dyes. 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 devour'd, 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 flie; But had I ſtrength, I'm on all ſides enclos'd, The Sands are numbred that make up my life, See! the bloody Clifford comes! then here I fall! Enter Clifford and Souldiers. 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 Thieves breathe curſes at the Officers. Pl. Haſt thou the impudence to charge a Prince With cowardize, who made thee baſely fly? Call to thy memory S. Albans Battel. Cl. I do, then didſt thou kill my brave old Father. Pl. And now wou'd thee, wert thou not back't 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 diſarm'd and thrown. Cl. Now wilt thou yield that I have fairly conquer'd thee? As Cl. is lifting up his arm to kill him, Enter the Queen. Q. Hold valiant Clifford! hold!—I wou'd prolong The Traytors life to ſcorn him, trample on him: Are you the man that wou'd be King of England? Are you the man that revell'd in the Parliament? Sat in your Sovereign's Throne, and did believe Your breath cou'd 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 butcher'd, Clifford, The innocent Boy? Cl. On that young tender morſell My greedy vengeance ſtaid a while it's ſtomach, Till it cou'd dine on thee, and all thy Sons. Qu. See! I have ſtain'd a Napkin in the blood, That valiant Clifford with his Rapier's point Made iſſue from the boſome 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 woud'ſt ſomething know a Parents love, And have ſome natural touch of pitie in thee, And not have drain'd 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 woud'ſt Barricado it Againſt the loſſes of a Crown and Life, With Iron-barrs of ſtubborneſs and pride, But oh! this blood like Oyl 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 liquour, take the cup. Enter ſome with dead Rutland. Pl. Oh! my ſweet Boy! Qu. Ah! this is Muſick to me! This is the part thou mean'ſt I ſhou'd have plaid, If thy accurſed Treaſons had ſucceeded. But that my Tragedy muſt have been deeper, And bloodier far; thou mean'ſt I ſhoud 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 prophecying; give me a ſword. Cl. I'll pierce him firſt, there's for my Fathers blood. Qu. There for the horrid ills thou threatneſt to me. Cl. There for the ills he brought upon the Kingdome, Pl. Open thy gate of mercy gratious Heaven!— Dyes. Qu. Now take his head once fill'd with lofty thoughts, And ſet it on a lofty pinacle.— Ex. Scene the Field. Enter Edward. Ed. No tydings 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 chanc'd to meet with ſome of the Queen's Troops. And whether the Kings Coldneſs numm'd his keepers, Or whether terror of the Warlike Queen, Whoſe armies and ſucceſs each hour encreaſe Or of the inexorable cruel Clifford, It is not known, but my Lord Cobham's men Look'd on the ſhining Valour of the Enemy, Like ſleepy Owles on day, and fell beneath it. That they were all deſtroyed, and Henry fled, With the Victorious Troops to joyn the Queen; That the Earl of Warwick now wants ſtrength to fight her. Ed. This is ill news indeed! what ſhall we do? Ric. Hee deſires you to haſte away with ſpeed, To meet ten thouſand men marching from Wales, Rais'd by your intereſt there to whom he ſent To joyn 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 Eleanor 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 lovelyeſt, 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 Queens Numerous Troops, and in exceeding danger; And I cou'd have no quiet, till I came And ſhar'd your deſtiny what e're 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 Bed-ſteads Under plum'd Canopies, t'embrace my Love in; My Deſtiny will be to lye to night On ſome Straw-bed, under ſome low thatch'd Roof, And thou ſhalt ſhare it; what if the chil wind Blow on us? it will make us lye the cloſer; Or what if we ſhou'd lye on the cold Earth? It was our Grandſire Adam's Bridal Bed, 'Twas there he gave the ſtart to all mankind. La. El. Fye, Fye, 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, Pilfring the hold out of the reach of ſhot. La. El. Have you a mind then to be kill'd or taken? The Woods are all full of the Enemy. Ed. Shou'd all the Trees turn men, and the Graſs Pikes, I will not ſtir from hence, till I've enjoy'd thee. My crooked Brother Richard like a Hook Pull'd 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 wou'd not refuſe you any Tax, Did not your ſelf run danger in the gathering. Ed. There is no danger, every Cottager In all theſe parts will hang e're 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 ſhou'd? Ed. No matter if Thieves 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 cou'd not. Ed. Away, away, I ſay. La. El. Well—ſince I muſt— Ex. Enter Souldiers dragging Country-men. 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 lye, you Rogue, you lye, I know the tricks Of all you Rogues; when e're your King wants Money, Then you are poor, you cannot pay your Taxes; But if the Swords of Rebels plow the Nation Then you have Bags, and you can bring 'em out Like Baggs 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 Kettels, But now for us you cannot find a Farthing. 2 Coun. Indeed, Sir, you ſhou'd have it, if I had it, VVith all my heart. 2 Soul. You lye, you Rogue, you lye. I know this Rogue, he is one of the damn'd Rebels, Plantagenet's chief Tenants, a rich Fellow; You have no Money for the King's Souldiers, 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 kill'd 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 digg and find it. 2 Co. Oh! undone! 1 Soul. Digg, Digg. 2 Countryman diggs. 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 lye! 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 chous'd o' this faſhion? We have hang'd 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 kill'd. And now I care not what becomes o' me. I'll ſhew you all I have; there it lies buried Under yon 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 Souldiers chaſing two Country Girles, who cry, help! help! their Father runns after 'em weeping: they all run over the Stage. After cries within. Enter the Souldiers with Money baggs, dragging the Countrymen. Scene continues. 2 Soul. So now you Rogues, how do you like Rebellion You were a Couple of ſeditious Rogues, That us'd at Ale-houſes to pay for all That rail'd againſt the King, and Government. Now had not you better have Plowed, and Carted, And pay'd your Taxes honeſtly and quietly, Then have your Money ſeiz'd, your Daughters raviſh'd, Your Sons knock'd o' the head, and your ſelves hang'd, As you ſhall be? 1 Coun. Oh! Sir! I hope not ſo, Now you have promis'd us. 1 Soul. You impudent Doggs, Did not you ſwear Allegiance to your King? Yet break your Oaths to him? and do you expect, We ſhou'd 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 obey'd our orders yet, and will. The Scene is drawn, and there appears Houſes and Towns burning, Men and Women hang'd 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 Armes, to Armes, Warwick is coming. All 3. Warwick! Arme, Arm, Arm. Ex. Enter Richard, Warwick, Souldiers. Ric. Oh horrid ſpectacle! See here, my Lord! War. The Queen is planting in your Fathers 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 Trunck Stands like a keeper in a hollow Tree, Ready with bended bow to ſhoot fat Deer, And down goe's 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 o'relook th' Aegyptian 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 ruin'd! for I will be damn'd, 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 cou'd not but have ſtoop'd to take 'em up. Ric. 'Tis well, muſt all the glory we have div'd 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 ſerv'd me well. Ric. And do you thus revenge our Fathers 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 my ſelf; 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 your ſelf, And left me too. Ed. I beg your pardon for it, Who, now my Fathers murderd, 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 rowling 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're found Conſcience or in Prieſt, or Layman So firm at anchor, but a golden Ax Wou'd cut the Cable, or ſucceſs cou'd weigh it, And ſet the Conſcience ſwimming with the Tyde. Ric. Oh! I cou'd tear my fleſh! muſt we be ruin'd For a fair Toy?—but I will not be ruin'd. For I will ſeek the Kingdom for my ſelf. 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 Tryal of you, For I have brought the Troops that you deſir'd, I march'd 'em hither with ſuch expedition, Their front encounter'd 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 wou'd 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 your ſelf a King? I was inform'd of what I have diſcover'd 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 govern'd 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 inform'd 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 wrong'd, Or in cold blood you are as bad as this; You act the undermining Polititian, 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 crow'd, 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 infirmitie thou giveſt no quarter; Though thou who cenſureſt me, becauſe ſometimes, I ſhed ſome vacant hours among fair Women, Wou'dſt 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 ſtabbs my Name, wou'd ſtab my Perſon too, Did not the Hangman's Ax lye in his way, And no man care's 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 beggs your pardon for my too raſh paſſion, For 'twas no more, and there appear'd occaſion; Though you it ſeems kindled the fire o'purpoſe To ſhew 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 wou'd not have done the ſame? War. All of us wou'd, and, Sir, I humbly beg you Think my wild paſſion was the Woman in me, And I've enjoy'd my Woman, as you yours. Ed. My Lord, I know you wou'd enjoy your Woman, I mean your Miſtreſs, for you have a Miſtreſs, And you, who threatned to revolt from me; Becauſe ſome moments, which were due to buſineſs, I gave away to Beauty, and to Love, Had almoſt at S. Albans given away Our victory, to a Woman that abhorr'd you. War. Ha! Ed. Yes, my Lord, I was inform'd the ſtory. You woo'd 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, wou'dſt 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 ſhew 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? Ge. 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 Errours and accept my Service, Kneels both. That I may aid you to revenge his Blood. War. Sir, not for mine, but for the Kingdoms ſake, Pardon my Errours 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 ſhou'd pardon all the faults of Subjects, And Subjects pardon nothing in their King; When a King's crown'd, he is not deifyed, 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 convinc'd 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 conquer'd, And if my Brother Richard has worſe ends— Ric. Oh! Sir, no more, unleſs you do deſign I ſhou'd rip up my Breaſt to ſhew my heart— War. Sir, I'll deſire no farther pardon of you, Till I have writ it in your Enemies Blood, And pawn'd 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 tydings? Peace, or War? Enter Commiſſioners. Com. War. All. War. 1 Com. Th' Amazon Queen drags Henry to the Battel. 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 ſhou'd 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 bite 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. IV. An Alarm. Enter King Henry, the Queen, Prince, Clifford. Cl. DAmn your unlucky Planets, pray, Sir, get you Out of the Battel, '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 wou'dſt be more content, If I ſhou'd leave thee no Inheritance, But the Example of my vertuous deeds; I wiſh my Father had left me no more. Cl. Oh! damn all this!—come, let us to the Battel. 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 poyſon the Enemies ſhot. Wou'd I were dead if it were Heav'ns good will! Lyes down For I am very weary of this World. Troubleſome folly governs all this World. Men live her Vaſſals, and they dye her Martyrs. Oh! happy he who in an humble ſtate Only attends on Nature's eaſie 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 bloudy folly, And Heaven has carv'd Fool on his breaſt with wounds. Son. Who e're thou art thy life has coſt me dear, But I'll repay my ſelf 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 compel'd e're Night, To give my life, and plunder to another. What's this? Oh! Heaven! I have kill'd my Father. Oh Father pardon me, I did not know thee. I was in London preſt to ſerve the King, And thou the Earl of Warwick's ſervant preſt, To fight on th' other ſide, and ſo unknown We met and Fought; and ſo unknown I kill'd 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 errours, and unnatural ills Our horrid and unnatural war produces! Poor wretch, didſt thou want tears I cou'd 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 kill'd my only Son. Hen. Ah woe on woe, Heaven ſtop theſe bloudy miſchiefs, Though by the Death of me and all my Race. Son. Oh I have ta'ne his life who gave me mine. Fath. Oh! I've kill'd him for whom I wou'd have dyed. Son. How will my Mother for my Fathers 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 my ſelf with ſorrow. Ex. Hen. Oh! poor men! Here is a King more woful than you all; For you grieve for your ſelves, 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 your ſelves! 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 rowl'd like a fiery meteor, About the field, and burnt up men like reeds; But now in lakes of blood his fire is quench'd. Poſt you to Scotland with all haſte you can; I will to France, to beg that Kings 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 kill'd one man. Henry's Stars ruine me and my fall him. But his ſoft ſway made way for his deſtruction: Oh! Henry, hadſt thou rul'd as Kings ſhou'd 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 Ayr 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're long let Rebels have their own. I'm going! All you of Plantagenets Race— My comfort is in death: I kill'd your Father. Fall's 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 bloudy Clifford, but I cou'd not Find him among the living, or the dead. War. I thought you ſet death's mark ſo deep upon him, Death cou'd not miſs him. Geo. Fortune at us all Play'd him to day, but when he was in danger, Snatch'd him away again, as who ſhou'd 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 pinacle, Where the bold bloudy 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 Queens Siſter. Ed. Oh! thou haſt made me much in love with her And all Relations have encreaſ'd 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 ſecur'd my Miſtreſs. Aſide. Some days ago (as you commanded me) I did diſpatch an Envoy to King Lewis, To make the offer, and he ſeem'd unwilling, Not knowing what th' event of War wou'd be. But now I with the Sword, that conquer'd Henry, Will go my ſelf Embaſſador, and try, If a French King dare's 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 cou'd not have oblig'd 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 Brothers 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 ruin'd with him; The conquerors will ſeize my Husbands lands. War. Madam, the greateſt Conquerour is your Friend, The Earl of Warwick, he'll preſerve your Fortune, Yes, and advance 'em, if you'l 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 learnt 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 turn'd off that old Governeſs of Women? Have you yet dryed 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 a-kin to him in heat. In ſhort you ſhall be mine, if I can give Others a Crown, I'll give my ſelf a wife. La. Gr. If you were ſerious, as I think you are not, You give me a brave occaſion to revenge My Husbands blood and your affronts to me, By making you unhappy in a Wife. War. Were you the firſt of Widows that talk'd thus, I muſt confeſs I think 'twou'd damp my courage, But when this is the conſtant language ſpoke In the dark ſhady Land of Vailes and mourning, Shou'd I be ſcar'd, I were as rank a fool As the dull Heroe that ſhou'd leave a pleaſant Country he conquer'd, 'cauſe the people ſpeak A ſtrange odd Language; you are a conquer'd 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 Then 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? VVar. Ay! now. La. Gr. What, and my Husband dyed 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 dye e're ſuffer all this barb'rous rudeneſs. War. VVell thou art a moſt beauteous Creature, I'm going now Embaſſadour for France, I'll let thee keep thy humour one month more; But then at my return be ſure I find thee Divorc'd 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 Neighb'ring Caſtle? Wom. Yes, Madam. La. Gr. I'm inform'd he is a Prince Of a moſt noble Nature; I'm reſolv'd To fling my ſelf in ſorrow at his Feet, And beg him to have pity on my Children, What e're 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 Scituation of this Caſtle pleaſes me. Rich. But, Sir, not me, for I'm afraid it ſtands Too near a Beauty that once ſtopt 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 kneels, kiſſes King Edward's hand, he raiſes her, and Salutes her. Rich. A very lovely woman! he is ruin'd! Ed. I ne're had Eyes, or my eyes ne're 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 Kneels 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 Battel 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 puniſh'd for their Fathers 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 Battel; His Name was Sir John Grey. Ed. Oh happy man! What excellence had he above mankind, That he ſhou'd be more bleſt 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 charm'd 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 Dutcheſſe of Bedford. Ed. Dutcheſſe of Bedford? Ha! Lord. Dutcheſſe of Bedford. And Daughter of the Earl of S. Pool. Ed. Of noble birth, and by her Mothers 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 mov'd, 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 rais'd, 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 deſir'd o' me? La. Gr. To give poor Orphans, Sir, their Father's Lands. Ed. Heaven forbid I ſhou'd 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 receiv'd. It is an eaſie 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 my ſelf, For I have gaz'd my ſelf 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. VVhat do you mean, Sir? Ed. I mean all the Love, E're 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! wou'd I had ne're come here! Sir, I thus low moſt humbly beg of you, Let it ſuffice your conquering armes have ſeiz'd My Husbands life, your laws have ſeiz'd his Lands, Seek not to take my honour, and my Vertue. I never fought againſt you, ne're oppos'd you. Ed. I wrong her beauty, it deſerves a Crown, Aſid • • very look claims a Kingdom as it's due; • nd I, who gain'd my right, ſhou'd not wrong others. • adam, I mean nothing but honour to you, • am reſolv'd to make you Queen of England. La. Gr. Now, Sir, you mean diſhonour to your ſelf. • 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 ſhou'd deſcend • o ſuch mean thoughts. Ed. It is impoſſible, • ſhou'd 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 wiſh'd I never had come here • or my own ſake, I wiſh it now for yours: • h! think Sir, what will all your Subjects ſay? Ed. They'l ſay, I am in Love. La. Gr. But will they not • e much diſpleas'd, their Prince ſhou'd love ſo low? Ed. I give them leave to chuſe where they like beſt; • hy ſhou'd I be the only man impos'd on? La. Gr. But I'm a Widow, and have many Children. Ed. And I have Children too, though I'm a Batchelour; 〈◊〉 we are tryed, and ſhall be ſure of Heirs. La. Gr. But you have ſent to Court a foreign Princeſſe, • 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 promis'd to another. Ed. When I'm a prieſt I will do penance for it. La. Gr. I am afraid you'l loſe your Subjects love. Ed. Why ſhou'd 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? • ou'l think me, Sir, immodeſt, ſhou'd 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 your ſelf. La. Gr. The world will much condemn you, Sir. Ed. I care not, I had rather live a minute in your Armes, Than many ages in the praiſe of Fools. Enter a Gentleman. Gent. Moſt happy tydings, Sir! Henry your Enemy, Wandring alone, diſguis'd in homely habit, Was taken by the Keepers of the Forreſt, 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 Forreſters. 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 thy ſelf; 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 trayterous Anceſtours. 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 Armes. Ex. Enter Richard. Ric. What's this? a Chaplain call'd 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 leavings 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 wou'd 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 kill'd Henry, and his Son, And by ſome Arts deſtroy'd my Brother Clarence, The King once dead, I'll Baſtardize his Children; Then am I King, but ſome will ſay by Villany: That's Villany, that by it's ill ſucceſs Betray's a man and into ruin throws; When once it gains a Crown, it vertue grows. Ex.

The Scene a Chapel Edward, and Lady Grey, A Prieſt, Attendants. The ſolemnity ended. Enter Lady Elianor 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 Elianor?— 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 wou'd ſhun me? Am I ſo ſtrangely chang'd ſince I laſt ſaw you, You cannot bear my ſight? Ed. No ſurely, Madam, You are not alter'd 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 it's Funeral. If my ſmall beauty were extreamly improv'd, 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 ſinn'd 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 believ'd 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 thy ſelf I ſwear I'll pardon thee. Ed. I wou'd do much for that; but I wou'd live A little while to mend and to repent. La. El. Would'ſt 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 VVoman; For ſhe alas! is curſt enough in thee. Poor VVoman, he has gull'd thee horridly, For he has only pick'd the name of wife Out of my Marriage ſheet's, to hide thy ſhame with. As for his love in which thou think'ſt 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. Farewel, poor wretch, pitied not envied by me, Thou think'ſt we part with very different fortunes, I go to ſorrow, and thou ſtay'ſt 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. VVhy ſo, my Love? That's well begun, that is begun with ſacrifice, She is thy ſacrifice. A Cry within, Arm, Arm. Treaſon, VVarwick! VVarwick! Then Enter Warwick and his Souldiers, and ſeize Edward, and Lady Grey. Ed. Why how now Warwick? What doſt mean by this? War. What mean'ſt thou Duke to put this ſcorn upon me? Ed. Duke! when we parted thou didſt call me King. War. Then I diſgrac'd 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 ſhou'd abuſe a Friend, as thou haſt me, And ſuch a friend as I have been to thee. Ed. Thou doſt abuſe thy ſelf, 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 compleat 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, My ſelf be made a Common publick jeſt, I ſhall be call'd the great Ambaſſador, That goe's 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 yieldings, but he finding now I'm plac'd 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. Com'ſt thou to ruin me for love of beauty, And thou thy ſelf 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 Countreys 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 damn'd Confuſion, which my Sword took away from it. I ſhall reſto • e 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 advanc'd 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 deſarts of Rebellion; Where he, and all his glorious deeds were loſt, And found the Road of Honour. War. I confeſs, Fortune did miſlead me, and I the Kingdom, To give your Royal Rights to a falſe Prince, Who has the Royal bloud, no Royal Vertues; So has no right to Crowns thoſe vertues gain'd. 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're did any ill, to forfeit 'em. But oh! I am afraid to wear the Crown For fear I ſhare the murder that procur'd it. Qu. Oh! Spiritleſs Prince! born for a Chain, a Priſon: What if your Grandfather murder'd his King? Muſt you take Phyſick for his ſickneſſes? Nay, muſt you dye? for a Kings 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 repented, 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 your ſelf to be depos'd, Becauſe the Crown was gotten by ill means; By the ſame law You may hang half your Kingdom: If men by inheriting their Fathers Fortunes, Inherit the Crimes, by which their Fathers gain'd 'em, Where is the Nation wou'd not deſerve hanging? War. Sir, talk no more; you are, and ſhall be King. All power is from Heav'n, Earth, or Hell. Heav'n ſend's you his conſent in my ſuceſs, 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 ruin'd. 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 ought to dye. War. And you ſhall reign or dye; 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 wou'd do Falſe lights, that lead their Veſſels to deſtruction. Qu. Why do you pauſe, Sir, will you rather dye, And let your Son dye too, e're be a King? Hen. Powerful Nature is too hard for me. Will it not coſt more bloud, if I ſhou'd Reign? War. The VVar is at an end, Edward's my Pris'ner; Not only doom'd by Heaven unfit to Reign; But by his fleſh and bloud, his Brother Clarence, VVho 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 come's 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 boyling Over a flaming zeal for the Kings ſervice. War. VVhat think you now, Sir? do you judge your title Good, when your very Enemies proclaim it? Hen. I find it's Heav'ns will, that I ſhou'd 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 wou'd 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 joyn 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. VVith whom is Edward truſted? War. With my Brother, The Arch-biſhop 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 reform'd; in the mean while, We openly will proclaim Edward a Traytour, And ſeize his Lands. Geo. Let's guard this City well; He has friends here, chiefly among the Women; And they rule men.

Scene London. Enter Edward, Richard, diſguis'd. 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 ſhou'd be ſorry if mine hoſt, th' Arch-biſhop, For all his civil entertainment of me, Shou'd have his reck'ning paid him with an Ax. Ric. So 'ſhou'd I too, for if inſtead of giving you The publick Freedom, which you had to hunt; He had confin'd you to Domitians chace, Only to hunt flyes 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 ſurprize 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 Womens 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'l live and dye by brave King Edward. Richard is with him; they are all marching hither. War. Oh! good Arch-biſhop, 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 Trayt'rous Prieſt has ſold my head To Edward, for th' Archbiſhoprick 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 eaſie to cheat prieſts, Who by the help, but of ſome barbarous words; As, Entity, Ʋnity, Verity, Bonity, Quiddity, Quantity, Quality, Cauſality, Have conjur'd all you Kings out of their Kingdoms? And Edward cheat a Prieſt, Who let a VVidow cheat him of his Kingdom? Oh! but you'll ſay, a VVoman 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 curs'd Stars among my men. Ex. Qu. I'll follow, and do you, Son, leave your Bride, And go with us, for I'm reſolv'd to ſee thee Heir to the Crown, or dying at my Feet. Ex. Pr. Fear nothing, Love, I ſhall return victorious Your Royal bleſſing! — Kneels to the King. Hen. VVhat 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 dye, I muſt behold the loſs Of all that's dear to me, and then muſt dye. 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're 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 Enemies Swords, Than here be kill'd with ſorrow by my Friends. Ex. Geo. So, now will I go joyn my Brother Edward: (Aſide.) I am ſecure of Warwick's beautious 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 damn'd 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 Brothers Souldiers are got in the palace, An Alarm. They ſeek their Enemies, but ſhall find Friends. Ex. An Alarm. Enter Richard, George, Souldiers, and ſeize Henry and the Women. Ric. How now! thou Traytour! thou unnatural Traytor! Geo. Thou wrong'ſt me, I am as Loyal as thy ſelf. VVhat 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 believ'd it was thy Cowardize, 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 Battel, As valiant, and as Loyal as thy ſelf, I'll kill my ſelf. Ric. Do that, and I'll embrace thee. But let's away: our Royal Brother wants us.— Ex.

The Scene the Field. Enter VVarwick, Queen, Prince, guards. Qu. Oh! curſed Traytour! why wou'd you e're truſt One that was always falſe? War. I was bewitch'd, To truſt a man, who had betray'd his Brother. Pr. My Fathers words now ſink into my breaſt; He ſaid at parting, we ſhou'd never meet On Earth again. War. VVell if the Villains murder him, I will revenge his bloud, and make you King. VVhen e're I went to work to make a King, I ne're yet fail'd, whatever ſtuff I had; But hark the Traytors come! let us fall on. Ex. Trumpets. An Alarm. Enter Edward, Enter Lady Elianor in mans habit. La. El. Turn this way, Edward; here's an Enemy, Thirſts for thy bloud. La. El. and Ed. Fight, La. El. falls. Ed. VVhat bold young man is this? Thou art diſpatch'd, 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're thou didſt to me. Ed. Oh! killing ſight! La. El. VVou'd thou hadſt never ſeen me, The cold Earth had not been my Death-bed then, Nor had I needed (as I do) two graves, One for my ſelf, the other for my name. Ed. Oh Heaven! How have I wrong'd this beautious Creature! Firſt robb'd 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 ſtaine of my great Family, And I have made thy ſelf, who wert the cauſe of it, With thy own Sword, cut out the ruined piece, Oh hide it, where it may no more be ſeen, But be forgot by all, as 'twill by thee! Dyes. Ed. She's gone! She's gone! Oh! thou ſweet injur'd 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 my ſelf; I gather'd all The Sweets, and now Thorns will ſpring up to tear me. Enter an Officer. Offi. Oh Sir, the Earl of Warwick ranges o're 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 Rebels Sword, And give it all the kneenneſs that it has. Oh Heav'n hide thy eyes from this ſweet Creature, At leaſt for this one hour; and here I vow, I will give o're 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 VVarwick Fighting, VVar. falls. Ed. Now I am King of England; and I owe, My Crown to my own Sword, and not to thine. War. Inſult not, Edward. for I am not kill'd By thee, but Henries curſed Deſtiny. I'm cruſh'd under the wheels of his damn'd fortune, I am ground all to pieces by his Stars. My fortune ſickned when I firſt came under 'em; Truth is, my Spirit led her ſuch a dance, She cou'd not keep me company, but tyr'd, Now ſit's her down, and like a poor caſt Whore, Is glad to be pick'd up by any body. Now thou maiſt baniſh fear, for I am dying; Who, when I liv'd, cou'd frown thee into a Subject, Bury thee in the wrinckle 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're ſerv'd thee, Whoſe baſe ingratitude has ruin'd me; I gave thee Kingdoms, and thou giv'ſt me death. Dyes. Ed. I ne're wrong'd thee, nor didſt thou e're ſerve me, Thou haſt been wrong'd by nothing, but my ignorance, And haſt ſerv'd nothing, but thy vanity; And nothing elſe I fear will e're reward thee. Enter George, Richard, and Guards. Geo. Now, Sir, I hope you will forgive my errours For Beauties ſake, for Beauty drew me in, And you have felt the mighty power of Beauty. Ed, Brother, your errours are all buried under Heaps of my Enemies, you have kill'd today. I have diſpatch'd 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 order'd, 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 Fathers Crown, and my inheritance, Ruining us, and ſlaughtering our people? Qu. Oh! that thy Father had been ſo reſolv'd! Ric. That ſo your Diſtaff might have been our Scepter. 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 Tutour. Ed. Hold your peace, You fooliſh Child. Geo. The Boy's too malapert. Pr. The man is too perjur'd, I mean perjur'd George, And you are all Traytors 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 kill'd 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 wou'd you cruelly kill the poor Boy? I ſtruck him in my Choler, but I meant him No farther harm. Ric. Who cou'd forbear?—beſides, Shou'd we have let him live to cut our Throats? Geo. What wou'd have grown up with him but Rebelion? Why ſhou'd a Sprig grow up to be a Tree, That wou'd breed nothing elſe but Caterpillars? Ed. His Mother Swoon's, uſe means for her recovery. Qu. Oh, my dear Son is kill'd! my Son is kill'd! Speak to thy Mother, Son! can'ſt thou not ſpeak? Oh murd'rers, Butchers, Traytors, Cannibals. Ric. Hence with this rayling Woman. Qu. Ay hence with me, Out of the world; I prithee, Richard, kill me: Murder is all the Almes thou giveſt the miſerable; Beſtow thy bloudy Charity upon me; Have pity on a Queen that begs it of thee. Ric. We pity not thoſe that are born to beggery; If thou doſt beg, 'tis but thy native poverty. Ed. Inſult not o're a miſerable Woman; Madam, I pray go hence, you ſhall be us'd With all reſpect. Qu. All the reſpect of Murderers Is death; Oh! bloudy George do thou beſtow it. Geo. I ſwear I will not do thee ſo much kindneſs. Qu. Ay, but thou uſeſt to forſwear thy ſelf. 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 Shou'd e're be Kings. Ric. Away, with her!—away with her. The Guard lead out the Qu and carry out the Pr. Now I will to the Tower to diſpatch Henry, Aſide. Till he be kill'd our work is done by halves. Ex. Geo. Sir, If you pleaſe, I'll viſit my young Bride. Ex. Ed. I have a Beautious 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 kill'd, A Dagger is preparing for thy Boſom; And when thy bloud is ſhed, my bloud will ſleep. I'm that King Richard, whom thy Grandfather Depos'd, and murder'd; and both long and loud My bloud for vengeance call'd, and vengeance had, Firſt in the wounded Conſcience of thy Grandfather, Whom all the Royal Oyntment cou'd not heal. He liv'd in trouble, and he dy'd with horror. And next on the ſhort life of thy great Father; Who liv'd 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 Grand-father; nor doe's the ſtorm Of vengeance only fall on the Uſurpers, But on the Souls, and miſerable Race Of all the Traytors, and the Fools, that Flatter'd Thy Grandfather's ſucceſsful Villany; Who did not know, Kings cannot dye 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 Cover'd all o're with ſhame, and duſt, and bloud: For this Eſtate their Villany conveigh'd you, Th' aſcending dirty Vapours of the Earth Breed all the ſtorms ith' Ayr. When e're Oh! England, Thou haſt a mind to ſee thy Cities fir'd, Thy people ſlaughter'd, and thy Country deſolate, Send all the dirty Traytours 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 Muſick one clad in a white Robe. Spir. Let not this frightful Viſion, pious Henry, Diſturb thy gentle Soul; it is not rais'd, 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 bloudy uſurpation of thy Grandfather. The Crown of England is not made of Clay The Common people, ſo can ne're be crumbled Into that dirt, 'tis not compos'd if it: Nor made of Iron, the Sword, ſo cannot ruſt; But of unmingled ſolid laſting Gold, Of Antient Rights, and 'tis the gift of Heav'n, Therefore to Heaven only can be forfeited, Therefore 'tis call'd Imperial and Sacred, And therefore carefully rail'd 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 peoples heads, Such was the bold Ambition of thy Grandfather, And heav'n frowns upon his Sins, not thee: Then do not think thy ſelf unkindly us'd, 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 Ruin'd King. As all the Joyes on Earth Ʋnite, To make his proſp'rous 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 Poyſon lye To guard his Tomb, and make him buy With pain the wretched eaſe to dye. But comfort, Prince, thy death is near, For Dead thou haſt no more to fear, A fallen Monarchs Hell is here. To Fortune he can nothing owe, For all that e're ſhe did beſtow, He payes 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 de • For ſo in dream it was reveal'd to me▪ My bloudy Grandfather deſtroy'd King Richard, And now a bloudy Richard deſtroys me. Ric. Go, leave us to our ſelves, we muſt confer. Hen. What bloudy Scene has Roſcius now to Act? Ric. Do you ſuſpect me? fear haunt's guilty minds; The Thief thinks every buſh an Officer. Hen. The Bird that ſees the Buſh where once it ſelf Was lim'd, and it's ſweet young lim'd caught and kill'd, Cannot but hover round it with misdoubt. Ric. What an aſpiring Fool was he of Creet, VVho taught his Son the office of a Fowl? And drown'd 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 gulph 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 ſignes 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 gallowſes, 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 bite— Ric. I'll hear no more—dye Prophet, Stabs. Hen. For this (among the reſt) I was ordain'd! 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're 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, then I muſt be gone, he will be angry At what I've done— Ex. Enter Edward, George, •••• n, Guard. Ed. Where is your priſoner? Lieu. He's murder'd. Ed. Murder'd? Oh! thou bl •• dy 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 co • 'd do this deed. Geo. Sir, I believe him; this is like my Brother. Ed. Heaven to his crooked ſhape has bent his ſoul. He was deſign'd for miſchief, and thruſt forward Unfiniſh'd in the World to loſe no time And I believe if we don't watch him narrowly, He'l 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, ſlaughter'd their Friends, and Kinſmen, Deſtroy'd their Country, but they meant no harm, And for reward had all their houſes burn'd. Their Wives and Daughters raviſhed, their lands ſeiz'd, And themſelves knock'd o'th' head, but meant no harm. I ſay, I fancy their unhappy Off-ſpring Will prove exceeding honeſt Loyal Subjects, For by their Fathers Ruine they have learnt VVit. Geo. That's all a Nation gets by Civil War. Ed. Yes, with the Prodigal th • •• rn, 'tis better Obeying their Kings, the Fathers of their Country, Than run and waſt 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 beggery 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 Ruines 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 pall'd 〈…〉 He 〈…〉 Damn 〈…〉 So nauſtous 〈…〉 All the delights 〈…〉 No • on 〈…〉 • hen ſinners • ow devout, they 〈…〉 The Nation, of 〈…〉 That in vile 〈…〉 The ayd of Raſcals for 〈…〉 Is in a malady 〈…〉 As the young Spark, who 〈…〉 ſcorn'd▪ Grown deadly ſick, is a Fanatick turn'd▪ And beg in his o' Paper 〈◊〉 and down▪ The Prayers of all the 〈…〉 Oh! we are ſick, at leaſt our 〈…〉 England, is ne're, 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 • ight about free grace? And wilful Fool wou'd 〈…〉 His bloud, who durſt ſay 〈◊〉 had a free-will? Of all our Civil 〈…〉 ſhewn To day, our Nation with leaſt 〈◊〉 may own. For Subjects then for loyalty did • ight, And Princes to maintain 〈…〉 Ye • • hoſ • rich Ornaments 〈…〉 From gracing that fowl 〈…〉 How ugly then 〈…〉 With 〈◊〉 before, but 〈…〉 Such a poor Nation 〈…〉 Thoſe two wou'd ride 〈…〉 Devil Learn then, by what 〈…〉 To keep your wit, 〈…〉 Better at Dice to throw away your 〈◊〉 Your time at 〈…〉 Than by dam •• 〈◊〉 bloudy ſtrife 〈◊〉 No one knows 〈…〉 by the Rent▪ Have your 〈…〉 plunder'd, and your brains bear 〈◊〉 And dye like J • ſuites to by the 〈…〉 FINIS