Is worthy praife; but fhall I speak my conscience ?
Our kinfman Glo'fter is as innocent

From meaning treafon to our royal perfon,

As is the fucking lamb or harmless dove:
The Duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given
To dream on evil, or to work my downfal.

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

Seems he a dove

his feathers are but borrow'd ;
For he's difpofed as the hateful Raven.
Is he a lamb? his skin is, furely, lent him;
For he's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf.
Who cannot fteal a shape, that means deceit ?
Take heed, my Lord; the welfare of us all
Hangs on the cutting fhort that fraudful man.
Enter Somerfet.

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

Som. That all your int'rest in those territories

Is utterly bereft you; all is loft.

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

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

Thus are my bloffoms blafted in the bud,
And caterpillars eat my leaves away.
But I will remedy this gear ere long,
Or fell my title for a glorious grave.

Enter Gloucefter.

Glo. All happiness unto my Lord the King!

Pardon, my Liege, that I have ftaid so long.

* {Afide.

Suf. Nay, Glofter, know, that thou art come tog

foon,

Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art;

I do arreft thee of high treason here.

Glo. Well, Suffolk, yet thou shalt not fee me blush, Nor change my countenance for this Arrest :

A

A heart unfpotted is not eafily daunted..
The pureft fpring is not fo free from mud,
As I am clear from treason to my Sovereign.
Who can accufe me? wherein am I guilty?

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

And, being protector, ftaid the foldiers' pay;

By means whereof his Highness hath loft France.
Glo. Is it but thought fo? what are they, that think it
I never robb'd the foldiers of their pay,

Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.
So help me, God! as I have watch'd the night
Ay, night by night, in ftudying good for England.
That doit that e'er I wrefted from the King,
Or any groat I hoarded to my use,

Be brought againft me at my trial day!
No; many a pound of my own proper ftore.
Because I would not tax the needy commons,.
Have I dif-purfed to the garrifons,

And never ask'd for reftitution.

Car. It ferves you well, my Lord, to fay fo much
Glo. I fay no more than truth, fo help me, God!
York. In your protectorship you did devife

Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of;

That England was defam'd by tyranny.

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

tector,

Pity was all the fault that was in me:

For I fhould melt at an offender's tears;

And lowly words were ranfom for their fault:

Unless it were a bloody murtherer,

Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor paffengers,

I never gave them condign punishment.

Murther, indeed, that bloody fin, I tortur'd

Above the felon, or what trefpass else.

Suf. My lord, these faults are eafie, quickly answer'd

But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge,
Whereof you cannot eafily purge yourself.
I do arreft you in his Highnefs' name,
And here commit you to my Lord Cardinal

ТФ

To keep, until your further time of tryal.

K, Henry. My Lord of Glo fer, 'tis my fpecial hope, That you will clear yourself from all suspicion; My confcience tells me, you are innocent.

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

And charity chas'd hence by Rancor's hand;
Foul fubornation is predominant,

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

I would expend it with all willingness.
But mine is made the prologue to their play:
For thousands more, that yet fufpect no peril,
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.
Beauford's red fparkling eyes blab his heart's malice,
And Suffolk's cloudy brow his ftormed hate;
Sharp Buckingham unburthens with his tongue
The envious load that lies upon his heart:
And dogged York, that reaches at the moon,
Whofe over-weening arm I have pluck'd back,
By false accufe doth level at my life.

And you, my fovereign lady, with the reft,
Caufelefs have laid difgraces on my head;
And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up,
My liefeft Liege to be mine enemy:

Ay, all of you have laid your heads together;
(Myfelf had notice of your conventicles)
And all to make away my guiltless life,
I fhall not want falfe witness to condemn me,
Nor ftore of treasons to augment my guilt:
The antient proverb will be well effected,
A faff is quickly found to beat a dog.

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

Suf

Suf. Hath he not twit our fovereign lady here With ignominious words, though clarkly coucht? As if the had fuborned fome to fwear

Falfe allegations, to o'erthrow his state.

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

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

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

Thus is the fhepherd beaten from thy fide;

And wolves are gnarling, who fhall gnaw thee first.
Ah, that my fear were falfe! ah, that it were!
For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear. [Exit, guarded.
K. Henry. My lords, what to your wisdom feemeth beft,
Do or undo, as if our felf were here.

Q. Mar. What, will your Highness leave the Parliament ?

K. Henry. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with
Whose flood begins to flow within my eyes;
My body round engirt with mifery:

For what's more miserable than difcontent?
Ah, uncle Humphry, in thy face I fee
The map of honour, truth, and loyalty;
And yet, good Humphry, is the hour to come,
That e'er I prov'd thee falfe, or fear'd thy faith;
What low'ring ftar now envies thy estate ?
That these great Lords, and Margaret our Queen,
Do feek fubverfion of thy harmless life,

That never didft them wrong, nor no man wrong,
And as the butcher takes away the calf,

[grief,

And binds the wretch, and beats it when it ftrives, (7)

(7) And as the Butcher takes away the Calf,

And binds the wretch, and beats it when it ftrays,] But how can it ftray, when it is bound? The Poet certainly intended, when it frives; i. e. when it ftruggles to get loofe. And fo he elsewhere employs this Word.

Dr. Thirlby.
Bearing

Bearing it to the bloody flaughter-house:
Even fo, remorflefs, have they borne him hence.
And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
Looking the way her harmless young one went,
And can do nought but wail her darling lofs:
Even fo myself bewail good Ghofer's cafe
With fad unhelpful tears; and with dim'd eyes
Look after him, and cannot do him good:
So mighty are his vowed enemies.

His fortunes I will weep, and 'twixt each groan
Say, who's a traitor? Glo'fter he is none.

[Exit.

Q. Mar. Free Lords, cold fnow melts with the fun's hot beams.

Henry my Lord is cold in great affairs,
Too full of foolish pity: Gle'fter's fhew
Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile
With forrow fuares relenting paffengers:
Or as the fnake, roll'd in a flowry bank,
With fhining checker'd flough, doth fting a child-
That for the beauty thinks it excellent.

Believe me, Lords, were none more wife than I,
(And yet herein I judge my own wit good)
This Glo'fter fhould be quickly rid the world,
To rid us from the fear we have of him.
Car. That he should die, is worthy policy;
But yet we want a colour for his death;
'Tis meet, he be condemn'd by course of law.
Suf. But, in my mind, that were no policy:
The King will labour ftill to fave his life.
The commons haply rife to fave his life,
And yet we have but trivial argument,
More than miftruft, that fhews him worthy death.
York. So that, by this, you would not have him die.
Suf. Ah, York, no man alive fo fain as I.

York. 'Tis York, that hath more reafon for his death.
But, my Lord Cardinal, and you, my lord of Suffolk,
Say as you think, and fpeak it from your fouls:
Were't not all one, an empty eagle were fet
To guard the chicken from a hungry kite,
As place Duke Humphry for the King's protector?

Q. Mar.