As by your high imperial majesty 
I had in charge at my depart for France ,
As procurator to your excellence ,
To marry Princess Margaret for your Grace ;
So , in the famous ancient city , Tours ,
In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil ,
The Dukes of Orleans , Calaber , Britaine , and Alen on ,
Seven earls , twelve barons , and twenty reverend bishops ,
I have perform'd my task , and was espous'd :
And humbly now upon my bended knee ,
In sight of England and her lordly peers ,
Deliver up my title in the queen 
To your most gracious hands , that are the substance 
Of that great shadow I did represent ;
The happiest gift that ever marquess gave ,
The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd .

Suffolk , arise . Welcome , Queen Margaret :
I can express no kinder sign of love 
Than this kind kiss . O Lord ! that lends me life ,
Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness !
For thou hast given me in this beauteous face 
A world of earthly blessings to my soul ,
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts .

Great King of England and my gracious lord ,
The mutual conference that my mind hath had 
By day , by night , waking , and in my dreams ,
In courtly company , or at my beads ,
With you , mine alderliefest sovereign ,
Makes me the bolder to salute my king 
With ruder terms , such as my wit affords ,
And over-joy of heart doth minister .

Her sight did ravish , but her grace in speech ,
Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty ,
Makes me from wondering fall to weeping joys ;
Such is the fulness of my heart's content .
Lords , with one cheerful voice welcome my love .

Long live Queen Margaret , England's happiness !

We thank you all .


My Lord Protector , so it please your Grace ,
Here are the articles of contracted peace 
Between our sovereign and the French King Charles ,
For eighteen months concluded by consent .

Imprimis , It is agreed between the French king , Charles , and William De la Pole , Marquess of Suffolk , ambassador for Henry King of England , that the said Henry shall espouse the Lady Margaret , daughter unto Reignier King of Naples , Sicilia , and Jerusalem , and crown her Queen of England ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing .
Item , That the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be released and delivered to the king her father .


Uncle , how now !

Pardon me , gracious lord ;
Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart 
And dimm'd mine eyes , that I can read no further .

Uncle of Winchester , I pray , read on .

Item , It is further agreed between them , that the duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be released and delivered over to the king her father ; and she sent over of the King of England's own proper cost and charges , without having any dowry .

They please us well . Lord marquess , kneel down :
We here create thee the first Duke of Suffolk ,
And girt thee with the sword . Cousin of York ,
We here discharge your Grace from being regent 
I' the parts of France , till term of eighteen months 
Be full expir'd . Thanks , uncle Winchester ,
Gloucester , York , Buckingham , Somerset ,
Salisbury , and Warwick ;
We thank you all for this great favour done ,
In entertainment to my princely queen .
Come , let us in , and with all speed provide 
To see her coronation be perform'd .


Brave peers of England , pillars of the state ,
To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief ,
Your grief , the common grief of all the land .
What ! did my brother Henry spend his youth ,
His valour , coin , and people , in the wars ?
Did he so often lodge in open field ,
In winter's cold , and summer's parching heat ,
To conquer France , his true inheritance ?
And did my brother Bedford toil his wits ,
To keep by policy what Henry got ?
Have you yourselves , Somerset , Buckingham ,
Brave York , Salisbury , and victorious Warwick ,
Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy ?
Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself ,
With all the learned council of the realm ,
Studied so long , sat in the council-house 
Early and late , debating to and fro 
How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe ?
And hath his highness in his infancy 
Been crown'd in Paris , in despite of foes ?
And shall these labours and these honours die ?
Shall Henry's conquest , Bedford's vigilance ,
Your deeds of war and all our counsel die ?
O peers of England ! shameful is this league ,
Fatal this marriage , cancelling your fame ,
Blotting your names from books of memory ,
Razing the characters of your renown ,
Defacing monuments of conquer'd France ,
Undoing all , as all had never been .

Nephew , what means this passionate discourse ,
This peroration with such circumstance ?
For France , 'tis ours ; and we will keep it still .

Ay , uncle ; we will keep it , if we can ;
But now it is impossible we should .
Suffolk , the new-made duke that rules the roast ,
Hath given the duchies of Anjou and Maine 
Unto the poor King Reignier , whose large style 
Agrees not with the leanness of his purse .

Now , by the death of him who died for all ,
These counties were the keys of Normandy .
But wherefore weeps Warwick , my valiant son ?

For grief that they are past recovery :
For , were there hope to conquer them again ,
My sword should shed hot blood , mine eyes no tears .
Anjou and Maine ! myself did win them both ;
Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer :
And are the cities , that I got with wounds ,
Deliver'd up again with peaceful words ?
Mort Dieu !

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

A proper jest , and never heard before ,
That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth 
For costs and charges in transporting her !
She should have stay'd in France , and starv'd in France ,
Before 

My Lord of Gloucester , now you grow too hot :
It was the pleasure of my lord the king .

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


So , there goes our protector in a rage .
'Tis known to you he is mine enemy ,
Nay , more , an enemy unto you all ,
And no great friend , I fear me , to the king .
Consider lords , he is the next of blood ,
And heir apparent to the English crown :
Had Henry got an empire by his marriage ,
And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west ,
There's reason he should be displeas'd at it .
Look to it , lords ; let not his smoothing words 
Bewitch your hearts ; be wise and circumspect .
What though the common people favour him ,
Calling him , 'Humphrey , the good Duke of Gloucester ;' 
Clapping their hands , and crying with loud voice ,
'Jesu maintain your royal excellence !' 
With 'God preserve the good Duke Humphrey !' 
I fear me , lords , for all this flattering gloss ,
He will be found a dangerous protector .

Why should he then protect our sovereign ,
He being of age to govern of himself ?
Cousin of Somerset , join you with me ,
And all together , with the Duke of Suffolk ,
We'll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his seat .

This weighty business will not brook delay ;
I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently .


Cousin of Buckingham , though Humphrey's pride 
And greatness of his place be grief to us ,
Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal :
His insolence is more intolerable 
Than all the princes in the land beside :
If Gloucester be displac'd , he'll be protector .

Or thou , or I , Somerset , will be protector ,
Despite Duke Humphrey or the cardinal .


Pride went before , ambition follows him .
While these do labour for their own preferment ,
Behoves it us to labour for the realm .
I never saw but Humphrey , Duke of Gloucester ,
Did bear him like a noble gentleman .
Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal 
More like a soldier than a man o' the church ,
As stout and proud as he were lord of all ,
Swear like a ruffian and demean himself 
Unlike the ruler of a commonweal .
Warwick , my son , the comfort of my age ,
Thy deeds , thy plainness , and thy house-keeping ,
Have won the greatest favour of the commons ,
Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey :
And , brother York , thy acts in Ireland ,
In bringing them to civil discipline ,
Thy late exploits done in the heart of France ,
When thou wert regent for our sovereign ,
Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the people .
Join we together for the public good ,
In what we can to bridle and suppress 
The pride of Suffolk and the cardinal ,
With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition ;
And , as we may , cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds ,
While they do tend the profit of the land .

So God help Warwick , as he loves the land ,
And common profit of his country !

And so says York , for he hath greatest cause .

Then let's make haste away , and look unto the main .

Unto the main ! O father , Maine is lost !
That Maine which by main force Warwick did win ,
And would have kept so long as breath did last :
Main chance , father , you meant ; but I meant Maine ,
Which I will win from France , or else be slain .


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


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

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

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

Methought this staff , mine office-badge in court ,
Was broke in twain ; by whom I have forgot ,
But , as I think , it was by the cardinal ;
And on the pieces of the broken wand 
Were plac'd the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset ,
And William De la Pole , first Duke of Suffolk .
This was my dream : what it doth bode , God knows .

Tut ! this was nothing but an argument 
That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester's grove 
Shall lose his head for his presumption .
But list to me , my Humphrey , my sweet duke :
Methought I sat in seat of majesty 
In the cathedral church of Westminster ,
And in that chair where kings and queens are crown'd ;
Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneel'd to me ,
And on my head did set the diadem .

Nay , Eleanor , then must I chide outright :
Presumptuous dame ! ill-nurtur'd Eleanor !
Art thou not second woman in the realm ,
And the protector's wife , belov'd of him ?
Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command ,
Above the reach or compass of thy thought ?
And wilt thou still be hammering treachery ,
To tumble down thy husband and thyself 
From top of honour to disgrace's feet ?
Away from me , and let me hear no more .

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

Nay , be not angry ; I am pleas'd again .


My Lord Protector , 'tis his highness' pleasure 
You do prepare to ride unto Saint Alban's ,
Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk .

I go . Come , Nell , thou wilt ride with us ?

Yes , my good lord , I'll follow presently .

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


Jesus preserve your royal majesty !

What sayst thou ? majesty ! I am but Grace .

But , by the grace of God , and Hume's advice ,
Your Grace's title shall be multiplied .

What sayst thou , man ? hast thou as yet conferr'd 
With Margery Jourdain , the cunning witch ,
With Roger Bolingbroke , the conjurer ?
And will they undertake to do me good ?

This they have promised , to show your highness 
A spirit rais'd from depth of under ground ,
That shall make answer to such questions 
As by your Grace shall be propounded him .

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


Hume must make merry with the duchess' gold ;
Marry and shall . But how now , Sir John Hume !
Seal up your lips , and give no words but mum :
The business asketh silent secrecy .
Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch :
Gold cannot come amiss , were she a devil .
Yet have I gold flies from another coast :
I dare not say from the rich cardinal 
And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk ;
Yet I do find it so : for , to be plain ,
They , knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring humour ,
Have hired me to undermine the duchess 
And buzz these conjurations in her brain .
They say , 'A crafty knave does need no broker ;' 
Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal's broker .
Hume , if you take not heed , you shall go near 
To call them both a pair of crafty knaves .
Well , so it stands ; and thus , I fear , at last 
Hume's knavery will be the duchess' wrack ,
And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall .
Sort how it will I shall have gold for all .


My masters , let's stand close : my Lord Protector will come this way by and by , and then we may deliver our supplications in the quill .

Marry , the Lord protect him , for he's a good man ! Jesu bless him !


Here a' comes , methinks , and the queen with him . I'll be the first , sure .

Come back , fool ! this is the Duke of Suffolk and not my Lord Protector .

How now , fellow ! wouldst anything with me ?

I pray , my lord , pardon me : I took ye for my Lord Protector .

To my Lord Protector ! are your supplications to his lordship ? Let me see them : what is thine ?

Mine is , an't please your Grace , against John Goodman , my Lord Cardinal's man , for keeping my house , and lands , my wife and all , from me .

Thy wife too ! that is some wrong indeed . What's yours ? What's here ? Against the Duke of Suffolk , for enclosing the commons of Melford ! How now , sir knave !

Alas ! sir , I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township .

Against my master , Thomas Horner , for saying that the Duke of York was rightful heir to the crown .

What sayst thou ? Did the Duke of York say he was rightful heir to the crown ?

That my master was ? No , forsooth : my master said that he was ; and that the king was an usurper .

Who is there ?


Take this fellow in , and send for his master with a pursuivant presently . We'll hear more of your matter before the king .

And as for you , that love to be protected 
Under the wings of our protector's grace ,
Begin your suits anew and sue to him .

Away , base cullions ! Suffolk , let them go .

Come , let's be gone .


My Lord of Suffolk , say , is this the guise ,
Is this the fashion of the court of England ?
Is this the government of Britain's isle ,
And this the royalty of Albion's king ?
What ! shall King Henry be a pupil still 
Under the surly Gloucester's governance ?
Am I a queen in title and in style ,
And must be made a subject to a duke ?
I tell thee , Pole , when in the city Tours 
Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love ,
And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France ,
I thought King Henry had resembled thee 
In courage , courtship , and proportion :
But all his mind is bent to holiness ,
To number Ave-Maries on his beads ;
His champions are the prophets and apostles ;
His weapons holy saws of sacred writ ;
His study is his tilt-yard , and his loves 
Are brazen images of canoniz'd saints .
I would the college of the cardinals 
Would choose him pope , and carry him to Rome ,
And set the triple crown upon his head :
That were a state fit for his holiness .

Madam , be patient ; as I was cause 
Your highness came to England , so will I 
In England work your Grace's full content .

Beside the haught protector , have we Beaufort 
The imperious churchman , Somerset , Buckingham ,
And grumbling York ; and not the least of these 
But can do more in England than the king .

And he of these that can do most of all 
Cannot do more in England than the Nevils :
Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers .

Not all these lords do vex me half so much 
As that proud dame , the Lord Protector's wife :
She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies ,
More like an empress than Duke Humphrey's wife .
Strangers in court do take her for the queen :
She bears a duke's revenues on her back ,
And in her heart she scorns our poverty .
Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her ?
Contemptuous base-born callot as she is ,
She vaunted 'mongst her minions t'other day 
The very train of her worst wearing gown 
Was better worth than all my father's lands ,
Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter .

Madam , myself have lim'd a bush for her ,
And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds 
That she will light to listen to the lays ,
And never mount to trouble you again .
So , let her rest : and , madam , list to me ;
For I am bold to counsel you in this .
Although we fancy not the cardinal ,
Yet must we join with him and with the lords 
Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace .
As for the Duke of York , this late complaint 
Will make but little for his benefit :
So , one by one , we'll weed them all at last ,
And you yourself shall steer the happy helm .

For my part , noble lords , I care not which ;
Or Somerset or York , all's one to me .

If York have ill demean'd himself in France ,
Then let him be denay'd the regentship .

If Somerset be unworthy of the place ,
Let York be regent ; I will yield to him .

Whether your Grace be worthy , yea or no ,
Dispute not that : York is the worthier .

Ambitious Warwick , let thy betters speak .

The cardinal's not my better in the field .

All in this presence are thy betters , Warwick .

Warwick may live to be the best of all .

Peace , son ! and show some reason , Buckingham ,
Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this .

Because the king , forsooth , will have it so .

Madam , the king is old enough himself 
To give his censure : these are no women's matters .

If he be old enough , what needs your Grace 
To be protector of his excellence ?

Madam , I am protector of the realm ;
And at his pleasure will resign my place .

Resign it then and leave thine insolence .
Since thou wertking ,as who is king but thou ?
The commonwealth hath daily run to wrack ;
The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas ;
And all the peers and nobles of the realm 
Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty .

The commons hast thou rack'd ; the clergy's bags 
Are lank and lean with thy extortions .

Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife's attire 
Have cost a mass of public treasury .

Thy cruelty in execution 
Upon offenders hath exceeded law ,
And left thee to the mercy of the law .

Thy sale of offices and towns in France ,
If they were known , as the suspect is great ,
Would make thee quickly hop without thy head .

Give me my fan : what , minion ! can ye not ?

I cry you mercy , madam , was it you ?

Was't I ? yea , I it was , proud Frenchwoman :
Could I come near your beauty with my nails 
I'd set my ten commandments in your face .

Sweet aunt , be quiet ; 'twas against her will .

Against her will ! Good king , look to't in time ;
She'll hamper thee and dandle thee like a baby :
Though in this place most master wear no breeches ,
She shall not strike Dame Eleanor unreveng'd .


Lord Cardinal , I will follow Eleanor ,
And listen after Humphrey , how he proceeds :
She's tickled now ; her fume can need no spurs ,
She'll gallop far enough to her destruction .

Now , lords , my choler being over-blown 
With walking once about the quadrangle ,
I come to talk of commonwealth affairs .
As for your spiteful false objections ,
Prove them , and I lie open to the law :
But God in mercy so deal with my soul 
As I in duty love my king and country !
But to the matter that we have in hand .
I say , my sov'reign , York is meetest man 
To be your regent in the realm of France .

Before we make election , give me leave 
To show some reason , of no little force ,
That York is most unmeet of any man .

I'll tell thee , Suffolk , why I am unmeet :
First , for I cannot flatter thee in pride ;
Next , if I be appointed for the place ,
My Lord of Somerset will keep me here ,
Without discharge , money , or furniture ,
Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands .
Last time I danc'd attendance on his will 
Till Paris was besieg'd , famish'd , and lost .

That can I witness ; and a fouler fact 
Did never traitor in the land commit .

Peace , headstrong Warwick !

Image of pride , why should I hold my peace ?


Because here is a man accus'd of treason :
Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself !

Doth any one accuse York for a traitor ?

What mean'st thou , Suffolk ? tell me , what are these ?

Please it your majesty , this is the man 
That doth accuse his master of high treason .
His words were these : that Richard , Duke of York ,
Was rightful heir unto the English crown ,
And that your majesty was a usurper .

Say , man , were these thy words ?

An't shall please your majesty , I never said nor thought any such matter : God is my witness , I am falsely accused by the villain .

By these ten bones , my lords , he did speak them to me in the garret one night , as we were scouring my Lord of York's armour .

Base dunghill villain , and mechanical ,
I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech .
I do beseech your royal majesty 
Let him have all the rigour of the law .

Alas ! my lord , hang me if ever I spake the words . My accuser is my prentice ; and when I did correct him for his fault the other day , he did vow upon his knees he would be even with me : I have good witness of this : therefore I beseech your majesty , do not cast away an honest man for a villain's accusation .

Uncle , what shall we say to this in law ?

This doom , my lord , if I may judge .
Let Somerset be regent o'er the French ,
Because in York this breeds suspicion ;
And let these have a day appointed them 
For single combat in convenient place ;
For he hath witness of his servant's malice .
This is the law , and this Duke Humphrey's doom .

Then be it so . My Lord of Somerset ,
We make your Grace lord regent o'er the French .

I humbly thank your royal majesty .

And I accept the combat willingly .

Alas ! my lord , I cannot fight : for God's sake , pity my case ! the spite of man prevaileth against me . O Lord , have mercy upon me ! I shall never be able to fight a blow . O Lord , my heart !

Sirrah , or you must fight , or else be hang'd .

Away with them to prison ; and the day 
Of combat shall be the last of the next month .
Come , Somerset , we'll see thee sent away .


Come , my masters ; the duchess , I tell you , expects performance of your promises .

Master Hume , we are therefore provided . Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms ?

Ay ; what else ? fear you not her courage .

I have heard her reported to be a woman of invincible spirit : but it shall be convenient , Master Hume , that you be by her aloft while we be busy below ; and so , I pray you , go in God's name , and leave us .

Mother Jourdain , be you prostrate , and grovel on the earth ; John Southwell , read you ; and let us to our work .


Well said , my masters , and welcome all .
To this gear the sooner the better .

Patience , good lady ; wizards know their times :
Deep night , dark night , the silent of the night ,
The time of night when Troy was set on fire ;
The time when screech-owls cry , and ban-dogs howl ,
And spirits walk , and ghosts break up their graves ,
That time best fits the work we have in hand .
Madam , sit you , and fear not : whom we raise 
We will make fast within a hallow'd verge .


Adsum .

Asmath !
By the eternal God , whose name and power 
Thou tremblest at , answer that I shall ask ;
For till thou speak , thou shalt not pass from hence .

Ask what thou wilt . That I had said and done !

First , of the king : what shall of him become ?

The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose ;
But him outlive , and die a violent death .


What fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk ?

By water shall he die and take his end .

What shall befall the Duke of Somerset ?

Let him shun castles :
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains 
Than where castles mounted stand .
Have done , for more I hardly can endure .

Descend to darkness and the burning lake !
False fiend , avoid !

Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash .
Beldam , I think we watch'd you at an inch .
What ! madam , are you there ? the king and commonweal 
Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains :
My Lord Protector will , I doubt it not ,
See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts .

Not half so bad as thine to England's king ,
Injurious duke , that threat'st where is no cause .

True , madam , none at all . What call you this ?

Away with them ! let them be clapp'd up close 
And kept asunder . You , madam , shall with us :
Stafford , take her to thee .

We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming .
All , away !


Lord Buckingham , methinks you watch'd her well :
A pretty plot , well chosen to build upon !
Now , pray , my lord , let's see the devil's writ .
What have we here ?
The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose ;
But him outlive , and die a violent death .
Why , this is just ,
Aio te ,  acida , Romanos vincere posse .
Well , to the rest :
Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk ?
By water shall he die and take his end .
What shall betide the Duke of Somerset ?
Let him shun castles :
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains 
Than where castles mounted stand .
Come , come , my lords ; these oracles 
Are hardly attain'd , and hardly understood .
The king is now in progress towards Saint Alban's ;
With him , the husband of this lovely lady :
Thither go these news as fast as horse can carry them ,
A sorry breakfast for my Lord Protector .

Your Grace shall give me leave , my Lord of York ,
To be the post , in hope of his reward .

At your pleasure , my good lord . Who's within there , ho !


Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick 
To sup with me to-morrow night . Away !


Believe me , lords , for flying at the brook ,
I saw not better sport these seven years' day :
Yet , by your leave , the wind was very high ,
And , ten to one , old Joan had not gone out .

But what a point , my lord , your falcon made ,
And what a pitch she flew above the rest !
To see how God in all his creatures works !
Yea , man and birds are fain of climbing high .

No marvel , an it like your majesty ,
My Lord Protector's hawks do tower so well ;
They know their master loves to be aloft ,
And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch .

My lord , 'tis but a base ignoble mind 
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar .

I thought as much ; he'd be above the clouds .

Ay , my Lord Cardinal ; how think you by that ?
Were it not good your Grace could fly to heaven ?

The treasury of everlasting joy .

Thy heaven is on earth ; thine eyes and thoughts 
Beat on a crown , the treasure of thy heart ;
Pernicious protector , dangerous peer ,
That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal !

What ! cardinal , is your priesthood grown peremptory ?
Tant ne animis c lestibus ir ?
Churchmen so hot ? good uncle , hide such malice ;
With such holiness can you do it ?

No malice , sir ; no more than well becomes 
So good a quarrel and so bad a peer .

As who , my lord ?

Why , as you , my lord ,
An't like your lordly lord-protectorship .

Why , Suffolk , England knows thine insolence .

And thy ambition , Gloucester .

I prithee , peace ,
Good queen , and whet not on these furious peers ;
For blessed are the peacemakers on earth .

Let me be blessed for the peace I make 
Against this proud protector with my sword !

Faith , holy uncle , would 'twere come to that !

Marry , when thou dar'st .

Make up no factious numbers for the matter ;
In thine own person answer thy abuse .

Ay , where thou dar'st not peep : an if thou dar'st ,
This evening on the east side of the grove .

How now , my lords !

Believe me , cousin Gloucester ,
Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly ,
We had had more sport .

Come with thy two-hand sword .

True , uncle .

Are you advis'd ?

the east side of the grove .

Cardinal , I am with you .

Why , how now , uncle Gloucester !

Talking of hawking ; nothing else , my lord .


Now , by God's mother , priest , I'll shave your crown 
For this , or all my fence shall fail .

Medice teipsum ;
Protector , see to't well , protect yourself .

The winds grow high ; so do your stomachs , lords .
How irksome is this music to my heart !
When such strings jar , what hope of harmony ?
I pray , my lords , let me compound this strife .


What means this noise ?
Fellow , what miracle dost thou proclaim ?

A miracle ! a miracle !

Come to the king , and tell him what miracle .

Forsooth , a blind man at Saint Alban's shrine ,
Within this half hour hath receiv'd his sight ;
A man that ne'er saw in his life before .

Now , God be prais'd , that to believing souls 
Gives light in darkness , comfort in despair !

Here comes the townsmen on procession ,
To present your highness with the man .

Great is his comfort in this earthly vale ,
Although by his sight his sin be multiplied .

Stand by , my masters ; bring him near the king :
His highness' pleasure is to talk with him .

Good fellow , tell us here the circumstance ,
That we for thee may glorify the Lord .
What ! hast thou been long blind , and now restor'd ?

Born blind , an't please your Grace .

Ay , indeed , was he .

What woman is this ?

His wife , an't like your worship .

Hadst thou been his mother , thou couldst have better told .

Where wert thou born ?

At Berwick in the north , an't like your Grace .

Poor soul ! God's goodness hath been great to thee :
Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass ,
But still remember what the Lord hath done .

Tell me , good fellow , cam'st thou here by chance ,
Or of devotion , to this holy shrine ?

God knows , of pure devotion ; being call'd 
A hundred times and oft'ner in my sleep ,
By good Saint Alban ; who said , 'Simpcox , come ;
Come , offer at my shrine , and I will help thee .' 

Most true , forsooth ; and many time and oft 
Myself have heard a voice to call him so .

What ! art thou lame ?

Ay , God Almighty help me !

How cam'st thou so ?

A fall off of a tree .

A plum-tree , master .

How long hast thou been blind ?

O ! born so , master .

What ! and wouldst climb a tree ?

But that in all my life , when I was a youth .

Too true ; and bought his climbing very dear .

Mass , thou lov'dst plums well , that wouldst venture so .

Alas ! master , my wife desir'd some damsons ,
And made me climb with danger of my life .

A subtle knave ! but yet it shall not serve .
Let me see thine eyes : wink now : now open them :
In my opinion yet thou seest not well .

Yes , master , clear as day ; I thank God and Saint Alban .

Sayst thou me so ? What colour is this cloak of ?

Red , master ; red as blood .

Why , that's well said . What colour is my gown of ?

Black , forsooth ; coal-black , as jet .

Why then , thou know'st what colour jet is of ?

And yet , I think , jet did he never see .

But cloaks and gowns before this day a many .

Never , before this day , in all his life .

Tell me , sirrah , what's my name ?

Alas ! master , I know not .

What's his name ?

I know not .

Nor his ?

No , indeed , master .

What's thine own name ?

Saunder Simpcox , an if it please you , master .

Then , Saunder , sit there , the lyingest knave in Christendom . If thou hadst been born blind , thou mightst as well have known all our names as thus to name the several colours we do wear . Sight may distinguish of colours , but suddenly to nominate them all , it is impossible . My lords , Saint Alban here hath done a miracle ; and would ye not think that cunning to be great , that could restore this cripple to his legs again ?

O , master , that you could !

My masters of Saint Alban's , have you not beadles in your town , and things called whips ?

Yes , my lord , if it please your Grace .

Then send for one presently .

Sirrah , go fetch the beadle hither straight .


Now fetch me a stool hither by and by .


Now , sirrah , if you mean to save yourself from whipping , leap me over this stool and run away .

Alas ! master , I am not able to stand alone :
You go about to torture me in vain .


Well , sir , we must have you find your legs . Sirrah beadle , whip him till he leap over that same stool .

I will , my lord . Come on , sirrah ; off with your doublet quickly .

Alas ! master , what shall I do ? I am not able to stand .

O God ! seest thou this , and bear'st so long ?

It made me laugh to see the villain run .

Follow the knave ; and take this drab away .

Alas ! sir , we did it for pure need .

Let them be whipp'd through every market town 
Till they come to Berwick , from whence they came .


Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day .

True ; made the lame to leap and fly away .

But you have done more miracles than I ;
You made in a day , my lord , whole towns to fly .


What tidings with our cousin Buckingham ?

Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold .
A sort of naughty persons , lewdly bent ,
Under the countenance and confederacy 
Of Lady Eleanor , the protector's wife ,
The ringleader and head of all this rout ,
Have practis'd dangerously against your state ,
Dealing with witches and with conjurers :
Whom we have apprehended in the fact ;
Raising up wicked spirits from under-ground ,
Demanding of King Henry's life and death ,
And other of your highness' privy council ,
As more at large your Grace shall understand .

And so , my Lord Protector , by this means 
Your lady is forthcoming yet at London .
This news , I think , hath turn'd your weapon's edge ;
'Tis like , my lord , you will not keep your hour .

Ambitious churchman , leave to afflict my heart :
Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers ;
And , vanquish'd as I am , I yield to thee ,
Or to the meanest groom .

O God ! what mischiefs work the wicked ones ,
Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby .

Gloucester , see here the tainture of thy nest ;
And look thyself be faultless , thou wert best .

Madam , for myself , to heaven I do appeal ,
How I have lov'd my king and commonweal ;
And , for my wife , I know not how it stands .
Sorry I am to hear what I have heard :
Noble she is , but if she have forgot 
Honour and virtue , and convers'd with such 
As , like to pitch , defile nobility ,
I banish her my bed and company ,
And give her , as a prey , to law and shame ,
That hath dishonour'd Gloucester's honest name .

Well , for this night we will repose us here :
To-morrow toward London back again ,
To look into this business thoroughly ,
And call these foul offenders to their answers ;
And poise the cause in justice' equal scales ,
Whose beam stands sure , whose rightful cause prevails .


Now , my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick ,
Our simple supper ended , give me leave ,
In this close walk to satisfy myself ,
In craving your opinion of my title ,
Which is infallible to England's crown .

My lord , I long to hear it at full .

Sweet York , begin ; and if thy claim be good ,
The Nevils are thy subjects to command .

Then thus :
Edward the Third , my lords , had seven sons :
The first , Edward the Black Prince , Prince of Wales ;
The second , William of Hatfield ; and the third ,
Lionel , Duke of Clarence ; next to whom 
Was John of Gaunt , the Duke of Lancaster ;
The fifth was Edmund Langley , Duke of York ;
The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock , Duke of Gloucester ;
William of Windsor was the seventh and last .
Edward the Black Prince died before his father ,
And left behind him Richard , his only son ,
Who after Edward the Third's death , reign'd as king ;
Till Henry Bolingbroke , Duke of Lancaster ,
The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt ,
Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth ,
Seiz'd on the realm , depos'd the rightful king ,
Sent his poor queen to France , from whence she came ,
And him to Pomfret ; where as all you know ,
Harmless Richard was murder'd traitorously .

Father , the duke hath told the truth ;
Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown .

Which now they hold by force and not by right ;
For Richard , the first son's heir , being dead ,
The issue of the next son should have reign'd .

But William of Hatfield died without an heir .

The third son , Duke of Clarence , from whose line 
I claim the crown , had issue , Philippe a daughter ,
Who married Edmund Mortimer , Earl of March :
Edmund had issue Roger , Earl of March :
Roger had issue Edmund , Anne , and Eleanor .

This Edmund , in the reign of Bolingbroke ,
As I have read , laid claim unto the crown ;
And but for Owen Glendower , had been king ,
Who kept him in captivity till he died .
But , to the rest .

His eldest sister , Anne ,
My mother , being heir unto the crown ,
Married Richard , Earl of Cambridge , who was son 
To Edmund Langley , Edward the Third's fifth son .
By her I claim the kingdom : she was heir 
To Roger , Earl of March ; who was the son 
Of Edmund Mortimer ; who married Philippe ,
Sole daughter unto Lionel , Duke of Clarence :
So , if the issue of the eldest son 
Succeed before the younger , I am king .

What plain proceeding is more plain than this ?
Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt ,
The fourth son ; York claims it from the third .
Till Lionel's issue fails , his should not reign :
It fails not yet , but flourishes in thee ,
And in thy sons , fair slips of such a stock .
Then , father Salisbury , kneel we together ,
And in this private plot be we the first 
That shall salute our rightful sovereign 
With honour of his birthright to the crown .

Long live our sovereign Richard , England's king !

We thank you , lords ! But I am not your king 
Till I be crown'd , and that my sword be stain'd 
With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster ;
And that's not suddenly to be perform'd ,
But with advice and silent secrecy .
Do you as I do in these dangerous days ,
Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence ,
At Beaufort's pride , at Somerset's ambition ,
At Buckingham and all the crew of them ,
Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock ,
That virtuous prince , the good Duke Humphrey :
'Tis that they seek ; and they , in seeking that 
Shall find their deaths , if York can prophesy .

My lord , break we off ; we know your mind at full .

My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick 
Shall one day make the Duke of York a king .

And , Nevil , this I do assure myself ,
Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick 
The greatest man in England but the king .


Stand forth , Dame Eleanor Cobham , Gloucester's wife .
In sight of God and us , your guilt is great :
Receive the sentence of the law for sins 
Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death .
You four , from hence to prison back again ;
From thence , unto the place of execution :
The witch in Smithfield shall be burn'd to ashes ,
And you three shall be strangled on the gallows .
You , madam , for you are more nobly born ,
Despoiled of your honour in your life ,
Shall , after three days' open penance done ,
Live in your country here , in banishment ,
With Sir John Stanley , in the Isle of Man .

Welcome is banishment ; welcome were my death .

Eleanor , the law , thou seest , hath judged thee :
I cannot justify whom the law condemns .

Mine eyes are full of tears , my heart of grief .
Ah , Humphrey ! this dishonour in thine age 
Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground .
I beseech your majesty , give me leave to go ;
Sorrow would solace and mine age would ease .

Stay , Humphrey , Duke of Gloucester : ere thou go ,
Give up thy staff : Henry will to himself 
Protector be ; and God shall be my hope ,
My stay , my guide , and lantern to my feet .
And go in peace , Humphrey ; no less belov'd 
Than when thou wert protector to thy king .

I see no reason why a king of years 
Should be to be protected like a child .
God and King Henry govern England's helm !
Give up your staff , sir , and the king his realm .

My staff ! here , noble Henry , is my staff :
As willingly do I the same resign 
As e'er thy father Henry made it mine ;
And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it 
As others would ambitiously receive it .
Farewell , good king ! when I am dead and gone ,
May honourable peace attend thy throne .


Why , now is Henry king , and Margaret queen ;
And Humphrey , Duke of Gloucester , scarce himself ,
That bears so shrewd a maim : two pulls at once ;
His lady banish'd , and a limb lopp'd off ;
This staff of honour raught : there let it stand ,
Where it best fits to be , in Henry's hand .

Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays ;
Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days .

Lords , let him go . Please it your majesty 
This is the day appointed for the combat ;
And ready are the appellant and defendant ,
The armourer and his man , to enter the lists ,
So please your highness to behold the fight .

Ay , good my lord ; for purposely therefore 
Left I the court , to see this quarrel tried .

O' God's name , see the lists and all things fit :
Here let them end it ; and God defend the right !

I never saw a fellow worse bested ,
Or more afraid to fight , than is the appellant ,
The servant of this armourer , my lords .


Here , neighbour Horner , I drink to you in a cup of sack : and fear not , neighbour , you shall do well enough .

And here , neighbour , here's a cup of charneco .

And here's a pot of good double beer , neighbour : drink , and fear not your man .

Let it come , i' faith , and I'll pledge you all ; and a fig for Peter !

Here , Peter , I drink to thee ; and be not afraid .

Be merry , Peter , and fear not thy master : fight for credit of the prentices .

I thank you all : drink , and pray for me , I pray you ; for , I think , I have taken my last draught in this world . Here , Robin , an if I die , I give thee my apron : and , Will , thou shalt have my hammer : and here , Tom , take all the money that I have . O Lord bless me ! I pray God , for I am never able to deal with my master , he hath learnt so much fence already .

Come , leave your drinking and fall to blows . Sirrah , what's thy name ?

Peter , forsooth .

Peter ! what more ?

Thump .

Thump ! then see thou thump thy master well .

Masters , I am come hither , as it were , upon my man's instigation , to prove him a knave , and myself an honest man : and touching the Duke of York , I will take my death I never meant him any ill , nor the king , nor the queen ; and therefore , Peter , have at thee with a downright blow !

Dispatch : this knave's tongue begins to double .
Sound , trumpets , alarum to the combatants .


Hold , Peter , hold ! I confess , I confess treason .


Take away his weapon . Fellow , thank 
God , and the good wine in thy master's way .

O God ! have I overcome mine enemies in this presence ? O Peter ! thou hast prevailed in right !

Go , take hence that traitor from our sight ;
For by his death we do perceive his guilt :
And God in justice hath reveal'd to us 
The truth and innocence of this poor fellow ,
Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully .
Come , fellow , follow us for thy reward .


Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud ;
And after summer evermore succeeds 
Barren winter , with his wrathful nipping cold :
So cares and joys abound , as seasons fleet .
Sirs , what's o'clock ?

Ten , my lord .

Ten is the hour that was appointed me 
To watch the coming of my punish'd duchess :
Uneath may she endure the flinty streets ,
To tread them with her tender-feeling feet .
Sweet Nell , ill can thy noble mind abrook 
The abject people , gazing on thy face 
With envious looks still laughing at thy shame ,
That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels 
When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets .
But , soft ! I think she comes ; and I'll prepare 
My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries .


So please your Grace , we'll take her from the sheriff .

No , stir not , for your lives ; let her pass by .

Come you , my lord , to see my open shame ?
Now thou dost penance too . Look ! how they gaze .
See ! how the giddy multitude do point ,
And nod their heads , and throw their eyes on thee .
Ah , Gloucester , hide thee from their hateful looks ,
And , in thy closet pent up , rue my shame ,
And ban thine enemies , both mine and thine !

Be patient , gentle Nell ; forget this grief .

Ay , Gloucester , teach me to forget myself ;
For whilst I think I am thy wedded wife ,
And thou a prince , protector of this land ,
Methinks I should not thus be led along ,
Mail'd up in shame , with papers on my back ,
And follow'd with a rabble that rejoice 
To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans .
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet ,
And when I start , the envious people laugh ,
And bid me be advised how I tread .
Ah , Humphrey ! can I bear this shameful yoke ?
Trow'st thou that e'er I'll look upon the world ,
Or count them happy that enjoy the sun ?
No ; dark shall be my light , and night my day ;
To think upon my pomp shall be my hell .
Sometime I'll say , I am Duke Humphrey's wife ;
And he a prince and ruler of the land :
Yet so he rul'd and such a prince he was 
As he stood by whilst I , his forlorn duchess ,
Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock 
To every idle rascal follower .
But be thou mild and blush not at my shame ;
Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death 
Hang over thee , as , sure , it shortly will ;
For Suffolk , he that can do all in all 
With her that hateth thee , and hates us all ,
And York , and impious Beaufort , that false priest ,
Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings ;
And , fly thou how thou canst , they'll tangle thee :
But fear not thou , until thy foot be snar'd ,
Nor never seek prevention of thy foes .

Ah , Nell ! forbear : thou aimest all awry ;
I must offend before I be attainted ;
And had I twenty times so many foes ,
And each of them had twenty times their power ,
All these could not procure me any scath ,
So long as I am loyal , true , and crimeless .
Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach ?
Why , yet thy scandal were not wip'd away ,
But I in danger for the breach of law .
Thy greatest help is quiet , gentle Nell :
I pray thee , sort thy heart to patience ;
These few days' wonder will be quickly worn .


I summon your Grace to his majesty's parliament , holden at Bury the first of this next month .

And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before !
This is close dealing . Well , I will be there .

My Nell , I take my leave : and , master sheriff ,
Let not her penance exceed the king's commission .

An't please your Grace , here my commission stays ;
And Sir John Stanley is appointed now 
To take her with him to the Isle of Man .

Must you , Sir John , protect my lady here ?

So am I given in charge , may't please your Grace .

Entreat her not the worse in that I pray 
You use her well . The world may laugh again ;
And I may live to do you kindness if 
You do it her : and so , Sir John , farewell .

What ! gone , my lord , and bid me not farewell !

Witness my tears , I cannot stay to speak .


Art thou gone too ? All comfort go with thee !
For none abides with me : my joy is death ;
Death , at whose name I oft have been afear'd ,
Because I wish'd this world's eternity .
Stanley , I prithee , go , and take me hence ;
I care not whither , for I beg no favour ,
Only convey me where thou art commanded .

Why , madam , that is to the Isle of Man ;
There to be us'd according to your state .

That's bad enough , for I am but reproach :
And shall I then be us'd reproachfully ?

Like to a duchess , and Duke Humphrey's lady :
According to that state you shall be us'd .

Sheriff , farewell , and better than I fare ,
Although thou hast been conduct of my shame .

It is my office ; and , madam , pardon me .

Ay , ay , farewell ; thy office is discharg'd .
Come , Stanley , shall we go ?

Madam , your penance done , throw off this sheet ,
And go we to attire you for our journey .

My shame will not be shifted with my sheet :
No ; it will hang upon my richest robes ,
And show itself , attire me how I can .
Go , lead the way ; I long to see my prison .


I muse my Lord of Gloucester is not come :
'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man ,
Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now .

Can you not see ? or will ye not observe 
The strangeness of his alter'd countenance ?
With what a majesty he bears himself ,
How insolent of late he is become ,
How proud , how peremptory , and unlike himself ?
We know the time since he was mild and affable ,
An if we did but glance a far-off look ,
Immediately he was upon his knee ,
That all the court admir'd him for submission :
But meet him now , and , be it in the morn ,
When everyone will give the time of day ,
He knits his brow and shows an angry eye ,
And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee ,
Disdaining duty that to us belongs .
Small curs are not regarded when they grin ,
But great men tremble when the lion roars ;
And Humphrey is no little man in England .
First note that he is near you in descent ,
And should you fall , he is the next will mount .
Me seemeth then it is no policy ,
Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears ,
And his advantage following your decease ,
That he should come about your royal person 
Or be admitted to your highness' council .
By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts ,
And when he please to make commotion ,
'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him .
Now 'tis the spring , and weeds are shallow-rooted ;
Suffer them now and they'll o'ergrow the garden ,
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry .
The reverent care I bear unto my lord 
Made me collect these dangers in the duke .
If it be fond , call it a woman's fear ;
Which fear if better reasons can supplant ,
I will subscribe and say I wrong'd the duke .
My Lord of Suffolk , Buckingham , and York ,
Reprove my allegation if you can 
Or else conclude my words effectual .

Well hath your highness seen into this duke ;
And had I first been put to speak my mind ,
I think I should have told your Grace's tale .
The duchess , by his subornation ,
Upon my life , began her devilish practices :
Or if he were not privy to those faults ,
Yet , by reputing of his high descent ,
As , next the king he was successive heir ,
And such high vaunts of his nobility ,
Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess ,
By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall .
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep ,
And in his simple show he harbours treason .
The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb :
No , no , my sov'reign ; Gloucester is a man 
Unsounded yet , and full of deep deceit .

Did he not , contrary to form of law ,
Devise strange deaths for small offences done ?

And did he not , in his protectorship ,
Levy great sums of money through the realm 
For soldiers' pay in France , and never sent it ?
By means whereof the towns each day revolted .

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

My lords , at once : the care you have of us ,
To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot ,
Is worthy praise ; but shall I speak my conscience ,
Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent 
From meaning treason to our royal person ,
As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove .
The duke is virtuous , mild , and too well given 
To dream on evil , or to work my downfall .

Ah ! what's more dangerous than this fond affiance !
Seems he a dove ? his feathers are but borrow'd ,
For he's disposed as the hateful raven :
Is he a lamb ? his skin is surely lent him ,
For he's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf .
Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit ?
Take heed , my lord ; the welfare of us all 
Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man .


All health unto my gracious sovereign !

Welcome , Lord Somerset . What news from France ?

That all your interest in those territories 
Is utterly bereft you ; all is lost .

Cold news , Lord Somerset : but God's will be done !

Cold news for me ; for I had hope of France ,
As firmly as I hope for fertile England .
Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud ,
And caterpillars eat my leaves away ;
But I will remedy this gear ere long ,
Or sell my title for a glorious grave .


All happiness unto my lord the king !
Pardon , my liege , that I have stay'd so long .

Nay , Gloucester , know that thou art come too soon ,
Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art :
I do arrest thee of high treason here .

Well , Suffolk's duke , thou shalt not see me blush ,
Nor change my countenance for this arrest :
A heart unspotted is not easily daunted .
The purest spring is not so free from mud 
As I am clear from treason to my sovereign .
Who can accuse me ? wherein am I guilty ?

'Tis thought , my lord , that you took bribes of France ,
And , being protector , stay'd the soldiers' pay ;
By means whereof his highness hath lost France .

Is it but thought so ? What are they that think it ?
I never robb'd the soldiers 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 studying good for England ,
That doit that e'er I wrested from the king ,
Or any groat I hoarded to my use ,
Be brought against me at my trial-day !
No ; many a pound of mine own proper store ,
Because I would not tax the needy commons ,
Have I disbursed to the garrisons ,
And never ask'd for restitution .

It serves you well , my lord , to say so much .

I say no more than truth , so help me God !

In your protectorship you did devise 
Strange tortures for offenders , never heard of ,
That England was defam'd by tyranny .

Why , 'tis well known that , whiles I was protector ,
Pity was all the fault that was in me ;
For I should melt at an offender's tears ,
And lowly words were ransom for their fault .
Unless it were a bloody murderer ,
Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passengers ,
I never gave them condign punishment :
Murder , indeed , that bloody sin , I tortur'd 
Above the felon or what trespass else .

My lord , these faults are easy , quickly answer'd :
But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge ,
Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself .
I do arrest you in his highness' name ;
And here commit you to my Lord Cardinal 
To keep until your further time of trial .

My Lord of Gloucester , 'tis my special hope 
That you will clear yourself from all suspect :
My conscience tells me you are innocent .

Ah ! gracious lord , these days are dangerous .
Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition ,
And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand ;
Foul subornation 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 suspect no peril ,
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy .
Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice ,
And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate ;
Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue 
The envious load that lies upon his heart ;
And dogged York , that reaches at the moon ,
Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back ,
By false accuse doth level at my life :
And you , my sov'reign lady , with the rest ,
Causeless have laid disgraces on my head ,
And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up 
My liefest liege to be mine enemy .
Ay , all of you have laid your heads together ;
Myself had notice of your conventicles ;
And all to make away my guiltless life .
I shall not want false witness to condemn me ,
Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt ;
The ancient proverb will be well effected :
'A staff is quickly found to beat a dog .' 

My liege , his railing is intolerable .
If those that care to keep your royal person 
From treason's secret knife and traitor's rage 
Be thus upbraided , chid , and rated at ,
And the offender granted scope of speech ,
'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your Grace .

Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here 
With ignominious words , though clerkly couch'd ,
As if she had suborned some to swear 
False allegations to o'erthrow his state ?

But I can give the loser leave to chide .

Far truer spoke than meant : I lose , indeed ;
Beshrew the winners , for they play'd me false !
And well such losers may have leave to speak .

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

Sirs , take away the duke , and guard him sure .

Ah ! thus King Henry throws away his crutch 
Before his legs be firm to bear his body :
Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side ,
And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first .
Ah ! that my fear were false , ah ! that it were ;
For , good King Henry , thy decay I fear .


My lords , what to your wisdoms seemeth best 
Do or undo , as if ourself were here .

What ! will your highness leave the parliament ?

Ay , Margaret ; my heart is drown'd with grief ,
Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes ,
My body round engirt with misery ,
For what's more miserable than discontent ?
Ah ! uncle Humphrey , in thy face I see 
The map of honour , truth , and loyalty ;
And yet , good Humphrey , is the hour to come 
That e'er I prov'd thee false , or fear'd thy faith .
What low'ring star now envies thy estate ,
That these great lords , and Margaret our queen ,
Do seek subversion of thy harmless life ?
Thou never didst them wrong , nor no man wrong ;
And as the butcher takes away the calf ,
And binds the wretch , and beats it when it strays ,
Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house ,
Even so , remorseless , 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's loss ;
Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case ,
With sad unhelpful tears , and with dimm'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 , Gloucester he is none .' 


Fair lords , cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams .
Henry my lord is cold in great affairs ,
Too full of foolish pity ; and Gloucester's show 
Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile 
With sorrow snares relenting passengers ;
Or as the snake , roll'd in a flow'ring bank ,
With shining checker'd slough , doth sting a child 
That for the beauty thinks it excellent .
Believe me , lords , were none more wise than I ,
And yet herein I judge mine own wit good ,
This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world ,
To rid us from the fear we have of him .

That he should die is worthy policy ;
And yet we want a colour for his death .
'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law .

But in my mind that were no policy :
The king will labour still to save his life ;
The commons haply rise to save his life ;
And yet we have but trivial argument ,
More than mistrust , that shows him worthy death .

So that , by this , you would not have him die .

Ah ! York , no man alive so fain as I .

'Tis York that hath more reason for his death .
But my Lord Cardinal , and you , my Lord of Suffolk ,
Say as you think , and speak it from your souls ,
Were't not all one an empty eagle were set 
To guard the chicken from a hungry kite ,
As place Duke Humphrey for the king's protector ?

So the poor chicken should be sure of death .

Madam , 'tis true : and were't not madness , then ,
To make the fox surveyor of the fold ?
Who , being accus'd a crafty murderer ,
His guilt should be but idly posted over 
Because his purpose is not executed .
No ; let him die , in that he is a fox ,
By nature prov'd an enemy to the flock ,
Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood ,
As Humphrey , prov'd by reasons , to my liege .
And do not stand on quillets how to slay him :
Be it by gins , by snares , by subtilty ,
Sleeping or waking , 'tis no matter how ,
So he be dead ; for that is good deceit 
Which mates him first that first intends deceit .

Thrice noble Suffolk , 'tis resolutely spoke .

Not resolute , except so much were done ,
For things are often spoke and seldom meant ;
But , that my heart accordeth with my tongue ,
Seeing the deed is meritorious ,
And to preserve my sovereign from his foe ,
Say but the word and I will be his priest .

But I would have him dead , my Lord of Suffolk ,
Ere you can take due orders for a priest :
Say you consent and censure well the deed ,
And I'll provide his executioner ;
I tender so the safety of my liege .

Here is my hand , the deed is worthy doing .

And so say I .

And I : and now we three have spoke it ,
It skills not greatly who impugns our doom .


Great lords , from Ireland am I come amain ,
To signify that rebels there are up ,
And put the Englishmen unto the sword .
Send succours , lords , and stop the rage betime ,
Before the wound do grow uncurable ;
For , being green , there is great hope of help .

A breach that craves a quick expedient stop !
What counsel give you in this weighty cause ?

That Somerset be sent as regent thither .
'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd ;
Witness the fortune he hath had in France .

If York , with all his far-fet policy ,
Had been the regent there instead of me ,
He never would have stay'd in France so long .

No , not to lose it all , as thou hast done :
I rather would have lost my life betimes 
Than bring a burden of dishonour home ,
By staying there so long till all were lost .
Show me one scar character'd on thy skin :
Men's flesh preserv'd so whole do seldom win .

Nay then , this spark will prove a raging fire ,
If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with .
No more , good York ; sweet Somerset , be still :
Thy fortune , York , hadst thou been regent there ,
Might happily have prov'd far worse than his .

What ! worse than nought ? nay , then a shame take all .

And in the number thee , that wishest shame .

My Lord of York , try what your fortune is .
The uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms 
And temper clay with blood of Englishmen :
To Ireland will you lead a band of men ,
Collected choicely , from each county some ,
And try your hap against the Irishmen ?

I will , my lord , so please his majesty .

Why , our authority is his consent ,
And what we do establish he confirms :
Then , noble York , take thou this task in hand .

I am content : provide me soldiers , lords ,
Whiles I take order for mine own affairs .

A charge , Lord York , that I will see perform'd .
But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey .

No more of him ; for I will deal with him 
That henceforth he shall trouble us no more .
And so break off ; the day is almost spent .
Lord Suffolk , you and I must talk of that event .

My Lord of Suffolk , within fourteen days 
At Bristol I expect my soldiers ;
For there I'll ship them all for Ireland .

I'll see it truly done , my Lord of York .


Now , York , or never , steel thy fearful thoughts ,
And change misdoubt to resolution :
Be that thou hop'st to be , or what thou art 
Resign to death ; it is not worth the enjoying .
Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man ,
And find no harbour in a royal heart .
Faster than spring-time showers comes thought on thought ,
And not a thought but thinks on dignity .
My brain , more busy than the labouring spider ,
Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies .
Well , nobles , well ; 'tis politicly done ,
To send me packing with a host of men :
I fear me you but warm the starved snake ,
Who , cherish'd in your breasts , will sting your hearts .
'Twas men I lack'd , and you will give them me :
I take it kindly ; yet be well assur'd 
You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands .
Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band ,
I will stir up in England some black storm 
Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell ;
And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage 
Until the golden circuit on my head ,
Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams ,
Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw .
And , for a minister of my intent ,
I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman ,
John Cade of Ashford ,
To make commotion , as full well he can ,
Under the title of John Mortimer .
In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade 
Oppose himself against a troop of kerns ,
And fought so long , till that his thighs with darts 
Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine :
And , in the end being rescu'd , I have seen 
Him caper upright like a wild Morisco ,
Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells .
Full often , like a shag-hair'd crafty kern ,
Hath he conversed with the enemy ,
And undiscover'd come to me again ,
And given me notice of their villanies .
This devil here shall be my substitute ;
For that John Mortimer , which now is dead ,
In face , in gait , in speech , he doth resemble ;
By this I shall perceive the commons' mind ,
How they affect the house and claim of York .
Say he be taken , rack'd , and tortured ,
I know no pain they can inflict upon him 
Will make him say I mov'd him to those arms .
Say that he thrive ,as 'tis great like he will ,
Why , then from Ireland come I with my strength ,
And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd ;
For , Humphrey being dead , as he shall be ,
And Henry put apart , the next for me .


Run to my Lord of Suffolk ; let him know 
We have dispatch'd the duke , as he commanded .

O ! that it were to do . What have we done ?
Didst ever hear a man so penitent ?


Here comes my lord .

Now , sirs , have you dispatch'd this thing ?

Ay , my good lord , he's dead .

Why , that's well said . Go , get you to my house ;
I will reward you for this venturous deed .
The king and all the peers are here at hand .
Have you laid fair the bed ? is all things well ,
According as I gave directions ?

'Tis , my good lord .

Away ! be gone .

Go , call our uncle to our presence straight ;
Say , we intend to try his Grace to-day ,
If he be guilty , as 'tis published .

I'll call him presently , my noble lord .


Lords , take your places ; and , I pray you all ,
Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloucester 
Than from true evidence , of good esteem ,
He be approv'd in practice culpable .

God forbid any malice should prevail 
That faultless may condemn a nobleman !
Pray God , he may acquit him of suspicion !

I thank thee , Meg ; these words content me much .


How now ! why look'st thou pale ? why tremblest thou ?

Where is our uncle ? what's the matter , Suffolk ?

Dead in his bed , my lord ; Gloucester is dead .

Marry , God forfend !

God's secret judgment : I did dream to-night 
The duke was dumb , and could not speak a word .


How fares my lord ? Help , lords ! the king is dead .

Rear up his body ; wring him by the nose .

Run , go , help , help ! O Henry , ope thine eyes !

He doth revive again . Madam , be patient .

O heavenly God !

How fares my gracious lord ?

Comfort , my sovereign ! grocious Henry , comfort !

What ! doth my Lord of Suffolk comfort me ?
Came he right now to sing a raven's note ,
Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers ,
And thinks he that the chirping of a wren ,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast ,
Can chase away the first-conceived sound ?
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words :
Lay not thy hands on me ; forbear , I say :
Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting .
Thou baleful messenger , out of my sight !
Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny 
Sits in grim majesty to fright the world .
Look not upon me , for thine eyes are wounding :
Yet do not go away ; come , basilisk ,
And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight ;
For in the shade of death I shall find joy ,
In life but double death , now Gloucester's dead .

Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus ?
Although the duke was enemy to him ,
Yet he , most Christian-like , laments his death :
And for myself , foe as he was to me ,
Might liquid tears or heart-offending groans 
Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life ,
I would be blind with weeping , sick with groans ,
Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs ,
And all to have the noble duke alive .
What know I how the world may deem of me ?
For it is known we were but hollow friends :
It may be judg'd I made the duke away :
So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded ,
And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach .
This get I by his death . Ay me , unhappy !
To be a queen , and crown'd with infamy !

Ah ! woe is me for Gloucester , wretched man .

Be woe for me , more wretched than he is .
What ! dost thou turn away and hide thy face ?
I am no loathsome leper ; look on me .
What ! art thou , like the adder , waxen deaf ?
Be poisonous too and kill thy forlorn queen .
Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester's tomb ?
Why , then , Dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy :
Erect his statua and worship it ,
And make my image but an alehouse sign .
Was I for this nigh wrack'd upon the sea ,
And twice by awkward wind from England's bank 
Drove back again unto my native clime ?
What boded this , but well forewarning wind 
Did seem to say , 'Seek not a scorpion's nest ,
Nor set no footing on this unkind shore ?' 
What did I then , but curs'd the gentle gusts 
And he that loos'd them forth their brazen caves ;
And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore ,
Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock ?
Yet  olus would not be a murderer ,
But left that hateful office unto thee :
The pretty vaulting sea refus'd to drown me ,
Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown'd on shore 
With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness :
The splitting rocks cower'd in the sinking sands ,
And would not dash me with their ragged sides ,
Because thy flinty heart , more hard than they ,
Might in thy palace perish Margaret .
As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs ,
When from thy shore the tempest beat us back ,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm ,
And when the dusky sky began to rob 
My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view ,
I took a costly jewel from my neck ,
A heart it was , bound in with diamonds ,
And threw it towards thy land : the sea receiv'd it ,
And so I wish'd thy body might my heart :
And even with this I lost fair England's view ,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart ,
And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles 
For losing ken of Albion's wished coast .
How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue 
The agent of thy foul inconstancy 
To sit and witch me , as Ascanius did 
When he to madding Dido would unfold 
His father's acts , commenc'd in burning Troy !
Am I not witch'd like her ? or thou not false like him ?
Ay me ! I can no more . Die , Margaret !
For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long .

It is reported , mighty sovereign ,
That good Duke Humphrey trait'rously is murder'd 
By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means .
The commons , like an angry hive of bees 
That want their leader , scatter up and down ,
And care not who they sting in his revenge .
Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny ,
Until they hear the order of his death .

That he is dead , good Warwick , 'tis too true ;
But how he died God knows , not Henry .
Enter his chamber , view his breathless corpse ,
And comment then upon his sudden death .

That shall I do , my liege . Stay , Salisbury ,
With the rude multitude till I return .


O ! Thou that judgest all things , stay my thoughts ,
My thoughts that labour to persuade my soul 
Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life .
If my suspect be false , forgive me , God ,
For judgment only doth belong to thee .
Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips 
With twenty thousand kisses , and to drain 
Upon his face an ocean of salt tears ,
To tell my love unto his deaf dumb trunk ,
And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling :
But all in vain are these mean obsequies ,
And to survey his dead and earthly image 
What were it but to make my sorrow greater ?


Come hither , gracious sovereign , view this body .

That is to see how deep my grave is made ;
For with his soul fled all my worldly solace ,
For seeing him I see my life in death .

As surely as my soul intends to live 
With that dread King that took our state upon him 
To free us from his Father's wrathful curse ,
I do believe that violent hands were laid 
Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke .

A dreadful oath , sworn with a solemn tongue !
What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow ?

See how the blood is settled in his face .
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost ,
Of ashy semblance , meagre , pale , and bloodless ,
Being all descended to the labouring heart ;
Who , in the conflict that it holds with death ,
Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy ;
Which with the heart there cools , and ne'er returneth 
To blush and beautify the cheek again .
But see , his face is black and full of blood ,
His eyeballs further out than when he liv'd ,
Staring full ghastly like a strangled man ;
His hair uprear'd , his nostrils stretch'd with struggling :
His hands abroad display'd , as one that grasp'd 
And tugg'd for life , and was by strength subdu'd .
Look on the sheets , his hair , you see , is sticking ;
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged ,
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd .
It cannot be but he was murder'd here ;
The least of all these signs were probable .

Why , Warwick , who should do the duke to death ?
Myself and Beaufort had him in protection ;
And we , I hope , sir , are no murderers .

But both of you were vow'd Duke Humphrey's foes ,
And you , forsooth , had the good duke to keep :
'Tis like you would not feast him like a friend ,
And 'tis well seen he found an enemy .

Then you , belike , suspect these noblemen 
As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death .

Who finds the heifer dead , and bleeding fresh ,
And sees fast by a butcher with an axe ,
But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter ?
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest ,
But may imagine how the bird was dead ,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak ?
Even so suspicious is this tragedy .

Are you the butcher , Suffolk ? where's your knife ?
Is Beaufort term'd a kite ? where are his talons ?

I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men ;
But here's a vengeful sword , rusted with ease ,
That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart 
That slanders me with murder's crimson badge .
Say , if thou dar'st , proud Lord of Warwickshire ,
That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death .


What dares not Warwick , if false Suffolk dare him ?

He dares not calm his contumelious spirit ,
Nor cease to be an arrogant controller ,
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times .

Madam , be still , with reverence may I say ;
For every word you speak in his behalf 
Is slander to your royal dignity .

Blunt-witted lord , ignoble in demeanour !
If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much ,
Thy mother took into her blameful bed 
Some stern untutor'd churl , and noble stock 
Was graft with crab-tree slip ; whose fruit thou art ,
And never of the Nevils' noble race .

But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee ,
And I should rob the deathsman of his fee ,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames ,
And that my sov'reign's presence makes me mild ,
I would , false murd'rous coward , on thy knee 
Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech ,
And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st ;
That thou thyself wast born in bastardy :
And after all this fearful homage done ,
Give thee thy hire , and send thy soul to hell ,
Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men .

Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood ,
If from this presence thou dar'st go with me .

Away even now , or I will drag thee hence :
Unworthy though thou art , I'll cope with thee ,
And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost .


What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted !
Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just ,
And he but naked , though lock'd up in steel ,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted .

What noise is this ?

Why , how now , lords ! your wrathful weapons drawn 
Here in our presence ! dare you be so bold ?
Why , what tumultuous clamour have we here ?

The traitorous Warwick , with the men of Bury ,
Set all upon me , mighty sovereign .


Sirs , stand apart ; the king shall know your mind .
Dread lord , the commons send you word by me ,
Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death ,
Or banished fair England's territories ,
They will by violence tear him from your palace 
And torture him with grievous lingering death .
They say , by him the good Duke Humphrey died ;
They say , in him they fear your highness' death ;
And mere instinct of love and loyalty ,
Free from a stubborn opposite intent ,
As being thought to contradict your liking ,
Makes them thus forward in his banishment .
They say , in care of your most royal person ,
That if your highness should intend to sleep ,
And charge that no man should disturb your rest 
In pain of your dislike or pain of death ,
Yet , notwithstanding such a strait edict ,
Were there a serpent seen , with forked tongue ,
That slily glided towards your majesty ,
It were but necessary you were wak'd ,
Lest , being suffer'd in that harmful slumber ,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal :
And therefore do they cry , though you forbid ,
That they will guard you , whe'r you will or no ,
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is ;
With whose envenomed and fatal sting ,
Your loving uncle , twenty times his worth ,
They say , is shamefully bereft of life .

An answer from the king , my Lord of Salisbury !

'Tis like the commons , rude unpolish'd hinds ,
Could send such message to their sovereign ;
But you , my lord , were glad to be employ'd ,
To show how quaint an orator you are :
But all the honour Salisbury hath won 
Is that he was the lord ambassador ,
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king .

An answer from the king , or we will all break in !

Go , Salisbury , and tell them all from me ,
I thank them for their tender loving care ;
And had I not been cited so by them ,
Yet did I purpose as they do entreat ;
For , sure , my thoughts do hourly prophesy 
Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means :
And therefore , by his majesty I swear ,
Whose far unworthy deputy I am ,
He shall not breathe infection in this air 
But three days longer , on the pain of death .


O Henry ! let me plead for gentle Suffolk .

Ungentle queen , to call him gentle Suffolk !
No more , I say ; if thou dost plead for him 
Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath .
Had I but said , I would have kept my word ,
But when I swear , it is irrevocable .


If after three days' space thou here be'st found 
On any ground that I am ruler of ,
The world shall not be ransom for thy life .
Come , Warwick , come , good Warwick , go with me ;
I have great matters to impart to thee .


Mischance and sorrow go along with you !
Heart's discontent and sour affliction 
Be playfellows to keep you company !
There's two of you ; the devil make a third ,
And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps !

Cease , gentle queen , these execrations ,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave .

Fie , coward woman and soft-hearted wretch !
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy ?

A plague upon them ! Wherefore should I curse them ?
Would curses kill , as doth the mandrake's groan ,
I would invent as bitter-searching terms ,
As curst , as harsh and horrible to hear ,
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth ,
With full as many signs of deadly hate ,
As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave .
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words ;
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint ;
My hair be fix'd on end , as one distract ;
Ay , every joint should seem to curse and ban :
And even now my burden'd heart would break 
Should I not curse them . Poison be their drink !
Gall , worse than gall , the daintiest that they taste !
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees !
Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks !
Their softest touch as smart as lizard's stings !
Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss ,
And boding screech-owls make the concert full !
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell 

Enough , sweet Suffolk ; thou torment'st thyself ;
And these dread curses , like the sun 'gainst glass ,
Or like an over-charged gun , recoil ,
And turn the force of them upon thyself .

You bade me ban , and will you bid me leave ?
Now , by the ground that I am banish'd from ,
Well could I curse away a winter's night ,
Though standing naked on a mountain top ,
Where biting cold would never let grass grow ,
And think it but a minute spent in sport .

O ! let me entreat thee , cease ! Give me thy hand ,
That I may dew it with my mournful tears ;
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place ,
To wash away my woeful monuments .
O ! could this kiss be printed in thy hand ,

That thou mightst think upon these by the seal ,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee .
So , get thee gone , that I may know my grief ;
'Tis but surmis'd whiles thou art standing by ,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want .
I will repeal thee , or , be well assur'd ,
Adventure to be banished myself ;
And banished I am , if but from thee .
Go ; speak not to me ; even now be gone .
O ! go not yet . Even thus two friends condemn'd 
Embrace and kiss , and take ten thousand leaves ,
Loather a hundred times to part than die .
Yet now farewell ; and farewell life with thee !

Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished ,
Once by the king , and three times thrice by thee .
'Tis not the land I care for , wert thou thence ;
A wilderness is populous enough ,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company :
For where thou art , there is the world itself ,
With every several pleasure in the world ,
And where thou art not , desolation .
I can no more : live thou to joy thy life ;
Myself to joy in nought but that thou liv'st .


Whither goes Vaux so fast ? what news , I prithee ?

To signify unto his majesty 
That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death ;
For suddenly a grievous sickness took him ,
That makes him gasp and stare , and catch the air ,
Blaspheming God , and cursing men on earth .
Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost 
Were by his side ; sometime he calls the king ,
And whispers to his pillow , as to him ,
The secrets of his overcharged soul :
And I am sent to tell his majesty 
That even now he cries aloud for him .

Go tell this heavy message to the king .

Ay me ! what is this world ! what news are these !
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss ,
Omitting Suffolk's exile , my soul's treasure ?
Why only , Suffolk , mourn I not for thee ,
And with the southern clouds contend in tears ,
Theirs for the earth's increase , mine for my sorrows ?
Now get thee hence : the king , thou know'st , is coming ;
If thou be found by me thou art but dead .

If I depart from thee I cannot live ;
And in thy sight to die , what were it else 
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap ?
Here could I breathe my soul into the air ,
As mild and gentle as the cradle babe ,
Dying with mother's dug between its lips ;
Where , from thy sight , I should be raging mad ,
And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes ,
To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth :
So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul ,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body ,
And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium .
To die by thee , were but to die in jest ;
From thee to die were torture more than death .
O ! let me stay , befall what may befall !

Away ! though parting be a fretful corsive ,
It is applied to a deathful wound .
To France , sweet Suffolk : let me hear from thee ;
For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe ,
I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out .

I go .

And take my heart with thee .

A jewel , lock'd into the woefull'st cask 
That ever did contain a thing of worth .
Even as a splitted bark , so sunder we :
This way fall I to death .

This way for me .


How fares my lord ? speak , Beaufort , to thy sovereign .

If thou be'st death , I'll give thee England's treasure ,
Enough to purchase such another island ,
So thou wilt let me live , and feel no pain .

Ah ! what a sign it is of evil life 
Where death's approach is seen so terrible .

Beaufort , it is thy sov'reign speaks to thee .

Bring me unto my trial when you will .
Died he not in his bed ? where should he die ?
Can I make men live whe'r they will or no ?
O ! torture me no more , I will confess .
Alive again ? then show me where he is :
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him .
He hath no eyes , the dust hath blinded them .
Comb down his hair ; look ! look ! it stands upright ,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul .
Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary 
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him .

O thou eternal Mover of the heavens !
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ;
O ! beat away the busy meddling fiend 
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul ,
And from his bosom purge this black despair .

See how the pangs of death do make him grin !

Disturb him not ! let him pass peaceably .

Peace to his soul , if God's good pleasure be !
Lord Cardinal , if thou think'st on heaven's bliss ,
Hold up thy hand , make signal of thy hope .
He dies , and makes no sign . O God , forgive him !

So bad a death argues a monstrous life .

Forbear to judge , for we are sinners all .
Close up his eyes , and draw the curtain close ;
And let us all to meditation .

The gaudy , blabbing , and remorseful day 
Is crept into the bosom of the sea ,
And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades 
That drag the tragic melancholy night ;
Who with their drowsy , slow , and flagging wings 
Clip dead men's graves , and from their misty jaws 
Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air .
Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize ,
For , whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs 
Here shall they make their ransom on the sand ,
Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore .
Master , this prisoner freely give I thee :
And thou that art his mate make boot of this ;
The other 

, Walter Whitmore , is thy share .

What is my ransom , master ? let me know .

A thousand crowns , or else lay down your head .

And so much shall you give , or off goes yours .

What ! think you much to pay two thousand crowns ,
And bear the name and port of gentlemen ?
Cut both the villains' throats ! for die you shall :
The lives of those which we have lost in fight 
Cannot be counterpois'd with such a petty sum !

I'll give it , sir ; and therefore spare my life .

And so will I , and write home for it straight .

I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard ,


And therefore to revenge it shalt thou die ;
And so should these if I might have my will .

Be not so rash : take ransom ; let him live .

Look on my George ; I am a gentleman :
Rate me at what thou wilt , thou shalt be paid .

And so am I ; my name is Walter Whitmore .
How now ! why start'st thou ? what ! doth death affright ?

Thy name affrights me , in whose sound is death .
A cunning man did calculate my birth ,
And told me that by Water I should die :
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded ;
Thy name is Gaultier , being rightly sounded .

Gaultier , or Walter , which it is I care not ;
Never yet did base dishonour blur our name 
But with our sword we wip'd away the blot :
Therefore , when merchant-like I sell revenge ,
Broke be my sword , my arms torn and defac'd ,
And I proclaim'd a coward through the world !


Stay , Whitmore ; for thy prisoner is a prince ,
The Duke of Suffolk , William de la Pole .

The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags !

Ay , but these rags are no part of the duke :
Jove sometimes went disguis'd , and why not I ?

But Jove was never slain , as thou shalt be .

Obscure and lowly swain , King Henry's blood ,
The honourable blood of Lancaster ,
Must not be shed by such a jaded groom .
Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand and held my stirrup ?
Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule ,
And thought thee happy when I shook my head ?
How often hast thou waited at my cup ,
Fed from my trencher , kneel'd down at the board ,
When I have feasted with Queen Margaret ?
Remember it and let it make thee crest-fall'n ;
Ay , and allay this thy abortive pride .
How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood 
And duly waited for my coming forth ?
This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf ,
And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue .

Speak , captain , shall I stab the forlorn swain ?

First let my words stab him , as he hath me .

Base slave , thy words are blunt , and so art thou .

Convey him hence , and on our longboat's side 
Strike off his head .

Thou dar'st not for thy own .

Yes , Pole .

Pole !

Pool ! Sir Pool ! lord !
Ay , kennel , puddle , sink ; whose filth and dirt 
Troubles the silver spring where England drinks .
Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth 
For swallowing the treasure of the realm :
Thy lips , that kiss'd the queen , shall sweep the ground ;
And thou , that smil'dst at good Duke Humphrey's death ,
Against the senseless winds shall grin in vain ,
Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again :
And wedded be thou to the hags of hell ,
For daring to affy a mighty lord 
Unto the daughter of a worthless king ,
Having neither subject , wealth , nor diadem .
By devilish policy art thou grown great ,
And , like ambitious Sylla , overgorg'd 
With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart .
By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France ,
The false revolting Normans thorough thee 
Disdain to call us lord , and Picardy 
Hath slain their governors , surpris'd our forts ,
And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home .
The princely Warwick , and the Nevils all ,
Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain ,
As hating thee , are rising up in arms :
And now the house of York , thrust from the crown 
By shameful murder of a guiltless king ,
And lofty proud encroaching tyranny ,
Burns with revenging fire ; whose hopeful colours 
Advance our half-fac'd sun , striving to shine ,
Under the which is writ Invitis nubibus .
The commons here in Kent are up in arms ;
And to conclude , reproach and beggary 
Is crept into the palace of our king ,
And all by thee . Away ! convey him hence .

O ! that I were a god , to shoot forth thunder 
Upon these paltry , servile , abject drudges .
Small things make base men proud : this villain here ,
Being captain of a pinnace , threatens more 
Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate .
Drones suck not eagles' blood , but rob beehives .
It is impossible that I should die 
By such a lowly vassal as thyself .
Thy words move rage , and not remorse in me :
I go of message from the queen to France ;
I charge thee , waft me safely cross the Channel .

Walter !

Come , Suffolk , I must waft thee to thy death .

Gelidus timor occupat artus : 'tis thee I fear .

Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee .
What ! are ye daunted now ? now will ye stoop ?

My gracious lord , entreat him , speak him fair .

Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough ,
Us'd to command , untaught to plead for favour .
Far be it we should honour such as these 
With humble suit : no , rather let my head 
Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any 
Save to the God of heaven , and to my king ;
And sooner dance upon a bloody pole 
Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom .
True nobility is exempt from fear :
More can I bear than you dare execute .

Hale him away , and let him talk no more .

Come , soldiers , show what cruelty ye can ,
That this my death may never be forgot .
Great men oft die by vile bezonians .
A Roman sworder and banditto slave 
Murder'd sweet Tully ; Brutus' bastard hand 
Stabb'd Julius C sar ; savage islanders 
Pompey the Great ; and Suffolk dies by pirates .


And as for these whose ransom we have set ,
It is our pleasure one of them depart :
Therefore come you with us and let him go .

There let his head and lifeless body lie ,
Until the queen his mistress bury it .


O barbarous and bloody spectacle !
His body will I bear unto the king :
If he revenge it not , yet will his friends ;
So will the queen , that living held him dear .


Come , and get thee a sword , though made of a lath : they have been up these two days .

They have the more need to sleep now then .

I tell thee , Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth , and turn it , and set a new nap upon it .

So he had need , for 'tis threadbare . Well , I say it was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up .

O miserable age ! Virtue is not regarded in handicrafts-men .

The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons .

Nay , more ; the king's council are no good workmen .

True ; and yet it is said , 'Labour in thy vocation :' which is as much to say as , let the magistrates be labouring men ; and therefore should we be magistrates .

Thou hast hit it ; for there's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand .

I see them ! I see them ! There's Best's son , the tanner of Wingham ,

He shall have the skins of our enemies to make dog's-leather of .

And Dick the butcher ,

Then is sin struck down like an ox , and iniquity's throat cut like a calf .

And Smith the weaver ,

Argo , their thread of life is spun .

Come , come , let's fall in with them .


We John Cade , so termed of our supposed father ,

Or rather , of stealing a cade of herrings .

For our enemies shall fall before us , inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes ,Command silence .

Silence !

My father was a Mortimer .

He was an honest man , and a good bricklayer .

My mother a Plantagenet ,

I knew her well ; she was a midwife .

My wife descended of the Lacies ,

She was , indeed , a pedlar's daughter , and sold many laces .

But now of late , not able to travel with her furred pack , she washes bucks here at home .

Therefore am I of an honourable house .

Ay , by my faith , the field is honourable ; and there was he born , under a hedge ; for his father had never a house but the cage .

Valiant I am .

A' must needs , for beggary is valiant .

I am able to endure much .

No question of that , for I have seen him whipped three market-days together .

I fear neither sword nor fire .

He need not fear the sword , for his coat is of proof .

But methinks he should stand in fear of fire , being burnt i' the hand for stealing of sheep .

Be brave , then ; for your captain is brave , and vows reformation . There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny ; the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops ; and I will make it felony to drink small beer . All the realm shall be in common , and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass . And when I am king ,as king I will be ,

God save your majesty !

I thank you , good people : there shall be no money ; all shall eat and drink on my score , and I will apparel them all in one livery , that they may agree like brothers , and worship me their lord .

The first thing we do , let's kill all the lawyers .

Nay , that I mean to do . Is not this a lamentable thing , that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment ? that parchment , being scribbled o'er , should undo a man ? Some say the bee stings ; but I say , 'tis the bee's wax , for I did but seal once to a thing , and I was never mine own man since . How now ! who's there ?


The clerk of Chatham : he can write and read and cast accompt .

O monstrous !

We took him setting of boys' copies .

Here's a villain !

Has a book in his pocket with red letters in't .

Nay , then he is a conjurer .

Nay , he can make obligations , and write court-hand .

I am sorry for't : the man is a proper man , of mine honour ; unless I find him guilty , he shall not die . Come hither , sirrah , I must examine thee . What is thy name ?

Emmanuel .

They use to write it on the top of letters . 'Twill go hard with you .

Let me alone . Dost thou use to write thy name , or hast thou a mark to thyself , like an honest plain-dealing man ?

Sir , I thank God , I have been so well brought up , that I can write my name .

He hath confessed : away with him ! he's a villain and a traitor .

Away with him ! I say : hang him with his pen and ink-horn about his neck .

Where's our general ?

Here I am , thou particular fellow .

Fly , fly , fly ! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by , with the king's forces .

Stand , villain , stand , or I'll fell thee down . He shall be encountered with a man as good as himself : he is but a knight , is a' ?

No .

To equal him , I will make myself a knight presently .

Rise up Sir John Mortimer . [Rises .] Now have at him .


Rebellious hinds , the filth and scum of Kent ,
Mark'd for the gallows , lay your weapons down ;
Home to your cottages , forsake this groom :
The king is merciful , if you revolt .

But angry , wrathful , and inclin'd to blood ,
If you go forward : therefore yield , or die .

As for these silken-coated slaves , I pass not :
It is to you , good people , that I speak ,
O'er whom , in time to come I hope to reign ;
For I am rightful heir unto the crown .

Villain ! thy father was a plasterer ;
And thou thyself a shearman , art thou not ?

And Adam was a gardener .

And what of that ?

Marry , this : Edmund Mortimer , Earl of March ,
Married the Duke of Clarence' daughter , did he not ?

Ay , sir .

By her he had two children at one birth .

That's false .

Ay , there's the question ; but I say , 'tis true :
The elder of them , being put to nurse ,
Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away ;
And , ignorant of his birth and parentage ,
Became a bricklayer when he came to age :
His son am I ; deny it if you can .

Nay , 'tis too true ; therefore he shall be king .

Sir , he made a chimney in my father's house , and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it ; therefore deny it not .

And will you credit this base drudge's words ,
That speaks he knows not what ?

Ay , marry , will we ; therefore get ye gone .

Jack Cade , the Duke of York hath taught you this .

He lies , for I invented it myself . Go to , sirrah ; tell the king from me , that , for his father's sake , Henry the Fifth , in whose time boys went to span-counter for French crowns , I am content he shall reign ; but I'll be protector over him .

And furthermore , we'll have the Lord Say's head for selling the dukedom of Maine .

And good reason ; for thereby is England mained , and fain to go with a staff , but that my puissance holds it up . Fellow kings , I tell you that that Lord Say hath gelded the commonwealth , and made it a eunuch ; and more than that , he can speak French ; and therefore he is a traitor .

O gross and miserable ignorance !

Nay , answer , if you can : the Frenchmen are our enemies ; go to then , I ask but this , can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good counsellor , or no ?

No , no ; and therefore we'll have his head .

Well , seeing gentle words will not prevail ,
Assail them with the army of the king .

Herald , away ; and throughout every town 
Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade ;
That those which fly before the battle ends 
May , even in their wives' and children's sight ,
Be hang'd up for example at their doors :
And you , that be the king's friends , follow me .


And you , that love the commons , follow me .
Now show yourselves men ; 'tis for liberty .
We will not leave one lord , one gentleman :
Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon ,
For they are thrifty honest men , and such 
As would , but that they dare not take our parts .

They are all in order , and march toward us .

But then are we in order when we are most out of order . Come , march ! forward !


Where's Dick , the butcher of Ashford ?

Here , sir .

They fell before thee like sheep and oxen , and thou behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughter-house : therefore thus will I reward thee , the Lent shall be as long again as it is ; and thou shalt have a licence to kill for a hundred lacking one .

I desire no more .

And , to speak truth , thou deservest no less . This monument of the victory will I bear ;

and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse' heels , till I do come to London , where we will have the Mayor's sword borne before us .

If we mean to thrive and do good , break open the gaols and let out the prisoners .

Fear not that , I warrant thee . Come ; let's march towards London .


Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind ,
And makes it fearful and degenerate ;
Think therefore on revenge , and cease to weep .
But who can cease to weep and look on this ?
Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast ;
But where's the body that I should embrace ?

What answer makes your Grace to the rebels' supplication ?

I'll send some holy bishop to entreat ;
For God forbid so many simple souls 
Should perish by the sword ! And I myself ,
Rather than bloody war shall cut them short ,
Will parley with Jack Cade their general .
But stay , I'll read it over once again .

Ah , barbarous villains ! hath this lovely face 
Rul'd like a wandering planet over me ,
And could it not enforce them to relent ,
That were unworthy to behold the same ?

Lord Say , Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head .

Ay , but I hope your highness shall have his .

How now , madam !
Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolk's death ?
I fear me , love , if that I had been dead ,
Thou wouldest not have mourn'd so much for me .

No , my love ; I should not mourn , but die for thee .


How now ! what news ? why com'st thou in such haste ?

The rebels are in Southwark ; fly , my lord !
Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer ,
Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house ,
And calls your Grace usurper openly ,
And vows to crown himself in Westminster .
His army is a ragged multitude 
Of hinds and peasants , rude and merciless :
Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death 
Hath given them heart and courage to proceed .
All scholars , lawyers , courtiers , gentlemen ,
They call false caterpillars , and intend their death .

O graceless men ! they know not what they do .

My gracious lord , retire to Killingworth ,
Until a power be rais'd to put them down .

Ah ! were the Duke of Suffolk now alive ,
These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd .

Lord Say , the traitors hate thee ,
Therefore away with us to Killingworth .

So might your Grace's person be in danger .
The sight of me is odious in their eyes ;
And therefore in this city will I stay ,
And live alone as secret as I may .


Jack Cade hath gotten London bridge ;
The citizens fly and forsake their houses ;
The rascal people , thirsting after prey ,
Join with the traitor ; and they jointly swear 
To spoil the city and your royal court .

Then linger not , my lord ; away ! take horse .

Come , Margaret ; God , our hope , will succour us .

My hope is gone , now Suffolk is deceas'd .

Farewell , my lord : trust not the Kentish rebels .

Trust nobody , for fear you be betray'd .

The trust I have is in mine innocence ,
And therefore am I bold and resolute .


How now ! is Jack Cade slain ?

No , my lord , nor likely to be slain ; for they have won the bridge , killing all those that withstand them . The Lord Mayor craves aid of your honour from the Tower , to defend the city from the rebels .

Such aid as I can spare you shall command ;
But I am troubled here with them myself ;
The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower .
But get you to Smithfield and gather head ,
And thither I will send you Matthew Goffe :
Fight for your king , your country , and your lives ;
And so , farewell , for I must hence again .


Now is Mortimer lord of this city . And here , sitting upon London-stone , I charge and command that , of the city's cost , the pissing-conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of our reign . And now , henceforward , it shall be treason for any that calls me other than Lord Mortimer .


Jack Cade ! Jack Cade !

Knock him down there .


If this fellow be wise , he'll never call you Jack Cade more : I think he hath a very fair warning .

My lord , there's an army gathered together in Smithfield .

Come then , let's go fight with them . But first , go and set London-bridge on fire , and , if you can , burn down the Tower too . Come , let's away .


So , sirs :Now go some and pull down the Savoy ; others to the inns of court : down with them all .

I have a suit unto your lordship .

Be it a lordship , thou shalt have it for that word .

Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth .

Mass , 'twill be sore law then ; for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear , and 'tis not whole yet .

Nay , John , it will be stinking law ; for his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese .

I have thought upon it ; it shall be so . Away ! burn all the records of the realm : my mouth shall be the parliament of England .

Then we are like to have biting statutes , unless his teeth be pulled out .

And henceforward all things shall be in common .


My lord , a prize , a prize ! here's the Lord Say , which sold the towns in France ; he that made us pay one-and-twenty fifteens , and one shilling to the pound , the last subsidy .


Well , he shall be beheaded for it ten times . Ah ! thou say , thou serge , nay , thou buckram lord ; now art thou within pointblank of our jurisdiction regal . What canst thou answer to my majesty for giving up of Normandy unto Monsieur Basimecu , the Dauphin of France ? Be it known unto thee by these presence , even the presence of Lord Mortimer , that I am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art . Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar-school ; and whereas , before , our fore-fathers had no other books but the score and the tally , thou hast caused printing to be used ; and , contrary to the king , his crown , and dignity , thou hast built a paper-mill . It will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb , and such abominable words as no Christian car can endure to hear . Thou hast appointed justices of peace , to call poor men before them about matters they were not able to answer . Moreover , thou hast put them in prison ; and because they could not read , thou hast hanged them ; when indeed only for that cause they have been most worthy to live . Thou dost ride on a foot-cloth , dost thou not ?

What of that ?

Marry , thou oughtest not to let thy horse wear a cloak , when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets .

And work in their shirt too ; as myself , for example , that am a butcher .

You men of Kent ,

What say you of Kent ?

Nothing but this : 'tis bona terra , mala gens .

Away with him ! away with him ! he speaks Latin .

Hear me but speak , and bear me where you will .
Kent , in the Commentaries C sar writ ,
Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle :
Sweet is the country , because full of riches ;
The people liberal , valiant , active , wealthy ;
Which makes me hope you are not void of pity .
I sold not Maine , I lost not Normandy ;
Yet , to recover them , would lose my life .
Justice with favour have I always done ;
Prayers and tears have mov'd me , gifts could never .
When have I aught exacted at your hands ,
But to maintain the king , the realm , and you ?
Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks ,
Because my book preferr'd me to the king ,
And seeing ignorance is the curse of God ,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven ,
Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits ,
You cannot but forbear to murder me :
This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings 
For your behoof ,

Tut ! when struck'st thou one blow in the field ?

Great men have reaching hands : oft have I struck 
Those that I never saw , and struck them dead .

O monstrous coward ! what , to come behind folks !

These cheeks are pale for watching for your good .

Give him a box o' the ear , and that will make 'em red again .

Long sitting , to determine poor men's causes ,
Hath made me full of sickness and diseases .

Ye shall have a hempen caudle then , and the help of hatchet .

Why dost thou quiver , man ?.

The palsy , and not fear , provokes me .

Nay , he nods at us ; as who should say , I'll be even with you : I'll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole , or no . Take him away and behead him .

Tell me wherein have I offended most ?
Have I affected wealth , or honour ? speak .
Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold ?
Is my apparel sumptuous to behold ?
Whom have I injur'd , that ye seek my death ?
These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding ,
This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts .
O ! let me live .

I feel remorse in myself with his words ; but I'll bridle it : he shall die , an it be but for pleading so well for his life . Away with him ! he has a familiar under his tongue ; he speaks not o' God's name . Go , take him away , I say , and strike off his head presently ; and then break into his son-in-law's house , Sir James Cromer , and strike off his head , and bring them both upon two poles hither .

It shall be done .

Ah , countrymen ! if when you make your prayers ,
God should be so obdurate as yourselves ,
How would it fare with your departed souls ?
And therefore yet relent , and save my life .

Away with him ! and do as I command ye .

The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head on his shoulders , unless he pay me tribute ; there shall not a maid be married , but she shall pay to me her maidenhead , ere they have it ; men shall hold of me in capite ; and we charge and command that their wives be as free as heart can wish or tongue can tell .

My lord , when shall we go to Cheapside and take up commodities upon our bills ?

Marry , presently .

O ! brave !


But is not this braver ? Let them kiss one another , for they loved well when they were alive . Now part them again , lest they consult about the giving up of some more towns in France . Soldiers , defer the spoil of the city until night : for with these borne before us , instead of maces , will we ride through the streets ; and at every corner have them kiss . Away !


Up Fish Street ! down St . Magnus' corner ! kill and knock down ! throw them into Thames ! [A parley sounded , then a retreat .] What noise is this I hear ? Dare any be so bold to sound retreat or parley , when I command them kill ?


Ay , here they be that dare and will disturb thee .
Know , Cade , we come ambassadors from the king 
Unto the commons whom thou hast misled ;
And here pronounce free pardon to them all 
That will forsake thee and go home in peace .

What say ye , countrymen ? will ye relent ,
And yield to mercy , whilst 'tis offer'd you ,
Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths ?
Who loves the king , and will embrace his pardon ,
Fling up his cap , and say 'God save his majesty !' 
Who hateth him , and honours not his father ,
Henry the Fifth , that made all France to quake ,
Shake he his weapon at us , and pass by .

God save the king ! God save the king !

What ! Buckingham and Clifford , are ye so brave ? And you , base peasants , do ye believe him ? will you needs be hanged with your pardons about your necks ? Hath my sword therefore broke through London Gates , that you should leave me at the White Hart in Southwark ? I thought ye would never have given out these arms till you had recovered your ancient freedom ; but you are all recreants and dastards , and delight to live in slavery to the nobility . Let them break your backs with burdens , take your houses over your heads , ravish your wives and daughters before your faces : for me , I will make shift for one , and so , God's curse light upon you all !

We'll follow Cade , we'll follow Cade !

Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth ,
That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him ?
Will he conduct you through the heart of France ,
And make the meanest of you earls and dukes ?
Alas ! he hath no home , no place to fly to ;
Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil ,
Unless by robbing of your friends and us .
Were't not a shame , that whilst you live at jar ,
The fearful French , whom you late vanquished ,
Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you ?
Methinks already in this civil broil 
I see them lording it in London streets ,
Crying Villiago ! unto all they meet .
Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry ,
Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy .
To France , to France ! and get what you have lost ;
Spare England , for it is your native coast .
Henry hath money , you are strong and manly ;
God on our side , doubt not of victory .

A Clifford ! a Clifford ! we'll follow the king and Clifford .

Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude ? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them to a hundred mischiefs , and makes them leave me desolate . I see them lay their heads together to surprise me . My sword make way for me , for here is no staying . In despite of the devils and hell , have through the very middest of you ! and heavens and honour be witness , that no want of resolution in me , but only my followers' base and ignominious treasons , makes me betake me to my heels .


What , is he fled ? go some , and follow him ;
And he that brings his head unto the king 
Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward .

Follow me , soldiers : we'll devise a mean 
To reconcile you all unto the king .


Was ever king that joy'd an earthly throne ,
And could command no more content than I ?
No sooner was I crept out of my cradle 
But I was made a king at nine months old :
Was never subject long'd to be a king 
As I do long and wish to be a subject .


Health , and glad tidings , to your majesty !

Why , Buckingham , is the traitor Cade surpris'd ?
Or is he but retir'd to make him strong ?


He's fled , my lord , and all his powers do yield ;
And humbly thus , with halters on their necks ,
Expect your highness' doom , of life , or death .

Then , heaven , set ope thy everlasting gates ,
To entertain my vows of thanks and praise !
Soldiers , this day have you redeem'd your lives ,
And show'd how well you love your prince and country :
Continue still in this so good a mind ,
And Henry , though he be infortunate ,
Assure yourselves , will never be unkind :
And so , with thanks and pardon to you all ,
I do dismiss you to your several countries .

God save the king ! God save the king !


Please it your Grace to be advertised ,
The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland ;
And with a puissant and a mighty power 
Of Gallowglasses , and stout kerns ,
Is marching hitherward in proud array ;
And still proclaimeth , as he comes along ,
His arms are only to remove from thee 
The Duke of Somerset , whom he terms a traitor .

Thus stands my state , 'twixt Cade and York distress'd ;
Like to a ship , that , having scap'd a tempest ,
Is straight way calm'd , and boarded with a pirate .
But now is Cade driven back , his men dispers'd ;
And now is York in arms to second him .
I pray thee , Buckingham , go and meet him ,
And ask him what's the reason of these arms .
Tell him I'll send Duke Edmund to the Tower ;
And , Somerset , we will commit thee thither ,
Until his army be dismiss'd from him .

My lord ,
I'll yield myself to prison willingly ,
Or unto death , to do my country good .

In any case , be not too rough in terms ;
For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language .

I will , my lord ; and doubt not so to deal 
As all things shall redound unto your good .

Come , wife , let's in , and learn to govern better ;
For yet may England curse my wretched reign .

Fie on ambition ! fie on myself , that have a sword , and yet am ready to famish ! These five days have I hid me in these woods and durst not peep out , for all the country is laid for me ; but now I am so hungry , that if I might have a lease of my life for a thousand years I could stay no longer . Wherefore , on a brick wall have I climbed into this garden , to see if I can eat grass , or pick a sallet another while , which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather . And I think this word 'sallet' was born to do me good : for many a time , but for a sallet , my brain-pan had been cleft with a brown bill ; and many a time , when I have been dry , and bravely marching , it hath served me instead of a quart-pot to drink in ; and now the word 'sallet' must serve me to feed on .


Lord ! who would live turmoiled in the court ,
And may enjoy such quiet walks as these ?
This small inheritance my father left me 
Contenteth me , and worth a monarchy .
I seek not to wax great by others' waning ,
Or gather wealth I care not with what envy :
Sufficeth that I have maintains my state ,
And sends the poor well pleased from my gate .

Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray , for entering his fee-simple without leave . Ah , villain ! thou wilt betray me , and get a thousand crowns of the king by carrying my head to him ; but I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich , and swallow my sword like a great pin , ere thou and I part .

Why , rude companion , whatsoe'er thou be ,
I know thee not ; why then should I betray thee ?
Is't not enough to break into my garden ,
And like a thief to come to rob my grounds ,
Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner ,
But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms ?

Brave thee ! ay , by the best blood that ever was broached , and beard thee too . Look on me well : I have eat no meat these five days ; yet , come thou and thy five men , and if I do not leave you all as dead as a door-nail , I pray God I may never eat grass more .

Nay , it shall ne'er be said , while England stands ,
That Alexander Iden , an esquire of Kent ,
Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man .
Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine ,
See if thou canst out-face me with thy looks :
Set limb to limb , and thou art far the lesser ;
Thy hand is but a finger to my fist ;
Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon ;
My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast ;
And if mine arm be heaved in the air 
Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth .
As for more words , whose greatness answers words ,
Let this my sword report what speech forbears .

By my valour , the most complete champion that ever I heard ! Steel , if thou turn the edge , or cut not out the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath , I beseech Jove on my knees , thou mayst be turned to hobnails .

O , I am slain ! Famine and no other hath slain me : let ten thousand devils come against me , and give me but the ten meals I have lost , and I'll defy them all . Wither , garden ; and be henceforth a burying-place to all that do dwell in this house , because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled .

Is't Cade that I have slain , that monstrous traitor ?
Sword , I will hallow thee for this thy deed ,
And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead :
Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point ,
But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat ,
To emblaze the honour that thy master got .

Iden , farewell ; and be proud of thy victory . Tell Kent from me , she hath lost her best man , and exhort all the world to be cowards ; for I , that never feared any , am vanquished by famine , not by valour .


How much thou wrong'st me , heaven be my judge .
Die , damned wretch , the curse of her that bare thee !
And as I thrust thy body in with my sword ,
So wish I I might thrust thy soul to hell .
Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels 
Unto a dunghill which shall be thy grave ,
And there cut off thy most ungracious head ;
Which I will bear in triumph to the king ,
Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon .


From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right ,
And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head :
Ring , bells , aloud ; burn , bonfires , clear and bright ,
To entertain great England's lawful king .
Ah sancta majestas , who would not buy thee dear ?
Let them obey that know not how to rule ;
This hand was made to handle nought but gold :
I cannot give due action to my words ,
Except a sword , or sceptre balance it .
A sceptre shall it have , have I-a soul ,
On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France .


Whom have we here ? Buckingham , to disturb me ?

The king hath sent him , sure : I must dissemble .

York , if thou meanest well , I greet thee well .

Humphrey of Buckingham , I accept thy greeting .
Art thou a messenger , or come of pleasure ?

A messenger from Henry , our dread hege ,
To know the reason of these arms in peace ;
Or why thou ,being a subject as I am ,
Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn ,
Shouldst raise so great a power without his leave ,
Or dare to bring thy force so near the court .

Scarce can I speak , my choler is so great :
O ! I could hew up rocks and fight with flint ,
I am so angry at these abject terms ;
And now , like Ajax Telamonius ,
On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury .
I am far better born than is the king ,
More like a king , more kingly in my thoughts ;
But I must make fair weather yet awhile ,
Till Henry be more weak , and I more strong .


Buckingham , I prithee , pardon me ,
That I have given no answer all this while ;
My mind was troubled with deep melancholy .
The cause why I have brought this army hither 
Is to remove proud Somerset from the king ,
Seditious to his Grace and to the state .

That is too much presumption on thy part :
But if thy arms be to no other end ,
The king hath yielded unto thy demand :
The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower .

Upon thine honour , is he a prisoner ?

Upon mine honour , he is a prisoner .

Then , Buckingham , I do dismiss my powers .
Soldiers , I thank you all ; disperse yourselves ;
Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field ,
You shall have pay , and everything you wish ,
And let my sov'reign , virtuous Henry ,
Command my eldest son , nay , all my sons ,
As pledges of my fealty and love ;
I'll send them all as willing as I live :
Lands , goods , horse , armour , anything I have 
Is his to use , so Somerset may die .

York , I commend this kind submission :
We twain will go into his highness' tent .


Buckingham , doth York intend no harm to us ,
That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm ?

In all submission and humility 
York doth present himself unto your highness .

Then what intend these forces thou dost bring ?

To heave the traitor Somerset from hence ,
And fight against that monstrous rebel , Cade ,
Who since I heard to be discomfited .


If one so rude and of so mean condition 
May pass into the presence of a king ,
Lo ! I present your Grace a traitor's head ,
The head of Cade , whom I in combat slew .

The head of Cade ! Great God , how just art thou !
O ! let me view his visage , being dead ,
That living wrought me such exceeding trouble .
Tell me , my friend , art thou the man that slew him ?

I was , an't like your majesty .

How art thou call'd , and what is thy degree ?

Alexander Iden , that's my name ;
A poor esquire of Kent , that loves his king .

So please it you , my lord , 'twere not amiss 
He were created knight for his good service .

Iden , kneel down .

Rise up a knight .
We give thee for reward a thousand marks ;
And will , that thou henceforth attend on us .

May Iden live to merit such a bounty ,
And never live but true unto his liege !

See ! Buckingham ! Somerset comes with the queen :
Go , bid her hide him quickly from the duke .


For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head ,
But boldly stand and front him to his face .

How now ! is Somerset at liberty ?
Then , York , unloose thy long-imprison'd thoughts 
And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart .
Shall I endure the sight of Somerset ?
False king ! why hast thou broken faith with me ,
Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse ?
King did I call thee ? no , thou art not king ;
Not fit to govern and rule multitudes ,
Which dar'st not , no , nor canst not rule a traitor .
That head of thine doth not become a crown ;
Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff ,
And not to grace an awful princely sceptre .
That gold must round engirt these brows of mine ,
Whose smile and frown , like to Achilles' spear ,
Is able with the change to kill and cure .
Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up ,
And with the same to act controlling laws .
Give place : by heaven , thou shalt rule no more 
O'er him whom heaven created for thy ruler .

O monstrous traitor :I arrest thee , York ,
Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown .
Obey , audacious traitor ; kneel for grace .

Wouldst have me kneel ? first let me ask of these 
If they can brook I bow a knee to man .
Sirrah , call in my sons to be my bail :

I know ere they will have me go to ward ,
They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement .

Call hither Clifford ; bid him come amain ,
To say if that the bastard boys of York 
Shall be the surety for their traitor father .


O blood-bespotted Neapolitan ,
Outcast of Naples , England's bloody scourge !
The sons of York , thy betters in their birth ,
Shall be their father's bail ; and bane to those 
That for my surety will refuse the boys !


See where they come : I'll warrant they'll make it good .

And here comes Clifford , to deny their bail .

Health and all happiness to my lord the king !

I thank thee , Clifford : say , what news with thee ?
Nay , do not fright us with an angry look :
We are thy sov'reign , Clifford , kneel again ;
For thy mistaking so , we pardon thee .

This is my king , York , I do not mistake ;
But thou mistak'st me much to think I do .
To Bedlam with him ! is the man grown mad ?

Ay , Clifford ; a bedlam and ambitious humour 
Makes him oppose himself against his king .

He is a traitor ; let him to the Tower ,
And chop away that factious pate of his .

He is arrested , but will not obey :
His sons , he says , shall give their words for him .

Will you not , sons ?

Ay , noble father , if our words will serve .

And if words will not , then our weapons shall .

Why , what a brood of traitors have we here !

Look in a glass , and call thy image so :
I am thy king , and thou a false-heart traitor .
Call hither to the stake my two brave bears ,
That with the very shaking of their chains 
They may astonish these fell-lurking curs :
Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me .


Are these thy bears ? we'll bait thy bears to death ,
And manacle the bear-ward in their chains ,
If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place .

Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur 
Run back and bite , because he was withheld ;
Who , being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw ,
Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs , and cried :
And such a piece of service will you do ,
If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick .

Hence , heap of wrath , foul indigested lump ,
As crooked in thy manners as thy shape !

Nay , we shall heat you thoroughly anon .

Take heed , lest by your heat you burn yourselves .

Why , Warwick , hath thy knee forgot to bow ?
Old Salisbury , shame to thy silver hair ,
Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son !
What ! wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian ,
And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles ?
O ! where is faith ? O , where is loyalty ?
If it be banish'd from the frosty head ,
Where shall it find a harbour in the earth ?
Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war ,
And shame thine honourable age with blood ?
Why art thou old , and want'st experience ?
Or wherefore dost abuse it , if thou hast it ?
For shame ! in duty bend thy knee to me ,
That bows unto the grave with mickle age .

My lord , I have consider'd with myself 
The title of this most renowned duke ;
And in my conscience do repute his Grace 
The rightful heir to England's royal seat .

Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me ?

I have .

Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath ?

It is great sin to swear unto a sin ,
But greater sin to keep a sinful oath .
Who can be bound by any solemn vow 
To do a murderous deed , to rob a man ,
To force a spotless virgin's chastity ,
To reave the orphan of his patrimony ,
To wring the widow from her custom'd right ,
And have no other reason for this wrong 
But that he was bound by a solemn oath ?

A subtle traitor needs no sophister .

Call Buckingham , and bid him arm himself .

Call Buckingham , and all the friends thou hast ,
I am resolv'd for death , or dignity .

The first I warrant thee , if dreams prove true .

You were best to go to bed and dream again ,
To keep thee from the tempest of the field .

I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm 
Than any thou canst conjure up to-day ;
And that I'll write upon thy burgonet ,
Might I but know thee by thy household badge .

Now , by my father's badge , old Nevil's crest ,
The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff ,
This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet ,
As on a mountain-top the cedar shows ,
That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm ,
Even to affright thee with the view thereof .

And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear ,
And tread it underfoot with all contempt ,
Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear .

And so to arms , victorious father ,
To quell the rebels and their complices .

Fie ! charity ! for shame ! speak not in spite ,
For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night .

Foul stigmatic , that's more than thou canst tell .

If not in heaven , you'll surely sup in hell .


Clifford of Cumberland , 'tis Warwick calls :
And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear ,
Now , when the angry trumpet sounds alarm ,
And dead men's cries do fill the empty air ,
Clifford , I say , come forth , and fight with me !
Proud northern lord , Clifford of Cumberland ,
Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms .

How now , my noble lord ! what ! all afoot ?

The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed ;
But match to match I have encounter'd him ,
And made a prey for carrion kites and crows 
Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well .


Of one or both of us the time is come .

Hold , Warwick ! seek thee out some other chase ,
For I myself must hunt this deer to death .

Then , nobly , York ; 'tis for a crown thou fight'st .
As I intend , Clifford , to thrive to-day ,
It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd .


What seest thou in me , York ? why dost thou pause ?

With thy brave bearing should I be in love ,
But that thou art so fast mine enemy .

Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem ,
But that 'tis shown ignobly and in treason .

So let it help me now against thy sword 
As I in justice and true right express it .

My soul and body on the action both !

A dreadful lay ! address thee instantly .

La fin couronne les  uvres .


Thus war hath given thee peace , for thou art still .
Peace with his soul , heaven , if it be thy will !

Shame and confusion ! all is on the rout :
Fear frames disorder , and disorder wounds 
Where it should guard . O war ! thou son of hell ,
Whom angry heavens do make their minister ,
Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part 
Hot coals of vengeance ! Let no soldier fly :
He that is truly dedicate to war 
Hath no self-love ; nor he that loves himself 
Hath not essentially , but by circumstance ,
The name of valour .

O ! let the vile world end ,
And the premised flames of the last day 
Knit heaven and earth together ;
Now let the general trumpet blow his blast ,
Particularities and petty sounds 
To cease !Wast thou ordain'd , dear father ,
To lose thy youth in peace , and to achieve 
The silver livery of advised age ,
And , in thy reverence and thy chair-days thus 
To die in ruffian battle ? Even at this sight 
My heart is turn'd to stone : and while 'tis mine 
It shall be stony . York not our old men spares :
No more will I their babes : tears virginal 
Shall be to me even as the dew to fire ;
And beauty , that the tyrant oft reclaims ,
Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax .
Henceforth I will not have to do with pity :
Meet I an infant of the house of York ,
Into as many gobbets will I cut it 
As wild Medea young Absyrtus did :
In cruelty will I seek out my fame .
Come , thou new ruin of old Clifford's house :

As did  neas old Anchises bear ,
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders ;
But then  neas bare a living load ,
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine .

So , lie thou there ;
For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign ,
The Castle in Saint Alban's , Somerset 
Hath made the wizard famous in his death .
Sword , hold thy temper ; heart , be wrathful still :
Priests pray for enemies , but princes kill .

Away , my lord ! you are slow : for shame , away !

Can we outrun the heavens ? good Margaret , stay .

What are you made of ? you'll nor fight nor fly :
Now is it manhood , wisdom , and defence ,
To give the enemy way , and to secure us 
By what we can , which can no more but fly .

If you be ta'en , we then should see the bottom 
Of all our fortunes : but if we haply scape ,
As well we may , if not through your neglect ,
We shall to London get , where you are lov'd ,
And where this breach now in our fortunes made 
May readily be stopp'd .


But that my heart's on future mischief set ,
I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly ;
But fly you must : uncurable discomfit 
Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts .
Away , for your relief ! and we will live 
To see their day and them our fortune give .
Away , my lord , away !


Of Salisbury , who can report of him ;
That winter lion , who in rage forgets 
Aged contusions and all brush of time ,
And , like a gallant in the brow of youth ,
Repairs him with occasion ? this happy day 
Is not itself , nor have we won one foot ,
If Salisbury be lost .

My noble father ,
Three times to-day I holp him to his horse ,
Three times bestrid him ; thrice I led him off ,
Persuaded him from any further act :
But still , where danger was , still there I met him ;
And like rich hangings in a homely house ,
So was his will in his old feeble body .
But , noble as he is , look where he comes .


Now , by my sword , well hast thou fought to-day ;
By the mass , so did we all . I thank you , Richard :
God knows how long it is I have to live ;
And it hath pleas'd him that three times to-day 
You have defended me from imminent death .
Well , lords , we have not got that which we have :
'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled ,
Being opposites of such repairing nature .

I know our safety is to follow them ;

For , as I hear , the king is fled to London ,
To call a present court of parliament :
Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth :
What says Lord Warwick ? shall we after them ?

After them ! nay , before them , if we can .
Now , by my hand , lords , 'twas a glorious day :
Saint Alban's battle , won by famous York ,
Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come .
Sound , drums and trumpets , and to London all :
And more such days as these to us befall !