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3 Neigh. Here's a pot of good double beer, neighbour drink and be merry, and fear not your man. Arm. Let it come, i' faith I'll pledge you all, And a fig for Peter.

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

2 Pren. Here, Peter, here's a pint of claret wine for thee.

3 Pren. And here's a quart for me, and be merry Peter,

And fear not thy master; fight for credit of the prentices.

Peter. I thank you all, but I'll drink no more: here, Robin, and if I die, here I give thee my hammer; and Will, thou shalt have my apron and here, Tom, take all the money that I have. O Lord bless pray God, for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learned so much fence already. Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. Sirrah, what's thy name?

me,

Peter. Peter, forsooth.

Sal, Peter: what more?
Peter. Thump.

Sal. Thump, then see that thou thump thy master. Arm. Here's to thee, neighbour; fill all the pots again, for before we fight, look you, I will tell you my mind; for I am come hither as it were of my man's instigation, to prove myself an honest man and Peter a knave: and so have at you Peter with downright blows, as Bevis of Southampton fell upon Ascapart.

Peter. La you, now; I told you he's in his fence already.

[Alarums. PETER hits him on the head and fells him.

Arm. Hold, Peter! I confess, treason, treason. [He dies. Peter. O God, I give thee praise. [He kneels down. Pren. Ho, well done, Peter! God save the king! King. 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 murther'd wrongfully. Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.

[Exeunt omnes.

(SCENE IV.)

Enter Duke HUMPHREY and his men, in mourning cloaks.

Hum. Sirrah, what's o'clock ? Serv. Almost ten, my lord.

Hum. Then is that woeful hour hard at band, That my poor lady should come by this way, In shameful penance wandering in the streets. Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook The abject people gazing on thy face, With envious looks laughing at thy shame, That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets.

Enter Dame ELEANOR COBHAM barefoot, and a white sheet about her, with a wax candle in her hand, and verses written on her back and pinned on, and accompanied with the Sheriffs of London, and Sir JOHN STANLEY, and officers, with bills and halberds.

Serv. My gracious lord, see where my lady comes. Please it your grace, we'll take her from the sheriffs. Hum. I charge you for your lives stir not a foot, Nor offer once to draw a weapon here,

But let them do their office as they should. Eleanor. Come you, my lord, to see my open shame ?

Ah, Gloster, now thou dost penance too,
See how the giddy people look at thee,
Shaking their heads, and pointing at thee here.
Go, get thee gone, and hide thee from their sights,
And in thy pent-up study rue my shame,
And ban thine enemies,-ah! mine and thine.

Hum. Ah, Nell, sweet Nell, forget this extreme grief, And bear it patiently to ease thy heart.

Eleanor. Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget myself; For whilst I think I am thy wedded wife, The thought of this doth kill my woeful heart. The ruthless flints do cut my tender feet, And when I start, the cruel people laugh, And bid me be advised how I tread; And thus, with burning taper in my hand, Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back, Ah, Gloster, can I endure this and live? Sometime I'll say I am duke Humphrey's wife, And he a prince, protector of the land, But so he rul'd, and such a prince he was,

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Sheriff. Please it your grace, my office here doth end,

And I must deliver her to sir John Stanley,
To be conducted into the isle of Man.

(ACT III.)

How that ambitious duke doth use himself?
The time hath been, but now the time is past,
That none so humble as duke Humphrey was:
But now let one meet him even in the morn,
When every one will give the time of day,
Yet he will neither move nor speak to us.
See you not how the commons follow him

In troops, crying, God save the good duke Hum.
phrey !
Honouring him as if he were their king?
Gloster is no little man in England,
And if he list to stir commotions
'Tis likely that the people will follow him.
My lord, if you imagine there is no such thing,
Then let it pass, and call 't a woman's fear.
My lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York,
Disprove my allegations if you can,
And by your speeches if you can reprove me,
I will subscribe, and say I wrong'd the duke.
Suf. Well hath your grace foreseen into that
duke;
And if I had been licens'd first to speak,
I think I should have told your grace's tale.
Smooth runs the brook whereas the stream is deepest.

Hum. Must you, sir John, conduct my lady? Stan. Ay, my gracious lord, for so it is decreed, And I am so commanded by the king.

Hum. I pray you, sir John, use her ne'er the

worse,

In that I entreat you to use her well.

The world may smile again, and I may live

To do you favour, if you do it her.

And so, sir John, farewell.

Eleanor. What, gone, my lord, and bid not me farewell?

Hum. Witness my bleeding heart, I cannot stay to speak. [Exeunt HUMPHREY and his men. Eleanor. Then is he gone, is noble Gloster gone, And doth duke Humphrey now forsake me too? Then let me haste from out fair England's bounds: Come, Stanley, come, and let us haste away.

Stan. Madam, let's go unto some house hereby,
Where you may shift yourself before we go.
Eleanor. Ah, good sir John, my shame cannot be
hid,

Nor put away with casting off my sheet:
But, come, let us go; master sheriff, farewell,
Thou hast but done thy office as thou shouldst.
[Exeunt omnes.

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Be brought against me at the judgment-day.
I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay;
Many a pound of mine own proper cost
Have I sent over for the soldiers' wants,
Because I would not rack the needy commons.

Card. In your protectorship you did devise
Strange torments for offenders, by which means
England hath been defam'd by tyranny.

Ilum. Why, 't is well known that whilst I was pro

tector

Pity was all the fault that was in me:
A murtherer or foul felonious thief,
That robs and murders silly passengers,

tortur'd above the rate of common law.

Suf. Tush, my lord, these be things of no account;

But greater matters are laid unto your charge.
I do arrest thee on high treason here,
And commit thee to my good lord cardinal,
Until such time as thou canst clear thyself.

King. Good uncle, obey to his arrest:
I have no doubt but thou shalt clear thyself;
My conscience tells me thou art innocent.

Hum. Ab, gracious Henry, these days are dangerous!

And would my death might end these miseries,
And stay their moods for good king Henry's sake.
But I am made the prologue to their play,
And thousands more must follow after me,
That dread not yet their lives' destruction.
Suffolk's hateful tongue blabs his heart's malice;
Beaufort's fiery eyes show his envious mind;
Buckingham's proud looks bewray his cruel thoughts;
And dogged York, that levels at the moon,
Whose overweening arm I have held back,
All you have joined to betray me thus:
And you, my gracious lady and sovereign mis-
tress,
Causeless have laid complaints upon my head.
I shall not want false witnesses enough,
That so amongst you you may have my life.
The proverb no doubt will be perform'd,
A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.

Suf. Doth he not twit our sovereign lady here,
As if that she, with ignominious wrong,
Had suborn'd or hir'd some to swear against his
life?

Queen. But I can give the loser leave to speak. Ilum. Far truer spoke than mcant: I lose indeed:

Boshrew the winners' hearts, they play me false. Buck. He'll wrest the sense, and keep us here all day: My lord of Winchester, see him sent away. Card. Who's within there! take in duke Humphroy, And see him guarded sure within my house.

Ilum. Oh, thus king Henry casts away his crutch, Before his legs can bear his body up; And puts his watchful shepherd from his side, Whilst wolves stand snarring who shall bite him first. Farewell, my sovereign! long mayst thou enjoy Thy father's happy days, free from annoy

[Exit HUMPHREY, with the Cardinal's men. King. My lords, what to your wisdoms shall seem best

Do and undo as if ourself were here.

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Buck. Then thither shall they come, and so farewell. [Exit BUCKINGHAM. York. Adiou, my lord of Buckingham. Queen. Suffolk, remember what you have to do. And you, lord Cardinal, concerning duke Humphrey.

'T were good that you did see to it in time. Como, let us go, that it may be perform'd. [Exeunt omnes, manet YORK. York. Now, York, bethink thyself, and rouse thee

up,

Take time whilst it is offer'd thee so fair,

Lest when thou wouldst, thou canst it not attain !
'Twas men I lack'd, and now they give them me,
And now, whilst I am busy in Ireland,
I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman,
John Cade of Ashford,

Under the title of John Mortimer,
(For he is like him every kind of way)
To raise commotion, and by that means
I shall perceive how the common people
Do affect the claim and house of York.
Then, if he have success in his affairs,
From Ireland then comes York again,
To reap the harvest which that coystrill sow'd:
Now, if he should be taken and condemn'd,
He'll ne'er confess that I did set him on,
And therefore ere I go I'll send him word
To put in practice and to gather head,
That so soon as I am gone he may begin
To rise in arms with troops of country swains,
To help him to perform this enterprise.
And then, duke Humphrey, he well made away,
None then can stop the light to England's crown,
But York can tame, and headlong pull them down.
[Exit YORK.

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Enter the Earls of WARWICK and SALISBURY.

War. My lord, the commons, like an hungry hive of bees,

Run up and down, caring not whom they sting,
For good duke Humphrey's death, whom they re-
port

To be murthered by Suffolk and the Cardinal here.
King. That he is dead, good Warwick, is too
true,
But how he died God knows, not Henry.

War. Enter his privy chamber, my lord, and view the body. Good father, stay you with the rude multitude till I return.

Sal. I will, son.

[Exit SALISBURY,

WARWICK draws the curtains, and shows Duke HUMPHREY in his bed.

King. Ah, uncle Gloster, heaven receive thy soul! Farewell poor Henry's joy, now thou art gone. War. Now by his soul that took our shape upon him,

To free us from his Father's dreadful curse,
I am resolv'd that violent hands were laid
Upon the life of this thrice famous duke.

Suf. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue!
What instance gives lord Warwick for these words?
War. Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,
Of ashy semblance, pale and bloodless;
But, lo! the blood is settled in his face,
More better coloured than when he liv'd.

His well-proportion'd beard made rough and stern, His fingers spread abroad as one that grasp'd for life, Yet was by strength surpris'd; the least of these aro probable:

It cannot choose but he was murthered.

Queen. Suffolk and the Cardinal had him in charge,

And they I trust, sir, are no murtherers.

War. Ay, but 't is well known they were not his friends,

And 't is well seen he found some enemies.

Card. But have ye no greater proofs than these? War. Who sees a heifer dead and bleeding fresh, And sees hard by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect 't was he that made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest, But will imagine how the bird came there, Although the kite soar with unbloody beak? Even so suspicious is this tragedy.

Queen. Are you the kite, Beaufort; where's his talons?

Is Suffolk the butcher; where's his knife?

Suf. I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men, Yet here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scour'd in his rancorous heart

That slanders me with murther's crimson badge. Say, if thou dare, proud lord of Warwickshire, That I am guilty in duke Humphrey's death. [Exit CARDINAL. War. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him?

Queen. He dares not calm his contumelious spirit,
Nor cease to be an arrogant controller,
Though Suffolk dare him twenty hundred times.
War. Madam, be still; with reverence may I
say it,

That every word you speak in his defence
Is slander to your royal majesty.

Suf. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in thy words,
If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much,

Thy mother took unto 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 Nevil's noble race.

War. But that the guilt of murther bucklers thee,

And I should rob the deathsman of his fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames;
And that my sovereign's presence makes me mute,
I would, false murtherous coward, on thy knees
Make thee crave pardon for thy passed speech,
And say, it was thy mother that thou meant'st,
That thou thyself was born in bastardy:
And, after all this fearful homage done,
Give thee thy hire, and send thee down to hell,
Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men.

Suf. Thou should'st be waking whilst I shed thy blood,

If from this presonce thou dare go with me. War. Away, even now, or I will drag thee hence. [WARWICK pulls him out.

Exit WARWICK and SUFFOLK, and then all the Commons within cry, 'Down with Suffolk, Down with Suffolk.' And then enter again the Dukes of SUFFOLK and WARWICK, with their weapons drawn.

King. Why, how now, lords?

Suf. The traitorous Warwick, with the men of Bury,

Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.

The Commons again cry 'Down with Suffolk, Down with Suffolk.' And then enter from them the Earl of SALISBURY.

Sal. My lord, the Commons send you word by me,
That unless false Suffolk here be done to death,
Or banished fair England's territories,

That they will err from your highness' person:
They say, by him the good duke Humphrey died;
They say, by him they fear the ruin of the realm;
And therefore if you love your subjects' weal,
They wish you to banish him from forth the land.
Suf. Indeed, 'tis like the commons, rude un-
polish'd hinds,

Would send such message to their sovereign:
But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd,
To try how quaint an orator you were;
But all the honour Salisbury hath got,
Is that he was the lord ambassador,
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king.

Commons. [Within.] An answer from the king, my lord of Salisbury.

King. Good Salisbury, go back again to them; Tell them we thank them all for their kind care, And had I not been cited thus by their means, Myself had done it. Therefore here I swear, If Suffolk be found to breathe in any place

Where I have rule, but three days more, he dies.
[Exit SALISBURY.
Queen. Oh, Henry, reverse the doom of gentle
Suffolk's banishment.

King. Ungentle queen, to call him gentle Suffolk. Speak not for him, for in England he shall not rest. If I say, may relent;

But if I swear, it is irrevocable.

Come, good Warwick, and go thou in with me,
For I have great matters to impart to thee.
[Exeunt KING and WARWICK, manent QUEEN and
SUFFOLK.

Queen. Hell fire and vengeance go along with you!

There's two of you, the devil make the third! Fie, womanish man, canst thou not curse thy enemies?

Suf. A plague upon them, wherefore should I curse them?

Could curses kill, as do the mandrake's groans,
I would invent as many bitter terms,
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth,
With twice so 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 distraught;
And every joint should seem to curse and ban.
And now, methinks, my burthen'd heart would
break

Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink! Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest thing they taste!

Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress-trees!
Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings!
Their music frightful like the serpents' hiss;
And boding screech-owls make the concert full!
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell-

Queen. Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st thyself.

Suf. You bad me ban, and will you bid me cease?

Now, by this ground that I am banish'd from,
Well could I curse away a winter's night,
And standing naked on a mountain top,
Where biting cold would never let grass grow,
And think it but a minute spent in sport.

Queen. No more. Sweet Suffolk, hie thee hence to France,

Or live where thou wilt within this world's globe,
I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.

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