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will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey.

KING HENRY. 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.

QUEEN. 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.

 

Enter SOMERSET

 

SOMERSET. All health unto my gracious sovereign!

KING HENRY. Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news from France?

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

KING HENRY. Cold news, Lord Somerset; but God’s will be done!

YORK. [Aside] 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.

 

Enter GLOUCESTER

 

GLOUCESTER. All happiness unto my lord the King!

Pardon, my liege, that I have stay’d so long.

SUFFOLK. 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.

GLOUCESTER. Well, Suffolk, 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?

YORK. ‘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.

GLOUCESTER. 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 nightin 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 dispursed to the garrisons,

And never ask’d for restitution.

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

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

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

GLOUCESTER. 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.

SUFFOLK. 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.

KING HENRY. My Lord of Gloucester, ‘tis my special hope That you will clear yourself from all suspense.

My conscience tells me you are innocent.

GLOUCESTER. 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 sovereign 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.’

CARDINAL. 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.

SUFFOLK. 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?

QUEEN. But I can give the loser leave to chide.

GLOUCESTER. 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.

BUCKINGHAM. He’ll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day.

Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner.

CARDINAL. Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure.

GLOUCESTER. 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. Exit, guarded KING HENRY. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best Do or undo, as if ourself were here.

QUEEN. What, will your Highness leave the Parliament?

KING HENRY. 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 louring 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.’ Exit QUEEN. Free 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 IAnd 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.

CARDINAL. That he should die is worthy policy; But yet we want a colour for his death.

‘Tis meet he be condemn’d by course of law.

SUFFOLK. 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.

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

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

YORK. ‘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?

QUEEN. So the poor chicken should be sure of death.

SUFFOLK. 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 subtlety, Sleeping or waking, ‘tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good deceit Which mates him first that first intends deceit.

QUEEN. Thrice-noble Suffolk, ‘tis resolutely spoke.

SUFFOLK. 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.

CARDINAL. 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.

SUFFOLK. Here is my hand the deed is worthy doing.

QUEEN. And so say I.

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

 

Enter a POST

 

POST. 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.

CARDINAL. A breach that craves a quick expedient stop!

What counsel give you in this weighty cause?

YORK. That Somerset be sent as Regent thither; ‘Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ’d, Witness the fortune he hath had in France.

SOMERSET. 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.

YORK. 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.

QUEEN. 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.

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

SOMERSET. And in the number, thee that

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