Shakespeare's First Folio Part 365

Glo. I Vnckle, we will keepe it, if we can: But now it is impossible we should.

Suffolke, the new made Duke that rules the rost, Hath giuen the Dutchy of Aniou and Mayne, Vnto the poore King Reignier, whose large style Agrees not with the leannesse of his purse

Sal. Now by the death of him that dyed for all, These Counties were the Keyes of Normandie: But wherefore weepes Warwicke, my valiant sonne?

War. For greefe that they are past recouerie.

For were there hope to conquer them againe, My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no teares.

Aniou and Maine? My selfe did win them both: Those Prouinces, these Armes of mine did conquer, And are the Citties that I got with wounds, Deliuer'd vp againe with peacefull words?

Mort Dieu

Yorke. For Suffolkes Duke, may he be suffocate, That dims the Honor of this Warlike Isle: France should haue torne and rent my very hart, Before I would haue yeelded to this League.

I neuer read but Englands Kings haue had Large summes of Gold, and Dowries with their wiues, And our King Henry giues away his owne, To match with her that brings no vantages

Hum. A proper iest, and neuer heard before, That Suffolke should demand a whole Fifteenth, For Costs and Charges in transporting her: She should haue staid in France, and steru'd in France Before - Car. My Lord of Gloster, now ye grow too hot, It was the pleasure of my Lord the King

Hum. My Lord of Winchester I know your minde.

'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 furie: 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.

Exit Humfrey.

Car. So, there goes our Protector in a rage: 'Tis knowne to you he is mine enemy: Nay more, an enemy vnto you all, And no great friend, I feare me to the King; Consider Lords, he is the next of blood, And heyre apparant to the English Crowne: Had Henrie got an Empire by his marriage, And all the wealthy Kingdomes of the West, There's reason he should be displeas'd at it: Looke to it Lords, let not his smoothing words Bewitch your hearts, be wise and circ.u.mspect.

What though the common people fauour him, Calling him, Humfrey the good Duke of Gloster, Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voyce, Iesu maintaine your Royall Excellence, With G.o.d preserue the good Duke Humfrey: I feare me Lords, for all this flattering glosse, He will be found a dangerous Protector

Buc. Why should he then protect our Soueraigne?

He being of age to gouerne of himselfe.

Cosin of Somerset, ioyne you with me, And altogether with the Duke of Suffolke, Wee'l quickly hoyse Duke Humfrey from his seat

Car. This weighty businesse will not brooke delay, Ile to the Duke of Suffolke presently.

Exit Cardinall.

Som. Cosin of Buckingham, though Humfries pride And greatnesse of his place be greefe to vs, Yet let vs watch the haughtie Cardinall, His insolence is more intollerable Then all the Princes in the Land beside, If Gloster be displac'd, hee'l be Protector

Buc. Or thou, or I Somerset will be Protectors, Despite Duke Humfrey, or the Cardinall.

Exit Buckingham, and Somerset.

Sal. Pride went before, Ambition followes him.

While these do labour for their owne preferment, Behooues it vs to labor for the Realme.

I neuer saw but Humfrey Duke of Gloster, Did beare him like a n.o.ble Gentleman: Oft haue I seene the haughty Cardinall, More like a Souldier then a man o'th' Church, As stout and proud as he were Lord of all, Sweare like a Ruffian, and demeane himselfe Vnlike the Ruler of a Common-weale.

Warwicke my sonne, the comfort of my age, Thy deeds, thy plainnesse, and thy house-keeping, Hath wonne the greatest fauour of the Commons, Excepting none but good Duke Humfrey.

And Brother Yorke, thy Acts in Ireland, In bringing them to ciuill Discipline: Thy late exploits done in the heart of France, When thou wert Regent for our Soueraigne, Haue made thee fear'd and honor'd of the people, Ioyne we together for the publike good, In what we can, to bridle and suppresse The pride of Suffolke, and the Cardinall, With Somersets and Buckinghams Ambition, And as we may, cherish Duke Humfries deeds, While they do tend the profit of the Land

War. So G.o.d helpe Warwicke, as he loues the Land, And common profit of his Countrey

Yor. And so sayes Yorke, For he hath greatest cause

Salisbury. Then lets make hast away, And looke vnto the maine

Warwicke. Vnto the maine?

Oh Father, Maine is lost, That Maine, which by maine force Warwicke did winne, And would haue 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 slaine.

Exit Warwicke, and Salisbury. Manet Yorke.

Yorke. Aniou and Maine are giuen to the French, Paris is lost, the state of Normandie Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone: Suffolke concluded on the Articles, The Peeres agreed, and Henry was well pleas'd, To change two Dukedomes for a Dukes faire daughter.

I cannot blame them all, what is't to them?

'Tis thine they giue away, and not their owne.

Pirates may make cheape penyworths of their pillage, And purchase Friends, and giue to Curtezans, Still reuelling like Lords till all be gone, While as the silly Owner of the goods Weepes ouer them, and wrings his haplesse hands, And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloofe, While all is shar'd, and all is borne away, Ready to sterue, and dare not touch his owne.

So Yorke must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue, While his owne Lands are bargain'd for, and sold: Me thinkes the Realmes of England, France, & Ireland, Beare that proportion to my flesh and blood, As did the fatall brand Althaea burnt, Vnto the Princes heart of Calidon: Aniou and Maine both giuen vnto the French?

Cold newes for me: for I had hope of France, Euen as I haue of fertile Englands soile.

A day will come, when Yorke shall claime his owne, And therefore I will take the Neuils parts, And make a shew of loue to proud Duke Humfrey, And when I spy aduantage, claime the Crowne, For that's the Golden marke I seeke to hit: Nor shall proud Lancaster vsurpe my right, Nor hold the Scepter in his childish Fist, Nor weare the Diadem vpon his head, Whose Church-like humors fits not for a Crowne.

Then Yorke be still a-while, till time do serue: Watch thou, and wake when others be asleepe, To prie into the secrets of the State, Till Henrie surfetting in ioyes of loue, With his new Bride, & Englands deere bought Queen, And Humfrey with the Peeres be falne at iarres: Then will I raise aloft the Milke-white-Rose, With whose sweet smell the Ayre shall be perfum'd, And in my Standard beare the Armes of Yorke, To grapple with the house of Lancaster, And force perforce Ile make him yeeld the Crowne, Whose bookish Rule, hath pull'd faire England downe.

Exit Yorke.

Enter Duke Humfrey and his wife Elianor.

Elia. Why droopes my Lord like ouer-ripen'd Corn, Hanging the head at Ceres plenteous load?

Why doth the Great Duke Humfrey knit his browes, As frowning at the Fauours of the world?

Why are thine eyes fixt to the sullen earth, Gazing on that which seemes to dimme thy sight?

What seest thou there? King Henries Diadem, Inchac'd with all the Honors of the world?

If so, Gaze on, and grouell on thy face, Vntill thy head be circled with the same.

Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious Gold.

What, is't too short? Ile lengthen it with mine, And hauing both together heau'd it vp, Wee'l both together lift our heads to heauen, And neuer more abase our sight so low, As to vouchsafe one glance vnto the ground

Hum. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost loue thy Lord, Banish the Canker of ambitious thoughts: And may that thought, when I imagine ill Against my King and Nephew, vertuous Henry, Be my last breathing in this mortall world.

My troublous dreames this night, doth make me sad

Eli. What dream'd my Lord, tell me, and Ile requite it With sweet rehearsall of my mornings dreame?

Hum. Me thought this staffe mine Office-badge in Court Was broke in twaine: by whom, I haue forgot, But as I thinke, it was by'th Cardinall, And on the peeces of the broken Wand Were plac'd the heads of Edmond Duke of Somerset, And William de la Pole first Duke of Suffolke.

This was my dreame, what it doth bode G.o.d knowes

Eli. Tut, this was nothing but an argument, That he that breakes a sticke of Glosters groue, Shall loose his head for his presumption.

But list to me my Humfrey, my sweete Duke: Me thought I sate in Seate of Maiesty, In the Cathedrall Church of Westminster, And in that Chaire where Kings & Queens wer crownd, Where Henrie and Dame Margaret kneel'd to me, And on my head did set the Diadem

Hum. Nay Elinor, then must I chide outright: Presumptuous Dame, ill-nurter'd Elianor, Art thou not second Woman in the Realme?

And the Protectors wife belou'd of him?

Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command, Aboue the reach or compa.s.se of thy thought?

And wilt thou still be hammering Treachery, To tumble downe thy husband, and thy selfe, From top of Honor, to Disgraces feete?

Away from me, and let me heare no more

Elia. What, what, my Lord? Are you so chollericke With Elianor, for telling but her dreame?

Next time Ile keepe my dreames vnto my selfe, And not be check'd

Hum. Nay be not angry, I am pleas'd againe.

Enter Messenger.

Mess. My Lord Protector, 'tis his Highnes pleasure, You do prepare to ride vnto S[aint]. Albons, Where as the King and Queene do meane to Hawke

Hu. I go. Come Nel thou wilt ride with vs?