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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 Althea 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

(Exit. SCENE II.—The Same. A Room in the Duke of

GLOSTER's House. Enter GLOSTER and the Duchess. Duch. 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?

1 Meleager, prince of Calydon, died in great torments, when his mother, Althea, threw into the flames the firebrand, upon the preservation of which his life depended.-Knight.

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.

Glo. 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.
Duch. What dream'd my lord ? tell me, and I'll

requite it With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream.

Glo. Methought, this staff, mine office-badge in court, Was broke in twain : by whom, I have forgot, But, as I think, 't was by the cardinal; And on the pieces of the broken wand Were plac'd the heads of Edmond duke of Somerset, And William de la Poole, first duke of Suffolk. This was my dream : what it doth bode God knows.

Duch. Tut! this was nothing but an argument,
That he that breaks a stick of Gloster'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 were crown'd;
Where Henry, and dame Margaret, kneel'd to me,
And on my head did set the diadem.

Glo. 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.

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

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord protector, 't is his highness' pleasure,
You do prepare to ride unto St. Albans,
Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk.

Glo. I go.—Come, Nell; thou wilt ride with us ? Duch. Yes, my good lord, I'll follow presently.

[Exeunt Gloster and Messenger. Follow I must; I cannot go before, While Gloster 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 thou, and I.

Enter HUME. Hume. Jesus preserve your royal majesty! Duch. What say'st thou ? majesty! I am but grace.

Hume. But, by the grace of God, and Hume's advice, Your grace's title shall be multiplied. Duch. What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet

conferr'd
With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch,
And Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer,
And will they undertake to do me good ?
Hume. 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.

Duch. It is enough: I'll think upon the questions.
When from St. Albans we do make return,
We'll see these things effected to the full.
Here, Hume, take this reward : make merry, man,
With thy .confederates in this weighty cause.

[Escit Duchess. * Addressed “ Sir John” as a priest.

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.

Glo. 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.
Duch. What dream'd my lord ? tell me, and I'll

requite it With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream.

Glo. Methought, this staff, mine office-badge in court, Was broke in twain : by whom, I have forgot, But, as I think, 't was by the cardinal; And on the pieces of the broken wand Were plac'd the heads of Edmond duke of Somerset, And William de la Poole, first duke of Suffolk. This was my dream : what it doth bode God knows.

Duch. Tut! this was nothing but an argument,
That he that breaks a stick of Gloster'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 were crown'd;
Where Henry, and dame Margaret, kneel’d to me,
And on my head did set the diadem.

Glo. 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.

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

Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord protector, 't is his highness' pleasure,
You do prepare to ride unto St. Albans,
Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk.

Glo. I go.-Come, Nell; thou wilt ride with us ? Duch. Yes, my good lord, I'll follow presently.

[Exeunt GLOSTER and Messenger. Follow I must; I cannot go before, While Gloster 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 thou, and I.

Enter HUME. Hume. Jesus preserve your royal majesty! Duch. What say'st thou ? majesty! I am but grace.

Hume. But, by the grace of God, and Hume's advice, Your grace's title shall be multiplied. Duch. What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet

conferr'd
With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch,
And Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer,
And will they undertake to do me good ?
Hume. 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.

Duch. It is enough: I'll think upon the questions.
When from St. Albans we do make return,
We'll see these things effected to the full.
Here, Hume, take this reward: make merry, man,
With thy .confederates in this weighty cause.

[Exit Duchess. Addressed “Sir John” as a priest.

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