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To see her coronation be perform'd.
[Exeunt King, Queen, and Suffolk.
Manent the ret.
Glo. Brave Peers of England, pillars of the state,
To you Duke Humphry mult 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, and Salisbury, victorious Warwick,
Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy ?
Or hath mine uncle Beauford, and myself, (3)
With all the learned council of the realm,
Studied so long, fat in the council-house,
Early and late, debating to and fro,
How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe,
And was his Highness in his infancy
Crowned in Paris, in despight of foes ?
And shall these labours and these honours die ?
Shall Henry's conqueft, 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.
Car. Nephew, what means this passionate discourse ?
This peroration with such circumstances ?
For France, 'is ours; and we will keep it still.
(3) Or bath mine uncle Bedford.-) Here again the indolence of our modern editors is very signal; for within fix lines Gloucester is made to call Bedford both his brotber and uncle. of the older books for restoring the true reading here.
Glo. Ay, uncle, we will keep it if we can ;
But now it is impossible we Mhould.
Suffolk the new made Duke that rules the roaft,
Hath giv'n the duchy of Anjou and Maine
Unto the poor King Reignier, whose large style
Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.
Sal. Now, by the death of him who dy'd for all, .
These counties were the keys of Normandy :
But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son ?
War. For grief that they are past recovery.
For were there hope to conquer them again,
My sword Mould 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,
Delivered up again with peaceful words?
York. For Suffolk's Duke, may he be suffocate,
That dims the honour of this warlike ille!
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.
Glo. A proper jest, and never heard before, ,
That Suffolk hould demand a whole fifteenth,
For coft and charges in transporting her:
She should have staid in France, and starv'd in France,
Car. My Lord of Gloster, now ye grow too hot: . It was the pleasure of my Lord the King.
Glo. My Lord of Winchester, I know your mind.. 'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike, But 'tis my presence that doth trouble you. Rancour will out, proud Prelate ; in thy face, . I see thy fury: if I longer stay, We shall begin our ancient bickerings. Lordings, farewel ; and say, when I am gone, I prophesy'd, France will be loit ere long. [Exit. Car. 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 reafon he should be displeas’d at it.
Look to it, Lords, let not his foothing words
Bewitch your hearts ; be wise and circumspect.
What though the common people favour him,
Calling him Humphry, the good Duke of Glo'ster,
Clapping their hands and crying with loud voice,
Jesu maintain your royal excellence !
With, God preserve the good Duke Humphry!
I fear me, Lords, for all this flattering gloss,
He will be found a dangerous Protector.
Buck. Why should he then protect our Sovereign,
He being of govern
of himself ?
Cousin of Somerset, join you with me,
A’nd all together with the Duke of Suffolk,
We'll quickly boift Duke Humphry from his feat.
Car. This weighty businefs will not brook delay.
I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently.
[Exit. Son. Coufin of Buckingham, though Humpbry'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 Gloster be displac’d, he'll be Protector.
Buck. Or Somerset, or I, will be Protector, Despight Duke Humphry, or the Cardinal.
[Exe. Buckingham and Somerset. Sal. Pride went before, ambition follows him. While these do labour for their own preferment, Behoves it us to labour for the realm. I never faw, but Humphry Duke of Glo'fer Did bear him like a noble Gentleman : Oft have I seen the haughty Cardinal More like a soldier, than a man o th' church ;
As stout and proud as he were Lord of all,
Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself
Unlike the ruler of a common-weal.
Warwick my son, the comfort of my age !
Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy houte-keeping
Have won the greatest favour of the commons,
Excepting none but good Duke Humphry.
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 feard and honour'd of the people..
Join we together for the publick good,
In what we can to bridle and suppress,
The pride of Suffolk, and the Cardinal;
With Somer fet's and Buckingham's ambition ;
And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphry's deeds,
While they do tend the profit of the land.
War. So God help Warwick, as he loves the land,,
And common profit of his country!:
York. And so says York, for he hath greateft cause.
[Afde Sal. Then let's make haste, and look unto the main..
War. Unto the main? Oh father, Maine is loft ; 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 Maines, Which I will win from France, or else be flain.
[Exe. Warwick and Salisbury.com
York. Anjou and Maine are given to the French ;;
Paris is loft ; 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 daughters
I cannot blame them all, what is't to them?
'Tis thine they give away, and not their own.
Pirates may make. cheap penn'worths of their pillage,
And purchase friends, and give to curtezans,
Still revelling, like Lords, till all be gone:
While as the filly 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 dares not touch his own.
So York must fit, and fret, and bite his tongue,
While his own lands are bargain’d for, and sold.
Mechinks, the realms of England, France, and Ireland,
Bear that proportion to my Hesh and blood,
As did the fatal brand Althea burnt,
Unto the prince's heart of Calydona
Anjou and Maine, both giv'n unto the French !.
Cold news for me: for I had hope of France,
Ev'n as I have of fertile England's foil.
A day will eome, when York thall claim his own; .
And therefore I will tåke the Nevills parts,
And make a fhew of love to proud Duke Humphry:
And when I spy advantage, claim the crown ;
For that's the golden mark I feek to hit.
Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right,
Nor hold the scepter in his childilh fift,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head,
Whose church-like humour fits not for a crown. ,
Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve ;
Watch thou, and wake when others be asleep,
into the secrets of the state ;
Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love,
With his new bride, and England's dear-bought Queen,
And Humphry with the peers be fall’n at jars.
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose,
With whose sweet smell the air fhall 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.