Looke to it Lords, let not his smoothing words
Bewitch your hearts, be wise and circumspect.
What though the common people favour him,
Calling him, Humfrey the good Duke of Gloster,
Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voyce,
Jesu maintaine your Royall Excellence,
With God preserve 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 Soveraigne ?

He being of age to governe of himselfe.
Cosin of Somerset, joyne 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 us,
Yet let us 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, Behooves it us to labor for the Realme. I never saw but Humfrey Duke of Gloster, Did beare him like a Noble Gentleman : Oft have 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 Unlike the Ruler of a Common-weale.

Warwicke my sonne, thy comfort of my age,
Thy deeds, thy plainnesse, and thy house-keeping,
Hath wonne the greatest favour of the Commons,
Excepting none but good Duke Humfrey.
And Brother Yorke, thy Acts in Ireland,
In bringing them to civill Discipline:

Thy late exploits done in the heart of France,
Where thou wert Regent for our Soveraigne,
Have made thee fear'd and honor'd of the people,
Joyne 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 God helpe Warwicke, as he loves the Land, And common profit of his Countrey.

Tor. And so sayes Yorke,

That Maine, which by maine Force Warwicke did winne,
And would have 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 Torke.
Yorke. Anjou and Maine are given 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 give away, and not their owne.

Pirates may make cheape penyworths of their pillage,
And purchase Friends, and give to Curtezans,
Still revelling like Lords till all be gone,
While as the silly Owner of the goods

Weepes over 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 sterve, 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 Althea burnt,
Unto the Princes heart of Calidon:

Anjou and Maine both given unto the French?
Cold newes for me: for I had hope of France,
Even as I have of fertile Englands soile.

A day will come, when Yorke shall claime his owne,
And therefore I will take the Nevils parts,
And make a shew of love to proud Duke Humfrey,
And when I spy advantage, claime the Crowne,
For that's the Golden marke I seeke to hit :
Nor shall proud Lancaster usurpe my right,
Nor hold the Scepter in his childish Fist,
Nor weare the Diadem upon his head,

Whose Church-like humors fits not for a Crowne.
Then Yorke be still a-while, till time do serve:

Watch thou, and wake when others be asleepe,

To prie into the secrets of the State,

Till Henrie surfetting in joyes of love,

With his new Bride, & Englands deere bought Queen,
And Humfrey with the Peeres be falne at jarres:

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.

Enter Duke Humfrey and his wife Elianor.

Exit Torke.

Elia. Why droopes my Lord like over-ripen'd Corn,
Hanging the head at Ceres plenteous load?
Why doth the Great Duke Humfrey knit his browes,
As frowning at the Favours 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 grovell on thy face,
Untill 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 having both together heav'd it up,

Wee'l both together lift our heads to heaven,

And never more abase our sight so low,

As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.

Hum. 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, 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 have 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 God knowes.
Eli. Tut, this was nothing but an argument,

That he that breakes a sticke of Glosters grove,
Shall loose his head for his presumption.

But list to me my Humfrey, my sweete Duke:
Me thought I sate in Seate of Majesty,

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 belov'd of him?
Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command,
Above the reach or compasse 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 unto 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 unto S. Albons,

Where as the King and Queene do meane to Hawke.

Hu. I go, Come Nel thou wilt ride with us? Eli. Yes my good Lord, Ile follow presently, Follow I must, I cannot go before,

Ex. Hum.