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I must withdraw. 'Pray, lords, commend my

favours To his last peace, which, with him, I will pray

for: That done, it doth concern us to consult Of other following troubles.

[Exeunt. O.xf.

I am glad
He's gone; upon my life he would have pardon'd
The traitor, had he seen him.

'Tis a king
Compos'd of gentleness.

Rare and unheard of.
But every man is nearest to himself,
And that the king observes ; ’tis fit he should.
Enter STANLEY, led by the Executioner, with URS-

Stan. May I not speak with Clifford, ere I shake
This piece of frailty off?

You shall; he's sent for.
Stan. I must not see the king ?

From him, sir William,
These lords and I am sent: he bade us say
That he commends his mercy to your thoughts;
Wishing the laws of England could remit
The forfeit of your life, as willingly
As he would, in the sweetness of his nature,
Forget your trespass ; but howe'er your body
Fall into dust, he vows, the king himself
Doth vow, to keep a requiem for your soul,
As for a friend, close treasur'd in his bosom,

Oxf. Without remembrance of your errors past,
I come to take my leave, and wish you heaven.

Sur. And I ; good angels guard you !

Oh, the king
Next to my soul, shall be the nearest subject
Of my last prayers. My grave lord of Durham,
My lords of Oxford, Surrey, Dawbeney, all,

Accept from a poor dying man a farewell,
I was as you are once, great, and stood hopeful
Of many flourishing years, but fate and time
Have wheeld about, to turn me into nothing.

Daw. Sir Robert Clifford comes, the man, sir

You so desir'd to speak with.

Mark their meeting.
Clif. Sir William Stanley, I am glad your con-

science Before your end, hath emptied every burden Which charg'd it, as that you can clearly witness, How far I have proceeded in a duty That both concern’d my truth and the state's safety.

Stan. Mercy, how dear is life to such as hug it ! Come hither-by this token think on me!

[Makes a cross on Clifford's face with

his finger. Clif. This token ? What ? I am abus'd ? Stan.

You are not. I wet upon your cheeks a holy sign, The cross, the Christian's badge, the traitor's in

famy : Wear, Clifford, to thy grave this painted emblem : Water shall never wash it off, all eyes That gaze upon thy face, shall read there written, A state-informer's character ; more ugly, Stampt on a noble name, than on a base. The heavens forgive thee.-'Pray, my lords, no

Of words : this man and I have us'd too many.

Clif. Shall I be disgrac'd
Without reply?

Give losers leave to talk ;
His loss is irrecoverable.


Once more, To all a long farewell. The best of greatness Preserve the king! My next suit is, my lords, To be remember'd to my noble brother, Derby, my much griev'd brother. Oh, persuade him, That I shall stand no blemish to his house, In chronicles writ in another age : My heart doth bleed for him, and for his sighs. Tell him, he must not think the style of Derby, Nor being husband to king Henry's mother, The league with peers, the smiles of fortune, can Secure his peace above the state of man. I take my leave to travel to my dust : Subjects deserve their deaths whose kings are just. Come, confessor! On with thy axe, friend, on.

[He is led off to execution. Clif. Was I call'd hither by a traitor's breath To be upbraided ? Lords, the king shall know it.

Enter King HENRY with a white staff K. Hen. The king doth know it sir ; the king

hath heard What he or you could say. We have given credit To every point of Clifford's information, The only evidence 'gainst Stanley's head : He dies for it: are you pleas'd? Clif.

I pleas'd my lord ?
K. Hen. No echoes : for your service we dismiss
Your more attendance on the court; take ease,
And live at home. But, as you love your life,
Stir not from London without leave from us.
We'll think on your reward. Away !


[Exit. K. Hen. Die all our griefs with Stanley! Take

this staff Of office, Dawbeney; henceforth be our chamber


Daw. I am your humblest servant.
K. Hen.

We are follow'd
By enemies at home that will not cease
To seek their own confusion; 'tis most true,
The Cornish under Audley are march'd on
As far as Winchester ; but let them come,
Our forces are in readiness, we'll catch them
In their own toils.

Your army, sir, being muster'd,
Consists in all, of horse and foot, at least
In number six-and-twenty thousand ; men
Daring and able, resolute to fight,
And loyal in their truths.
K. Hen.

We know it, Dawbeney :
For them we order thus; Oxford in chief,
Assisted by bold Essex, and the earl
Of Suffolk, shall lead on the first batallia
Be that your charge.

O.xf. I humbly thank you majesty.
K. Hen. The next division we assign to Daw-

beney :
These must be men of action, for on those
The fortune of our fortunes must rely.
The last and main ourself commands in person,
As ready to restore the fight at all times,
As to consummate an assured victory.

Daw. The king is still oraculous.
K. Hen.

But, Surrey,
We have employment of more toil for thee :
For our intelligence comes swiftly to us,
That James of Scotland late hath entertained
Perkin the counterfeit, with more than common
Grace and respect; nay, courts him with rare favours.
The Scot is young and forward, we must look for
A sudden storm to England from the north ;
Which to withstand, Durham shall post to Norham,
To fortify the castle, and secure

The frontiers against an invasion there.
Surrey shall follow soon, with such an army
As may relieve the bishop, and encounter,
On all occasions, the death-daring Scots.
You know your charges all, 'tis now a time
To execute, not talk; Heaven is our guard still.
War must breed peace, such is the fate of kings.


SCENE III.-Edinburgh.-À Hall in the Royal



Craw. 'Tis more than strange; my reason cannot

Such arguments of fine imposture, couched
In witchcraft of persuasion, that it fashions
Impossibilities, as if appearance
Could cozen truth itself: this dukeling mushroom
Hath doubtless charm’d the king.

He courts the ladies,
As if his strength of language chain'd attention
By power of prerogative.

It madded
My very soul, to hear our master's motion :
What surety both of unity and honour
Must of necessity ensue upon
A match betwixt some noble of our nation,
And this brave prince, forsooth?

'Twill prove too fatal:
Wise Huntley fears the threat'ning. Bless the lady
From such a ruin !

How the counsel-privy Of this young Phaeton do screw their faces Into a gravity, their trades, good people,

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