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With thine own hand, within this paper, true?

Is it a sure intelligence of all

The progress of our enemies' intents,

Without corruption?


Clif. True, as I wish heaven;

my infected honour white again.

K. Hen. We know all, Clifford, fully, since this meteor,

This airy apparition first discradled
From Tournay into Portugal; and thence
Advanced his fiery blaze for adoration
To th' superstitious Irish; since the beard
Of this wild comet, conjured into France,
Sparkled in antick flames in Charles his court;
But shrunk again from thence, and, hid in dark-


Stole into Flanders

* * flourishing the rags"

Of painted power on the shore of Kent,

Whence he was beaten back with shame and


Contempt, and slaughter of some naked outlaws:

"Stole into Flanders, flourishing the rags, &c.] Something is apparently lost here, perhaps the end of this line and the beginning of the next, as I have marked them in the text. The import is clear enough

there embarked his followers,

And made for England-flourishing the rags, &c. In this expedition Perkin did not land, and those of his followers whom he sent on shore at Sandwich, were defeated by the Kentish The prisoners, to the amount of 150 (mostly foreigners), were executed- Hanged," as Lord Bacon says, upon the seacoast of Kent, Sussex, and Norfolk, for sea-marks, or light-houses, to warn Perkin's people to avoid the coast."


But tell me, what new course now shapes duke


Clif. For Ireland, mighty Henry; so instructed By Stephen Frion, sometimes secretary


In the French tongue unto your sacred excellence, But Perkin's tutor now.

K. Hen. A subtle villain

That Frion, Frion,-you, my lord of Durham,
Knew well the man.

Dur. French, both in heart and actions.

K. Hen. Some Irish heads work in this mine of treason;

Speak them.

Clif. Not any of the best; your fortune Hath dull'd their spleens. Never had counterfeit Such a confused rabble of lost bankrupts

For counsellors: first Heron, a broken mercer,
Then John a-Water, sometimes mayor of Cork,
Sketon a taylor, and a scrivener

Call'd Astley: and whate'er these list to treat of,
Perkin must harken to; but Frion, cunning
Above these dull capacities, still prompts him
To fly to Scotland, to young James the Fourth;
And sue for aid to him: this is the latest
Of all their resolutions.

K. Hen. Still more Frion!

Pestilent adder, he will hiss out poison,


8 Stephen Frion.] Frion had been seduced from Henry's service by the Duchess of Burgundy; and was a very active agent in the great drama which she was now preparing to bring forward. followed Perkin's fortunes for a long while," Bacon says, " and was indeed his principal counsellor and instrument in all his proceedings."

As dangerous as infectious-we must match 'em. Clifford, thou hast spoke home, we give thee life: But, Clifford, there are people of our own

Remain behind untold; who are they, Clifford? Name those, and we are friends, and will to rest; 'Tis thy last task.

Clif. Oh, sir, here I must break

A most unlawful oath to keep a just one.
K. Hen. Well, well, be brief, be brief.
Clif. The first in rank

Shall be John Ratcliffe, Lord Fitzwater, then
Sir Simon Mountford, and Sir Thomas Thwaites,
With William Dawbeney, Chessoner, Astwood,
Worsley, the dean of Paul's, two other friars,
And Robert Ratcliffe.

K. Hen. Churchmen are turn'd devils.
These are the principal?

Clif. One more remains

Unnam'd, whom I could willingly forget.
K. Hen. Ha, Clifford! one more?

Clif. Great sir, do not hear him;

For when Sir William Stanley, your lord chamberlain,

Shall come into the list, as he is chief,
I shall lose credit with you; yet this lord,
Last named, is first against you.


K. Hen. Urswick, the light!

View well my face, sirs, is there blood left in it?

9 All these were seized, tried, and condemned for high-treason: most of them perished upon the scaffold. Worsley and the two dominicans were spared.

Dur. You alter strangely, sir.

K. Hen. Alter, lord bishop!

Why, Clifford stabb'd me, or I dream'd he stabb'd


Sirrah, it is a custom with the guilty

To think they set their own stains off, by laying Aspersions on some nobler than themselves:

Lies wait on treasons, as I find it here.

Thy life again is forfeit; I recal

My word of mercy, for I know thou dar'st
Repeat the name no more.

Clif. I dare, and once more,

Upon my knowledge, name Sir William Stanley, Both in his counsel and his purse, the chief Assistant to the feigned duke of York.

Dur. Most strange!

Urs. Most wicked!

K. Hen. Yet again, once more.

Clif. Sir William Stanley is your secret enemy, And, if time fit, will openly profess it.

K. Hen. Sir William Stanley! Who? Sir William Stanley!

My chamberlain, my counsellor, the love,
The pleasure of my court, my bosom friend,
The charge, and the controulment of my person;
The keys and secrets of my treasury;
The all of all I am! I am unhappy.
Misery of confidence,-let me turn traitor
To my own person, yield my sceptre up
To Edward's sister, and her bastard duke!
Dur. You lose your constant temper.

K. Hen. Sir William Stanley!

O do not blame me; he, 'twas only he
Who, having rescued me in Bosworth field
From Richard's bloody sword, snatch'd from his

The kingly crown, and placed it first on mine.'
He never fail'd me; what have I deserv'd

To lose this good man's heart, or he his own? Urs. The night doth waste, this passion ill becomes you;

Provide against your danger.

K. Hen. Let it be so.

Urswick, command straight Stanley to his cham


"Tis well we are i' th' Tower; set a guard on him.

Clifford, to bed; you must lodge here to-night; We'll talk with you to-morrow. My sad soul Divines strange troubles.

Daw. (within.) Ho! the king, the king! I must have entrance.

K. Hen. Dawbeney's voice; admit him. What new combustions huddle next, to keep Our eyes from rest?-the news?

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Shakspeare thus notices the circumstance :

"Enter STANLEY bearing the crown.

"Stanley. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee! Lo here, this long usurped royalty

From the dead temples of this bloody wretch

Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal;

Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it."—Richard III.

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