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;
Or
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

ness, Stole into Flanders

flourishing the rags? Of painted power on the shore of Kent, Whence he was beaten back with shame and

scorn, Contempt, and slaughter of some naked outlaws:

But tell me, what new course now shapes duke

Perkin?
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 dulld 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,

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. “He followed Perkin's fortunes for a long while,” Bacon says,

" and was indeed his principal counsellor and instrument in all his proceedings."

8

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 cham-

berlain,
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?

Dur. You alter strangely, sir.

K. Hen. Alter, lord bishop! Why, Clifford stabb’d me, or I dream'd he stabb'd

me.

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 Wil-

liam 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

head 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 be

comes you; Provide against your danger.

K. Hen. Let it be so. Urswick, command straight Stanley to his cham

ber. '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?

1

Shakspeare thus notices the circumstance :

“ Enter Stanley bearing the crown. “Stanley. Courageous Richmond, well bast thou acquit thee ! Lo bere, 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.