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Of many flourishing years; but fate and time
Have wheel'd about, to turn me into nothing.

Enter CLIFFord.

Daw. Sir Robert Clifford comes, the man, sir William,

You so desire to speak with.

Dur. 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! am I abus'd?
Stan. You are not.

I wet upon your cheeks a holy sign,

The cross, the Christian's badge, the traitor's infamy;

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,

Stamp'd on a noble name, than on a base. The heavens forgive thee!-pray, my lords, no change

Of words; this man and I have used too many.

Clif. Shall I be disgraced

Without reply?

Dur. Give losers leave to talk;

His loss is irrecoverable.

Stan. 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.

Re-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,

6

Derby, my much griev'd brother.] See p. 15. Lord Stanley had been raised to the dignity of an Earl in October, 1485, a few weeks after the battle of Bosworth.

The only evidence 'gainst Stanley's head:
He dies for it; are you pleased?
Clif. I pleased, my lord?

K. Hen. No echos: 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! Clif. I go, sir.

[Exit.

K. Hen. Die all our griefs with Stanley! Take this staff

Of office, Dawbeney; henceforth be our chamberlain.

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.

Daw. Your army, 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 :

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7 Dawbeney.] "This person (Charles Lord D'Aubigny) was a person, Bacon says, "of great sufficiency and valour, the more because he was gentle and modest." Yet he always appears on the side of violent counsels; and more forward with his flattery than any of the courtiers in the king's confidence.

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.

Oxf. I humbly thank your majesty.

K. Hen. The next division we assign to Dawbeney:

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 entertain'd
Perkin the counterfeit, with more than common
Grace and respect; nay, courts him with rare fa-

vours.

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.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Edinburgh.-An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter CRAWFORD and DALYELL.

Craw. 'Tis more than strange; my reason cannot answer

Such argument of fine imposture, couch'd
In witchcraft of persuasion, that it fashions
Impossibilities, as if appearance

Could cozen truth itself; this dukeling mushroom
Hath doubtless charm'd the king.

Dal. He courts the ladies,

As if his strength of language chain'd attention By power of prerogative.

Craw. It madded

My very soul to hear our master's motion;
What surety both of amity and honour

Must of necessity ensue upon

A match betwixt some noble of our nation,
And this brave prince, forsooth!

Dal. "Twill prove too fatal;

Wise Huntley fears the threat'ning. Bless the lady From such a ruin!

Craw. How the counsel privy

Of this young Phaeton do screw their faces
Into a gravity, their trades, good people,
Were never guilty of! the meanest of them
Dreams of at least an office in the state.

Dal. Sure not the hangman's, 'tis bespoke already

For service to their rogueships,-silence!

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