We'll both together lift our heads to heaven
And never more abafe our fight fo low,
As to vouchfafe one glance unto the ground.
Gla, O Nell, fweet Nell, if thou doft love thy lord,
Banifh the canker of ambitious thoughts:
And may that thought, when I imagine I!!
Against my King and nephew, virtuous Henry,
Be my laft Breathing in this mortal world!
My troublous dreams this night do make me fad.
Elean. What dream'd my lord? tell me, and I'll
requite it

With fweet rehearsal of my morning's dream.

Glo. Methought, this Staff, mine office-badge in
Court,

Was broke in twain; by whom I have forgot;
But, as I think, it was by th' Cardinal;
And, on the pieces of the broken wand,

Were plac'd the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset,
And William de la Pole fiift Duke of Suffolk.

This was the dream; what it doth bode, God knows.
Elean. Tut, this was nothing but an argument,
That he, that breaks a ftick of Glofter's grove,
Shall lofe his head for his Prefumption.
But lift to me, my Humphry, my fweet Duke;
Methought, I fat in feat of Majefty,

In the Cathedral church of Westminster,

And in that Chair where Kings and Queens were

crown'd;

Where Henry and Margret kneel'd to me,
And on my head did fet the Diadem.

Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright:
Prefumptuous Dame, ill-nurtur'd Eleanor,
Art thou not fecond woman in the Realm,
And the Protector's wife, belov'd of him?
Haft thou not worldly pleafure at command,
Above the reach or compaís of thy thought?
And wilt thou ftill be hammering treachery,

Το

To tumble down thy husband, and thyself,
From top of honour to difgrace's feet?
Away from me, and let me hear no more.
Elean. What, what! my lord! are you fo cholerick
With Eleanor, for telling but her dream?
Next time, I'll keep my dreams unto myself,
And not be check'd.

Glo. Nay, be not angry, I am pleas'd again.

Enter Messenger.

Meff. My lord Protector, 'tis his Highness' pleasure, You do prepare to ride unto St. Albans,

Whereas the King and Queen do mean to hawk.
Glo. I go: come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us?
[Exit Gloucefter.
Elean. Yes, my good lord, I'll follow prefently.
Follow I muft, I cannot go before,

While Glo'fter bears this bafe and humble mind.
Were I a man, a Duke, and next of blood,
I would remove these tedious ftumbling-blocks;
And smooth my way upon their headle's necks.
And being a woman, I will not be flack
To play my part in Fortune's pageant.

Where are you there? Sir John; nay, fear not, man,
We are alone; here's none but thee and I.

Enter Hume.

Hume. Jefus preferve your Royal Majefty! Elean. What fay'st thou? Majesty? Lam but Grace. Hume. But by the grace of God, and Hume's advice, Your Grace's title fhall be multiply'd.

Elean. What fay't thou, man? haft thou as yet conferr'd

With Margery Jordan, the cunning witch;
And Roger Bolingbrook the conjurer,

And will they undertake to do me good?

Hume.

Hume. This they have promised to fhew your
Highnes

A Spirit rais'd from depth of under-ground,
That fhall make anfwer to fuch questions,
As by your Grace fhall be propounded him.
Elean. It is enough, I'll think upon the questions:
When from St Albans we do make return,
We'll fee those things effected to the full.

Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man,
With thy confederates in this weighty cause.

[Exit Eleanor.. Hume. Hume muft make merry with the Dutchefs'

gold:
Marry, and shall; but how now, Sir John Hume?
Seal up your lips, and give no words, but mum!
The bufinefs asketh filent fecrecy.

Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch:
Gold cannot come amifs, were fhe a devil.
Yet have I gold, flies from another coaft:
I dare not fay from the rich Cardinal,

And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk;
Yet I do find it fo: for to be plain,

They (knowing Dame Eleanor's afpiring humour)
Have hired me to undermine the Dutchels;
And buz these conjurations in her brain.
They fay, a crafty knave does need no broker;
Yet am I Suffolk's, and the Cardinal's, broker.
Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near
To call them both a pair of crafty knaves.
Well, fo it ftands; and thus I fear at laft,
Hume's knavery will be the Dutchefs' wreck,
And her Attainture will be Humphry's Fall:
Sort how it will, I fhall have gold for all.

[Exit.

SCENE

S CE NE V.

Changes to an Apartment in the Palace. Enter three or four Petitioners, Peter the Armourer's man being one.

1 Pet. MY mafters, let's stand clofe; my lord Pro

tector will come this way by and by, and then we may deliver our fupplications in the quill. 2 Pet. Marry, the Lord protect him, for he's a good man, Jefu blefs him!

Enter Suffolk, and Queen.

1 Pet. Here a' comes, methinks, and the Queen with him: I'll be the firft, fure.

2 Pet. Come back, fool, this is the Duke of Suf folk, and not my lord Protector.

Suf. How now, fellow, would't any thing with

me?

for

1 Pet. I pray, my lord, pardon me; I took ye my lord Protector.

Q. Mar. To my lord Protector. [reading] Are your fupplications to his lordfhip? let me fee them; what is thine?

1 Pet. Mine is, an't please your Grace, against Jobn Goodman, my lord Cardinal's man, for keeping my: house and lands, and wife, and all from me.

Suf. Thy wife too? that's fome wrong, indeed. What's yours? what's here? [Reads.] Against the Duke of Suffolk, for inclofing the Commons of Long Melford. How now, Sir Knave?

2 Pet. Alas, Sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our whole Township.

Suf. [reads.] Against my mafter, Thomas Horner, for faying, that the Duke of York was rightful heir to the Crown.

Q. Mar.

Q. Mar. What! did the Duke of York fay, he was rightful heir to the Crown?

Peter. That my mafter was? no, forfooth; my mafter faid, that he was; and that the King was an ufurper

Suf. Who is there?.

Take this fellow in, and

fend for his master with a purfuivant, prefently; we'll hear more of your matter before the King.

[Exit Peter guarded. Q. Mar. And as for you, that love to be protected. Under the wings of our Protector's Grace,

Begin your fuits anew, and fue to him.

[Tears the fupplications. Away, bafe cullions: Suffolk, let them go.

All. Come, let's be gone. [Exeunt Petitioners. Q. Mar. My lord of Suffolk, fay, is this the guife? Is this the fashion in the Court of England? Is this the Government of Britain's ille? And this the royalty of Albion's King? What! fhall King Henry be a Pupil till Under the furly Glo'fter's governance? Am I a Queen in title and in ftyle, And must be made a Subject to a Duke? I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours Thou ran'it a-tilt in honour of my love, And ftol'ft away the ladies' hearts of Frances I thought, King Henry had refembled thee In courage, courtship, and proportion; But all his mind is bent to holiness, To number Ave Maries on his beads; His champions are the Prophets and Apoftles: His weapons holy Saws of facred Writ His ftudy is his tilt-yard; and his loves Are brazen images of canoniz'd faints. I would, the College of the Cardinals Would chufe him Pope, and carry him to Rome, And fet the triple Crown upon his head

५.

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