As e'er thy father Henry made it mine;
And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it,
As others would ambitiously receive it.
Farewell, good king: When I am dead and gone,
May honourable peace attend thy throne! [Exit.

Q. Mar. Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret queen;
And Humphrey, duke of Gloster, scarce himself,
That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once,
His lady banish’d, and a limb lopp'd off;
This staff of honour raught :-There let it stand,
Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand.

Suf. Thus droops this lofty pine, and hangs his sprays; Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days.

York. Lords, let him go.—Please it your majesty,
This is the day appointed for the combat;
And ready are the appellant and defendant,
The armourer and his man, to enter the lists,
So please your highness to behold the fight.

Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried.

K. Hen. O'God's name, see the lists and all things fit; Here let them end it, and God defend the right!

York. I never saw a fellow worst bested,
Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant,
The servant of this armourer, my lords.

Enter, on one side, HORNÉR, and his Neighbours, drinking

to him so much that he is drunk; and he enters bearing his staff with a sand-bag fastened to it; a drum before him: at the other side, Peter, with a drum and a similar staff; accompanied by Prentices drinking to him. i Neigh. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a

cup of sack; And fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough.

2 Neigh. And here, neighbour, here's a cup of charneco.

3 Neigh. And here's a pot of good double beer, neighbour: drink, and fear not your man.

Hor. Let it come, i'faith, and I'll pledge you all; And a fig for Peter!

i Pren. Here, Peter, I drink to thee; and be not afraid.

2 Pren. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master; fight for credit of the prentices.

Peter. I thank you all : drink, and pray for me, I pray you; for, I think, I have taken my last draught in this world.-Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee my apron; and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer:-and here, Tom, take all the money that I have.-0 Lord, bless me, I pray God! for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learnt so much fence already.

Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows.Sirrah, what's thy name?

Peter. Peter, forsooth.
Sal. Peter! what more?
Peter. Thump.
Sal. Thump! then see thou thump thy master well.

Hor. Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man's instigation, to prove him a knave, and myself an honest man: and touching the duke of York,—will take my death, I never meant him any ill, nor the king, nor the queen: And therefore, Peter, have at thee with a downright blow, as Bevis of Southampton fell upon Ascapart.

York. Despatch:-this knave's tongue begins to double. Sound trumpets, alarum to the combatants.

Alarum. They fight, and Peter strikes

down his Master. Hor. Hold, Peter, hold ! I confess, I confess treason.

[Dies.

York. Take away his weapon :-Fellow, thank God, and the good wine in thy master's way.

Peter. O God! have I overcome mine enemies in this presence? O Peter, thou hast prevailed in right!

K. Hen. Go, take hence that traitor from our sight; For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt: And God, in justice, hath reveald to us The truth and innocence of this poor fellow, Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully.Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. [Exeunt.

Enter Gloster and Servants, in mourning Cloaks.

Glo. Thus, sometimes, hath the brightest day a cloud; And, after summer, evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold : So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.Sirs, what's o'clock?

Serv. Ten, my lord.

Glo. Ten is the hour that was appointed me,
To watch the coming of my punish'd duchess :
Uneath may she endure the flinty streets,
To tread them with her tender-feeling feet.
Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook

The abject people, gazing on thy face,
With envious looks still laughing at thy shame;
That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels,
When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets.
But, soft! I think, she comes; and I'll prepare
My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries.

Enter the Duchess of Gloster, in a white sheet, with papers pinn'd upon her back, her feet bare, and a taper burning in her hand; Sir John STANLEY, a Sherif, and Officers. Serv. So please your grace, we'll take her from the

sheriff. Glo. No, stir not, for your lives; let her pass by.

Duch. Come you, my lord, to see my open shame? Now thou dost penance too. Look, how they gaze! See, how the giddy multitude do point, And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee! Ah, Gloster, bide thee from their hateful looks; And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame, And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine.

Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.

Duch. Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget myself:
For, whilst I think I am thy married wife,
And thou a prince, protector of this land,
Methinks, I should not thus be led along,
Maild up in shame, with papers on my back;
And follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice
To see my tears, and hear my deep-fet groans.
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet;
And, when I start, the envious people laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.

Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke?
Trow'st thou, that e'er I'll look upon the world;
Or count them happy, that enjoy the sun ?
No; dark shall be my light, and night my day;
To think upon my pomp, shall be my hell.
Sometime I'll say, I am duke Humphrey's wife;
And he a prince, and ruler of the land :
Yet so he rul’d, and such a prince he was,
As he stood by, whilst I, his forlorn duchess,
Was made a wonder, and a pointing-stock,
To every idle rascal follower.
But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame;
Nor stir at nothing, till the axe of death
Hang over thee, as, sure, it shortly will.
For Suffolk,-he that can do all in all
With her, that hateth thee, and hates us all,
And York, and impious Beaufort, that false priest,
Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings,
And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee:
But fear not thou, until thy foot be snar'd,
Nor never seek prevention of thy foes.

Glo. Ah, Nell, forbear; thou aimest all awry;
I must offend, before I be attainted:
And had I twenty times so many foes,
And each of them had twenty times their power,
All these could not procure me any scathe,
So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless.
Would'st have me rescue thee from this reproach?
Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away,
But I in danger for the breach of law.
Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell: