QUEEN

Excessive love I bear unto your grace, Forbids me to be lavish of my tongue, Lest I should speak more then beseems a woman: Let this suffice, my bliss is in your liking, And nothing can make poor Margaret miserable, Unless the frown of mighty England's King. We thank you all. My Lord of Suffolk you may see by this, The Commons loves unto that haughty Duke, That seeks to him more then to King Henry, Whose eyes are always poring on his book, And never regards the honour of his name, But still must be protected Like a child, And governed by that ambitious Duke, That scarce will move his cap nor speak to us, And his proud wife, high minded Elanor, That ruffles it with such a troop of ladies, As strangers in the Court takes her for the Queen. The other day she vaunted to her maids, That the very train of her worst gown, Was worth more wealth then all my father's lands, Can any grief of mind be Like to this? I tell thee Pool when thou didst run at Tilt, And stolst away our ladies hearts in France, I thought King Henry had been Like to thee, Or else thou hadst not brought me out of France. O Henry, reverse the doom of gentle Suffolks banishment. Enough sweet Suffolk, thou tormentst thy self. Now good fellows, whom w ld you speak withal? And thy ambition Gloucester. What redress shall we have for this my Lords? Are your suits to his grace? let us see them first, Look on them my Lord of Suffolk. And usurper thou wouldst say. Didst thou say the King was and usurper? Give me my glove, why minion can you not see I cry you mercy Madame, I did mistake, I did not think it had been you. My lord, how did your grace Like this last flight? But as I cast her off the wind did rise, And it ten to one old Joan had not gone out. Take up the staff, for here it ought to stand, Where should it be but in King Henries hand? Can you not see, or will you not perceive, How that ambitious duke does use himself? The time hath been, but now that time is passed, That none so humble as Duke Humphrey was: But now let one meet him even in the mome, When every one will give the time of day, And he will neither move nor speak to us, See you not the Commons follow him In troops, crying, God save the good Duke Humphrey, And with long life Jesus preserve his grace, Honouring him as if he were a King: Gloucester is no little man in England, And if he list to stir commotions, 'Tis likely that the people will follow him: My lord, if you imagine, there is no such thing Then let it pass, and call it a woman's fear, My lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York, Disprove my allegations if you can, And by your speeches, if you can reprove me, I will subscribe and say, I wrong de the Duke. Yea but I can give the loser leave to speak. What will your highness leave the Parliament? Then fit we down again my lord Cardinal, Suffolk, Buckingham, York and Somerset, Let us consult of proud duke Burgundies fallen, In mine opinion it were good he died, For safety of our King and common wealth. How now sirrah, what news? Somerset for bear, good York be patient, And do thou take in hand to cross the seas, With troops of armed men to quell the pride, Of those ambitious Irish that rebel. York thou shalt, my lord of Buckingham, Let it be your charge to muster up such soldiers, As shall suffice him in these needful wars. Suffolk remember what you have to do, And you Lord Cardinal concerning Duke Humphrey. It good that you did see to it in time. Come let us go, that it may be performed. Ay me, the King is dead: help, help, my lords Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus, As if that he had caused Duke Humphreys death? The Duke and I too, you know were enemies, And you had best say that I did murder him. Be we for me, more wretched then he was, What dost thou turn away and hide thy face? I am no loathsome leaper, look on me, Was I for this nigh wracked upon the sea? And thrice by awkward winds driven back from England's bounds, What might it bode but that well foretelling Winds said, secke not a scorpions nest. Suffolk and the Cardinal had him in charge. And they I trust sir, are no murderers. Are you the Kite Bewford, where's your talons? Is Suffolk the butcher, where's his Knife? He dares not calm his contumelious spirit, Nor cease to be and arrogant controwler, Though Suffolk dare him twenty hundredth times. Hell fire and vengeance go along with you, Theres two of you, the devil make the third, From womanish man, canst thou not curse thy enemies? No more, sweet Suffolk, High thee hence to France, Or live where thou wilt within this world's globe, I'll have and Irish that shall find thee out, And long thou shalt not stay, but isle have thee repealed, Or venture to be banished my self, O let this kisle be printed in thy hand. That when thou seest it, thou mayest think on me: A way, I say, that I may feel my grief, For it is nothing while thou standest here. How now, whither goes Vawse so fast Go then good Vawse, and certify the King. O what is worldly pomp! all men must die. And woe am I for Bewfords heavy end, But why mourn I for him, while thou art here? Sweet Suffolk High thee hence to France, For if the King do come, thou sure must die. O mightest thou stay with safety of thy life, Then shouldst thou stay, but heavens deny it, And therefore go, but hope ere long to be repealed. And take my heart with thee. This way for me. No my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee Had the noble Duke of Suffolk been alive, The rebel Cade had been suppressed ere this, And all the rest that do take partly with him. He shall not hide himself for fear of York, But beard and brave him proudly to his face. Call Clifford hither presently. He is arrested, but will not obey, His sons he says shall be his surety. Away my Lord, and sly to London straight, Make haste, for vengeance comes along with them, Come, stand not to expostulate, lets go. My lord in mine opinion, it were best that Summer set were regent over France. If he be bold enough, what needs your grace To be protector over him so long?