CARDINAL BEAUFORT

It serves you well, my lord, to say so much.

GLOUCESTER

I say no more than truth, so help me God.

YORK

In your Protectorship you did devise

Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of,

That England was defamed by tyranny.

GLOUCESTER

Why, ’tis well known that whiles I was Protector

Pity was all the fault that was in me,

For I should melt at an offender’s tears,

And lowly words were ransom for their fault.

Unless it were a bloody murderer,

Or foul felonious thief that fleeced poor passengers,

I never gave them condign punishment.

Murder, indeed—that bloody sin—I tortured

Above the felon or what trespass else.

SUFFOLK

My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answered,

But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge

Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.

I do arrest you in his highness’ name,

And here commit you to my good lord Cardinal

To keep until your further time of trial.

KING HENRY

My lord of Gloucester, ’tis my special hope

That you will clear yourself from all suspense.

My conscience tells me you are innocent.

GLOUCESTER

Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous.

Virtue is choked with foul ambition,

And charity chased hence by rancour’s hand.

Foul subornation is predominant,

And equity exiled your highness’ land.

I know their complot is to have my life,

And if my death might make this island happy

And prove the period of their tyranny,

I would expend it with all willingness.

But mine is made the prologue to their play,

For thousands more that yet suspect no peril

Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.

Beaufort’s red sparkling eyes blab his heart’s malice,

And Suffolk’s cloudy brow his stormy hate;

Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue

The envious load that lies upon his heart;

And dogged York that reaches at the moon,

Whose overweening arm I have plucked back,

By false accuse doth level at my life.

(To Queen Margaret)

And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest,

Causeless have laid disgraces on my head,

And with your best endeavour have stirred up

My liefest liege to be mine enemy.

Ay, all of you have laid your heads together—

Myself had notice of your conventicles—

And all to make away my guiltless life.

I shall not want false witness to condemn me,

Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt.

The ancient proverb will be well effected:

‘A staff is quickly found to beat a dog’.

CARDINAL BEAUFORT (to King Henry)

My liege, his railing is intolerable.

If those that care to keep your royal person

From treason’s secret knife and traitor’s rage

Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,

And the offender granted scope of speech,

‘Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.

SUFFOLK (to King Henry)

Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here

With ignominious words, though clerkly couched,

As if she had suborned some to swear

False allegations to o’erthrow his state?

QUEEN MARGARET

But I can give the loser leave to chide.

GLOUCESTER

Far truer spoke than meant. I lose indeed;

Beshrew the winners, for they played me false!

And well such losers may have leave to speak.

BUCKINGHAM (to King Henry)

He’ll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day.

Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner.

CARDINAL BEAUFORT (to some of his attendants)

Sirs, take away the Duke and guard him sure.

GLOUCESTER

Ah, thus King Henry throws away his crutch

Before his legs be firm to bear his body.

Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side,

And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first.

Ah, that my fear were false; ah, that it were!

For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear.

Exit Gloucester, guarded by the Cardinal’s men

KING HENRY

My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best

Do or undo, as if ourself were here.

QUEEN MARGARET

What, will your highness leave the Parliament?

KING HENRY

Ay, Margaret, my heart is drowned with grief,

Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes,

My body round engirt with misery;

For what’s more miserable than discontent?

Ah, uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see

The map of honour, truth, and loyalty;

And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come

That e‘er I proved thee false, or feared thy faith.

What louring star now envies thy estate,

That these great lords and Margaret our Queen

Do seek subversion of thy harmless life?

Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong.

And as the butcher takes away the calf,

And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strains,

Bearing it to the bloody slaughterhouse,

Even so remorseless have they borne him hence;

And as the dam runs lowing up and down,

Looking the way her harmless young one went,