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Or any groat I hoarded to my use,

Be brought against me at my trial-day!

No; many a pound of mine own proper store,

Because I would not tax the needy commons,

Have I dispursed to the garrisons,

And never ask'd for restitution.

CARDINAL.

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 defam'd by tyranny.

GLOUCESTER.

Why, 't is 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 murtherer,

Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passengers,

I never gave them condign punishment.

Murther indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd

Above the felon or what trespass else.

SUFFOLK.

My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answer'd;

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 lord cardinal

To keep until your further time of trial.

KING.

My Lord of Gloucester, 't is my special hope

That you will clear yourself from all suspect;

My conscience tells me you are innocent.

GLOUCESTER.

Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous.

Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition,

And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand;

Foul subornation is predominant,

And equity exil'd 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 unburthens with his tongue

The envious load that lies upon his heart;

And dogged York, that reaches at the moon,

Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back,

By false accuse doth level at my life.—

And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest,

Causeless have laid disgraces on my head

And with your best endeavour have stirr'd 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.

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,

'T will make them cool in zeal unto your grace.

SUFFOLK.

Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here

With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd,

As if she had suborned some to swear

False allegations to o'erthrow his state?

QUEEN.

But I can give the loser leave to chide.

GLOUCESTER.

Far truer spoke than meant; I lose, indeed.

Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false!

And well such losers may have leave to speak.

BUCKINGHAM.

He'll wrest the sense and hold us here all day.—

Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner.

CARDINAL.

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, guarded.]

KING.

My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best,

Do or undo, as if ourself were here.

QUEEN.

What, will your highness leave the parliament?

KING.

Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with grief,

Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes,

My body round engirt with misery,

For what's more miserable