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| SUFFOLK.: |
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| As by your high imperial Majesty |
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| I had in charge at my depart for France, |
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| As procurator to your excellence, |
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| To marry Princess Margaret for your grace, |
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| So, in the famous ancient city Tours, |
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| In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil, |
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| The Dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretagne, and Alencon, |
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| Seven earls, twelve barons, and twenty reverend bishops, |
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| I have perform'd my task and was espous'd, |
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| And humbly now upon my bended knee, |
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| In sight of England and her lordly peers, |
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| Deliver up my title in the queen |
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| To your most gracious hands, that are the substance |
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| Of that great shadow I did represent: |
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| The happiest gift that ever marquess gave, |
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| The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd. |
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| KING.: |
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| They please us well.—Lord marquess, kneel down. |
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| We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk, |
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| And girt thee with the sword.—Cousin of York, |
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| We here discharge your grace from being regent |
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| I' the parts of France, till term of eighteen months |
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| Be full expir'd.—Thanks, uncle Winchester, |
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| Gloster, York, Buckingham, Somerset, |
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| Salisbury, and Warwick; |
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| We thank you all for this great favour done |
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| In entertainment to my princely queen. |
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| Come, let us in, and with all speed provide |
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| To see her coronation be perform'd. |
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| GLOSTER.: |
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| Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, |
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| To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief, |
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| Your grief, the common grief of all the land. |
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| What! did my brother Henry spend his youth, |
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| His valour, coin, and people, in the wars? |
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| Did he so often lodge in open field, |
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| In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, |
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| To conquer France, his true inheritance? |
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| And did my brother Bedford toil his wits |
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| To keep by policy what Henry got? |
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| Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, |
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| Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick, |
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| Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy? |
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| Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself, |
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| With all the learned counsel of the realm, |
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| Studied so long, sat in the council-house |
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| Early and late, debating to and fro |
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| How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe, |
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| And had his highness in his infancy |
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| Crowned in Paris in despite of foes? |
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| And shall these labours and these honours die? |
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| Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, |
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| Your deeds of war, and all our counsel die? |
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| O peers of England, shameful is this league! |
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| Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame, |
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| Blotting your names from books of memory, |
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| Razing the characters of your renown, |
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| Defacing monuments of conquer'd France, |
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| Undoing all, as all had never been! |
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| CARDINAL.: |
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| So, there goes our protector in a rage. |
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| 'T is known to you he is mine enemy, |
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| Nay, more, an enemy unto you all, |
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| And no great friend, I fear me, to the king. |
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| Consider, lords, he is the next of blood, |
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| And heir apparent to the English crown. |
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| Had Henry got an empire by his marriage, |
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| And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west, |
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| There's reason he should be displeas'd at it. |
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| Look to it, lords. |
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| Let not his smoothing words |
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| Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect. |
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| What though the common people favour him, |
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| Calling him 'Humphrey, the good Duke of Gloster,' |
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| Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice, |
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| 'Jesu maintain your royal excellence!' |
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| With 'God preserve the good Duke Humphrey!' |
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| I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss, |
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| He will be found a dangerous protector. |
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| SALISBURY.: |
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| Pride went before, ambition follows him. |
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| While these do labour for their own preferment, |
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| Behoves it us to labour for the realm. |
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| I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Gloster |
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| Did bear him like a noble gentleman. |
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| Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal, |
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| More like a soldier than a man o' the church, |
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| As stout and proud as he were lord of all, |
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| Swear like a ruffian and demean himself |
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| Unlike the ruler of a commonweal.— |
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| Warwick my son, the comfort of my age, |
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| Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy housekeeping, |
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| Hath won the greatest favour of the commons, |
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| Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey;— |
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| And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, |
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| In bringing them to civil discipline, |
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| Thy late exploits done in the heart of France, |
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| When thou wert regent for our sovereign, |
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| Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the people.— |
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| Join we together, for the public good, |
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| In what we can, to bridle and suppress |
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| The pride of Suffolk and the cardinal, |
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| With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition, |
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| And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds |
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| While they do tend the profit of the land. |
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| YORK.: |
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| Anjou and Maine are given to the French; |
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| Paris is lost; the state of Normandy |
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| Stands on a tickle point now they are gone. |
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| Suffolk concluded on the articles, |
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| The peers agreed; and Henry was well pleas'd |
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| To changes two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter. |
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| I cannot blame them all: what is't to them? |
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| 'T is thine they give away, and not their own. |
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| Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage, |
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| And purchase friends, and give to courtesans, |
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| Still revelling like lords till all be gone; |
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| Whileas the silly owner of the goods |
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| Weeps over them and wrings his hapless hands |
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| And shakes his head and trembling stands aloof, |
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| While all is shar'd and all is borne away, |
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| Ready to starve and dare not touch his own. |
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| So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue, |
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| While his own lands are bargain'd for and sold. |
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| Methinks the realms of England, France, and Ireland |
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| Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood |
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| As did the fatal brand Althaea burn'd |
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| Unto the prince's heart of Calydon. |
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| Anjou and Maine both given unto the French! |
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| Cold news for me, for I had hope of France, |
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| Even as I have of fertile England's soil. |
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| A day will come when York shall claim his own; |
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| And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts, |
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| And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey, |
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| And when I spy advantage, claim the crown, |
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| For that 's the golden mark I seek to hit. |
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| Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right, |
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| Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist, |
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| Nor wear the diadem upon his head, |
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| Whose church-like humours fits not for a crown. |
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| Then, York, be still awhile till time do serve; |
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| Watch thou and wake when others be asleep, |
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| To pry into the secrets of the state; |
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| Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love, |
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| With his new bride and England's dear-bought queen, |
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| And Humphrey with the peers be fallen at jars. |
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| Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, |
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| With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd, |
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| And in my standard bear the arms of York, |
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| To grapple with the house of Lancaster; |
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| And, force perforce, I 'll make him yield the crown |
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| Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down. |
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