I come, my lord of Huntley, who in council
Requires your present aid.

Hunt. Some weighty business?

Craw. A secretary from a duke of York,
The second son to the late English Edward,
Conceal'd, I know not where, these fourteen years,
Craves audience from our master; and 't is said
The duke himself is following to the court.
Hunt. Duke upon duke! 't is well, 't is well; here's
bustling

For majesty;-my lord, I will along with you.
Craw. My service, noble lady.

Kath. Please you walk, sir?

Dal. "Times have their changes; sorrow makes men wise;

The sun itself must set as well as rise;"

Then, why not I? Fair madam, I wait on you.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt

London.-An Apartment in the Tower.

Enter the Bishop of DURHAM, Sir ROBERT CLIFFORD, and URSWICK.-Lights.

Dur. You find, Sir Robert Clifford, how securely King Henry, our great master, doth commit His person to your loyalty; you taste His bounty and his mercy even in this; That at a time of night so late, a place So private as his closet, he is pleas'd To admit you to his favour: do not falter In your discovery; but as you covet A liberal grace, and pardon for your follies, So labour to deserve it, by laying open All plots, all persons, that contrive against it.

ship to Huntley, his elder brother Alexander (dead at this period) having married Lady Jane Gordon, the earl's second daughter.-ĠIFFORD.

Urs. Remember not the witchcraft, or the magic, The charms and incantations, which the sorceress Of Burgundy hath cast upon your reason:

Sir Robert, be your own friend now, discharge
Your conscience freely; all of such as love you,
Stand sureties for your honesty and truth.
Take heed you do not dally with the king,
He is wise as he is gentle.

Clif. I am miserable,

If Henry be not merciful.
Urs. The king comes.

Enter King HENRY.

K. Hen. Clifford !

Clif. [Kneels.] Let my weak knees rot on the earth,

If I appear as lep'rous in my treacheries,

Before your royal eyes, as to my own

I seem a monster, by my breach of truth.

K. Hen. Clifford, stand up; for instance of thy safety,

I offer thee my hand.

Clif. A sovereign balm

For my bruis'd soul; I kiss it with a greediness.

[Kisses the King's hand, and rises.

Sir, you are a just master, but I—

K. Hen. Tell me,

Is every circumstance thou hast set down

With thine own hand, within this paper, true?

Is it a sure intelligence of all

The progress of our enemies' intents,

Without corruption?

Clif. True, as I wish heaven,

Or my infected honour white again.

K. Hen. We know all, Clifford, fully, since this

meteor,

This airy apparition first discradled

From Tournay into Portugal; and thence
Advanced his fiery blaze for adoration

To the superstitious Irish; since the beard
Of this wild comet, conjured into France,
Sparkled in antic flames in Charles his court;
But shrunk again from thence, and, hid in darkness,
Stole into Flanders, [there embark'd his followers,
And made for England,] flourishing the rags1
Of painted power on the shore of Kent,

Whence he was beaten back with shame and scorn,
Contempt, and slaughter of some naked outlaws:
But tell me, what new course now shapes duke
Perkin ?

Chf. For Ireland, mighty Henry; so instructed By Stephen Frion, sometime secretary

In the French tongue unto your sacred excellence, But Perkin's tutor now.

K. Hen. A subtle villain

That Frion, Frion,-you, my lord of Durham,
Knew well the man.

Dur. French, both in heart and actions.

K. Hen. Some Irish heads work in this mine of treason;

Speak them.

Clif. Not any of the best; your fortune

Hath dull'd their spleens. Never had counterfeit
Such a confused rabble of lost bankrupts
For counsellors: first Heron a broken mercer,
Then John a-Water, sometime mayor of Cork,
Sketon a tailor, and a scrivener

Call'd Astley: and whate'er these list to treat of,

1 Stole into Flanders, flourishing the rags, &c.] In this expedition Perkin did not land, and those of his followers whom he sent on shore at Sandwich were defeated by the Kentish men. The prisoners, to the amount of 150 (mostly foreigners), were executed-" Hanged," as Lord Bacon says, "upon the seacoast of Kent, Sussex, and Norfolk, for seamarks, or lighthouses, to warn Perkin's people to avoid the coast."GIFFORD.

2 Stephen Frion.] Frion had been seduced from Henry's service by the Dutchess of Burgundy; and was a very active agent in the great drama which she was now preparing to bring forward. "He followed Perkin's fortunes for a long while," Bacon says, "and was indeed his principal counsellor and instrument in all his proceedings."-GIFFORD.

Perkin must hearken to; but Frion, cunning
Above these dull capacities, still prompts him
To fly to Scotland, to young James the Fourth;
And sue for aid to him; this is the latest
Of all their resolutions.

K. Hen. Still more Frion!

Pestilent adder, he will hiss out poison,

As dangerous as infectious-we must match 'em.
Clifford, thou hast spoke home, we give thee life;
But, Clifford, there are people of our own
Remain behind untold; who are they, Clifford ?
Name those and we are friends, and will to rest;
'Tis thy last task.

Clif. Oh, sir, here I must break

A most unlawful oath to keep a just one.
K. Hen. Well, well, be brief, be brief.
Clif. The first in rank

Shall be John Ratcliffe, Lord Fitzwater, then
Sir Simon Mountford, and Sir Thomas Thwaites,
With William Dawbeney, Chessoner, Astwood,
Worsley the dean of Paul's, two other friars,
And Robert Ratcliffe.1

K. Hen. Churchmen are turn'd devils.
These are the principal?

Clif. One more remains

Unnam'd, whom I could willingly forget.

K. Hen. Ha, Clifford! one more?

Clif. Great sir, do not hear him;

For when Sir William Stanley, your lord chamberlain, Shall come into the list, as he is chief,

I shall lose credit with you; yet this lord,

Last named, is first against you.

K. Hen. Urswick, the light!

View well my face, sirs; is there blood left in it?
Dur. You alter strangely, sir.

K. Hen. Alter, lord bishop!

1 All these were seized, tried, and condemned for high-treason: most of them perished upon the scaffold. Worsley and the two Dominicans were spared.-GIFFORD.

Why, Clifford stabb'd me, or I dream'd he stabb'd me.
Sirrah, it is a custom with the guilty

To think they set their own stains off, by laying
Aspersions on some nobler than themselves:

Lies wait on treasons, as I find it here.

Thy life again is forfeit; I recall

My word of mercy, for I know thou dar'st
Repeat the name no more.

Clif. I dare, and once more,

Upon my knowledge, name Sir William Stanley,
Both in his counsel and his purse, the chief
Assistant to the feigned duke of York.

Dur. Most strange!

Urs. Most wicked!

K. Hen. Yet again, once more.

Clif Sir William Stanley is your secret enemy, And, if time fit, will openly profess it.

K. Hen. Sir William Stanley! Who? Sir William
Stanley !

My chamberlain, my counsellor, the love,

The pleasure of my court, my bosom friend,
The charge, and the controlment of my person;
The keys and secrets of my treasury;
The all of all I am! I am unhappy.
Misery of confidence, let me turn traitor
To my own person, yield my sceptre up
To Edward's sister and her bastard duke!
Dur. You lose your constant temper.
K. Hen. Sir William Stanley!

O do not blame me; he, 't was only he,
Who, having rescued me in Bosworth field
From Richard's bloody sword, snatch'd from his head
The kingly crown, and placed it first on mine.'

1 Shakspeare thus notices the circumstance:

"Enter STANLEY bearing the Crown.

"Stanley. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee!

Lo here, this long usurped royalty

From the dead temples of this bloody wretch

Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal;

Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.”—Richard III.