Daw. 'Tis a strange conceit, sir.

K. Hen. Such voluntary favours as our people
In duty aid us with we never scatter'd

On cobweb parasites, or lavish'd out
In riot or a needless hospitality;

No undeserving favourite doth boast
His issues from our treasury; our charge
Flows through all Europe, proving us but steward
Of every contribution which provides

Against the creeping canker of disturbance.
Is it not rare, then, in this toil of state

Wherein we are embark'd, with breach of sleep,
Cares, and the noise of trouble, that our mercy
Returns nor thanks nor comfort?

Murmur and threaten innovation,

Still the West

Whisper our government tyrannical,

Deny us what is ours, nay, spurn their lives,
Of which they are but owners by our gift;
It must not be.

Oxf. It must not, should not.

Enter a Messenger.

K. Hen. So then

To whom?

Mess. This packet to your sacred majesty.
K. Hen. Sirrah, attend without.

[Exit Mess.

Oxf. News from the North, upon my life.

Daw. Wise Henry

Divines aforehand of events; with him

Attempts and execution are one act.

K. Hen. Urswick, thine ear; Frion is caught! the

man

Of cunning is outreach'd; we must be safe.
Should reverend Morton, our archbishop, move
To a translation higher yet,' I tell thee,

My Durham owns a brain deserves that see.

1 To a translation higher yet,] i. e. to heaven. Morton was at this time Archbishop of Canterbury. He died about three years after this

He's nimble in his industry, and mounting—
Thou hear'st me?

Urs. And conceive your highness fitly.

K. Hen. Dawbeney and Oxford, since our army' stands

Entire, it were a weakness to admit

The rust of laziness to eat among them:
Set forward towards Salisbury; the plains
Are most commodious for their exercise;
Ourself will take a muster of them there,
And, or disband them with reward, or else
Dispose as best concerns us.
Daw. Salisbury!

Sir, all is peace at Salisbury.

K. Hen. Dear friend

The charge must be our own; we would a little
Partake the pleasure with our subjects' ease.
Shall I entreat your loves?

Oxf. Command our lives.

K. Hen. You are men know how to do, not to forethink.

My bishop is a jewel tried and perfect:

A jewel, lords. The post who brought these letters Must speed another to the mayor of Exeter.

Urswick, dismiss him not.

Urs. He waits your pleasure.

K. Hen. Perkin a king? a king!
Urs. My gracious lord—

K. Hen. Thoughts, busied in the sphere of royalty, Fix not on creeping worms, without their stings Mere excrements of earth. The use of time

period, at the great age of ninety.* The king seems to have changed his opinion with respect to Fox, who was removed on the archbishop's death, not to Canterbury, but to Winchester, in which see he died. Moreton and Fox were fast friends; they rank high among our prelates, and were, in fact, both very eminent men.-GIFFORD.

It was by a chaplain of this reverend prelate that one of the most ancient, if not the oldest, of our printed moralities was compiled. It bears the following title: Nature.A Goodly Interlude of Nature, compyled by Maister Henry Medwall, Chapleyn to the Right Reverend Father in God Johan Morton, sometyme Cardynal and Archebyshop of Canterbury." The interlude appears to have been played before Morton himself."

Is thriving safety, and a wise prevention

Of ills expected. We are resolv'd for Salisbury.

SCENE V.

The Coast of Cornwall.

[Exeunt.

A general shout within. Enter WARBECK, DALYELL, KATHERINE, and JANE.

War. After so many storms as wind and seas Have threaten'd to our weatherbeaten ships, At last, sweet fairest, we are safe arrived On our dear mother earth, ungrateful only To heaven and us in yielding sustenance To sly usurpers of our throne and right. These general acclamations are an omen Of happy process to their welcome lord: They flock in troops, and from all parts, with wings Of duty fly, to lay their hearts before us. Unequall'd pattern of a matchless wife, How fares my dearest yet?

Kath. Confirm'd in health;

By which I may the better undergo

The roughest face of change; but I shall learn
Patience to hope, since silence courts affliction,
For comforts to this truly noble gentleman,
(Rare unexampled pattern of a friend!)
And my beloved Jane, the willing follower
Of all misfortunes.

Dal. Lady, I return

But barren crops of early protestations,
Frostbitten in the spring of fruitless hopes.

Jane. I wait but as the shadow to the body;
For, madam, without you let me be nothing.

War. None talk of sadness, we are on the way Which leads to victory: keep cowards thoughts With desperate sullenness! The lion faints not Lock'd in a grate, but, loose, disdains all force

Which bars his prey (and we are lion-hearted),
Or else no king of beasts.-[Another general shout
within. Hark, how they shout!

Triumphant in our cause! bold confidence
Marches on bravely, cannot quake at danger.

Enter SKETON.

Sket. Save king Richard the Fourth! save thee, king of hearts! The Cornish blades are men of mettle; have proclaimed through Bodnam and the whole country my sweet prince monarch of England. Four thousand tall yeomen, with bow and sword, already vow to live and die at the foot of king Richard.

Enter ASTLEY.

Ast. The mayor, our fellow-counsellor, is servant for an emperor. Exeter is appointed for the rendezvous, and nothing wants to victory but courage and resolution.

War. To Exeter! to Exeter, march on: Commend us to our people; we in person Will lend them double spirits; tell them so. Sket. and Ast. King Richard, king Richard!

[Exeunt SKET. and AST. War. A thousand blessings guard our lawful arms!

A thousand horrors pierce our enemies' souls!
Pale fear unedge their weapons' sharpest points,
And when they draw their arrows to the head,
Numbness shall strike their sinews! such advan-
tage

Hath majesty in its pursuit of justice,

That on the proppers up of Truth's old throne,

It both enlightens counsel, and gives heart

To execution; while the throats of traitors
Lie bare before our mercy. O divinity

Of royal birth! how it strikes dumb the tongues
Whose prodigality of breath is bribed

By trains to greatness! Princes are but men,
Distinguish'd in the fineness of their frailty;
Yet not so gross in beauty of the mind;
For there's a fire more sacred, purifies
The dross of mixture.

Herein stand the odds,

Subjects are men on earth, kings men and gods.

[Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE I.

St. Michael's Mount, Cornwall.

Enter KATHERINE and JANE, in riding-suits, with one Servant.

Kath. It is decreed; and we must yield to fate, Whose angry justice, though it threaten ruin, Contempt, and poverty, is all but trial

Of a weak woman's constancy in suffering.
Here in a stranger's, and an enemy's land,
Forsaken and unfurnish'd of all hopes,
But such as wait on misery, I range
To meet affliction wheresoe'er I tread.
My train, and pomp of servants, is reduced
To one kind gentlewoman, and this groom.
Sweet Jane, now whither must we ?

Jane. To your ships,

Dear lady, and turn home.

Kath. Home! I have none.

Fly thou to Scotland; thou hast friends will weep
For joy to bid thee welcome; but, oh Jane,
My Jane! my friends are desperate of comfort,
As I must be of them: the common charity,
Good people's alms, and prayers of the gentle,
Is the revenue must support my state.

1 St. Michael's Mount.] It appears that when Perkin marched on his ill-fated expedition, Lady Katherine was left at this place, from which she was now preparing to withdraw, on some rumours of her husband's want of success.-GIFFORD.