3. SCENE III. London. The palace.
[Exit Servant with Peter.]
And as for you, that love to be protected
Under the wings of our protector's grace,
Begin your suits anew and sue to him.
[Tears the supplications.]
Away, base cullions!--Suffolk, let them go.
Come, let's be gone.
My Lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise,
Is this the fashion in the court of England?
Is this the government of Britain's isle,
And this the royalty of Albion's king?
What, shall King Henry be a pupil still
Under the surly Gloster's governance?
Am I a queen in title and in style,
And must be made a subject to a duke?
I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours
Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love
And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France,
I thought King Henry had resembled thee
In courage, courtship, and proportion;
But all his mind is bent to holiness,
To number Ave-Maries on his beads,
His champions are the prophets and apostles,
His weapons holy saws of sacred writ,
His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves
Are brazen images of canoniz'd saints.
I would the college of the cardinals
Would choose him pope and carry him to Rome,
And set the triple crown upon his head;
That were a state fit for his holiness.
Madam, be patient; as I was cause
Your highness came to England, so will I
In England work your grace's full content.
Beside the haughty protector, have we Beaufort
The imperious churchman, Somerset, Buckingham,
And grumbling York; and not the least of these
But can do more in England than the king.
And he of these that can do most of all
Cannot do more in England than the Nevils;
Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers.