we know your mind at full. My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick Shall one day make the Duke of York a king. And, Nevil, this I do assure myself: Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick The greatest man in England but the king. Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester's wife: In sight of God and us, your guilt is great: Receive the sentence of the law for sins Such as by God's book are adjudged to death. You four, from hence to prison back again; From thence unto the place of execution: The witch in Smithfield shall be burn'd to ashes, And you three shall be strangled on the gallows. You, madam, for you are more nobly born, Despoiled of your honour in your life, Shall, after three days' open penance done, Live in your country here in banishment, With Sir John Stanley, in the Isle of Man. Welcome is banishment; welcome were my death. Eleanor, the law, thou see'st, hath judged thee: I cannot justify whom the law condemns. Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground! I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go; Sorrow would solace and mine age would ease. Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester: ere thou go, Give up thy staff: Henry will to himself Protector be; and God shall be my hope, My stay, my guide and lantern to my feet: And go in peace, Humphrey, no less beloved Than when thou wert protector to thy King. I see no reason why a king of years Should be to be protected like a child. God and King Henry govern England's realm. Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm. My staff? here, noble Henry, is my staff: As willingly do I the same resign As e'er thy father Henry made it mine; And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it As others would ambitiously receive it. Farewell, good king: when I am dead and gone, May honourable peace attend thy throne! Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret queen; And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce himself, That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once; His lady banish'd, and a limb lopp'd off. This staff of honour raught, there let it stand Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand. Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays; Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days. Lords, let him go. Please it your majesty,