For, being green, there is great hope of help. Car. A breach that craves a quick expedient stop!

291

What counsel give you in this weighty cause?
York. That Somerset be sent as regent thither.
"Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd;
Witness the fortune he hath had in France.
Som. If York, with all his far-fet policy,
Had been the regent there instead of me,
He never would have stay'd in France so long.
York. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done.
I rather would have lost my life betimes
Than bring a burden of dishonour home,
By staying there so long till all were lost.
Show me one scar character'd on thy skin:
Men's flesh preserv'd so whole do seldom win.
Q. Mar. Nay then, this spark will prove a
raging fire

3:0

If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with.
No more, good York; sweet Somerset, be still:
Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there,
Might happily have prov'd far worse than his.
York. What! worse than nought? nay, then
a shame take all.

Som. And in the number thee, that wishest shame.

310

Car. My Lord of York, try what your fortune is. The uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms And temper clay with blood of Englishmen : To Ireland will you lead a band of men, Collected choicely, from each county some, And try your hap against the Irishmen?

York. I will, my lord, so please his majesty. Suf. Why, our authority is his consent, And what we do establish he confirms: Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand. York. I am content: provide me soldiers, lords, Whiles I take order for mine own affairs.

32)

Suf. A charge, Lord York, that I will see perform'd.

But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey.

Car. No more of him; for I will deal with him That henceforth he shall trouble us no more. And so break off; the day is almost spent. Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event. York. My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days At Bristol I expect my soldiers; For there I'll ship them all for Ireland.

Suf. I'll see it truly done, my Lord of York. Exeunt all but YORK.

York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts,

331

And change misdoubt to resolution :
Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art
Resign to death; it is not worth the enjoying.
Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man,
And find no harbour in a royal heart.
Faster than spring-time showers comes thought
on thought,

And not a thought but thinks on dignity.
My brain, more busy than the labouring spider,
Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. 340
Well, nobles, well; 'tis politicly done,
To send me packing with an host of men:
I fear me you but warm the starved snake,
Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your
hearts.

'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me :
I take it kindly; yet be well assur'd
You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.

Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
I will stir up in England some black storm
Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell;
And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage 1
Until the golden circuit on my head,
Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams,
Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.
And, for a minister of my intent,

I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman,
John Cade of Ashford,

To make commotion, as full well he can,
Under the title of John Mortimer.

In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade 360
Oppose himself against a troop of kerns,
And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts
Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine:
And, in the end being rescu'd, I have seen
Him caper upright like a wild Morisco,
Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells.
Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kern,
Hath he conversed with the enemy,
And undiscover'd come to me again,
And given me notice of their villanies.
This devil here shall be my substitute;
For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,
In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble:
By this I shall perceive the commons' mind,
How they affect the house and claim of York.
Say he be taken, rack'd, and tortured,

I know no pain they can inflict upon him
Will make him say I mov'd him to those arms.
Say that he thrive, as 'tis great like he will, za
Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength,
And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd;
For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put apart, the next for me.

Erit.

Car. God's secret judgment: I did dream to-night

The duke was dumb and could not speak a word. The KING Swoons.

Q. Mar. How fares my lord? Help, lords! the king is dead.

Som. Rear up his body; wring him by the nose. Q. Mar. Run, go, help, help! O, Henry! ope thine eyes.

Suf. He doth revive again. Madam, be patient.
K. Hen. O heavenly God!
Q. Mar.
How fares my gracious lord?
Suf. Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry,

comfort!

K. Hen. What! doth my Lord of Suffolk comfort me?

40

Came he right now to sing a raven's note,
Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers,
And thinks he that the chirping of a wren,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
Can chase away the first-conceived sound?
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words;
Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say:
Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting.
Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight!
Upon thy eye-balls murderous tyranny
Sits in grim majesty to fright the world.
Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding:
Yet do not go away; come, basilisk,
And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight;
For in the shade of death I shall find joy,
In life but double death, now Gloucester's dead.
Q. Mar. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk
thus?

50

Although the duke was enemy to him,
Yet he, most Christian-like, laments his death:
And for myself, foe as he was to me,
Might liquid tears or heart-offending groans 6)
Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life,
I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans,
Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs,
And all to have the noble duke alive.
What know I how the world may deem of me?
For it is known we were but hollow friends:
It may be judg'd I made the duke away :
So shall my name with slander's tongue be
wounded,

And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach.
This get I by his death. Ay me, unhappy!
To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!

70

K. llen. Ah! woe is me for Gloucester, wretched man.

100

With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness:
The splitting rocks cower'd in the sinking sands,
And would not dash me with their ragged sides,
Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they,
Might in thy palace perish Margaret.
As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from the shore the tempest beat us back,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm,
And when the dusky sky began to rob
My earnest gaping sight of thy land's view,
I took a costly jewel from my neck,
A heart it was, bound in with diamonds,
And threw it towards thy land: the sea receiv'dit,
And so I wish'd thy body might my heart:
And even with this I lost fair England's view,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart,
And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles
For losing ken of Albion's wished coast.
How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue,
The agent of thy foul inconstancy,
To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did
When he to madding Dido would unfold
His father's acts, commenc'd in burning Troy !
Am I not witch'd like her? or thou not false
like him?

109

120

Ay me! I can no more. Die, Margaret !
For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long.
Noise within. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY.
The Commons press to the door.
War. It is reported, mighty sovereign,
That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is
murder'd

By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means.
The commons, like an angry hive of bees
That want their leader, scatter up and down,
And care not who they sting in his revenge.
Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny,
Until they hear the order of his death.

K. Hen. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true:

But how he died God knows, not Henry. Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse, And comment then upon his sudden death.

1:0

War. That I shall do, my liege. Stay, Salisbury, With the rude multitude till I return.

Exeunt WARWICK and SALISBURY. K. Hen. O! thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts,

My thoughts that labour to persuade my soul Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life.

140

If my suspect be false, forgive me, God,
For judgment only doth belong to thee.
Fain would go to chafe his paly lips
With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain
Upon his face an ocean of salt tears,
To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk,
And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling :
But all in vain are these mean obsequies,
And to survey his dead and earthy image
What were it but to make my sorrow greater?
Re-enter WARWICK and Others, bearing GLOU
CESTER'S body on a bed.

War. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body.

K. Hen. That is to see how deep my grave is made;

For with his soul fled all my worldly solace,
For seeing him I see my life in death.

150

War. As surely as my soul intends to live With that dread King that took our state upon him

To free us from his Father's wrathful curse,
I do believe that violent hands were laid
Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke.

Suf. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue!

161

What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow?
War. See how the blood is settled in his face.
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,
Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless,
Being all descended to the labouring heart;
Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy;
Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er
returneth

To blush and beautify the cheek again.
But see, his face is black and full of blood,
His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd,
Staring full ghastly like a strangled man;
His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with
struggling;

170

His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued.
Look! on the sheets his hair, you see, is sticking;
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and
rugged,

Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd.
It cannot be but he was murder'd here;
The least of all these signs were probable.

Suf. Why, Warwick, who should do the duke
to death?
Myself and Beaufort had him in protection; 180
And we,
I hope, sir, are no murderers.

War. But both of you were vow'd Duke Humphrey's foes,

And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep : 'Tis like you would not feast him like a friend, And 'tis well seen he found an enemy.

Q. Mar. Then you, belike, suspect these noble

men

As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death.

War. Who finds the heifer dead, and bleeding fresh,

189

And sees fast by a butcher with an axe,
But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter?
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest,
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak?
Even so suspicious is this tragedy.

Q. Mar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk ? where's
your knife?

Is Beaufort term'd a kite? where are his talons? Suf. I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men; But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart 199 That slanders me with murder's crimson badge. Say, if thou dar'st, proud Lord of Warwickshire, That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death.

Excunt Cardinal BEAUFORT, SOMERSET,

and Others. War. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him?

Q. Mar. He dares not calm his contumelious spirit,

Nor cease to be an arrogant controller,
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.
War. Madam, be still, with reverence may I

say;

Is slander to your royal dignity.
For every word you speak in his behalf

211

Suf. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour! If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much, Thy mother took into her blameful bed Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock Was graft with crab-tree slip; whose fruit thou

art,

hence:

Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.

240

Noise of a crowd within. Re-enter SALISBURY. Sal. Speaking to those within. Sirs, stand apart; the king shall know your mind. Dread lord, the commons send you word by me, Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death, Or banished fair England's territories, They will by violence tear him from your palace And torture him with grievous lingering death. They say, by him the good Duke Humphrey died; They say, in him they fear your highness' death; And mere instinct of love and loyalty, Free from a stubborn opposite intent, As being thought to contradict your liking, Makes them thus forward in his banishment. They say, in care of your most royal person, That if your highness should intend to sleep, And charge that no man should disturb your rest

25)

In pain of your dislike or pain of death,
Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict,
Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue,
That slily glided towards your majesty, 260
It were but necessary you were wak'd,
Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal:
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you, whe'r you will or no,
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is;
With whose envenomed and fatal sting,
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth
They say, is shamefully bereft of life.
Commons. Within. An answer from the king,
my Lord of Salisbury!

270

Suf. "Tis like the commons, rude unpolish'd hinds,

Could send such message to their sovereign;
But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd,
To show how quaint an orator you are:
But all the honour Salisbury hath won
Is that he was the lord ambassador,
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king.
Commons. Within. An answer from the king,
or we will all break in!

K. Hen. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from

me,

280

I thank them for their tender loving care;
And had I not been cited so by them,
Yet did I purpose as they do entreat;
For sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy
Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means:
And therefore, by his majesty I swear,
Whose far unworthy deputy I am,
He shall not breathe infection in this air
But three days longer, on the pain of death.
Exit SALISBURY.
Q. Mar. O Henry! let me plead for gentle
Suffolk.

K. Hen. Ungentle queen, to call him gentle
Suffolk!

No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him
Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath.
Had I but said, I would have kept my word,
But when I swear, it is irrevocable.

290

If after three days' space thou here be'st found On any ground that I am ruler of,

The world shall not be ransom for thy life.

me;

311

Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,
I would invent as bitter-searching terms,
As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear,
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many signs of deadly hate,
As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave.
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words;
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint;
My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract;
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban:
And even now my burden'd heart would break
Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste!
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees!
Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks!
Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings!
Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss,
And boding screech-owls make the concert full!
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell-

Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou torment'st thyself;

And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass,
Or like an overcharged gun, recoil
And turn the force of them upon thyself.

331

Suf. You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave?

Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, Though standing naked on a mountain top, Where biting cold would never let grass grow, And think it but a minute spent in sport.

Q. Mar. O let me entreat thee, cease. Give me thy hand,

That I may dew it with my mournful tears; 340
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,
To wash away my woeful monuments.
O! could this kiss be printed in thy hand,
That thou might'st think upon these by the seal,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for
thee.

350

So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;
'Tis but surmis'd whiles thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
I will repeal thee, or, be well assur'd,
Adventure to be banished myself;
And banished I am, if but from thee.
Go; speak not to me; even now be gone.
O! go not yet. Even thus two friends condemn'd
Embrace and kiss and take ten thousand leaves,
Loather a hundred times to part than die.
Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee.
Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,