York. I am content provide me soldiers, In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble :

lords,

Whiles I take order for mine own affairs.

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,

By this I shall perceive the commons' mind,
How they affect the house and claim of York.
Say he be taken, rack'd and tortur'd,
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,)
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. [Exit.
SCENE II.-Bury. A Room in the Palace.
Enter certain Murderers, hastily.

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
At Bristol I expect my soldiers;
[days
For there I'll ship them all for Ireland.
Suf. I'll see it truly done, my lord of York.
[Exeunt all except York.
York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fear- We
ful thoughts,

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
And find no harbour in a royal heart. [man,
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.
Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done,

To send me packing with a 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
Until the golden circuit on my head,
Like to the golden 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
Oppose himself against a troop of kernes;
And fought so long, till that his thighs with

darts

Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porcupine:
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 kerne,
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,

1 Mur. Run to my lord of Suffolk; let him know

have despatch'd the duke, as he commanded. we done? 2 Mur. O that it were to do!-What have Didst ever hear a man so penitent? Enter Suffolk.

[thing?

I Mur. Here comes my lord.
Suf. Now, sirs, have you despatch'd this
1 Mur. Ay, my good lord, he's dead.
Suf. Why, that's well said. Go, get you to

my house;

I will reward you for this vent'rous deed.
The king and all the peers are here at hand:
Have you laid fair the bed? are all things well,
According as I gave directions?

1 Mur. 'Tis, my good lord

Suf. Away! be gone. [Exeunt Murderers. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Cardi*nal Beaufort, Somerset, Lords, and others. K. Hen. Go, call our uncle to our presence

straight;

Say, we intend to try his grace to-day,
If he be guilty, as 'tis published.

Suf. I'll call him presently, my noble lord.

[Exit. K. Hen. Lords, take your places; and, I pray you all,

Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloster,
Than from true evidence, of good esteem,
He be approv'd in practice culpable.

[vail,

Q. Mar. God forbid any malice should preThat faultless may condemn a nobleman! Pray God, he may acquit him of suspicion! K. Hen. I thank thee, Margaret; these words content me much.Re-enter Suffolk. How now! why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou? [folk? Where is our uncle? what's the matter, SufSuf. Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloster is Q. Mar. Marry, God forfend! Car. God's secret judgment !—I did dream to-night

[dead.

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, And bid them blow towards England's blessed ope thine eyes!

shore,

Suf. He doth revive again :-Madam, be Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock!
K. Hen. O heavenly God! [patient. Yet Æolus would not be a murderer,
But left that hateful office unto thee:
The pretty vaulting sea refus'd to drown me ;
Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown'd
on shore,
[kindness:
With tears as salt as sea, through thy un-
The splitting rocks cower'd in the sinking
sands,
[sides;

Q. Mar. How fares my gracious lord?
Suf. Comfort, my sov'reign! gracious
Henry, comfort!
[comfort me?
K. Hen. What! doth my lord of Suffolk
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 murd'rous tyranny
Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world.
Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wound-I took a costly jewel from my neck,-
Yet do not go away :-come, basilisk, [ing:-
And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight;
For in the shade of death I shall find joy,—
In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead.
Q. Mur. Why do you rate my lord of Suf-
folk thus?

And would not dash me with their ragged
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 thy 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,

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,
Or blood-consuming sighs, recall his life,
I would be blind with weeping, sick with
groans,

Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking
And all to have the noble duke alive. [sighs,
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: ah me, unhappy!
To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!
K. Hen. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretch-
ed man!
[he is.
Q. Mar. Be woe for me, more wretched than
What! dost thou turn away, and hide thy face?
I am no loathsome leper; look on me.
What, art thou, like the adder, waxen
deaf?
Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn queen.
Is all thy comfort shut in Gloster's tomb?
Why, then, dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy:
Erect his statue then, and worship it,
And make my image but an alehouse sign.
Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the sea,
And twice by awkward wind from England's
bank

Drove back again unto my native clime?
What boded this, but well-forewarning wind
Did seem to say,-Seek not a scorpion's nest,
Nor set no footing on this unkind shore?
What did I then, but curs'd the gentle gusts,
And He that loos'd them from their brazen

caves;

A heart it was, bound in with diamonds,-
And threw it towards thy land; the sea re-
ceiv'd it;

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?

Ah 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 trait'rously 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 corse,
And comment then upon his sudden death.
War. That shall I do, my liege.-Stay,
Salisbury,

With the rude multitude, till I return.

[Warwick goes into an inner chamber; Salisbury retires.

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!

If my suspect be false, forgive me, God;

His hands abroad display'd, as one that I would, false murd'rous coward, on thy knee And tugg'd for life, and was by strength sub-Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech, du'd: [ing; And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st, Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is stick-That thou thyself wast born in bastardy ; His well-proportion'd beard made rough and

Re-enter Suffolk and Warwick, with their weapons drawn.

K. Hen. Why, how now, lords! your wrathful weapons drawn

Sal.

Here in our presence! dare you be so bold?-
Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?
Suf. The traitorous Warwick, with the men
Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. [of Bury,
Sirs, stand
Apart; the king shall know your mind.- [me,
Dread lord, the commons send you word by
Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death,
Or banished fair England's territories, [palace,
They will by violence tear him from your
And torture him with grievous ling'ring death.
They say, by him the good duke Humphrey
died;
[death;
They say, in him they fear your highness'
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,

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,
It were but necessary you were waked;
Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep
eternal :

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.-
[To Suffolk.] 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.—
Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go
with me;

I have great matters to impart to thee.
[Exeunt K. Henry, Warwick, Lords, &c.
Q. Mar. Mischance and sorrow go along
with you!

Heart's discontent and sour affliction,
Be playfellows to keep you company!
There's two of you; the devil make a third !
And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps!
Suf. Cease, gentle queen, these execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.

Q. Mar. Fie, coward woman, and soft-
hearted wretch !

Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies?
Suf. A plague upon them! Wherefore
should I curse them?
[groan,
Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's
I would invent as bitter-searching terms,
As curst, as harsh, as 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;

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 envenomèd 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! [hinds,
Saf. 'Tis like the commons, rude unpolish'd
Could send such message to their sovereign :
But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd,Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings!

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
[taste!
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they
Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees!
Their chiefest prospect, murdering basilisks!

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! [from me,
K. Hen. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all
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 !

Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss,
And boding screech-owls make the concert
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell- [full!
Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou tor
ment'st thyself;

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

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;
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,

Go; speak not to me; even now be gone.—
O, go not yet!-Even thus two friends con-To France, sweet Suffolk: let me hear from
[leaves, For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe,
I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.
Suf. I go.
Q. Mar. And take my heart with thee.
Suf. A jewel, lock'd into the wofull'st cask
That ever did contain a thing of worth.
Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we:
This way fall I to death.
9. Mar.