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Even fo, remorseless, have they borne him hence,
And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
Looking the way her harmless young one went,
Aná can do nought but wail her darling's loss :
Even so myself bewail good Glofter's case
With fad unhelpful tears; and with dim'd eyes
Look after him, and cannot do him good :
So mighty are his vowed enemies.
His fortunes I will weep, and 'twixt each groan
Say, who's a traitor? Gloster he is none. [Exit.
O. Mar. Free Lords, cold snow melts with the sun's

hot beams.
Henry my Lord is cold in great affairs,
Too full of foolish pity : Glofter's Thew
Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting passengers :
Or as the snake, roll'd in a How'ry bank,
With shining checker'd flough, doth fting a child
That for the beauty thinks it excellent.
Believe me, Lords, were none more wise than I,
(And yet herein I judge my own wit good)
This Glo'fter should be quickly rid the world,
To rid us from the fear we have of him.

Car. That he fhould die is worthy policy ;
But yet we want a colour for his death :
'Tis meet he be condemn’d by course of law.

Suf. But in my mind that were no policy:
The King will labour ftill to save his life,
The commons haply rise to save his life,
And yet we have but trivial argument,
More than miftruit, that shews him worthy death.

York. So that, by this, you would not have him die.
Suf. Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I.

rórk. "Tis York, that hath more reason for his death. But my Lord Cardinal, and you my Lord of Suffolk, Say as you think, and speak it from


souls : Were't not all one, an empty eagle were set To guard the chicken from a hungry kite, As place Duke Humpbry for the King's Protector? Mar. So the poor chicken kould be sure of death.


Suf. Madam, 'tis true; and wer't not madness, then, To make the fox furveyor of the fold? Who being accus'd a crafty murderer, His guilt fhould be but idly posted over, Because his purpose is not executed. No; let him die, in that he is a fox, By nature prov’d an enemy to the fock; Before his chaps be ftain'd with crimson blood, As Humphry prov'd by reasons to my Liege ; And do not fiand on quillets how to slay him: Be it by gins, by snares, by subtilty, Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good deceit Which mates him first, that first intends deceit.

Q. Mar. Thrice-noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke.

Suf. Not resolute, except so much were done;
For things are often spoke, and seldom meant;
But that my heart accordeth with my tongue,
Seeing the deed is meritorious,
And to preserve my Sovereign from his foe,
Say but the word, and I will be his.priest.

Car. But I would have him dead, my Lord of Suffolk,
Ere you can take due orders for a priest :
Say you consent, and censure well the deed,
And I'll provide his executioner,
I tender lo the safety of my Liege.

Suf. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing.
Q. Mar. And so say I.

York. And I; and now we three have spoke it,
It skills not greatly, who impugns our doom.

Enter a Pot. Poft. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amain, To fignify that rebels there are up, And put the Englisomen unto the sword : Send succours, Lords, and stop the rage betime, Before the wound do grow incurable; For being green, there is great hope of help.

Car. A breach, that craves a quick expedient stop! What counsel give you in this weighty cause ?


York. That Somerset be sent a 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-fetch'd policy,
Had been the regent there instead of me,
He never would have staid 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 loft.
Shew me one scar, character'd on thy kin:
Mens flesh preserv'd so whole, do seldom win.

Q. Mar. Nay, then this spark will prove a raging fire,
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 witheft shame!

Car. My Lord of York, try what your fortune is; Th' 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 fome, 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,
Whilft 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 Humphry.

Car. No more of him : for I will deal with him,
That benceforth 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 lip them all for Ireland.
Suf. I'll see it truly done, my Lord of York. [Exeunt.

Manet York.
York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts,
And change misdoubt to resolution :
Be that thou hop'it to be, or what thou art
Resign to death, it is not worth th’ enjoying :
Let pale-fac’d fear keep with the mean-born man,
And find no harbour in a royal heart. (thought,
Fafter than spring-time show'rs, comes thought on
And not a thought but thinks on dignity.
My brain, more busy than the lab'ring spider,
Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
Well, nobles, well ; 'tis politickly 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 assurd,
You put sharp weapons in a mad-man's hands.
Whilst I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
I will stir up in England some black storm,
Shall blow ten thousand fouls to heav'n or hell.
And this fell tempest Mall not cease to rage,
Until the golden circuit on my head,
(Like to the glorious fun's transparent beams)
Do calm the fury of this mad-brain'd flaw.
And, for a minister of my intent,

have seduc'd a headstrong Kentish man,
Fobu Cade of Albford,
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 à troop of Kerns;
And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts
Were almost like a sharp-quillid 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.
Vol. V.



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 mall 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 ;
Why, then, from Ireland come I with my strength,
And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd :
For Humphry being dead, as he fall be,
And Henry put a-part, the next for me.


SCEN E, an Apartment in the Palace.


Enter two or three, running over the Stage, from the murder

of Duke Humphry.
UN to my Lord of Suffolk; let him know,

We have dispatch'd the Duke, as he commanded. 2. Oh, that it were to do! what have we done? Didst ever hear a man so penitent?

Enter Suffolk. 1. Here comes my Suf. Now, Sirs, have you dispatch'd this thing? i. 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


laid fair the bed ? are all things well, According as I gave directions ?

1. Yes, my good Lord. Suf. Away, be gone.

[Exeunt Murderers.


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