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I would be blind with weeping, fick with groans,
Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking fighs,
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 ihall my name with fander'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. Henry. Ah, woe is me, for Gloster, wretched man!
Q. Mar. Be woe for me, more wretched than he is.
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 pois’nous too, and kill thy forlorn Queen,
Is all thy comfort fhut in Glo'ser's tomb?
Why, then, dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy.
Erečt his statue, and do worship to it,
And make my image but an alehouse fign,
Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the sea,
And twice by adverse winds from England's bank
Drove back again unto my native clime?
What boaded this ? but well-fore-warning winds
Did seem to say, seek not a scorpion's neit;
Nor set no footing on this unkind shore.
What did I then? but curft the gentle gusts,
And he that loos’d them from their brazen caves;
And bid them blow towards England's blessed hore,
Or turn our stern upon a dreadtul rock:
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
With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkindness.
The splitting rocks cow'r'd in the sinking sands,
And would not dash me with their ragged fides;
Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they,
Might in thy palace perish Margaret.
As far as I could ken the chalky cliffs,
When from thy shore the tempest beat us back,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm
And when the duky sky began to rob
My earnest-gaping light of thy land's view,
I took a coftly jewel from my neck,
(A heart it was, bound in with diamonds)
And threw it tow'rds thy land ; the sea receiv'd it,
And so I wilh'd thy body might my heart.
And ev’n with this I loft 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 coaft.
How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue
(The agent of thy foul inconitancy)
To fit and witch me, as Ascanius did, (11)
When he to madding Dido would unfold
His father's acts, commenc'd in burning Troy?
Am I not witcht like her, or thou not falle like him.
(11) To fit and watch me, as Ascanius did, When be to madding Dido would unfold His fatber's a&ts, commenc'd in burning Troy? ] The poet here is unquestionably aliuding to Virgil, (Æneid. I.) but he Arangely blends fact with fiction. In the first place, it was Cupid, in the semblance of Ascanius, who sat in Dido’s lap, and was fondled by her. But then it was not Cupid, who related to her the process of Troy's destruction, but it was Eneas himself, who related this history. Again, how did the supposed Ascanius fit and watch her? Cupid was order’d, while Dido mistakenly caress’d him, to bewitch and infect her with love. To this circumstance the poet certainly alludes; and unless he had wrote, as I have restor'd to the text;
To fit and witch me,
Why should the Queen immediately draw this inference,
Am I not witch'd like ber ?
Nor is this the only place, in which we find the verb witcb, us'd
(where the numbers require) for bewitch.
So in i Henry IV.
As if an angel drop'd down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus;
And witcb the world with noble horsemanship, so in 3 Henry VI.
I'll make my heaven in a Lady's lap;
And deck my body in gay ornaments;
And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks,
Ah me, I can no more: die, Margaret !
For Henry weeps, that thou do'st live so long.
Noise within. Enter Warwick, Salisbury, and many
War. It is reported, mighty Sovereign,
That good Duke Humphry traiterously is murder'd
By Suffolk, and the Cardinal Beauford'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 their revenge.'
Myself have calm’d their spleenful mutiny,
Until they hear the order of his death,
K. Henry. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too
But how he died, God knows, not Henry :
Enter his chamber, view his breathless corps,
And comment then
his sudden death.
War. That I shall do, my Liege: stay, Salisbury,
With the rude multitude, till I return. [War. goes in.
K. Henry. Othou, that judgeft all things, itay my
My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul,
Some violent hands were laid on Humphry's life;
If my suspect be false, forgive me, God!
For judgment only doth belong to thee.
Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips
With twenty thousand kisies, and to drain
Upon his face an ocean of falt 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.
Bed with Glo'ster's body put forth.
And to furvey his dead and earthy image,
What were it but to make my forrow greater ?
War. Come hither, gracious Sovereign, view this body.
K. Henry. That is to see how deep my grave is made :
For with his soul fled all my worldly folace ;
For seeing him, I see my life in death.
Wär. As surely as my soul intends to live
With that dread King, that took our ftate 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 ! What infance gives Lord Warwick for his vow?
War. See, how the blood is settled in his face. Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghoft, Of alhy semblance, meager, pale, and bloodless; Being all descended to the lab'ring 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-ghaftly, like a strangled man; His hair uprear'd, his noftrils stretch'd with struggling: His hands abroad display'd, as one that graspt And tugg'd for life, and was by strength Tubdu'd. 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 tempeft 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 Beauford had him in protection ; And we, 'I hope, Sirs, are no murderers. [death,
War. But both of you have vow'd Duke Humphry's And you, forsooth, had the good Duke to keep: 'Tis like, you would not feait him like a friend ; And 'tis well seen, he found an enemy.
Q. Mar. Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen, As guilty of Duke Humphry's timeless death.
War. Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh, And fees fast by a butcher with an ax, But will suspect, 'twas he that made the slaughter ? Who finds the partridge in the puttock's neft, But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite foar with unbloodied beak?
Even so suspicious is this tragedy.
[knife? Q. Mar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk ? where's your Is Beauford term’d a kite? where are his talons ?
Suf. I wear no knife to laughter sleeping men;
But here's a 'vengeful sword, rufted with ease,
That shall be scoured in his ranc'rous heart,
That slanders me with murder's crimson badge.
Say, if thou dar’st, proud Lord of Warwickshire,
That I am faulty in Duke Humphry's death.
War. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare hiin?
Q. Mar. He dares not calm his contumelious fpirit,
Nor cease to be an arrogant controller,
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.
War. Madam, be still; with rev’rence may I say;
For ev'ry word, you speak in his behalf,
Is flander to your royal dignity.
Suf. Blunt-witted Lord, ignoble in demeanoar,
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;
And never of the Nevil's noble race.
War. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee,
And I should rob the death's-man of his fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,
And that my Sovereign's presence makes me mild,
I would, false murd'rous coward, on thy knee
Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech,
And say, it was thy mother that thou meant’it
That thou thyself wast born in bastardy:
And, after all this fearful homage done,
Give thee thy hire, and send thy foul to hell,
Pernicious blood-fucker of seeping men.
Suf. Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy blood, If from this presence thou dar'it go with me.
War. Away ev'n now, or I will drag thee hence: Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee; And do some service to Duke Humphry's ghost [Exeunt.