Car. That he should 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 still to save his life;
The commons haply rise to save his life;
And yet we have but trivial argument,
More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death.
York. So that, by this, you would not have him
die.

Suf. Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I!
York. '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 your souls,-
Were't not all one an empty eagle were set
To guard the chicken from a hungry kite,
As place duke Humphrey for the king's protector?
Q. Mar. So the poor chicken should be sure of
death.

Suf. Madam, 'tis true: and were 't not madness,
then,

To make the fox surveyor of the fold?
Who being accus'd a crafty murderer,
His guilt should 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 flock,
Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood, —
As Humphrey, prov'd by reasons, to my liege.
And do not stand 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 sov'reign from his foe,-
Say but the word, and I will be his priest.

Car. But I would have him dead, my lord of Suf

folk,

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 so 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 Messenger.

Mess. Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain, To signify that rebels there are up, And put the Englishmen unto the sword: Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime, Before the wound do grow uncurable; 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 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,

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 naught? nay then, a shame take all.

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

Car. My lord of York, try what your fortune is. The uncivil kernes 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.

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 except YORK.

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

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 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.
Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done,

To send me packing with a host of men:
I fear me, you but warm the starvèd 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,
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 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.

Where is our uncle? what's the matter, Suffolk? Suf. Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloster is dead. Q. Mar. Marry, God forfend!

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

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 sov'reign! gracious Henry,

comfort!

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

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 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 Gloster's dead.

Q. Mar. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus?
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 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: ah me, unhappy!
To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!

K. Hen. 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 poisonous too, and kill thy fórlorn 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;
And bid them blow towards England's blessed
shore,

Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock!
Yet Eolus 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 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 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,
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'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
Ah me, I can no more! Die, Margaret,
For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long.
Noise within. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY,
Commons press to the door.

[him?

The

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.

[true;

K. Hen. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too 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 to the Commons a the door.

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;
For judgment only doth belong to thee.
Fain would I 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?

The doors of the inner chamber are thrown open, and GLOSTER is discovered dead in his bed; WARWICK and others standing by it.

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.

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-famèd duke.

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

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 re-
turneth

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

His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling;

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

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;
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,

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,
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.

[Exeunt CARDINAL, SOM., 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;

For every word you speak in his behalf

Is slander to your royal dignity.

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, And never of the Nevil's noble race.

War. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee, And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my sov'reign'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 mean'st,— That thou thyself wast born in bastardy; And, after all this fearful homage done, Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell, Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men.

Suf. Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood,

If from this presence thou dar'st go with me.

War. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence: Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee, And do some service to duke Humphrey's ghost. [Exeunt SUFFOLK and WARWICK.

K. Hen. What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted!

Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just;
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

Q. Mar. What noise is this? [A noise within. Re-enter SUFFOLK and WARWICK, with their weapons drawn.

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

Here in our presence! dare you be so bold?--
Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?
Suf. The traitorous Warwick, with the men of
Bury,

Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.

Sal. [To the Commons at the door.] Sirs, stand apart; the king shall know your mind.[Advancing. 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 ling'ring 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, In pain of your dislike, or pain of death; Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict, Were there a serpent seen, with forkèd tongue,

That slily glided towards your majesty,
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 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!

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 embassador, 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, 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. [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?

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.

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,
To wash away my woful monuments.
O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand,

[Kisses his hand. That thou mightst think upon these by the seal, Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee!

So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;
'Tis but surmis'd whiles thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits, thinking or 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 banishèd,—
Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee.
'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence;
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company:
For where thou art, there is the world itself,
With every several pleasure in the world;
And where thou art not, desolation.
I can no more:-live thou to joy thy life;
Myself to joy in naught, but that thou liv'st.

If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.

Suf. If I depart from thee, I cannot live;
And in thy sight to die, what were it else
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?
Here could I breathe my soul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe,
Dying with mother's dug between its lips:
Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad,
And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes,
To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth;
So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body,
And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium.

To die by thee, were but to die in jest;

From thee to die, were torture more than death: O, let me stay, befall what may befall!

Q. Mar. Away! though parting be a fretful cór rosive,

It is applied to a deathful wound.

To France, sweet Suffolk: let me hear from thee;
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.
Q. Mar.

SCENE III.-LONDON.

This way for me. [Exeunt, severally.

CARDINAL BEAUFORT'S

Bedchamber.

Enter KING HENRY, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and others.
The CARDINAL in bed; Attendants with him.
K. Hen. How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to
thy sovereign.

Car. If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's treasure,

Enough to purchase such another island,
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.
K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,
Where death's approach is seen so terrible!

War. Beaufort, it is thy sov'reign speaks to thee.
Car. Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Died he not in his bed? where should he die?
Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no?
O, torture me no more! I will confess.-
Alive again? then show me where he is:
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.—
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.-
Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my wingèd soul!—
Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
K. Hen. O thou eternal mover of the heavens,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
O, beat away the busy meddling fiend,
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,
And from his bosom purge this black despair!