'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd;
Witnefs 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 ftaid in France fo long.
York. No, not to lofe it all, as thou haft done:
I rather would have loft my life betimes,
Than bring a burden of difhonour home,
By staying there fo long till all were loft.
Shew me one fcar character'd on thy skin
Men's flesh, preferv'd fo whole, do feldom win.

:

Q. Mar. Nay then, this fpark will prove a raging If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with. (fire, No more, good York; fweet Somerset, be still. Thy fortune, York, hadft thou been Regent there, Might happily have prov'd far worse than his.

York. What, worse than nought? nay, then a fhame take all!

Som. And in the number, thee that wifheft 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 country fome,
And try your hap against the Irithmen?
York. I will, my Lord, to please his Majefty.
Suf. Why, our authority is his confent,
And what we do eftablifh, he confirms:
Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand.
York. I am content. Provide me foldiers, Lords,
Whilft I take orders for mine own affairs.

Suf. A charge, Lord York, that I will fee per-
form'd.

But now return we to the falfe Duke Humphry.
Car. No more of him; for I will deal with him,
That henceforth he fhall trouble us no more.
And fo break off. The day is almoft ipent.
Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event.
York. My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days
At Bristol I expect my foldiers;

For there I'll ship them all for Ireland.

Suf. I'll fee it truly done, my Lord of York. [Exeunt

York. Now, York, or never fteel thy fearful And change mifdoubt to refolution;

[thoughts, Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art Refign 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.

Fafter than Ipring-time fhow'rs comes thought on thought;

And not a thought, but thinks on dignity.
My brain, more bufy than the lab'ring spider,
Weaves tedious fnares to trap mine enemies.
Well, nobles, well; 'tis politicly done,
To fend me packing with an host of men.
I fear me you but warm the starved snake,
Who, cherish'd in your breast, will fting your hearts.
'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me;
I take it kindly; yet be well assur'd,

You put fharp weapons in a mad man's hands.
Whilft I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
I will ftir up in England fome black ftorm,
Shall blow ten thousand fouls to heav'n or hell."
And this fell tempeft fhall not cease to rage,
Until the golden circuit on my head,
Like to the glorious fun's tranfparent beams,
Do calm the fury of this mad-brain'd flaw.
And, for a minifter of my intent,

I have feduc'd a headstrong Kentish man,
John Cade of Ashford,

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

In Ireland have I feen this stubborn Cade
Oppo himself against a troop of kerns;

And fought fo long, till that his thighs with darts
Were almost like a fharp-quill'd porcupine;
And, in the end being refcu'd, I have seen
Him caper upright like a wild Morisco,
Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells.
Full often, like a fhag-hair'd crafty kern,

Hath he converfed with the enemy;
And undifcover'd come to me again,
And giv'n me notice of their villainies.
This devil here fhall be my fubftitute;
For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,
In face, in gait, in fpeech he doth resemble.
By this I fhall perceive the Commons' mind,
How they affect the houfe and claim of York.
Say he be taken, rack'd and tortured;
I know no pain they can inflict upon him,
Will make him fay, I mov'd him to thofe 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 rafcal fow'd:
For Humphry being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put apart, the next for me.

[Exit.

Enter two or three, running over the stage, from the murder of Düke Humphry.

Firft. Run to my Lord of Suffolk; let him know "We have dispatch'd the Duke, as he commanded. Second. Oh that it were to do! what have we done? Didit ever hear a man fo penitent?

Enter Suffolk.

Firft. Here comes my Lord.

Suf Now, Sir, have you difpatch'd this thing? Firft. Ay, my good Lord, he's dead.

Suf. Why, that's well faid. Go, get you to my I will reward you for this vent'rous deed. [house: 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?

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

[Exeunt murderers.

Enter King Henry, the Queen, Cardinal, Somerset,

with Attendants.

K. Henry. Go, call our uncle to our presence strait.

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. Henry. Lords, take your places. And, I pray you all,

Proceed no ftraiter 'gainft our uncle Glo'fter,
Than from true evidence, of good esteem,
He be approv'd in practice culpable.

Q. Mar. God forbid any malice fhould prevail,
That faultlefs may condenm a nobleman!
Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion!

K. Henry. I thank thee. Well, these words con tent me much.

Enter Suffolk.

How now? why look'st thou so pale? why tremblest thou?

Where is our uncle? what's the matter, Suffolk? Suf. Dead in his bed, my Lord; Glo'fter is dead. Q. Mar. Marry, God forefend!

Car. God's fecret judgment. I did dream to-night, The Duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. [King fwoons.

Q. Mar. How fares my Lord? help, Lords, the King is dead.

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

Suf. He doth revive again. Madam, be patient. K. Henry. O heav'nly God!

Q. Mar. How fares my gracious Lord?

Suf. Comfort, my Sovereign; gracious Henry, comfort.

K. Henry. What, doth my Lord of Suffolk come fort me?

Came he right now to fing a raven's note,
Whofe difmal tune bereft my vital pow'rs?
And thinks he that the chirping of a wren,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
Can chafe away the firft-conceived found?
Hide not thy poifon with fuch fugar'd words
Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I fay;
VOL. VI.
M

Their touch affrights me as a ferpent's fting.
Thou baleful meflenger, out of my fight!
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, bafilifk,

And kill the innocent gazer with thy fight:
For in the fhade of death I fhall find joy;:
In life but double death now Glo'fter's dead.

Q. Mar. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk
Although the Duke was enemy to him, [thus?
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-confuming fighs recal his life,

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 fhall my name with flander'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 Glofter, wretched
man!

Q. Mar. Be woe for me, more wretched than he is.
What, doft thou turn away and hide thy face?
I am no loathfome 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'fter's tomb?
Why, then, Dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy.
Erect his ftatue, and do worship to it,
And make my image but an ale-house fign.
Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the fea,
And twice by adverfe winds from England's bank
Drove back again unto my native clime?
What boded this? but well-fore-warning winds
Did feem to fay, feek not a fcorpion's neft,
Nor fet no footing on this unkind shore.