What did I then? but curs'd the gentle gufts,
And he that loos'd them from their brazen caves,-
And bid them blow towards England's bleffed thore,
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 fea refus'd to drown me, Knowing that thou would't have me drown'd on fhore

With tears as falt as fea, through thy unkindness.
The splitting rocks cow'r'd in the finking fands,
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 fhore the tempeft beat us back,
I ftood upon the hatches in the storm;
And when the dusky fky began to rob
My earneft-gaping fight 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 fea receiv'd it,
And fo, I wish'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 duiky spectacles,
For lofing ken of Albion's wifhed coaft.
How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue,,
The agent of thy foul inconftancy,
To fit and witch me, as Afcanius 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 falfe like him? Ah me! I can no more: die, Margaret!

For Henry weeps that thou doft live to long.

Noife within. Enter Warwick, Salisbury, and many

Commons.

War. It is reported, mighty Sovereign,

That good Duke Humphry traiteroufly is murder'd By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beauford's means. The Commons, like an angry hive of bees.

That want their leader, fcatter up and down ;
And care not whom they fting in their revenge.
Myfelf have calm'd their spleenful mutiny,
Until they hear the order of his death.

K. Henry. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis.

too true;

But how he died, God knows, not Henry.
Enter his chamber, 'view his breathless corps,
And comment then upon his fudden death.
War. That I fhall do, my Liege.-Stay, Salisbury,
With the rude multitude, till I return.

[Warwick goes in.. Henry. O thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts,

My thoughts that labour to perfuade my foul
Some violent hands were laid on Humphry's life.
If my fufpect be falfe, forgive me, God!
For judgment only doth belong to thee.
Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips
With twenty thousand kiffes, 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 obfequies;

[Bed with Glofter'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 fee how deep my grave is made;

For with his foul fled all my worldly folace;
For feeing him, I fee my life in death.

War. As furely as my foul intends to live
With that dread King that took our state upon
To free us from his Father's wrathful curie,
I do believe that violent hands were laid
Upon the life of this thrice-famed Duke.

him

Suf. A dreadful oath, fworn with a folemn tongue! What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow? War. See how the blood is fettled in his face.

Oft have I feen a timely-parted ghoft*,

Of alhy femblance, meager, pale, and bloodless;
Being all defcended to the lab'ring heart,

Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the fame for aidance 'gainst the enemy;
Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er returneth
To blush and beautify the cheek again.

But fee, his face is black and full of blood;
His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd;
Staring full-ghaftly, like a ftrangled man;
His hair up-rear'd, his noftrils ftretch'd with strug
gling:

His hands abroad difplay'd, as one that grafp'd
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength fubdu'd.`
Look on the fheets; his hair, you fee, is fticking;
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged,
Like to the fummer's corn by tempeft lodg'd.
It cannot be but he was murder'd here;
The leaft of all thefe figns were probable.

Suf. Why, Warwick, who fhould do the Duke to

death?

Myfelf and Beauford had him in protection;
And we, I hope, Sirs, are no murderers.

War But both of you have vow'd Duke Hum- · phry's death;

And you, forfooth, had the good Duke to keep. 'Tis like you would not feast him like a friend; And 'tis well feen he found an enemy.

Q. Mar. Then you, belike, fufpect these noblemen, As guilty of Duke Humphry's timeless death.

War. Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh,. And fees faft by a butcher with an axe,

But will fufpect '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? Ev'n fo fufpicious is this tragedy,

2. Mar Are you the butcher, Suffolk? where's your knife?

I would read, Oft have I seen a timely-parted coarse,

Roderick

Is Beauford term'd a kite? where are his talons?
Suf. I wear no knife to flaughter fleeping men ;.
But here's a vengeful fword, rufted with ease,
That fhall be scoured in his ranc'rous heart
That slanders me with murder's crimson badge.
Say, if thou dart, proud Lord of Warwickshire,
That I am faulty in Duke Humphry's death.

War. What dares not Warwick, if falfe Suffolk dare him?

Q. Mar. He dares not calm his contumelious fpirit,. Nor ceafe to be an arrogant controller,

Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times. War. Madam, be ftill; with rev'rence may I fay :: For ev'ry word you speak in his behalf,

Is flander to your royal dignity.

Suf Blunt-witted Lord, ignoble in demeanour,. If ever Lady wrong'd her Lord fo much, Thy mother took into her blameful bed Some ftern untutor'd churl; and noble ftock Was graft with crab-tree flip, whose fruit thou art; And never of the Nevills' noble race.

War. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee,. And I fhould rob the death's-man of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand fhames, And that my Sovereign's prefence makes me mild, I would, falfe murd'rous coward, on thy knee Make thee beg pardon for thy paffed fpeech, And fay it was thy mother that thou meant'ft,. That thou thyfelf waft born in baftardy; And, after all this fearful homage done, Give thee thy hire, and fend thy foul to hell, Pernicious blood-fucker of fleeping men!

Suf. Thou fhalt be waking while I fhed thy blood, If from this prefence thou dar'st 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 fome fervice to Duke Humphry's ghoft. [Exeunt.

SCENE

VII.

K. Henry. What ftronger breaft-plate than a heart

untainted?

Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel juft;

And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whofe confcience with injuftice is corrupted.

Q. Mar. What noife is this?

[A noife within.

Enter Suffolk and Warwick, with their weapons

drawn.

K. Henry. Why, how now, Lords? your wrath-
ful weapons drawn

Here in our prefence! dare you be fo bold?
Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?
Suf. The trait'rous Warwick with the men of Bury
Set all upon me, mighty Sovereign..

Noife of a crowd within. Enter Salisbury.

Sal. Sirs, ftand apart; the King fhall know your mind.

→Dread Lord, the Commons fend you word by me,.
Unless Lord Suffolk ftrait 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 fay, by him the good Duke Humphry died;.
They fay, in him they fear your Highness' death;
And mere instinct of love and loyalty,
Free from a ftubborn oppofite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking,
Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
They fay, in care of your most royal perfon,,
That if your Highnefs fhould intend to fleep,
And charge that no man fhould difturb your reft,
In pain of your diflike, or pain of death;
Yet,. notwithstanding fuch a ftrait edict,
Were there a ferpent feen with forked tongue,
That flily glided tow'rds your Majefty,
It were, but neceffary you were wak'd;
Left being fuffer'd in that harmful flumber,
The mortal worm might make the fleep erernal.
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you whether you will or no
From fuch fell ferpents as falfe Suffolk is,
With whofe invenomed and fatal sting