King.
I Muse, my lord of Gloster is not come:
'Tis not his wont‡ ^note to be the hindmost man,
Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now.

Que.
Can you not see? or will you not observe
The strangeness of his alter'd countenance?

With what a majesty he bears himself;
How insolent of late he is become,
How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself?
We know the time, since he was mild and affable;
And, if we did but glance a far-off look,
Immediately he was upon his knee,
That all the court admir'd him for submission:
But meet him now, and be it in the morn,
When every one will give the time of day,
He knits his brow, and shews an angry eye,
And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee,
Disdaining duty that to us belongs.
&blquo;Small curs are not regarded, when they grin;
&blquo;But great men tremble, when the lion roars;
&blquo;And Humphrey is no little man in England.
First, note, that he is near you in descent;
And, should you fall, he is the next will mount:
Me seemeth then, it is no policy,—
Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears,
And his advantage following your decease,—
That he should come about your royal person,
Or be admitted to your highness' council:
&blquo;By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts;
&blquo;And, when he please to make commotion,
&blquo;'Tis to be fear'd, they all will follow him.
&blquo;Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted;
&blquo;Suffer them now, and they'll o'er-grow the garden,
&blquo;And choak the herbs for want of husbandry.
&blquo;The reverent care, I bear unto my lord,
&blquo;Made me collect these dangers in the duke:
&blquo;If it be fond, call it a woman's fear;
&blquo;Which fear if better reasons can supplant,
&blquo;I will subscribe, and say—I wrong'd the duke.—
My lord of Suffolk,—Buckingham,—and York,—
Reprove my allegation, if you can;
Or else conclude my words effectual† ^note.

Suf.
Well hath your highness seen into this duke;
And, had I first been put to speak my mind,
I think, I should have told your grace's tale.
&blquo;The dutchess, by his subornation,
&blquo;Upon my life, began her devilish practices:
&blquo;Or if he were not privy to those faults,
&blquo;Yet the repeating of his high descent,
&blquo;As—next the king, he was successive heir,
&blquo;And such high vaunts of his nobility,
&blquo;Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick dutchess,
&blquo;By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall.
Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deepest;
And in his simple shew he harbours treason.
The fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb.
No, no, my sovereign; Gloster is a man
Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.

Car.
Did he not, contrary to form of law,
Devise strange deaths for small offences done?

Yor.
And did he not, in his protectorship,
Levy great sums of money through the realm,
For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it?
By means whereof, the towns each day revolted.

Buc.
Tut! these are petty faults to faults unknown,
Which time will bring to light in smooth duke Humphrey.

Kin.
My lords, at once; the care you have of us,
To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot,
Is worthy praise: But shall I speak my conscience?
Our kinsman Gloster is as innocent
From meaning treason to our royal person,
As is the sucking lamb, or harmless dove:
The duke is virtuous, mild; and too well given,
To dream on evil, or to work my downfal.

Que.
Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance?
Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrow'd,
For he's disposed as the hateful raven:
Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him,
For he's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf.
Who cannot steal a shape, that means deceit?
Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all
Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.

Enter Somerset.

Som.
All health unto my gracious sovereign!

Kin.
Welcome, lord Somerset. What news from France?

Som.
That all your interest in those territories
Is utterly bereft you; all is lost.

Kin.
Cold news, lord Somerset: But Heav'n's will be done!

Yor.
Cold news for me; for I had hope of France,
As firmly as I hope for fertile England.
Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud,
And caterpillars eat my leaves away:
But I will remedy this geer ere long,
Or sell my title for a glorious grave. [Aside. Enter Gloster.

Glo.
All happiness unto my lord the king!
Pardon, my liege, that I have stay'd so long.

Suf.
Nay, Gloster, know, that thou art come too soon,
Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art:
I do arrest thee of high treason here.

Glo.
Well, Suffolk, yet thou shalt not see me blush,
Nor change my countenance for this arrest;
A heart unspotted is not easily daunted.
The purest spring is not so free from mud,
As I am clear from treason to my sovereign:
Who can accuse me? wherein am I guilty?

Yor.
'Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of France,
And, being protector, stay'd the soldiers' pay;
By means whereof, his highness hath lost France.

Glo.
Is it but thought so? What are they, that think it?
I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay,
Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.
So help me Heav'n, as I have watch'd the night,—
Ay, night by night,—in studying good for England!
That doit that e'er I wrested from the king,
Or any groat I hoarded to my use,
Be brought against me at my trial-day!
No; many a pound of mine own proper store,
Because I would not tax the needy commons,

Have I dispursed to the garrisons,
And never ask'd for restitution‡ ^note.

Car.
It serves you well, my lord, to say so much.

Glo.
I say no more than truth, so help me Heav'n.

Yor.
In your protectorship, you did devise
Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of,
That England was defam'd by tyranny.

Glo.
Why, 'tis well known, that, whilst I was protector,
Pity was all the fault that was in me;
For I should melt at an offender's tears,
And lowly words were ransom for their fault.
Unless it were a bloody murtherer,
Or foul felonious thief, that fleec'd poor passengers,
I never gave them condign punishment:
Murther, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd
Above the felon, or what trespass else† ^note.

Suf.
My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answer'd:
But mightier crimes are lay'd unto your charge,
Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.
I do arrest you in his highness' name;
And here commit to my lord cardinal
To keep, until your further time of trial.

Kin.
My lord of Gloster, 'tis my special hope,
That you will clear yourself from all suspect;
My conscience tells me, you are innocent.

Glo.
Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous!
Virtue is choak'd with foul ambition,
And charity chac'd hence by rancor's hand;
Foul subornation is predominant,
And equity exil'd your highness' land.
I know, their complot is to have my life;
And, if my death might make this island happy,
And prove the period of their tyranny,

I would expend it with all willingness:
But mine is made the prologue to their play;
For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril,
Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.
&blquo;Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice,
&blquo;And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate;
&blquo;Sharp Buckingham unburthens with his tongue
&blquo;The envious load that lies upon his heart;
&blquo;And dogged York, that reaches at the moon,
&blquo;Whose over-weening arm I have pluck'd back,
&blquo;By false accuse doth level at my life:—
And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest,
Causeless have lay'd disgraces on my head;
And, with your best endeavour, have stirr'd up
My liefest liege to be mine enemy:—
&blquo;Ay, all of you have lay'd your heads together,
&blquo;Myself had notice of your conventicles,
&blquo;And all to make away my guiltless life:
&blquo;I shall not want false witness to condemn me,
&blquo;Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt;
&blquo;The ancient proverb will be well effected,—
&blquo;A staff is quickly found to beat a dog† ^note.

Car.
My liege, his railing is intolerable:
If those, that care to keep your royal person
From treason's secret knife, and traitors' rage,
Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,
And the offender granted scope of speech,
'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.

Suf.
Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here,
With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd,
As if she had suborned some to swear
False allegations to o'er-throw his state?

Que.
But I can give the loser leave to chide.

Glo.
Far truer spoke, than meant: I lose, indeed;—
Beshrew the winners, for they play me false!—
And well such losers may have leave to speak.

Buc.
He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day:—
Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner.

Car.
Sirs, take away the duke, and guard him sure. [to some Attendants.

Glo.
Ah, thus king Henry throws away his crutch* ^note,
Before his legs be firm to bear his body:
Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side,
And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first.
Ah, that my fear were false; ah, that it were!
For, good king Henry, thy decay I fear. [Exeunt Attendants, with Gloster.

Kin.
My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best,
Do, or undo, as if ourself were here.

Que.
What, will your highness leave the parliament?

Kin.
Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with grief,
Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes;
My body round engirt with misery;
For what's more miserable than discontent?—
Ah! uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see
The map of honour, truth, and loyalty;
And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come,
That e'er I prov'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith.
What louring star now envies thy estate,
That these great lords, and Margaret our queen,
Do seek subversion of thy harmless life?
Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong:
And as the butcher takes away the calf,
And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays,
Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house;
Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence.
&blquo;And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
&blquo;Looking the way her harmless young one went,
&blquo;And can do nought but wail her darling's loss:
&blquo;Even so myself bewail good Gloster's case
&blquo;With sad unhelpful tears; and with dim'd eyes
&blquo;Look after him, and cannot do him good;
&blquo;So mighty are his vowed enemies.

His fortunes I will weep; and, 'twixt each groan,
Say—Who's a traitor? Gloster he is none† ^note. [Exit.

Que.
Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams.
Henry my lord is cold in great affairs,
Too full of foolish pity: and Gloster's shew
Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting passengers;
Or as the snake, rowl'd on a flow'ring bank,
With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a child,
That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent.
Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I,
(And yet, herein, I judge mine own wit good)
This Gloster should be quickly rid the world,
To rid us from the fear we have of him.

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 shews him worthy death.

Yor.
So that, by this, you would not have him die.

Suf.
Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I.

Yor.
'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,—
Wer'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?

Que.
So the poor chicken should be sure of death.

Suf.
Madam, 'tis true: and wer't not madness then,
To make the fox surveyor of the fold?
Who being accus'd a crafty murtherer,
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 stock,
Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood;
As Humphrey's prov'd by reasons to my liege.
And do not stand on quillets, how to slay him:
Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety,
Sleeping, or waking, 'tis no matter how,
So he be dead; for that is good deceit,
Which mates him first, that first intends deceit.

Que.
Thrice noble Suffolk, 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 so the safety of my liege* ^note.

Suf.
Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing.

Que.
And so say I.

Yor.
And I: and now we three have spoke it,
It skills not greatly who impugns our doom. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
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?

Yor.
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-set policy,
Had been the regent there instead of me,
He never would have stay'd in France so long.

Yor.
No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done:
I rather would have lost my life betimes,
Than bring a burthen of dishonour home,
By staying there so long, 'till all were lost.
Shew me one scar character'd on thy skin:
Men's flesh preserv'd so whole, do seldom win.

Que.
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.

Yor.
What, worse than nought? 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 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 some,
And try your hap against the Irishmen?

Yor.
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 his task in hand.

Yor.
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.

Yor.
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 but York.

Yor.
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 a labouring spider,
Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
Well, nobles, well; 'tis politicly 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 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,
&blquo;Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven, or hell:
&blquo;And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage,
&blquo;Until the golden circuit on my head,
&blquo;Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams,
&blquo;Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.
And, for a minister of my intent,
I have seduc'd a head-strong 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 kerns;
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 to a wild Morisco,
Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells.
&blquo;Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kern,
&blquo;Hath he conversed with the enemy;

&blquo;And undiscover'd come to me again,
&blquo;And given me notice of their villanies.
This devil here shall be my substitute;
&blquo;For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,
&blquo;In face, in gait, in speech he doth resemble:
&blquo;By this I shall perceive the commons' minds,
&blquo;How they affect the house and claim of York.
&blquo;Say, he be taken, rack'd, and tortured;
&blquo;I know, no pain, they can inflict upon him,
&blquo;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* ^note. [Exit. SCENE II. The same. Another Room. Enter certain Murtherers, hastily.

1 M.
Run to my lord of Suffolk; let him know,
We have dispatch'd the duke, as he commanded.

2 M.
O, that it were to do!—What have we done?
Didst ever hear a man so penitent? Enter Suffolk.

1 M.
Here comes my lord.

Suf.
Now, sirs,
Have you dispatch'd this thing?

1 M.
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 venturous deed.
The king and all the peers are here at hand:—
Have you lay'd fair the bed? are all things well,
According as I gave directions?

1 M.
Yes, my good lord.

Suf.
Away, be gone. [Exeunt Murtherers.

Enter King, Queen, Cardinal, Somerset, Lords, and others.

Kin.
Go, call our uncle to our presence straight:
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.

Kin.
Lords, take your places; and, I pray you all,
Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloster,
Than from true evidence, of good esteem,
He be approv'd in practice culpable.

Que.
Heav'n forbid, any malice should prevail,
That faultless may condemn a nobleman!
Pray Heav'n, he may acquit him of suspicion!

Kin.
I thank thee, Meg; these words content me much.— Re-enter Suffolk, hastily.
How now? why look'st thou pale? why trembl'st thou?
Where is our uncle? what's the matter, Suffolk?

Suf.
Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloster is dead.

Que.
Marry, Heav'n forefend!

Car.
Heav'n's secret judgment:—I did dream to-night,
The duke was dumb, and could not speak a word* ^note. [King swoons.

Que.
How fares my lord?—Help, lords! the king is dead.

&blquo;Som.
&blquo;Rear up his body; wring him by the nose.

Que.
Run, go, help, help!—O, Henry, ope thine eyes!

Suf.
He doth revive again;—madam, be patient.

Kin.
O merciful Heav'n!

Que.
How fares my gracious lord?

Suf.
Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, comfort!

Kin.
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* ^note.

Que.
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: Aye me unhappy!
To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!

Kin.
Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched man!

Que.
Be woe for me, more wretched than he is† ^note.
What, dost thou turn away, and hide thy face?
&blquo;I am no loathsome leper, look on me.

&blquo;What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf?
&blquo;Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn 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,
&blquo;And make my image but an alehouse sign.
Was I, for this, nigh wreck'd upon the sea;
And twice by aukward wind from England's bank
Drove back again unto my native clime?
What boded this, but well fore-warning wind
Did seem to say,—Seek not a scorpion's nest,
Nor set no footing on this unkind shore?
&blquo;What did I then, but curs'd the gentle gusts,
&blquo;And he that loos'd them forth their brazen caves;
&blquo;And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore,
&blquo;Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock?
&blquo;Yet Æolus would not be a murtherer,
&blquo;But left that hateful office unto thee:
&blquo;The pretty vaulting sea refus'd to drown me;
&blquo;Knowing that thou would'st have me drown'd on shore
&blquo;With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness:
&blquo;The splitting rocks cowr'd in the sinking sands,
&blquo;And would not dash me with their ragged sides;
&blquo;Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they,
&blquo;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:
&blquo;And even with this, I lost fair England's view,
&blquo;And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart;
&blquo;And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles,
&blquo;For losing ken of Albion's wished coast.
&blquo;How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue
&blquo;(The agent of thy foul inconstancy)
&blquo;To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did,

&blquo;When he, to madding Dido, would unfold
&blquo;His father's acts commenc'd in burning Troy?
&blquo;Am I not witch'd like her? or thou not false like him?
Aye me, I can no more! Die, Margaret;
For Henry weeps, that thou dost live so long* ^note. [Noise within. Commons are seen pressing towards the door, with Salisbury keeping them back. Enter Warwick.

War.
It is reported, mighty sovereign,
That good duke Humphrey trait'rously is murther'd
By Suffolk's 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.

Kin.
That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true;
But how he dy'd, God knows, not Henry:
Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,
And comment then upon his sudden death.

War.
That shall I do, my liege:—Stay, Salisbury,
With the rude multitude, 'till I return. [Exit, to an inner Room.

Kin.
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!
† ^noteIf my suspect be false, forgive me, heav'n;
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? A door is thrown open, and Gloster discovered dead upon his bed, Warwick, and others, by him.

War.
Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body.

Kin.
That is to see how deep my grave is made:
For, with his soul, fled all my worldly solace;
And, seeing him, I see my death in life.

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 lay'd
Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke.

Suf.
A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue:
What instance gives lord Warwick for his vow?

War.
See, how the blood is settl'd in his face!
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,
Of ashy 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 farther out than when he liv'd,
Staring full ghastly like a strangl'd man:
His hair up-rear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling;
His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd
And tug'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 rugged,
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd.
It cannot be, but he was murther'd here;
The least of all these signs were probable* ^note.

Suf.
Why, Warwick, who should do the duke to death?

Myself, and Beaufort, had him in protection;
And we, I hope, sir, are no murtherers.

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.

Que.
Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen;
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 unbloody'd beak?
Even so suspicious is this tragedy.

Que.
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 scour'd 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 Car. Som. and others.

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

Que.
He dares not calm his contumelious spirit,
Nor cease to be an arrogant controller,
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.

&blquo;War.
&blquo;Madam, be still; with reverence may I say it;
&blquo;For every word, you speak in his behalf,
&blquo;Is slander to your royal dignity.

&blquo;Suf.
&blquo;Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour!
&blquo;If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much,
&blquo;Thy mother took into her blameful bed
&blquo;Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock
&blquo;Was graft with crab-tree slip; whose fruit thou art,
&blquo;And never of the Nevils' noble race.

&blquo;War.
&blquo;But that the guilt of murther bucklers thee,
&blquo;And I should rob the death's-man of his fee,

&blquo;Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,
&blquo;And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild,
&blquo;I would, false murd'rous coward, on thy knee
&blquo;Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech,
&blquo;And say—it was thy mother that thou mean'st,
&blquo;That thou thyself wast born in bastardy:
&blquo;And, after all this fearful homage done,
&blquo;Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell,
&blquo;Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men.

&blquo;Suf.
&blquo;Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy blood,
&blquo;If from this presence thou dar'st go with me.

&blquo;War.
&blquo;Away, even now, or I will drag thee hence:
&blquo;Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee,
&blquo;And do some service to duke Humphrey's ghost* ^note. [Exeunt Suf. and War.

Kin.
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† ^note.

Que.
What noise is this? [Noise within. Re-enter Suffolk and Warwick.

Kin.
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 trait'rous Warwick, with the men of Bury,
Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. Enter Salisbury.

Sal.
Sirs, stand apart, the king shall know your mind. [To the Commons, entering.
Dread lord, the commons send you word by me,—
Unless lord 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 dy'd;
They say, in him they fear your highness' death:
And meer 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 forked 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 envenomed and fatal sting,
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
They say, is shamefully bereft of life* ^note.

Com. [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 shew 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.

Com. [Within.]
An answer from the king, or we will all break in.

Kin.
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.

Que.
O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk!

Kin.
Ungentle queen, to call him gentle Suffolk.
No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him,
Thou wilt but add encrease unto my wrath.
Had I but said, I would have kept my word;
But, when I swear, it is irrevocable:—
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 King, Warwick, Lords, &c.

Que.
Mischance, and sorrow, go along with you!
Heart's discontent, and sour affliction,
&blquo;Be play-fellows to keep you company!
&blquo;There's two of you, the devil make a third!
And three-fold vengeance tend upon your steps* ^note!

Suf.
Cease, gentle queen, these execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.

Que.
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 fixt on end, as one distract;
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban.
And even now my burthen'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, murth'ring basilisks!
Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings!
Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss;
And boding scritch-owls make the concert full!
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell* ^note—

Que.
Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st thyself;
And these dread curses—like the sun 'gainst glass,
Or like an over-charged gun,—recoil,
And turn the force of them upon thyself.

Suf.
You bad 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.

Que.
O, let me intreat 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;
That thou might'st think on these lips, 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 whilst thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits thinking on 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,
Lother a hundred times to part than die.
Yet now farewel; and farewel life with thee.

Suf.
Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,
Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee.
'Tis not the land I care for, wer't thou hence;
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 no joy in nought, but that thou liv'st† ^note. Enter a Gentleman, hastily.

Que.
Whither goes Vaux so fast? what news, I pr'ythee?

Gen.
To signify unto his majesty,
That cardinal Beaufort is at point of death:
For suddenly a grievous sickness took him,
That makes him gasp and stare, and catch the air,
Blaspheming heav'n, and cursing men on earth.
Sometime, he talks as if duke Humphrey's ghost
Were by his side; sometime he calls the king,
And whispers to his pillow, as to him,
The secrets of his over-charged soul:
And I am sent to tell his majesty,
That even now he cries aloud for him.

Que.
Go, tell this heavy message to the king. [Ex. Gen.
Ay me! what is this world? what news are these?
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,
Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure?
Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
And with the southern clouds contend in tears;
Theirs for the earth's encrease, mine for my sorrows?

Now, get thee hence; the king, thou know'st, is coming;
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‡ ^note between it's 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 should'st thou either turn my flying soul,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body,
And then it liv'd in sweet Elyzium.
To die by thee, were but to die in jest;
From thee to die, were torture more than death:
O, let me stay, befal what may befal.

Que.
Away! though parting be a fretful corrosive,
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&verbar2; ^note.

Suf.
I go.

Que.
And take my heart with thee along.

Suf.
A jewel lock'd into the woful'st cask
That ever did contain a thing of worth.
Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we;
This way fall I to death.

Que.
This way for me. [Exeunt, severally. SCENE III. The same. Another Room. The Cardinal in his bed; Attendants by him. Enter King, Warwick, Salisbury, and others.

Kin.
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.

Kin.
Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,
Where death's approach is seen so terrible!

War.
Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.

Car.
Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Dy'd 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 shew 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 winged soul.
Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him* ^note.

Kin.
O thou eternal Mover of the heavens,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
O, beat away the busy medling fiend,
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,
And from his bosom purge this black despair‡ ^note!

War.
See, how the pangs of death do make him grin.

Sal.
Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.

Kin.
Peace to his soul, if heav'n's good pleasure be!—
Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,
Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.—
He dies, and makes no sign:—O heav'n, forgive him!

War.
So bad a death argues a monstrous life.

Kin.
Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.—
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;
And let us all to meditation† ^note. [Exeunt.

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