K. Henry.
My Lords, what to your wisdom seemeth best,
Do or undo as if ourself were here.

Q. Mar.
What, will your Highness leave the Parliament?

K. Henry.
Ay, Margaret, my heart is drown'd with grief,
Whose flood begins to flow within my eyes,
My body round engirt with misery,
For what's more miserable than discontent?
Ah, uncle Humphry! in thy face I see
The map of honour, truth, and loyalty;
And yet, good Humphry, is the hour to come,
That e'er I prov'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith.
What low'ring star now envies thy estate?
That these great Lords, and Margaret our Queen,
Do seek subversion of thy harmless life,
That 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.^{6 note}

Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house;
Even so, remorsless, have they borne him hence.
And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
Looking the way her harmless young one went,
And can do nought but wail her darling's loss;
Even so myself bewail good Glo'ster's case
With sad unhelpful tears, and with dimm'd eyes
Look after him, and cannot do him good,
So mighty are his vowed enemies.
His fortunes I will weep, and 'twixt each groan
Say, Who's a traitor? Glo'ster he is none. [Exit.

Q. Mar.
^{7 note}Free Lords, cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams;
Henry my Lord is cold in great affairs,
Too full of foolish pity. Glo'ster's shew
Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting passengers;
Or as the snake, roll'd in a flowry 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 my own wit good,
This Glo'ster 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.

York.
So that by this you would not have him die.

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

York.
* ^note'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 Humphry for the King's protector?

Q. Mar.
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 murderer,
His guilt should be but idly posted over,
Because his purpose is not executed.
^{8 note}

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 Sovereign from his foe,
Say but the word, and ^{9 note}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, * ^noteand 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,
† ^noteIt skills not greatly who impugns our doom.

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