SCENE I.
The Palace.
Flourish of trumpets: then hautboys. Enter king Henry, duke Humphrey, Salisbury, Warwick, and Beaufort, on the one side; the Queen, Suffolk, York, Somerset, and Buckingham, on the other.
2 note
Suf.
As by your high imperial majesty
I had in charge at my depart for France,
-- 294 --
As procurator to your excellence3 note,
To marry princess Margaret for your grace;
So, in the famous ancient city, Tours,—
In presence of the kings of France and Sicil,
The dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretaigne, Alençon,
Seven earls, twelve barons, twenty reverend bishops,—
I have perform'd my task, and was espous'd:
And humbly now upon my bended knee,
In sight of England and her lordly peers,
Deliver up my title in the queen
To your most gracious hand, that are the substance
Of that great shadow I did represent;
The happiest gift that ever marquess gave,
The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd.
K. Henry.
Suffolk, arise.—Welcome, queen Margaret:
I can express no kinder sign of love,
Than this kind kiss.—O Lord, that lends me life,
Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!
For thou hast given me, in this beauteous face,
A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
Q. Mar.
Great king of England, and my gracious lord;
-- 295 --
4 noteThe mutual conference that my mind hath had—
By day, by night; waking, and in my dreams;
In courtly company, or at my beads,—
With you 5 note
mine alder-liefest sovereign,
Makes me the bolder to salute my king
With ruder terms; such as my wit affords,
And over-joy of heart doth minister.
K. Henry.
Her sight did ravish: but her grace in speech,
Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty,
Makes me, from wondering, fall to weeping joys;
Such is the fulness of my heart's content.—
Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love.
All.
Long live queen Margaret, England's happiness!
Q. Mar.
We thank you all.
[Flourish.
Suf.
My lord protector, so it please your grace,
Here are the articles of contracted peace,
Between our sovereign and the French king Charles,
For eighteen months concluded by consent.
Glo. reads.]
Imprimis, It is agreed between the French
king, Charles, and William de la Poole, marquess of Suffolk,
embassador for Henry king of England,—that the said
-- 296 --
Henry shall espouse the lady Margaret, daughter to
Reignier king of Naples, Sicilia, and Jerusalem; and
crown her queen of England, ere the thirtieth of May
next ensuing.
Item, That the dutchies of Anjou and of Maine, shall
be released and delivered to the king her fa &lblank;
K. Henry.
Uncle, how now?
Glo.
Pardon me, gracious lord;
Some sudden qualm hath struck me to the heart,
And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further.
K. Henry.
Uncle of Winchester, I pray, read on.
Win.
Item, it is further agreed between them,—that
the dutchies of Anjou and Maine shall be released and delivered
to the king her father; and she sent over of the
king of England's own proper cost and charges, without
having any dowry.
K. Henry.
They please us well.—Lord marquess, kneel down;
We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk,
And gird thee with the sword.—
Cousin of York, we here discharge your grace
From being regent in the parts of France,
'Till term of eighteen months be full expir'd.—
Thanks, uncle Winchester, Gloster, York, and Buckingham,
Somerset, Salisbury, and Warwick;
6 note
We thank you all for this great favour done,
In entertainment to my princely queen.
Come, let us in; and with all speed provide
To see her coronation be perform'd.
[Exeunt King, Queen, and Suffolk.
Glo.
Brave peers of England, pillars of the state,
To you duke Humphrey must unload his grief,
-- 297 --
Your grief, the common grief of all the land.
What! did my brother Henry spend his youth,
His valour, coin, and people, in the wars?
Did he so often lodge in open field,
In winter's cold, and summer's parching heat,
To conquer France, his true inheritance?
And did my brother Bedford toil his wits,
To keep by policy what Henry got?
Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham,
Brave York, and Salisbury, victorious Warwick,
Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy?
Or hath mine uncle Beaufort, and myself,
With all the learned council of the realm,
Study'd so long, sat in the council-house,
Early and late, debating to and fro
How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe?
Or hath his highness in his infancy
Been crown'd in Paris, in despight of foes;
And shall these labours, and these honours, die?
Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance,
Your deeds of war, and all our counsel, die?
O peers of England, shameful is this league!
Fatal this marriage! cancelling your fame;
Blotting your names from books of memory;
Razing the characters of your renown;
Reversing monuments of conquer'd France;
Undoing all, as all had never been!
Car.
Nephew, what means this passionate discourse?
7 noteThis peroration with such circumstance?
For France, 'tis ours; and we will keep it still.
Glo.
Ay, uncle, we will keep it, if we can;
But now it is impossible we should:
Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast,
Hath given the dutchies of Anjou and Maine
Unto the poor king Reignier, whose large style
-- 298 --
Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.
Sal.
Now, by the death of him who dy'd for all,
These counties were the keys of Normandy:—
But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?
War.
For grief that they are past recovery:
For, were there hope to conquer them again,
My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears.
Anjou and Maine! myself did win them both;
Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer:
8 noteAnd are the cities, that I got with wounds,
Deliver'd up again with peaceful words?
Mort Dieu!
York.
For Suffolk's duke—may he be suffocate,
That dims the honour of this warlike isle!
France should have torn and rent my very heart,
Before I would have yielded to this league.
I never read but England's kings have had
Large sums of gold, and dowries, with their wives:
And our king Henry gives away his own,
To match with her that brings no vantages.
Glo.
A proper jest, and never heard before,
That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth,
For costs and charges in transporting her!
She should have staid in France, and starv'd in France,
Before &lblank;
Car.
My lord of Gloster, now ye grow too hot;
It was the pleasure of my lord the king.
Glo.
My lord of Winchester, I know your mind;
'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike,
But 'tis my presence that doth trouble you.
Rancour will out: Proud prelate, in thy face
I see thy fury: if I longer stay,
We shall begin our ancient bickerings9 note
.—
-- 299 --
Farewel, my lords; and say, when I am gone,
I prophesy'd—France will be lost ere long.
[Exit.
Car.
So, there goes our protector in a rage.
'Tis known to you, he is mine enemy:
Nay, more, an enemy unto you all;
And no great friend, I fear me, to the king.
Consider, lords—he is the next of blood,
And heir apparent to the English crown;
Had Henry got an empire by his marriage,
1 note
And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west,
There's reason he should be displeas'd at it.
Look to it, lords; let not his smoothing words
Bewitch your hearts; be wise, and circumspect.
What though the common people favour him,
Calling him—Humphrey, the good duke of Gloster;
Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice—
Jesu maintain your royal excellence!
With—God preserve the good duke Humphrey!
I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss,
He will be found a dangerous protector.
-- 300 --
Buck.
Why should he then protect our sovereign,
He being of age to govern of himself?—
Cousin of Somerset, join you with me,
And all together,—with the duke of Suffolk,—
We'll quickly hoise duke Humphrey from his seat.
Car.
This weighty business will not brook delay;
I'll to the duke of Suffolk presently.
[Exit.
Som.
Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey's pride,
And greatness of his place be grief to us,
Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal;
His insolence is more intolerable
Than all the princes in the land beside;
If Gloster be displac'd, he'll be protector.
Buck.
Thou, or I, Somerset, will be protector,
Despight duke Humphrey, or the cardinal.
[Exeunt Buckingham and Somerset.
Sal.
Pride went before, ambition follows him.
While these do labour for their own preferment,
Behoves it us to labour for the realm.
I never saw but Humphrey duke of Gloster
Did bear him like a noble gentleman.
Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal—
More like a soldier, than a man o'the church,
As stout, and proud, as he were lord of all,—
Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself
Unlike the ruler of a common-weal.—
Warwick my son, the comfort of my age!
Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy house-keeping,
Hath won the greatest favour of the commons,
Excepting none but good duke Humphrey.—
And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland,
In bringing them to civil discipline;
Thy late exploits done in the heart of France,
When thou wert regent for our sovereign,
Have made thee fear'd, and honour'd, of the people:—
Join we together, for the public good;
-- 301 --
In what we can, to bridle and suppress
The pride of Suffolk, and the cardinal,
With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition;
And, as we may, cherish duke Humphrey's deeds,
While they do tend the profit of the land2 note.
War.
So God help Warwick, as he loves the land,
And common profit of his country!
York.
And so says York, for he hath greatest cause.
[Aside.
Sal.
Then let's make haste, and look unto the main.
War.
Unto the main! Oh father, Maine is lost;
That Maine, which by main force Warwick did win,
And would have kept, so long as breath did last:
Main chance, father, you meant; but I meant Maine;
Which I will win from France, or else be slain.
[Ex. Warwick and Salisbury.
York.
Anjou and Maine are given to the French;
Paris is lost; the state of Normandy
Stands 3 note
on a tickle point, now they are gone.
Suffolk concluded on the articles;
The peers agreed; and Henry was well pleas'd,
To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter.
I cannot blame them all; What is't to them?
'Tis thine they give away, and not their own.
Pirates may make cheap pennyworth of their pillage,
And purchase friends, and give to courtezans,
Still revelling, like lords, 'till all be gone:
-- 302 --
While as the silly owner of the goods
Weeps over them, and wrings his hapless hands,
And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof,
While all is shar'd, and all is borne away;
Ready to starve, and dares not touch his own.
So York must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue,
While his own lands are bargain'd for, and sold.
Methinks, the realms of England, France, and Ireland,
Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood,
As did the fatal brand Althea burnt
Unto the prince's heart of Calydon4 note.
Anjou and Maine, both given unto the French!
Cold news for me; for I had hope of France,
Even as I have of fertile England's soil.
A day will come, when York shall claim his own;
And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts,
And make a shew of love to proud duke Humphrey,
And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown,
For that's the golden mark I seek to hit:
Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right,
Nor hold the scepter in his childish fist,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head,
Whose church-like humour fits not for a crown.
Then, York, be still a while, 'till time do serve:
Watch thou, and wake, when others be asleep,
To pry into the secrets of the state;
'Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love,
With his new bride, and England's dear-bought queen,
And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars:
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose,
With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd;
And in my standard bear the arms of York,
To grapple with the house of Lancaster;
And, force perforce, I'll make him yield the crown,
Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down.
[Exit York.
-- 303 --
SCENE II.
The duke of Gloster's house.
Enter duke Humphrey and his wife Eleanor.
Elean.
Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn,
Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load?
Why doth the great duke Humphrey knit his brows,
As frowning at the favours of the world?
Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth,
Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight?
What see'st thou there? king Henry's diadem,
Inchas'd with all the honours of the world?
If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face,
Until thy head be circled with the same.
Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold:—
What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine:
And, having both together heav'd it up,
We'll both together lift our heads to heaven;
And never more abase our sight so low
As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.
Glo.
O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord,
Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts:
And may that thought, when I imagine ill
Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry,
Be my last breathing in this mortal world!
My troublous dream this night doth make me sad.
Elean.
What dream'd my lord? tell me, and I'll requite it
With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream.
Glo.
Methought, this staff, mine office-badge in court,
Was broke in twain; by whom, I have forgot,
But, as I think, it was by the cardinal;
And on the pieces of the broken wand
-- 304 --
Were plac'd the heads of Edmund duke of Somerset,
And William de la Poole first duke of Suffolk.
This was my dream; what it doth bode, God knows.
Elean.
Tut, this was nothing but an argument,
That he, that breaks a stick of Gloster's grove,
Shall lose his head for his presumption.
But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke:
Methought, I sat in seat of majesty,
In the cathedral church of Westminster,
And in that chair where kings and queens are crown'd;
Where Henry, and dame Margaret, kneel'd to me,
And on my head did set the diadem.
Glo.
Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright:
Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur'd Eleanor!
Art thou not second woman in the realm;
And the protector's wife, belov'd of him?
Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command,
Above the reach or compass of thy thought?
And wilt thou still be hammering treachery,
To tumble down thy husband, and thyself,
From top of honour to disgrace's feet?
Away from me, and let me hear no more.
Elean.
What, what, my lord! are you so choleric
With Eleanor, for telling but her dream?
Next time, I'll keep my dreams unto myself,
And not be check'd.
Glo.
Nay, be not angry, I am pleas'd again.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
My lord protector, 'tis his highness' pleasure,
You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans,
Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk5 note
.
-- 305 --
Glo.
I go.—Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us?
Elean.
Yes, my good lord, I'll follow presently.
[Exit Gloster.
Follow I must, I cannot go before,
While Gloster bears this base and humble mind.
Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,
I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks,
And smooth my way upon their headless necks:
And, being a woman, I will not be slack
To play my part in fortune's pageant.
Where are you there? Sir John! nay, fear not, man,
We are alone; here's none but thee, and I.
Enter Hume.
Hume.
Jesu preserve your royal majesty!
Elean.
My majesty! why, man, I am but grace.
Hume.
But, by the grace of God, and Hume's advice,
Your grace's title shall be multiply'd.
Elean.
What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet conferr'd
With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch;
And Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer?
And will they undertake to do me good?
Hume.
This they have promised,—to shew your highness
A spirit rais'd from depth of under ground,
That shall make answer to such questions,
-- 306 --
As by your grace shall be propounded him.
6 note
Elean.
It is enough; I'll think upon the questions:
When from saint Albans we do make return,
We'll see those things effected to the full.
Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man,
With thy confederates in this weighty cause.
[Exit Eleanor.
Hume.
Hume must make merry with the dutchess' gold;
Marry, and shall. But, how now, Sir John Hume?
Seal up your lips, and give no words but—mum!
The business asketh silent secrecy.
Dame Eleanor gives gold, to bring the witch:
Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil.
Yet have I gold, flies from another coast:
I dare not say, from the rich cardinal,
And from the great and new-made duke of Suffolk;
Yet I do find it so: for, to be plain,
They, knowing dame Eleanor's aspiring humour,
Have hired me to undermine the dutchess,
And buz these conjurations in her brain.
They say, A crafty knave does need no broker7 note;
Yet am I Suffolk's and the cardinal's broker.
Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near
To call them both—a pair of crafty knaves.
-- 307 --
Well, so it stands: And thus, I fear, at last,
Hume's knavery will be the dutchess' wreck;
And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall:
8 noteSort how it will, I shall have gold for all.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
An apartment in the palace.
Enter three or four petitioners, Peter, the armourer's man, being one.
1 Pet.
My masters, let's stand close; my lord protector
will come this way by and by, and then we
may deliver our supplications 9 note
in the quill.
-- 308 --
2 Pet.
Marry, the Lord protect him, for he's a
good man! Jesu bless him!
Enter Suffolk, and Queen.
1 Pet.
Here 'a comes, methinks, and the queen
with him: I'll be the first, sure.
2 Pet.
Come back, fool; this is the duke of Suffolk,
and not my lord protector.
Suf.
How now, fellow? wouldst any thing with me?
1 Pet.
I pray, my lord, pardon me! I took ye for
my lord protector.
Q. Mar.
For my lord protector! are your supplications
to his lordship? Let me see them: What
is thine?
1 Pet.
Mine is, an't please your grace, against John
Goodman, my lord cardinal's man, for keeping my
house, and lands, and wife and all, from me.
Suf.
Thy wife too? that is some wrong, indeed.
What's your's? what's here! [reads.] Against the duke
of Suffolk, for enclosing the commons of Melford.—How
now, sir knave?
2 Pet.
Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our
whole township.
Peter.
Against my master, Thomas Horner, for saying,
That the duke of York was rightful heir to the
crown.
Q. Mar.
What say'st thou? Did the duke of York
say, he was rightful heir to the crown?
Peter.
That my mistress was? No, forsooth: my
master said, That he was; and that the king was an
usurper.
Suf.
Who is there?—Take this fellow in, and send
-- 309 --
for his master with a pursuivant presently:—we'll hear
more of your matter before the king.
[Exit Peter, guarded.
Q. Mar.
And as for you, that love to be protected
Under the wings of our protector's grace,
Begin your suits anew, and sue to him.
[Tears the petitions.
Away, base cullions!—Suffolk, let them go.
All.
Come, let's be gone.
[Exeunt Petitioners.
Q. Mar.
My lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise,
Is this the fashion in the court of England?
Is this the government of Britain's isle,
And this the royalty of Albion's king?
What! shall king Henry be a pupil still,
Under the surly Gloster's governance?
Am I a queen in title and in style,
And must be made a subject to a duke?
I tell thee, Poole, when in the city Tours
Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love,
And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France;
I thought, king Henry had resembled thee,
In courage, courtship, and proportion:
But all his mind is bent to holiness,
To number Ave-Maries on his beads:
His champions are—the prophets, and apostles;
His weapons, holy saws of sacred writ;
His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves
Are brazen images of canoniz'd saints.
I would, the college of the cardinals
Would chuse him pope, and carry him to Rome,
And set the triple crown upon his head;
That were a state fit for his holiness.
Suf.
Madam, be patient: as I was cause
Your highness came to England, so will I
In England work your grace's full content.
Q. Mar.
Beside the haught protector, have we Beaufort,
The imperious churchman; Somerset, Buckingham,
-- 310 --
And grumbling York: and not the least of these,
But can do more in England than the king.
Suf.
And he of these, that can do most of all,
Cannot do more in England than the Nevils:
Salisbury, and Warwick, are no simple peers.
Q. Mar.
Not all these lords do vex me half so much,
As that proud dame, the lord protector's wife.
She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies,
More like an empress, than duke Humphrey's wife;
Strangers in court do take her for the queen:
She bears a duke's revenues on her back,
And in her heart she scorns our poverty:
Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her?
Contemptuous base-born callat as she is,
She vaunted 'mongst her minions t'other day,
The very train of her worst wearing-gown
Was better worth than all my father's lands,
'Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter.
Suf.
Madam, myself have lim'd a bush for her1 note
;
And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds,
That she will light to listen to their lays,
And never mount to trouble you again.
So, let her rest: And, madam, list to me;
For I am bold to counsel you in this.
Although we fancy not the cardinal,
Yet must we join with him, and with the lords,
'Till we have brought duke Humphrey in disgrace.
As for the duke of York,—2 notethis late complaint
Will make but little for his benefit:
So, one by one, we'll weed them all at last,
And you yourself shall steer the happy helm.
-- 311 --
To them enter king Henry, duke Humphery, Cardinal Beaufort, Buckingham, York, Salisbury, Warwick, and the dutchess of Gloster.
K. Henry.
For my part, noble lords, I care not which;
Or Somerset, or York, all's one to me.
York.
If York have ill demean'd himself in France,
Then let him 3 notebe deny'd the regentship.
Som.
If Somerset be unworthy of the place,
Let York be regent, I will yield to him.
War.
Whether your grace be worthy, yea, or no,
Dispute not that; York is the worthier.
Car.
Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak.
War.
The cardinal's not my better in the field.
Buck.
All in this presence are thy betters, Warwick.
War.
Warwick may live to be the best of all.
Sal.
Peace, son;—and shew some reason, Buckingham,
Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this.
Q. Mar.
Because the king, forsooth, will have it so.
Glo.
Madam, the king is old enough himself
To give 4 notehis censure: these are no women's matters.
Q. Mar.
If he be old enough, what needs your grace
To be protector of his excellence?
Glo.
Madam, I am protector of the realm;
And, at his pleasure, will resign my place.
Suf.
Resign it then, and leave thine insolence.
Since thou wert king, (as who is king, but thou?)
-- 312 --
The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck:
The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas;
And all the peers and nobles of the realm
Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty.
Car.
The commons hast thou rack'd; the clergy's bags
Are lank and lean with thy extortions.
Som.
Thy sumptuous buildings, and thy wife's attire,
Have cost a mass of publick treasury.
Buck.
Thy cruelty in execution,
Upon offenders, hath exceeded law,
And left thee to the mercy of the law.
Q. Mar.
Thy sale of offices, and towns in France,—
If they were known, as the suspect is great,—
Would make thee quickly hop without thy head.
[Exit Gloster. The Queen drops her fan.
Give me my fan: What, minion! can you not?
[Gives the Dutchess a box on the ear.
I cry you mercy, madam; Was it you?
Elean.
Was't I? yea, I it was, proud Frenchwoman:
Could I come near your beauty with my nails,
I'd set my ten commandments in your face5 note
.
K. Henry.
Sweet aunt, be quiet; 'twas against her will.
Elean.
Against her will!—Good king, look to't in time;
She'll hamper thee, and dandle thee like a baby:
-- 313 --
Though in this place most master wears no breeches,
She shall not strike dame Eleanor unreveng'd.
6 note
[Exit Eleanor.
Buck.
Lord cardinal, I will follow Eleanor,
And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds:
She's tickled now; her fume can need no spurs,
She'll gallop fast enough to her destruction.
[Exit Buckingham.
Re-enter duke Humphrey.
Glo.
Now, lords, my choler being over-blown
With walking once about the quadrangle,
I come to talk of commonwealth affairs.
As for your spightful false objections,
Prove them, and I lie open to the law:
But God in mercy deal so with my soul,
As I in duty love my king and country!
But, to the matter that we have in hand:—
I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man
To be your regent in the realm of France.
Suf.
Before we make election, give me leave
To shew some reason, of no little force,
That York is most unmeet of any man.
York.
I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet.
First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride:
Next, if I be appointed for the place,
My lord of Somerset will keep me here,
Without discharge, money, or furniture,
'Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands.
Last time, I danc'd attendance on his will,
-- 314 --
'Till Paris was besieg'd, famish'd, and lost.
War.
That can I witness; and a fouler fact
Did never traitor in the land commit.
Suf.
Peace, head-strong Warwick!
War.
Image of pride, why should I hold my peace?
Enter Horner the armourer, and his man Peter, guarded.
Suf.
Because here is a man accus'd of treason:
Pray God, the duke of York excuse himself!
York.
Doth any one accuse York for a traitor?
K. Henry.
What mean'st thou, Suffolk? tell me: What are these?
Suf.
Please it your majesty, this is the man
That doth accuse his master of high treason:
His words were these;—that Richard, duke of York,
Was rightful heir unto the English crown;
And that your majesty was an usurper.
K. Henry.
Say, man, were these thy words?
Arm.
An't shall please your majesty, I never said
nor thought any such matter: God is my witness, I
am falsely accus'd by the villain.
Peter.
7 note
By these ten bones, my lords, [holding up his hands]
he did speak them to me in the garret
one night, as we were scouring my lord of York's
armour.
York.
Base dunghill villain, and mechanical,
-- 315 --
I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech:—
I do beseech your royal majesty,
Let him have all the rigour of the law.
Arm.
Alas, my lord, hang me, if ever I spake the
words. My accuser is my prentice; and when I did
correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow
upon his knees he would be even with me: I have
good witness of this; therefore, I beseech your majesty,
do not cast away an honest man for a villain's
accusation.
K. Henry.
Uncle, what shall we say to this in law?
Glo.
This doom, my lord, if I may judge.
Let Somerset be regent o'er the French,
Because in York this breeds suspicion:
And let these have a day appointed them
For single combat, in convenient place;
For he hath witness of his servant's malice:
This is the law, and this duke Humphrey's doom.
8 note
K. Henry.
Then be it so. My lord of Somerset,
We make your grace lord regent o'er the French.
-- 316 --
Som.
I humbly thank your royal majesty.
Arm.
And I accept the combat willingly.
Peter.
Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for God's
sake, pity my case! the spight of 9 notea man prevaileth
against me. O, Lord have mercy upon me! I shall
never be able to fight a blow: O Lord, my heart!—
Glo.
Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be hang'd.
K. Henry.
Away with them to prison: and the day
Of combat shall be the last of the next month.—
Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent away.
[Flourish. Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Duke Humphrey's garden.
1 note
Enter mother Jourdain, Hume, Southwel, and Bolingbroke.
Hume.
Come, my masters; the dutchess, I tell
you, expects performance of your promises.
Boling.
Master Hume, we are therefore provided:
Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms?
Hume.
Ay; What else? fear you not her courage.
Boling.
I have heard her reported to be a woman of
an invincible spirit: But it shall be convenient, master
Hume, that you be by her aloft, while we be busy below;
and so, I pray you, go in God's name, and leave
us. [Exit Hume.] Mother Jourdain, be you prostrate,
-- 317 --
and grovel on the earth:—John Southwel, read you;
and let us to our work.
Enter Eleanor, above.
Elean.
Well said, my masters; and welcome all.
To this geer; the sooner the better.
Boling.
Patience, good lady; wizards know their times:
2 note
Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night,
The time of night when Troy was set on fire;
-- 318 --
The time when scritch-owls cry, and ban-dogs howl3 note
,
When spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves,
That time best fits the work we have in hand.
Madam, sit you, and fear not; whom we raise,
We will make fast within a hallow'd verge.
[Here they perform the ceremonies, and make the circle; Bolingbroke, or Southwel reads, Conjuro te, &c. It thunders and lightens terribly; then the spirit riseth.
Spirit.
Adsum.
M. Jourd.
Asmath,
By the eternal God, whose name and power
Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask;
For, 'till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from hence.
Spirit.
Ask what thou wilt:—That I had said and done4 note!
Boling.
First, of the king. What shall of him become?
[Reading out of a paper.
Spirit.
The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose;
But him out-live, and die a violent death.
[As the Spirit speaks, they write the answer.
Boling.
What fates await the duke of Suffolk?
Spirit.
By Water shall he die, and take his end.
Boling.
What shall befall the duke of Somerset?
Spirit.
Let him shun castles;
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains,
5 note
Than where castles mounted stand.
-- 319 --
Have done, for more I hardly can endure.
Boling.
Descend to darkness, and the burning lake:
6 note
False fiend, avoid!
[Thunder and lightning. Spirit descends.
Enter the duke of York, and the duke of Buckingham, with their guard, and break in.
York.
Lay hands upon these traitors, and their trash.—
Beldame, I think, we watch'd you at an inch.—
What, madam, are you there? the king and commonweal
Are deep indebted for this piece of pains;
My lord protector will, I doubt it not,
See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts.
Elean.
Not half so bad as thine to England's king,
Injurious duke; that threat'st where is no cause.
Buck.
True, madam, none at all. What call you this?
[Shewing her the papers.
Away with them; let them be clapp'd up close,
-- 320 --
And kept asunder:—You, madam, shall with us:—
Stafford, take her to thee.—
We'll see your trinkets here forth-coming all;
Away!
[Exeunt guards with Jourdain, Southwell, &c.
York.
7 noteLord Buckingham, methinks, you watch'd her well:
A pretty plot, well chose to build upon!
Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ.
What have we here?
[Reads.
The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose;
But him out-live, and die a violent death.
Why, this is just, Aio te, Æacida, Romanos vincere posse.
Well, to the rest:
Tell me what fate awaits the duke of Suffolk?
By Water shall he die, and take his end.
What shall betide the duke of Somerset?
Let him shun castles;
Safer shall he be on the sandy plains,
Than where castles mounted stand.
Come, come, my lords:
8 note
These oracles are hardily attain'd,
And hardly understood.
-- 321 --
The king is now in progress towards saint Albans;
With him, the husband of this lovely lady:
Thither go these news, as fast as horse can carry them;
A sorry breakfast for my lord protector.
Buck.
Your grace shall give me leave, my lord of York,
To be the post, in hope of his reward.
York.
At your pleasure, my good lord.
Who's within there, ho!
Enter a Serving-man.
Invite my lords of Salisbury, and Warwick,
To sup with me to-morrow night.—Away!
[Exeunt.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
At Saint Albans.
Enter king Henry, Queen, Gloster, Cardinal, and Suffolk, with Falconers hallooing.
Q. Mar.
Believe me, lords, 9 notefor flying at the brook,
I saw not better sport these seven years' day:
Yet, by your leave, 1 note
the wind was very high;
And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.
-- 322 --
K. Henry.
But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,
And what a pitch she flew above the rest!—
To see how God in all his creatures works!
Yea, man and birds2 note
,are fain of climbing high.
Suf.
No marvel, an it like your majesty,
My lord protector's hawks do tower so well;
They know, their master loves to be aloft3 note
,
And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.
Glo.
My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar
Car.
I thought as much; he'd be above the clouds.
Glo.
Ay, my lord cardinal; How think you by that?
Were it not good, your grace could fly to heaven?
-- 323 --
K. Henry.
The treasury of everlasting joy!
Car.
Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts
4 note
Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart;
Pernicious protector, dangerous peer,
That smooth'st it so with king and common-weal!
Glo.
What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown so peremptory?
Tantæne animis cælestibus iræ?
Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice;
5 note
With such holiness can you do it?
Suf.
No malice, sir; no more than well becomes
So good a quarrel, and so bad a peer.
-- 324 --
Glo.
As who, my lord?
Suf.
Why, as yourself, my lord;
An't like your lordly lord-protectorship.
Glo.
Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.
Q. Mar.
And thy ambition, Gloster.
K. Henry.
I prythee, peace, good queen;
And whet not on these too too furious peers,
For blessed are the peace-makers on earth.
Car.
Let me be blessed for the peace I make,
Against this proud protector, with my sword!
Glo. Aside.
Faith, holy uncle, 'would 'twere come to that.
Car. Aside.
Marry, when thou dar'st.
Glo. Aside.
Make up no factious numbers for the matter,
In thine own person answer thy abuse.
Car. Aside.
Ay, where thou dar'st not peep: an if thou dar'st,
This evening, on the east side of the grove.
K. Henry.
How now, my lords?
Car.
Believe me, cousin Gloster,
Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,
We'd had had more sport.—6 note
Come with thy two-hand sword.
[Aside to Gloster.
Glo.
True, uncle.
Are you advis'd?—the east side of the grove?
-- 325 --
Cardinal, I am with you.
[Aside.
K. Henry.
Why, how now, uncle Gloster?
Glo.
Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord.—
Now, by God's mother, priest, I'll shave your crown for this,
Or all my fence shall fail7 note
.
[Aside.
Car. [aside]
Medice, teipsum;
Protector, see to't well, protect yourself.
K. Henry.
The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords.
How irksome is this music to my heart!
When such strings jar, what hopes of harmony?
I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife.
Enter one, crying, A miracle!
Glo.
What means this noise?
Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?
One.
A miracle! a miracle!
Suf.
Come to the king, and tell him what miracle.
One.
Forsooth, a blind man at saint Alban's shrine,
Within this half hour, hath receiv'd his sight;
A man, that ne'er saw in his life before.
K. Henry.
Now, God be prais'd! that to believing souls
Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair!
Enter the Mayor of saint Albans, and his brethren, bearing Simpcox between two in a chair, Simpcox's wife following.
Car.
Here come the townsmen on procession,
To present your highness with the man.
K. Henry.
Great is his comfort in this earthly vale,
Though by his sight his sin be multiply'd.
-- 326 --
Glo.
Stand by, my masters, bring him near the king,
His highness' pleasure is to talk with him.
K. Henry.
Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance,
That we for thee may glorify the Lord.
What, hast thou been long blind, and now restor'd?
Simp.
Born blind, an't please your grace.
Wife.
Ay, indeed, was he.
Suf.
What woman is this?
Wife.
His wife, an't like your worship.
Glo.
Had'st thou been his mother, thou could'st have better told.
K. Henry.
Where wert thou born?
Simp.
At Berwick in the north, an't like your grace.
K. Henry.
Poor soul! God's goodness hath been great to thee:
Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass,
But still remember what the Lord hath done.
Queen.
Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou here by chance,
Or of devotion, to this holy shrine?
Simp.
God knows, of pure devotion; being call'd
A hundred times, and oftner, in my sleep
By good saint Alban; 8 note
who said,—Saunder, come;
Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.
Wife.
Most true, forsooth; and many time and oft
Myself have heard a voice to call him so.
Car.
What, art thou lame?
Simp.
Ay, God Almighty help me!
-- 327 --
Suf.
How cam'st thou so?
Simp.
A fall off of a tree.
Wife.
A plum-tree, master.
Glo.
How long hast thou been blind?
Simp.
O, born so, master.
Glo.
What, and would'st climb a tree?
Simp.
But that in all my life, when I was a youth.
Wife.
Too true; and bought his climbing very dear.
Glo.
Mass, thou lov'dst plums well, that would'st venture so.
Simp.
Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some damsons,
And made me climb, with danger of my life.
Glo.
A subtle knave! but yet it shall not serve.—
Let me see thine eyes:—wink now:—now open them:—
In my opinion, yet thou see'st not well.
Simp.
Yes, master, clear as day; I thank God, and saint Alban.
Glo.
Say'st thou me so? What colour is this cloak of?
Simp.
Red, master; red as blood.
Glo.
Why, that's well said: what colour is my gown of?
Simp.
Black, forsooth; coal-black, as jet.
K. Henry.
Why then, thou know'st what colour jet is of?
Suf.
And yet, I think, jet did he never see.
Glo.
But cloaks, and gowns, before this day, a many.
Wife.
Never, before this day, in all his life.
Glo.
Tell me, sirrah, what's my name?
Simp.
Alas, master, I know not.
Glo.
What's his name?
Simp.
I know not.
Glo.
Nor his?
Simp.
No, indeed, master.
Glo.
What's thine own name?
-- 328 --
Simp.
Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, master.
Glo.
Then Saunder, sit there, the lyingest knave
In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind,
Thou might'st as well have known all our names, as thus
To name the several colours we do wear.
Sight may distinguish colours; but suddenly
To nominate them all, it is impossible.—
My lords, saint Alban here hath done a miracle;
Would ye not think that cunning to be great,
That could restore this cripple to his legs again?
Simp.
O, master, that you could!
Glo.
My masters of saint Alban's,
Have you not beadles in your town, and things
Call'd whips?
Mayor.
Yes, my lord, if it please your grace.
Glo.
Then send for one presently.
Mayor.
Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight.
[Exit Messenger.
Glo.
Now fetch me a stool hither by and by. Now,
sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from whipping,
leap me over this stool, and run away.
Simp.
Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone:
You go about to torture me in vain.
Enter a Beadle, with whips.
Glo.
Well, sir, we must have you find your legs.
Sirrah beadle, whip him 'till he leap over that same
stool.
Bead.
I will, my lord.—Come on, sirrah; off
with your doublet quickly.
Simp.
Alas, master, what shall I do? I am not able
to stand.
[After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps over the stool, and runs away; and the people follow and cry, A Miracle!
K. Henry.
O God, seest thou this, and bear'st so long?
-- 329 --
Queen.
It made me laugh, to see the villain run.
Glo.
Follow the knave; and take this drab away.
Wif.
Alas, sir, we did it for pure need.
Glo.
Let them be whipt through every market town
Until they come to Berwick, whence they came.
[Exit Beadle, with the woman, &c.
Car.
Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to day.
Suf.
True; made the lame to leap, and fly away.
Glo.
But you have done more miracles than I;
You made, in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly.
Enter Buckingham.
K. Henry.
What tidings with our cousin Buckingham?
Buck.
Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold.
A sort of naughty persons, 9 notelewdly bent,—
Under the countenance and confederacy
Of lady Eleanor, the protector's wife,
The ring-leader and head of all this rout,—
Have practis'd dangerously against your state,
Dealing with witches, and with conjurers:
Whom we have apprehended in the fact;
Raising up wicked spirits from under ground,
Demanding of king Henry's life and death,
And other of your highness' privy council,
As more at large your grace shall understand.
Car.
And so, my lord protector, by this means
1 noteYour lady is forth-coming yet at London.
This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's edge;
'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour.
[Aside to Gloster.
Glo.
Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my heart!
-- 330 --
Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers;
And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to thee,
Or to the meanest groom.
K. Henry.
O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones;
Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby!
Queen.
Gloster, see here the tainture of thy nest;
And, look, thyself be faultless, thou wert best.
Glo.
Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal,
How I have lov'd my king, and common-weal:
And, for my wife, I know not how it stands;
Sorry I am to hear what I have heard:
Noble she is; but, if she have forgot
Honour, and virtue, and convers'd with such
As, like to pitch, defile nobility,
I banish her, my bed, and company;
And give her, as a prey, to law, and shame,
That hath dishonour'd Gloster's honest name.
K. Henry.
Well, for this night, we will repose us here:
To-morrow, toward London, back again,
To look into this business thoroughly,
And call these foul offenders to their answers;
2 note
And poise the cause in justice' equal scales,
Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails.
[Flourish. Exeunt.
-- 331 --
SCENE II.
The duke of York's garden.
Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick.
York.
Now, my good lords of Salisbury and Warwick,
Our simple supper ended, give me leave,
In this close walk, to satisfy myself,
3 note
In craving your opinion of my title,
Which is infallible, to England's crown.
Sal.
My lord, I long to hear it at full.
War.
Sweet York, begin: and if thy claim be good,
The Nevils are thy subjects to command.
York.
Then thus:—
Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons:
The first, Edward the Black Prince, prince of Wales;
The second, William of Hatfield; and the third,
Lionel, duke of Clarence; next to whom,
Was John of Gaunt, the duke of Lancaster:
The fifth, was Edmund Langley, duke of York;
The sixth, was Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloster;
William of Windsor was the seventh, and last.
Edward, the Black Prince, dy'd before his father;
And left behind him Richard, his only son,
Who, after Edward the Third's death, reign'd king;
'Till Henry Bolingbroke, duke of Lancaster,
The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt,
Crown'd by the name of Henry the fourth,
Seiz'd on the realm; depos'd the rightful king;
Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she came,
-- 332 --
And him to Pomfret; where, as both you know,
Harmless Richard was murder'd traiterously.
War.
Father, the duke hath told the truth;
Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown.
York.
Which now they hold by force, and not by right;
For Richard, the first son's heir, being dead,
The issue of the next son should have reign'd.
Sal.
But William of Hatfield dy'd without an heir.
York.
The third son, duke of Clarence, (from whose line
I claim the crown) had issue—Philippe, a daughter,
Who married Edmund Mortimer, earl of March.
Edmund had issue—Roger, earl of March:
Roger had issue—Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor.
Sal.
This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke,
As I have read, laid claim unto the crown;
And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king,
Who kept him in captivity, 'till he dy'd.
But, to the rest.
York.
His eldest sister, Anne,
My mother, being heir unto the crown,
Married Richard, earl of Cambridge; who was son
To Edmund Langley, Edward the third's fifth son.
By her I claim the kingdom: she then was heir
To Roger, earl of March; who was the son
Of Edmund Mortimer; who married Philippe,
Sole daughter unto Lionel, duke of Clarence:
So, if the issue of the elder son
Succeed before the younger, I am king.
War.
What plain proceeding is more plain than this?
Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt,
The fourth son; York claimeth it from the third.
'Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign:
It fails not yet; but flourishes in thee,
And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock.—
Then, father Salisbury, kneel we both together;
-- 333 --
And, in this private plot, be we the first,
That shall salute our rightful sovereign
With honour of his birth-right to the crown.
Both.
Long live our sovereign Richard, England's king!
York.
We thank you, lords. But I am not your king
'Till I be crown'd; and that my sword be stain'd
With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster:
And that's not suddenly to be perform'd;
But with advice, and silent secrecy.
Do you, as I do, in these dangerous days,
Wink at the duke of Suffolk's insolence,
At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition,
At Buckingham, and all the crew of them,
'Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock,
That virtuous prince, the good duke Humphrey:
'Tis that they seek; and they, in seeking that,
Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy.
Sal.
My lord, break we off; we know your mind at full.
War.
My heart assures me, that the earl of Warwick
Shall one day make the duke of York a king.
York.
And, Nevil, this I do assure myself,—
Richard shall live to make the earl of Warwick
The greatest man in England, but the king.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
A hall of justice.
Sound trumpets. Enter king Henry, queen Margaret, Gloster, York, Suffolk, and Salisbury; the Dutchess, mother Jourdain, Southwel, Hume, and Bolingbroke, under guard.
K. Henry.
Stand forth, dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloster's wife:
-- 334 --
In sight of God, and us, your guilt is great;
Receive the sentence of the law, for sins
Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death.—
You four, from hence to prison back again;
[To the other prisoners.
From thence, unto the place of execution:
The witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes,
And you three shall be strangled on the gallows.—
You, madam, for you are more nobly born,
Despoiled of your honour in your life,
Shall, after three days open penance done,
Live in your country here, in banishment,
With sir John Stanley, in the isle of Man.
Elean.
Welcome is banishment, welcome were my death.
Glo.
Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath judged thee;
I cannot justify whom the law condemns.—
[Exeunt Eleanor, and the others, guarded.
Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age
Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground!—
I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go;
4 noteSorrow would solace, and mine age would ease.
K. Henry.
Stay, Humphrey duke of Gloster: ere thou go,
Give up thy staff; Henry will to himself
Protector be; and God shall be my hope,
My stay, my guide, and lanthorn to my feet:
And go in peace, Humphrey; no less belov'd,
Than when thou wert protector to thy king.
Q. Mar.
I see no reason, why a king of years
Should be to be protected like a child.—
5 note
God and king Henry govern England's realm:
-- 335 --
Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm.
Glo.
My staff?—here, noble Henry, is my staff:
As willingly do I the same resign,
As e'er thy father Henry made it mine;
And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it,
As others would ambitiously receive it.
Farewel, good king: When I am dead and gone,
May honourable peace attend thy throne!
[Exit Gloster.
Q. Mar.
Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret queen;
And Humphrey, duke of Gloster, scarce himself,
That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once,—
His lady banish'd, and a limb lopp'd off.
6 note
This staff of honour raught:—There let it stand,
Where best it fits to be, in Henry's hand.
Suf.
Thus droops this lofty pine, and hangs his sprays;
Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days.
York.
7 noteLords, let him go.—Please it your majesty,
This is the day appointed for the combat;
And ready are the appellant and defendant,
The armourer and his man, to enter the lists,
So please your highness to behold the fight.
Q. Mar.
Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore
-- 336 --
Left I the court, to see this quarrel try'd.
K. Henry.
O' God's name, see the lists and all things fit;
Here let them end it, and God defend the right!
York.
I never saw a fellow 8 noteworse bested,
Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant,
The servant of this armourer, my lords.
Enter at one door the armourer and his neighbours, drinking to him so much that he is drunk; and he enters with a drum before him, and his staff 9 note
with a sand-bag fastened to it; and at the other door enters his man, with a drum and sand-bag, and prentices drinking to him.
1 Neigh.
Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you
in a cup of sack; And fear not, neighbour, you shall
do well enough.
2 Neigh.
And here, neighbour, here's 1 note
a cup of
charneco.
-- 337 --
3 Neigh.
And here's a pot of good double beer,
neighbour: drink, and fear not your man.
Arm.
Let it come, i'faith, and I'll pledge you all;
And a fig for Peter!
1 Pren.
Here, Peter, I drink to thee; and be not
afraid.
2 Pren.
Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master:
fight for credit of the prentices.
Peter.
I thank you all: drink, and pray for me, I
pray you; for, I think, I have taken my last draught
in this world.—Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee
my apron;—and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer:
—and here, Tom, take all the money that I have.—
O Lord, bless me, I pray God! for I am never able
-- 338 --
to deal with my master, he hath learnt so much
fence already.
Sal.
Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows.—
Sirrah, what's thy name?
Peter.
Peter, forsooth.
Sal.
Peter! what more?
Peter.
Thump.
Sal.
Thump! then see thou thump thy master well.
Arm.
Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon
my man's instigation, to prove him a knave, and myself
an honest man: and touching the duke of York,—
I will take my death, I never meant him any ill, nor
the king, nor the queen; And therefore, Peter, have
at thee with a downright blow, 1 note
as Bevis of Southampton
fell upon Ascapart.
York.
Dispatch:—2 note
this knave's tongue begins to double.
Sound trumpets, alarum to the combatants.
[They fight, and Peter strikes him down.
Arm.
Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess treason.
[Dies.
York.
Take away his weapon:—Fellow, thank God,
and the good wine in thy master's way.
-- 339 --
Peter.
O God! have I overcome mine enemy in this presence?
O Peter, thou hast prevailed in right!
K. Henry.
Go, take hence that traitor from our sight;
For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt3 note:
And God, in justice, hath reveal'd to us
The truth and innocence of this poor fellow,
Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully.—
Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
The street.
Enter duke Humphrey, and his men, in mourning cloaks.
Glo.
Thus, sometimes, hath the brightest day a cloud;
And, after summer, evermore succeeds
Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold:
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet4 note
.—
Sirs, what's o'clock?
Serv.
Ten, my lord.
Glo.
Ten is the hour that was appointed me,
To watch the coming of my punish'd dutchess:
-- 340 --
5 note
Uneath may she endure the flinty streets,
To tread them with her tender-feeling feet.
Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook
The abject people, gazing on thy face,
With envious looks still laughing at thy shame; 9Q0816
That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels,
When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets.
But, soft! I think, she comes; and I'll prepare
My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries.
Enter the Dutchess in a white sheet, her feet bare, and a taper burning in her hand, with Sir John Stanley, a sheriff, and officers.
Serv.
So please your grace, we'll take her from the sheriff.
Glo.
No, stir not for your lives; let her pass by.
Elean.
Come you, my lord, to see my open shame?
Now thou dost penance too. Look, how they gaze!
See, how the giddy multitude do point,
And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee!
Ah, Gloster, hide thee from their hateful looks;
And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame,
And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine.
Glo.
Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.
Elean.
Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget myself:
For, whilst I think I am thy marry'd wife,
And thou a prince, protector of this land,
Methinks, I should not thus be led along,
-- 341 --
6 noteMail'd up in shame, with papers on my back;
And follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice
To see my tears, and hear my deep-fet groans.
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet;
And, when I start, the envious people laugh,
And bid me be advised how I tread.
Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke?
Trow'st thou, that e'er I'll look upon the world;
Or count them happy, that enjoy the sun?
No; dark shall be my light, and night my day;
To think upon my pomp, shall be my hell.
Sometime I'll say, I am duke Humphrey's wife;
And he a prince, and ruler of the land:
Yet so he rul'd, and such a prince he was,
That he stood by, whilst I, his forlorn dutchess,
Was made a wonder, and a pointing-stock,
To every idle rascal follower.
But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame;
Nor stir at nothing, 'till the axe of death
Hang over thee, as, sure, it shortly will.
For Suffolk,—he that can do all in all
With her, that hateth thee, and hates us all,—
And York, and impious Beaufort, that false priest,
Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings,
And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee:
But fear not thou, until thy foot be snar'd,
Nor never seek prevention of thy foes.
Glo.
Ah, Nell, forbear; thou aimest all awry;
I must offend, before I be attainted:
And had I twenty times so many foes,
And each of them had twenty times their power,
All these could not procure me any scathe7 note,
So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless.
-- 342 --
Would'st have me rescue thee from this reproach?
Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away,
But I in danger for the breach of law.
8 noteThy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell:
I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience;
These few-days' wonder will be quickly worn.
Enter a Herald.
Her.
I summon your grace to his majesty's parliament,
holden at Bury the first of this next month.
Glo.
And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before!
This is close dealing.—Well, I will be there.
[Exit Herald.
My Nell, I take my leave:—and, master sheriff,
Let not her penance exceed the king's commission.
Sher.
An't please your grace, here my commission stays:
And sir John Stanley is appointed now
To take her with him to the isle of Man.
Glo.
Must you, sir John, protect my lady here?
Stan.
So am I given in charge, may't please your grace.
Glo.
Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray
You use her well: 9 notethe world may laugh again;
And I may live to do you kindness, if
You do it her. And so, sir John, farewel.
Elean.
What gone, my lord; and bid me not farewel?
Glo.
Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak.
[Exit Gloster.
Elean.
Art thou gone too? All comfort go with thee!
For none abides with me: my joy is—death;
-- 343 --
Death, at whose name I oft have been afear'd,
Because I wish'd this world's eternity.—
Stanley, I pr'ythee, go, and take me hence;
I care not whither, for I beg no favour,
Only convey me where thou art commanded.
Stan.
Why, madam, that is to the isle of Man;
There to be us'd according to your state.
Elean.
That's bad enough, for I am but reproach:
And shall I then be us'd reproachfully?
Stan.
Like to a dutchess, and duke Humphrey's lady,
According to that state you shall be us'd.
Elean.
Sheriff, farewel, and better than I fare;
Although thou hast been conduct of my shame.
Sher.
It is my office; and, madam, pardon me.
Elean.
Ay, ay, farewel; thy office is discharg'd.—
Come, Stanley, shall we go?
Stan.
Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet,
And go we to attire you for our journey.
Elean.
My shame will not be shifted with my sheet:
No, it will hang upon my richest robes,
And shew itself, attire me how I can.
Go, lead the way; 1 noteI long to see my prison.
[Exeunt.
-- 344 --
ACT III.
SCENE I.
The abbey at Bury.
Enter king Henry, Queen, Cardinal, Suffolk, York, and Buckingham, &c. to the parliament.
K. Henry.
I muse, my lord of Gloster is not come:
'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man,
Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now.
Q. Mar.
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.
Small curs are not regarded, when they grin;
But great men tremble, when the lion roars;
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.
2 noteMe seemeth then, it is no policy,—
Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears,
-- 345 --
And his advantage following your decease,—
That he should come about your royal person,
Or be admitted to your highness' council.
By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts;
And, when he please to make commotion,
'Tis to be fear'd, they all will follow him.
Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted;
Suffer them now, and they'll o'er-grow the garden,
And choak the herbs for want of husbandry.
The reverent care, I bear unto my lord,
Made me collect these dangers in the duke.
If it be fond, call it a woman's fear;
Which fear if better reasons can supplant,
I will subscribe, and say—I wrong'd the duke.
My lords of Suffolk,—Buckingham,—and York,—
Reprove my allegation, if you can;
Or else conclude my words effectual.
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 3 noteyour grace's tale.
The dutchess, by his subornation,
Upon my life, began her devilish practices:
Or if he were not privy to those faults,
Yet, by reputing of his high descent4 note
,
(As next the king, he was successive heir,)
And such high vaunts of his nobility,
Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick dutchess,
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.
-- 346 --
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?
York.
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.
Buck.
Tut! these are petty faults to faults unknown,
Which time will bring to light in smooth duke Humphrey.
K. Henry.
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 downfall.
Q. Mar.
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!
K. Henry.
Welcome, lord Somerset. What news from France?
Som.
That all your interest in those territories
Is utterly bereft you; all is lost.
-- 347 --
K. Henry.
Cold news, lord Somerset: But God's will be done!
York.
5 noteCold 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 6 note
this gear 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 staid 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 9Q0817 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?
York.
'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?
-- 348 --
I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay,
Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.
So help me God, 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.
Car.
It serves you well, my lord, to say so much.
Glo.
I say no more than truth, so help me God!
York.
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, whiles 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 murderer,
Or foul felonious thief, that fleec'd poor passengers,
I never gave them condign punishment:
Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd
Above the felon, or what trespass else.
Suf.
My lord, 7 notethese faults are easy, quickly answer'd:
But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge,
Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.
I do arrest you in his highness' name;
And here commit you to my lord cardinal
To keep, until your further time of trial.
K. Henry.
My lord of Gloster, 'tis my special hope,
-- 349 --
That you will clear yourself from 8 note
all suspicion;
My conscience tells me, you are innocent.
Glo.
Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous!
Virtue is choak'd with foul ambition,
And charity chas'd hence by rancour'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.
Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice,
And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate;
Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue
The envious load that lies upon his heart;
And dogged York, that reaches at the moon,
Whose over-weening arm I have pluck'd back,
By false accuse doth level at my life:—
And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest,
Causeless have laid disgraces on my head;
And, with your best endeavour, have stirr'd up
My 9 note
liefest liege to be mine enemy:—
Ay, all of you have laid your heads together,
Myself had notice of your conventicles,
And all to make away my guiltless life:
I shall not want false witness to condemn me,
Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt;
-- 350 --
The ancient proverb will be well effected,—
A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.
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'erthrow his state?
Q. Mar.
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.
Buck.
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.
Glo.
Ah, thus king Henry throws away his crutch,
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.
[Exit guarded.
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 mine eyes;
My body round engirt with misery;
For what's more miserable than discontent?—
Ah, uncle Humphrey! in thy face I see
-- 351 --
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 low'ring 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:
1 note
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.
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 Gloster'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? Gloster he is none.
[Exit.
-- 352 --
Q. Mar.
2 noteFree 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, roll'd on a flowering 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 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.
York.
So that, by this, you would not have him die.
Suf.
Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I.
York.
3 note
'Tis York that hath more reason for his death.—
But, my lord cardinal, and you, my lord of Suffolk,—
-- 353 --
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?
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.
4 note
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 deceit5 note
Which mates him first, that first intends deceit.
Q. Mar.
Thrice-noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke.
-- 354 --
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 6 noteI 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, 7 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,
8 note
It skills not greatly who impugns our doom.
Enter a Post.
Post.
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 incurable;
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 a 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,
-- 355 --
Had been the regent there instead of me,
He never would have staid 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.
Shew 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 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?
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.
-- 356 --
Suf.
I'll see it truly done, my lord of York.
[Exeunt all but 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 politickly 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 mad-man'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 glorious sun's transparent beams,
Do calm the fury of this 9 notemad-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;
-- 357 --
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 1 note
a wild Morisco, 9Q0818
Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells.
Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kern,
Hath he conversed with the enemy;
And undiscover'd come to me again,
And given me notice of their villainies.
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' minds,
How they affect the house and claim of York.
Say, he be taken, rack'd, and tortured;
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:
-- 358 --
For, Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put apart, the next for me.
[Exit.
2 note
SCENE II.
An apartment in the palace.
Enter two or three, running over the stage, from the murder of duke Humphrey.
First M.
Run to my lord of Suffolk; let him know,
We have dispatch'd the duke, as he commanded.
Second M.
O, that it were to do!—What have we done?
Didst ever hear a man so penitent?
Enter Suffolk.
First M.
Here comes my lord.
Suf.
Now, sirs, have you dispatch'd this thing?
First 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 laid fair the bed? are all things well,
According as I gave directions?
-- 359 --
First M.
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 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.
K. Henry.
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.
Q. Mar.
God forbid, any malice should prevail,
That faultless may condemn a nobleman!
Pray God, he may acquit him of suspicion!
K. Henry.
2 note
I thank thee: Well, these words content me much.— 9Q0819
Re-enter Suffolk.
How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou?
Where is our uncle? what is the matter, Suffolk?
Suf.
Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloster is dead.
Q. Mar.
Marry, God forefend!
Car.
God's secret judgment:—I did dream to-night,
The duke was dumb, and could not speak a word.
[The king swoons.
-- 360 --
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!—Oh, Henry, ope thine eyes!
Suf.
He doth revive again;—Madam, be patient.
K. Henry.
O heavenly God!
Q. Mar.
How fares my gracious lord?
Suf.
Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, comfort!
K. Henry.
What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me?
Came he 3 noteright 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 murderous 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,
-- 361 --
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: Ay me, unhappy!
To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!
K. Henry.
Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched man!
Q. Mar.
4 noteBe 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 deaf5 note
?
-- 362 --
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,
And make my image but an ale-house sign.
Was I, for this, nigh wreck'd upon the sea;
And twice by 6 noteaukward 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?
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 Æolus 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:
7 noteThe splitting rocks cowr'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 Margaret8 note
.
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,
-- 363 --
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)
9 note
To fit 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 him?
Ay me, I can no more! Die, Margaret!
For Henry weeps, that thou dost live so long.
Noise within. Enter Warwick, Salisbury, and many Commons.
War.
It is reported, mighty sovereign,
That good duke Humphrey traiterously is murder'd
By Suffolk's and the cardinal Beaufort's means.
-- 364 --
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.
K. Henry.
That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true;
But how he died, God knows, 1 notenot Henry:
Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,
And comment then upon his sudden death.
War.
That I shall do, my liege:—Stay, Salisbury,
With the rude multitude, 'till I return.
[Warwick goes in.
K. Henry.
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 chase 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 bed, with Gloster's body, put forth.
War.
Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body.
K. Henry.
That is to see how deep my grave is made:
For, with his soul, fled all my worldly solace;
2 note
For seeing him, I see my life in death.
-- 365 --
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-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 settled in his face!
3 note
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,
-- 366 --
Of ashy semblance, meager, 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 returneth
To blush and beautify the cheek again.
But, see, his face is black, and full of blood;
His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd,
Staring full ghastly like a strangled man:
His hair up-rear'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 rugged,
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.
-- 367 --
Q. Mar.
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.
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.
[Exit Cardinal.
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 it;
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 Nevils' noble race.
War.
But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee,
And I should rob the death's-man of his fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,
And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild,
-- 368 --
I would, false murderous coward, on thy knee
Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech,
And say—it was thy mother that thou meant'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 blood-sucker 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.
K. Henry.
What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted?
Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just; 9Q0820
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
[A noise within.
Q. Mar.
What noise is this?
Re-enter Suffolk and Warwick, with their weapons drawn.
K. Henry.
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 traiterous Warwick, with the men of Bury,
Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.
Noise of a crowd within. Enter Salisbury.
Sal.
Sirs, stand apart; the king shall know your mind.—
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.
-- 369 --
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 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 worm4 note
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 berest 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 shew how quaint an orator you are:
But all the honour Salisbury hath won,
Is—that he was the lord ambassador,
Sent from 5 note
a sort of tinkers to the king.
-- 370 --
Within.
An answer from the king, or we will all break in.
K. Henry.
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.
Oh Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk!
K. Henry.
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 for thee.
[Exeunt all but Suffolk, and the Queen.
Q. Mar.
Mischance, and sorrow, go along with you!
Heart's discontent, and sour affliction,
Be play-fellows to keep you company!
There's two of you; the devil make a third!
And three-fold 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?
-- 371 --
Suf.
A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse them?
6 note
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 trees7 note!
Their chiefest prospect, murdering basilisks8 note!
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—
Q. Mar.
Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st thyself;
-- 372 --
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.
9 noteYou 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.
Oh, 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 woeful monuments.
Oh, could this kiss be printed in thy hand;
[Kisses his hand.
1 note
That thou might'st 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 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.—
Oh, go not yet!—Even thus two friends condemn'd
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves,
-- 373 --
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, wert 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.
Enter Vaux.
Q. Mar.
Whither goes Vaux so fast? what news, I pry'thee?
Vaux.
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 God, 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.
Q. Mar.
Go, tell this heavy message to the king.
[Exit Vaux.
Ay me! what is this world? what news are these2 note
?
But wherefore grieve I 3 note
at an hour's poor loss,
-- 374 --
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 between its lips:
Where, from thy sight, 9Q0821 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 4 note
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:
Oh, let me stay, befall what may befall.
Q. Mar.
Away! though parting be a fretful corrosive, 9Q0822
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,
-- 375 --
5 note
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 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.
Q. Mar.
This way for me.
[Exeunt, severally.
SCENE III.
The Cardinal's bed-chamber.
Enter king Henry6 note, Salisbury, Warwick, and others, to the Cardinal in bed.
K. Henry.
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. Henry.
Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,
When 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?—
Oh! torture me no more, I will confess.—
Alive again? then shew me where he is;
-- 376 --
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.
K. Henry.
O thou eternal Mover of the heavens,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
Oh, beat away the busy meddling fiend,
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,
And from his bosom purge this black despair!
War.
See, how the pangs of death do make him grin.
Sal.
Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.
K. Henry.
Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!—
Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,
Hold up thy hand7 note
, make signal of thy hope.—
He dies, and makes no sign:—O God, forgive him!
War.
So bad a death argues a monstrous life.
K. Henry.
8 note
Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.—
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;
And let us all to meditation.
9 note[Exeunt.
-- 377 --
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
The coast of Kent.
Alarm. Fight at sea1 note. Ordnance goes off. Enter captain Whitmore, and other pirates, with Suffolk, and other prisoners.
Cap.
2 noteThe gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day3 note
Is crept into the bosom of the sea;
And now loud-howling wolves arouse 4 note
the jades
That drag the tragic melancholy night;
-- 378 --
Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings
Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws
Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.
Therefore, bring forth the soldiers of our prize;
For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs,
Here shall they make their ransom on the sand,
Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore.—
Master, this prisoner freely give I thee;—
And thou that art his mate, make boot of this;—
The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share.
[Pointing to Suffolk.
1 Gent.
What is my ransom, master? let me know.
Mast.
A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.
Mate.
And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.
Whit.
What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns,
And bear the name and port of gentlemen?—
Cut both the villains' throats;—for die you shall;
5 noteNor can those lives which we have lost in fight,
Be counter-pois'd with such a petty sum.
1 Gent.
I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life.
2 Gent.
And so will I, and write home for it straight.
Whit.
I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard,
And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die;
[To Suffolk.
And so should these, if I might have my will.
Cap.
Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live.
Suf.
6 noteLook on my George, I am a gentleman;
Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.—
Whit.
And so am I; my name is—Walter Whitmore.
-- 379 --
How now? why start'st thou? what, doth death affright?
Suf.
Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death.
A cunning man did calculate my birth,
And told me—that by Water I should die7 note
:
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded;
Thy name is—Gualtier, being rightly sounded.
Whit.
Gualtier, or Walter, which it is, I care not:
Ne'er yet did base dishonour blur our name,
But with our sword we wip'd away the blot;
Therefore, when merchant-like I fell revenge,
Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defac'd,
And I proclaim'd a coward through the world!
Suf.
Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince,
The duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.
Whit.
The duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags!
Suf.
Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke;
8 note
Jove sometime went disguis'd, And why not I?
Cap.
But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be.
Suf.
Obscure and 9 notelowly swain, king Henry's blood,
The honourable blood of Lancaster,
Must not be shed by such a jaded groom. 9Q0823
-- 380 --
Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand, and held my stirrop?
And bare-head plodded by my foot-cloth mule,
And thought thee happy when I shook my head?
How often hast thou waited at my cup,
Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board,
When I have feasted with queen Margaret?
Remember it, and let it make thee crest-fall'n;
Ay, and allay this thy 1 noteabortive pride:
How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood,
And duly waited for my coming forth?
This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf,
And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue.
Whit.
Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain?
Cap.
First let my words stab him, as he hath me.
Suf.
Base slave! thy words are blunt, and so art thou.
Cap.
Convey him hence, and on our long boat's side
Strike off his head.
Suf.
2 note
Thou dar'st not for thine own.
Cap.
3 note
Poole? Sir Poole? lord?
Ay, kennel, puddle, sink; whose filth and dirt
Troubles the silver spring where England drinks.
-- 381 --
Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth,
For swallowing the treasure of the realm:
Thy lips, that kiss'd the queen, shall sweep the ground;
And thou, that smil'dst at good duke Humphrey's death,
Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain,
Who, in contempt, shall hiss at thee again:
And wedded be thou to the hags of hell,
For daring to affy4 note
a mighty lord
Unto the daughter of a worthless king,
Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem.
By devilish policy art thou grown great,
And, like ambitious Sylla, over-gorg'd
With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart.
By thee, Anjou and Maine were sold to France:
The false revolting Normans, thorough thee,
Disdain to call us lord; and Picardy
Hath slain their governors, surpriz'd our forts,
And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home.
The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all,—
Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain,—
As hating thee, are rising up in arms:
And now the house of York—thrust from the crown,
By shameful murder of a guiltless king,
And lofty proud encroaching tyranny,—
Burns with revenging fire; whose hopeful colours
Advance our half-fac'd sun, striving to shine,
Under the which is writ—Invitis nubibus.
The commons here in Kent are up in arms:
And, to conclude, reproach, and beggary,
-- 382 --
Is crept into the palace of our king,
And all by thee:—Away! convey him hence.
Suf.
O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder
Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges!
Small things make base men proud: this villain here,
Being captain of a pinnace5 note, threatens more
6 note
Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate.
Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives.
It is impossible, that I should die
By such a lowly vassal as thyself.
Thy words move rage, and not remorse, in me:
I go of message from the queen to France;
I charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel.
-- 383 --
Cap.
Walter,—
Wit.
Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.
Suf.
Gelidus timor occupat artus7 note:—'tis thee I fear.
Whit.
Thou shalt have cause to fear, before I leave thee.
What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop?
1 Gent.
My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair.
Suf.
Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough,
Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour.
Far be it, we should honour such as these
With humble suit: no, rather let my head
Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to any,
Save to the God of heaven, and to my king;
And sooner dance upon a bloody pole,
Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom.
True nobility is exempt from fear:—
More can I bear, than you dare execute.
Cap.
Hale him away, and let him talk no more:
Come, soldiers, shew what cruelty ye can8 note.—
Suf.
That this my death may never be forgot!—
Great men oft die by vile bezonians9 note
:
A Roman sworder1 note and banditto slave
-- 384 --
Murder'd sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand2 note
Stabb'd Julius Cæsar; savage islanders,
3 note
Pompey the great; and Suffolk dies by pirates.
[Exit Walter Whitmore, with Suffolk.
Cap.
And as for these whose ransom we have set,
It is our pleasure, one of them depart:—
Therefore come you with us, and let him go.
[Exit Captain, with all but the first Gentleman.
Re-enter Whitmore, with Suffolk's body.
Whit.
4 note
There let his head and lifeless body lie,
Until the queen his mistress bury it.
[Exit. Whit.
1 Gent.
O barbarous and bloody spectacle!
His body will I bear unto the king:
If he revenge it not, yet will his friends;
So will the queen, that living held him dear.
[Exit.
-- 385 --
SCENE II.
Another part of Kent.
Enter George Bevis and John Holland.
Bevis.
Come, and get thee a sword5 note, though made
of a lath; they have been up these two days.
Hol.
They have the more need to sleep now then.
Bevis.
I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to
dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new
nap upon it.
Hol.
So he had need, for 'tis thread-bare. Well, I
say, it was never merry world in England, since gentlemen
came up.
Bevis.
O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in
handycrafts-men.
Hol.
The nobility think scorn to go in leather
aprons.
Bevis.
Nay more, the king's council are no good
workmen.
Hol.
True; And yet it is said,—Labour in thy
vocation: which is as much to say as,—let the magistrates
be labouring men; and therefore should we
be magistrates.
Bevis.
Thou hast hit it: for there's no better sign
of a brave mind, than a hard hand.
Hol.
I see them! I see them! There's Best's son,
the tanner of Wingham.
Bevis.
He shall have the skins of our enemies, to
make dog's leather of.
Hol.
And Dick the butcher,—
Bevis.
Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity's
throat cut like a calf.
-- 386 --
Hol.
And Smith the weaver:—
Bevis.
Argo, their thread of life is spun.
Hol.
Come, come, let's fall in with them.
Drum. Enter Cade, Dick the butcher, Smith the weaver, and a sawyer, with infinite numbers.
Cade.
We John Cade, so term'd of our supposed
father,—
Dick.
Or rather, of stealing 6 note
a cade of herrings.
[Aside.
Cade.
For 7 note
our enemies shall fall before us, inspired
with the spirit of putting down kings and princes.
—Command silence.
Dick.
Silence!
Cade.
My father was a Mortimer,—
Dick.
He was an honest man, and a good bricklayer.
[Aside.
Cade.
My mother a Plantagenet,—
Dick.
I knew her well, she was a midwife.
[Aside.
Cade.
My wife descended of the Lacies,—
Dick.
She was, indeed, a pedlar's daughter, and sold
many laces.
[Aside.
-- 387 --
Smith.
But, now of late, not able to travel with
her 8 notefurr'd pack, she washes bucks here at home.
[Aside.
Cade.
Therefore am I of an honourable house.
Dick.
Ay, by my faith: the field is honourable; and
there was he born, under a hedge; for his father had
never a house, but the cage.
[Aside.
Cade.
Valiant I am.
Smith.
'A must needs; for beggary is valiant.
[Aside.
Cade.
I am able to endure much.
Dick.
No question of that; for I have seen him
whipp'd three market days together.
[Aside.
Cade.
I fear neither sword nor fire.
Smith.
He need not fear the sword, for his coat is
of proof.
[Aside.
Dick.
But, methinks, he should stand in fear of fire,
being so often burnt i'the hand for stealing of sheep.
[Aside.
Cade.
Be brave then; for your captain is brave, and
vows reformation. There shall be, in England, seven
half-penny loaves sold for a penny: the three-hoop'd
pot shall have ten hoops9 note; and I will make it felony,
to drink small beer: all the realm shall be in common,
and in Cheapside shall my palfry go to grass.
And, when I am king, (as king I will be)—
All.
God save your majesty!
Cade.
I thank you, good people:—1 notethere shall
-- 388 --
be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score;
and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they
may agree like brothers, and worship me their lord.
Dick.
The first thing we do, let's kill all the
lawyers.
Cade.
Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable
thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb
should be made parchment? that parchment, being
scribbled o'er, should undo a man? Some say, the bee
stings: but I say, 'tis the bee's wax; for I did but
seal once to a thing, and I was never my own man
since. How now? who's there?
Enter some, bringing in the clerk of Chatham.
Smith.
The clerk of Chatham: he can write and
read, and cast accompt.
Cade.
O monstrous!
Smith.
We took him setting of boys copies.
Cade.
Here's a villain!
Smith.
H'as a book in his pocket, with red letters
in't.
Cade.
Nay, then he is a conjurer.
Dick.
Nay, he can make obligations, and write court-hand.
Cade.
I am sorry for't: the man is a proper man,
on mine honour; unless I find him guilty, he shall not
die.—Come hither, sirrah, I must examine thee:
What is thy name?
Clerk.
Emanuel.
Dick.
2 note
They use to write it on the top of letters;
—'Twill go hard with you.
-- 389 --
Cade.
Let me alone:—Dost thou use to write thy
name? or hast thou a mark to thyself, like an honest
plain-dealing man?
Clerk.
Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought
up, that I can write my name.
All.
He hath confess'd: away with him; he's a
villain, and a traitor.
Cade.
Away with him, I say: hang him with his
pen and inkhorn about his neck.
[Exit one with the Clerk.
Enter Michael.
Mich.
Where's our general?
Cade.
Here I am, thou particular fellow.
Mich.
Fly, fly, fly! sir Humphrey Stafford and his
brother, are hard by, with the king's forces.
Cade.
Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee down:
He shall be encounter'd with a man as good as himself:
He is but a knight, is a'?
Mich.
No.
Cade.
To equal him, I will make myself a knight
presently; Rise up sir John Mortimer. Now have
at him. Is there any more of them that be knights?
Mich.
Ay, his brother.
Cade.
Then kneel down, Dick Butcher;
Rise up sir Dick Butcher. Now sound up the drum.
-- 390 --
Enter Sir Humphrey Stafford, and his Brother, with drum and soldiers.
Staf.
Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent,
Mark'd for the gallows,—lay your weapons down,
Home to your cottages, forsake this groom;—
The king is merciful, if you revolt.
Y. Staf.
But angry, wrathful, and inclin'd to blood,
If you go forward: therefore yield, or die.
Cade.
As for these silken-coated slaves, 3 note
I pass not;
It is to you, good people, that I speak,
O'er whom, in time to come, I hope to reign;
For I am rightful heir unto the crown.
Staf.
Villain, thy father was a plaisterer;
And thou thyself, a shearman, Art thou not?
Cade.
And Adam was a gardener.
Y. Staf.
And what of that?
Cade.
Marry, this:—Edmund Mortimer, earl of March,
Married the duke of Clarence' daughter; Did he not?
Staf.
Ay, sir.
Cade.
By her he had two children at one birth.
Y. Staf.
That's false.
Cade.
Ay, there's the question; but, I say, 'tis true:
The elder of them, being put to nurse,
Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away;
And, ignorant of his birth and parentage,
Became a bricklayer, when he came to age:
His son am I; deny it, if you can.
Dick.
Nay, 'tis too true; therefore he shall be king.
Smith.
Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house,
and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it; therefore,
deny it not.
-- 391 --
Staf.
And will you credit this base drudge's words,
That speaks he knows not what?
All.
Ay, marry will we; therefore get you gone.
Y. Staf.
Jack Cade, the duke of York hath taught
you this.
Cade.
He lies, for I invented it myself. Aside.—
Go to, sirrah, Tell the king from me, that—for his
father's sake, Henry the fifth, in whose time boys
went to span-counter for French crowns,—I am content
he shall reign; but I'll be protector over him.
Dick.
And, furthermore, we'll have the lord Say's
head, for selling the dukedom of Maine.
Cade.
And good reason; for thereby is England
maim'd, and fain to go with a staff, but that my puissance
holds it up. Fellow kings, I tell you, that that
lord Say hath gelded the common-wealth, and made it
an eunuch: and more than that, he can speak French,
and therefore he is a traitor.
Staf.
O gross and miserable ignorance!
Cade.
Nay, answer, if you can: The Frenchmen
are our enemies: go to then, I ask but this; Can he,
that speaks with the tongue of an enemy, be a good
counsellor, or no?
All.
No, no; and therefore we'll have his head.
Y. Staf.
Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail,
Assail them with the army of the king.
Staf.
Herald, away: and, throughout every town,
Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade;
That those, which fly before the battle ends,
May, even in their wives' and childrens' sight,
Be hang'd up for example at their doors:—
And you, that be the king's friends, follow me.
[Exeunt the two Staffords, with their train.
Cade.
And you, that love the commons, follow me.—
Now shew yourselves men, 'tis for liberty.
We will not leave one lord, one gentleman:
Spare none, but such as go in clouted shoon;
-- 392 --
For they are thrifty honest men, and such
As would (but that they dare not) take our parts.
Dick.
They are all in order; and march toward us.
Cade.
But then are we in order, when we are most
out of order. Come, march forward,
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Another part of the field. The parties fight, and both the Staffords are slain.
Re-enter Cade, and the rest.
Cade.
Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford?
Dick.
Here, sir.
Cade.
They fell before thee like sheep and oxen,
and thou behav'dst thyself as if thou hadst been in
thine own slaughter-house: therefore thus I will reward
thee,—The 4 note
Lent shall be as long again as it is;
and thou shalt have a licence to kill for a hundred
lacking one.
Dick.
I desire no more.
Cade.
And, to speak truth, thou deserv'st no less.
5 note
This monument of the victory will I bear; and the
bodies shall be dragg'd at my horse' heels, 'till I do
come to London, where we will have the mayor's
sword borne before us.
-- 393 --
Dick.
6 noteIf we mean to thrive and do good, break
open the gaols, and let out the prisoners.
Cade.
Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's
march towards London.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Black-Heath.
Enter king Henry with a supplication, and queen Margaret with Suffolk's head; the duke of Buckingham, and and the lord Say.
Q. Mar.
Oft have I heard—that grief softens the mind,
And makes it fearful and degenerate;
Think therefore on revenge, and cease to weep.
But who can cease to weep, and look on this?
Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast:
But where's the body that I should embrace?
Buck.
What answer makes your grace to the rebels' supplication?
K. Henry.
I'll send some holy bishop to entreat:
For God forbid, so many simple souls
Should perish by the sword! And I myself,
Rather than bloody war should cut them short,
Will parly with Jack Cade their general.—
But stay, I'll read it over once again.
Q. Mar.
Ah, barbarous villains! hath this lovely face
7 noteRul'd, like a wandering planet, over me;
And could it not enforce them to relent,
-- 394 --
That were unworthy to behold the same?
K. Henry.
Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head.
Say.
Ay, but I hope, your highness shall have his.
K. Henry.
How now, madam?
Lamenting still, and mourning Suffolk's death?
I fear, my love, if that I had been dead,
Thou wouldest not have mourn'd so much for me.
Q. Mar.
No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee.
Enter a Messenger.
K. Henry.
How now! what news? why com'st thou in such haste?
Mes.
The rebels are in Southwark; Fly, my lord!
Jack Cade proclaims himself lord Mortimer,
Descended from the duke of Clarence' house;
And calls your grace usurper, openly,
And vows to crown himself in Westminster.
His army is a ragged multitude
Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless:
Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death
Hath given them heart and courage to proceed:
All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen,
They call—false caterpillars, and intend their death.
K. Henry.
O graceless men! they know not what they do.
Buck.
My gracious lord, 8 note
retire to Kenelworth,
Until a power be rais'd to put them down.
Q. Mar.
Ah! were the duke of Suffolk now alive,
These Kentish rebels should be soon appeas'd.
-- 395 --
K. Henry.
Lord Say, the traitor hateth thee,
Therefore away with us to Kenelworth.
Say.
So might your grace's person be in danger;
The sight of me is odious in their eyes:
And therefore in this city will I stay,
And live alone as secret as I may.
Enter another Messenger.
2 Mes.
Jack Cade hath gotten London-bridge;
The citizens fly him, and forsake their houses:
The rascal people, thirsting after prey,
Join with the traitor; and they jointly swear,
To spoil the city, and your royal court.
Buck.
Then linger not, my lord; away, take horse.
K. Henry.
Come, Margaret; God, our hope, will succour us.
Q. Mar.
My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceas'd.
K. Henry.
Farewel, my lord; trust not to Kentish rebels.
Buck.
Trust no body, for fear you be betray'd.
Say.
The trust I have is in mine innocence,
And therefore am I bold and resolute.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
London.
Enter lord Scales, and others, on the walls of the Tower. Then enter two or three Citizens below.
Scales.
How now? is Jack Cade slain?
1 Cit.
No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for they
have won the bridge, killing all those that withstand
them: The lord mayor craves aid of your honour from
the Tower, to defend the city from the rebels.
Scales.
Such aid as I can spare, you shall command;
But I am troubled here with them myself,
-- 396 --
The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower.
But get you into Smithfield, gather head,
And thither will I send you Matthew Gough:
Fight for your king, your country, and your lives;
And so farewel, for I must hence again.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Cannon-Street.
Enter Jack Cade, and the rest. He strikes his staff on London-stone.
Cade.
Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And
here, sitting upon London-stone, I charge and command,
that, of the city's cost, the pissing-conduit run
nothing but claret wine the first year of our reign.
And now, henceforward, it shall be treason for any that
calls me other than—lord Mortimer.
Enter a Soldier running.
Sol.
Jack Cade! Jack Cade!
Cade.
Knock him down there9 note.
[They kill him.
Smith.
If this fellow be wise, he'll never call you
Jack Cade more; I think, he hath a very fair warning.
Dick.
My lord, there's an army gather'd together
in Smithfield.
Cade.
Come then, let's go fight with them: But,
first, go and set London-bridge on fire; and, if you
can, burn down the Tower too. Come, let's away.
[Exeunt.
-- 397 --
SCENE VII.
Smithfield.
Alarum. Enter Jack Cade with his company. They fight with the king's forces, and Matthew Gough1 note is slain.
Cade.
So, sirs:—Now go some and pull down the
Savoy; others to the inns of court; down with them
all.
Dick.
I have a suit unto your lordship.
Cade.
Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that
word.
Dick.
Only, that the laws of England may come out
of your mouth2 note.
John.
Mass, 'twill be sore law then; for he was
thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not whole
yet.
[Aside.
Smith.
Nay, John, it will be stinking law; for his
breath stinks with eating toasted cheese.
[Aside.
Cade.
I have thought upon it, it shall be so. Away,
burn all the records of the realm; my mouth shall
be the parliament of England.
John.
Then we are like to have biting statutes,
unless his teeth be pull'd out.
[Aside.
Cade.
And henceforward all things shall be in common.
-- 398 --
Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
My lord, a prize, a prize! here's the lord
Say, which sold the town in France; he that made us
pay one and twenty fifteens, and one shilling to the
pound, the last subsidy.
Enter George Bevis, with the lord Say.
Cade.
Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times.—
Ah, 3 note
thou say, thou serge, nay, thou buckram lord!
now art thou within point-blank of our jurisdiction
regal. What canst thou answer to my majesty, for
giving up of Normandy unto monsieur Basimecu 9Q0825, the
dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these
presence, even the presence of lord Mortimer, that I
am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such
filth as thou art. Thou hast most traiterously corrupted
the youth of the realm, in erecting a grammar-school:
and whereas, before, our fore-fathers had no
other books but the score and the tally, thou hast
caused 4 note
printing to be us'd; and, contrary to the
-- 399 --
king, his crown, and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill.
It will be proved to thy face, that thou hast
men about thee, that usually talk of a noun, and a
verb; and such abominable words, as no christian ear
can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed justices
of peace, to call poor men before them about matters
they were not able to answer. 9Q0827 Moreover, thou
hast put them in prison; and, 5 notebecause they could not
read, thou hast hang'd them; when, indeed, only for
that cause they have been most worthy to live. Thou
dost ride on a foot-cloth, dost thou not6 note
?
Say.
What of that?
Cade.
Marry, thou ought'st not 7 noteto let thy horse
-- 400 --
wear a cloak, when honester men than thou go in
their hose and doublets.
Dick.
And work in their shirt too; as myself, for
example, that am a butcher.
Say.
You men of Kent,—
Dick.
What say you of Kent?
Say.
Nothing but this: 'Tis 8 note
bona terra, mala gens.
Cade.
Away with him, away with him! he speaks Latin.
Say.
Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will.
Kent, in the commentaries Cæsar writ,
Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle9 note:
Sweet is the country, because full of riches;
The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy;
Which makes me hope you are not void of pity.
I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy;
Yet, to recover them, would lose my life.
Justice with favour have I always done;
Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never.
1 note
When have I aught exacted at your hands?
-- 401 --
Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and you,
Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks,
Because my book preferr'd me to the king:
And—seeing ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven,—
Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits,
You cannot but forbear to murder me.
This tongue hath parly'd unto foreign kings
For your behoof,—
Cade.
Tut! when struck'st thou one blow in the field?
Say.
Great men have reaching hands: oft have I struck
Those that I never saw, and struck them dead.
George.
O monstrous coward! what, to come behind folks!
Say.
These cheeks are pale with watching for your good.
Cade.
Give him a box o'the ear, and that will make 'em red again.
Say.
Long sitting to determine poor mens' causes
Hath made me full of sickness and diseases.
Cade.
Ye shall have a hempen caudle then, and the
help of a hatchet.
Dick.
Why dost thou quiver, man2 note
?
-- 402 --
Say.
The palsy, and not fear, provokes me?
Cade.
Nay, he nods at us; as who should say, I'll
be even with you. I'll see if his head will stand
steadier on a pole, or no: Take him away, and behead
him.
Say.
Tell me, wherein have I offended most?
Have I affected wealth, or honour; speak?
Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold?
Is my apparel sumptuous to behold?
Whom have I injur'd, that ye seek my death?
These hands are free from guiltless blood-shedding, 9Q0828
This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts.
O, let me live!
Cade.
I feel remorse in myself with his words: but
I'll bridle it; he shall die, an it be but for pleading so
well for his life 3 note
. Away with him! he has a familiar
under his tongue4 note
; he speaks not o' God's name. Go,
take him away, I say, and strike off his head presently;
and then break into his son-in-law's house, Sir
James Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring
them both upon two poles hither.
All.
It shall be done.
Say.
Ah, countrymen! if when you make your prayers,
God should be so obdurate as yourselves,
-- 403 --
How would it fare with your departed souls?
And therefore yet relent, and save my life.
Cade.
Away with him, and do as I command ye.
[Exeunt some, with lord Say.
The proudest peer of the realm shall not wear a head
on his shoulders, unless he pay me tribute; there shall
not a maid be married, but she shall pay to me her
maiden-head* note ere they have it: Men shall hold of me
in capite; and we charge and command, that their
wives be as free as heart can wish, or tongue can tell.
Dick.
My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside,
and take up commodities upon our bills5 note?
Cade.
Marry, presently.
All.
O brave!
Re-enter one with the heads.
Cade.
But is not this braver?—Let them kiss one
another6 note
; for they lov'd well, when they were alive.
Now part them again, lest they consult about the giving
up of some more towns in France. Soldiers, defer
the spoil of the city until night: for with these
borne before us, instead of maces, we will ride through
the streets; and, at every corner, have them kiss.—
Away!
[Exeunt.
-- 404 --
SCENE VIII.
Southwark.
Alarum, and retreat. Enter again Cade, and all his rabblement.
Cade.
Up Fish-street! down saint Magnus' corner!
kill and knock down! throw them into Thames!—
[A parley sounded.
What noise is this I hear? Dare any be so bold
to sound retreat or parley, when I command them
kill?
Enter Buckingham, and old Clifford, attended.
Buck.
Ay, here they be that dare, and will disturb thee:
Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the king
Unto the commons, whom thou hast mis-led;
And here pronounce free pardon to them all,
That will forsake thee, and go home in peace.
Clif.
What say ye, countrymen? will ye relent,
And yield to mercy, whilst 'tis offer'd you;
Or let a rabble lead you to your deaths?
Who loves the king, and will embrace his pardon,
Fling up his cap, and say—God save his majesty!
Who hateth him, and honours not his father,
Henry the fifth, that made all France to quake,
Shake he his weapon at us, and pass by.
All.
God save the king! God save the king!
Cade.
What, Buckingham, and Clifford, are ye so
brave?—And you, base peasants, do ye believe him?
will you needs be hang'd with your pardons about
your necks? Hath my sword therefore broke through
London gates, that you should leave me at the
White-hart in Southwark? I thought, ye would
never have given out these arms, 'till you had recover'd
-- 405 --
your ancient freedom: but you are all recreants,
and dastards; and delight to live in slavery to the nobility.
Let them break your backs with burdens,
take your houses over your heads, ravish your wives
and daughters before your faces: For me,—I will
make shift for one; and so—God's curse 'light upon
you all!
All.
We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade.
Clif.
Is Cade the son of Henry the fifth,
That thus you do exclaim—you'll go with him?
Will he conduct you through the heart of France,
And make the meanest of you earls and dukes?
Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to;
Nor knows he how to live, but by the spoil,
Unless by robbing of your friends, and us.
Wer't not a shame, that, whilst you live at jar,
The fearful French, whom you late vanquished,
Should make a start o'er seas, and vanquish you?
Methinks, already, in this civil broil,
I see them lording it in London streets,
Crying—Villageois! unto all they meet.
Better, ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry,
Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy.
To France, to France, and get what you have lost;
Spare England, for it is your native coast:
7 noteHenry hath money, you are strong and manly;
God on our side, doubt not of victory.
All.
A Clifford! a Clifford! we'll follow the king,
and Clifford.
Cade.
Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro,
as this multitude? the name of Henry the fifth hales
-- 406 --
them to an hundred mischiefs, and makes them leave
me desolate. I see them lay their heads together, to
surprize me: my sword make way for me, for here
is no staying.—In despight of the devils and hell, have
through the very midst of you! and heavens and honour
be witness, that no want of resolution in me, but
only my followers' base and ignominous treasons,
makes me betake me to my heels.
[Exit.
Buck.
What, is he fled? go some, and follow him;
And he, that brings his head unto the king,
Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward.—
[Exeunt some of them.
Follow me, soldiers; we'll devise a mean
To reconcile you all unto the king.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IX.
Kenelworth castle.
Sound trumpets. Enter king Henry, queen Margaret, and Somerset, on the terras.
K. Henry.
Was ever king, that joy'd an earthly throne,
And could command no more content than I?
No sooner was I crept out of my cradle,
But I was made a king, at nine months old: 9Q0829
Was never subject long'd to be a king,
As I do long and wish to be a subject.
Enter Buckingham, and Clifford.
Buck.
Health, and glad tidings, to your majesty!
K. Henry.
Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade surpriz'd?
Or is he but retir'd to make him strong?
-- 407 --
Enter below, multitudes with halters about their necks.
Clif.
He's fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield;
And humbly thus with halters on their necks
Expect you highness' doom, of life, or death.
K. Henry.
Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates,
To entertain my vows of thanks and praise!—
Soldiers, this day have you redeem'd your lives,
And shew'd how well you love your prince and country:
Continue still in this so good a mind,
And Henry, though he be infortunate,
Assure yourselves, will never be unkind:
And so, with thanks, and pardon to you all,
I do dismiss you to your several countries.
All.
God save the king! God save the king!
Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
Please it your grace to be advertised,
The duke of York is newly come from Ireland:
And with a puissant and a mighty power,
Of Gallow-glasses, and stout Kernes8 note,
Is marching hitherward in proud array;
And still proclaimeth, as he comes along,
His arms are only to remove from thee
The duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor.
K. Henry.
Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and York distress'd;
Like to a ship, that, having 'scap'd a tempest,
9 note
Is straitway calm'd, and boarded with a pirate:
-- 408 --
But now is Cade driven back, his men dispers'd;
And now is York in arms, to second him.—
I pray thee, Buckingham, go and meet him;
And ask him, what's the reason of these arms.
Tell him, I'll send duke Edmund to the Tower;—
And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither,
Until his army be dismiss'd from him.
Som.
My lord,
I'll yield myself to prison willingly,
Or unto death, to do my country good.
K. Henry.
In any case be not too rough in terms;
For he is fierce, and cannot brook hard language.
Buck.
I will, my lord; and doubt not so to deal,
As all things shall redound unto your good.
K. Henry.
Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern better;
For yet may England curse my wretched reign.
[Exeunt.
-- 409 --
SCENE X.
A garden in Kent1 note
.
Enter Jack Cade.
Cade.
Fie on ambition! fie on myself; that have a
sword, and yet am ready to famish! These five days
have I hid me in these woods; and durst not peep out,
for all the country is lay'd for me; but now am I so
hungry, that if I might have a lease of my life for a
thousand years, I could stay no longer. Wherefore,
on a brick-wall have I climb'd into this garden; to see
if I can eat grass, or pick a sallet another while,
which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot
weather. And, I think, this word sallet was born to
do me good: for, many a time, 2 note
but for a sallet, my
brain-pan had been cleft with a brown bill; and,
many a time, when I have been dry, and bravely
marching, it hath serv'd me instead of a quart-pot to
drink in; and now the word sallet must serve me to
feed on.
-- 410 --
Enter Iden, with Servants.
Iden.
Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court,
And may enjoy such quiet walks as these?
This small inheritance, my father left me,
Contenteth me, and's worth a monarchy.
I seek not to wax great by others' waining;
Or gather wealth, I care not with what envy;
Sufficeth, that I have maintains my state,
And sends the poor well pleased from my gate.
Cade.
Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me
for a stray, for entering his fee-simple without leave.
Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand
crowns of the king for carrying my head to him; but
I'll make thee eat iron like an ostridge, and swallow
my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part.
Iden.
Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be,
I know thee not; Why then should I betray thee?
Is't not enough, to break into my garden,
And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds,
Climbing my walls in spight of me the owner,
But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms?
Cade.
Brave thee? ay, by the best blood that ever
was broach'd, and beard thee too. Look on me well:
I have eat no meat these five days; yet, come thou
and thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead as
a door-nail, I pray God, I may never eat grass more.
Iden.
Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England stands,
That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent,
Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man.
Oppose thy stedfast-gazing eyes to mine,
See if thou canst out-face me with thy looks.
Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser:
Thy hand is but a finger to my fist;
Thy leg a stick, compared with this truncheon;
-- 411 --
My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast;
And if mine arm be heaved in the air,
Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth.
3 note
As for more words 9Q0831, whose greatness answers words,
Let this my sword report what speech forbears.
Cade.
By my valour, the most complete champion
that ever I heard.—Steel, if thou turn the edge, or
cut not out the burly-bon'd clown in chines of beef
ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I beseech Jove on my
knees, thou may'st be turn'd to hobnails.
[Here they fight.
O, I am slain! famine, and no other, hath slain me:
let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me
but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them all.
Wither, garden; and be henceforth a burying-place
to all that do dwell in this house, because the unconquer'd
soul of Cade is fled.
Iden.
Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor?
Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed,
And hang thee o'er my tomb, when I am dead4 note
: 9Q0832
Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point;
But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat,
-- 412 --
To emblaze the honour that thy master got.
Cade.
Iden, farewel; and be proud of thy victory:
Tell Kent from me, she hath lost her best man, and
exhort all the world to be cowards; for I, that never
fear'd any, am vanquish'd by famine, not by valour.
[Dies.
Iden.
5 noteHow much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge.
Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee!
And as I thrust thy body in with my sword,
6 note
So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell.
Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels
Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave,
And there cut off thy most ungracious head;
Which I will bear in triumph to the king,
Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon.
[Exit.
-- 413 --
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Fields near Saint Albans.
Enter York, attended, with drum and colours.
York, at a distance from his followers.
From Ireland thus comes York, to claim his right,
And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head:
Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and bright,
To entertain great England's lawful king.
7 noteAh, sancta majestas! who would not buy thee dear?
Let them obey, that know not how to rule;
This hand was made to handle nought but gold:
I cannot give due action to my words,
Except a sword, or scepter, 8 notebalance it.
9 note
A scepter shall it have, have I a soul;
On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France.
Enter Buckingham.
Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb me?
The king hath sent him, sure: I must dissemble.
Buck.
York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well.
York.
Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting.
Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure?
-- 414 --
Buck.
A messenger from Henry, our dread liege,
To know the reason of these arms in peace;
Or why, thou—being a subject as I am,—
Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn,
Should'st raise so great a power without his leave,
Or dare to bring thy force so near the court.
York.
Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great.
Oh, I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint,
I am so angry at these abject terms;
And now, like Ajax Telamonius,
On sheep and oxen could I spend my fury!
I am far better born than is the king;
More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts:
But I must make fair weather yet a while,
'Till Henry be more weak, and I more strong.—
O Buckingham, I pr'ythee, pardon me,
That I have given no answer all this while;
My mind was troubled with deep melancholy.
The cause why I have brought this army hither,
Is—to remove proud Somerset from the king,
Seditious to his grace, and to the state.
Buck.
That is too much presumption on thy part:
But if thy arms be to no other end,
The king hath yielded unto thy demand;
The duke of Somerset is in the Tower.
York.
Upon thine honour, is he prisoner?
Buck.
Upon mine honour, he is prisoner.
York.
Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my powers.—
Soldiers, I thank you all; disperse yourselves;
Meet me to-morrow in saint George's field,
You shall have pay, and every thing you wish.—
And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry,
Command my eldest son,—nay, all my sons,—
As pledges of my fealty and love,
I'll send them all as willing as I live;
Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have
Is his to use, so Somerset may die.
-- 415 --
Buck.
York, I commend this kind submission:
We twain will go into his highness' tent.
[Exeunt.
Enter king Henry, and Attendants.
K. Henry.
Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us,
That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm?
York.
In all submission and humility,
York doth present himself unto your highness.
K. Henry.
Then what intend these forces thou dost bring?
York.
To heave the traitor Somerset from hence;
And fight against that monstrous rebel, Cade,
Whom since I hear to be discomfited.
Enter Iden, with Cade's head.
Iden.
If one so rude, and of so mean condition,
May pass into the presence of a king,
Lo, I present your grace a traitor's head,
The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew.
K. Henry.
The head of Cade?—Great God, how just art thou!—
O, let me view his visage being dead,
That living wrought me such exceeding trouble.
Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew him?
Iden.
I was, an't like your majesty.
K. Henry.
How art thou call'd? and what is thy degree?
Iden.
Alexander Iden, that's my name;
A poor esquire of Kent, that loves the king.
Buck.
So please it you, my lord, 'twere not amiss
He were created knight for his good service.
K. Henry.
Iden, kneel down; [he kneels.] Rise up a knight.
We give thee for reward a thousand marks;
And will, that thou henceforth attend on us.
-- 416 --
Iden.
1 note
May Iden live to merit such a bounty,
And never live but true unto his liege!
K. Henry.
See, Buckingham! Somerset comes with the queen;
Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke.
Enter queen Margaret, and Somerset.
Q. Mar.
For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head,
But boldly stand, and front him to his face.
York.
How now! is Somerset at liberty?
Then, York, unloose thy long imprison'd thoughts,
And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart.
Shall I endure the sight of Somerset?—
False king! why hast thou broken faith with me,
Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse?
King did I call thee? no, thou art not king;
Not fit to govern and rule multitudes,
Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor.
That head of thine doth not become a crown;
Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff,
And not to grace an awful princely scepter.
That gold must round engirt these brows of mine;
Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear,
Is able with the change to kill and cure.
Here is a hand to hold a scepter up,
And with the same to act controlling laws.
Give place; by heaven, thou shalt rule no more
O'er him, whom heaven created for thy ruler.
Som.
O monstrous traitor!—I arrest thee, York,
Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown:
Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace.
-- 417 --
York.
Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail.—
[Exit an Attendant.
2 note
Wouldst have me kneel? first let me ask of these,
If they can brook I bow a knee to man.—
I know, ere they will let me go to ward,
They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement.
Q. Mar.
Call hither Clifford; bid him come amain,
To say, if that the bastard boys of York
Shall be the surety for their traitor father.
York.
O blood-bespotted Neapolitan,
Out-cast of Naples, England's bloody scourge!
The sons of York, thy betters in their birth,
3 note
Shall be their father's bail; and bane to those
That for my surety will refuse the boys.
Enter Edward and Richard.
See, where they come; I'll warrant, they'll make it good.
-- 418 --
Enter Clifford.
Q. Mar.
And here comes Clifford, to deny their bail.
Clif.
Health and all happiness to my lord the king!
[Kneels.
York.
We thank thee, Clifford: Say, what news with thee?
Nay, do not fright us with an angry look:
We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again;
For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee.
Clif.
This is my king, York, I do not mistake;
But thou mistak'st me much, to think I do:—
To Bedlam with him! is the man grown mad?
K. Henry.
Ay, Clifford; 4 notea bedlam and ambitious humour
Makes him oppose himself against his king.
Clif.
He is a traitor; let him to the Tower,
And crop away that factious pate of his.
Q. Mar.
He is arrested, but will not obey;
His sons, he says, shall give their words for him.
York.
Will you not, sons?
E. Plan.
Ay, noble father, if our words will serve.
R. Plan.
And if words will not, then our weapons shall.
Clif.
Why, what a brood of traitors have we here!
York.
Look in a glass, and call thy image so;
I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor.—
5 note
Call hither to the stake my two brave bears,
-- 419 --
That, with the very shaking of their chains,
They may astonish these fell lurking curs6 note:
Bid Salisbury, and Warwick, come to me.
Drums. Enter the earls of Warwick and Salisbury.
Clif.
Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy bears to death,
And manacle the bear-ward in their chains,
If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place.
R. Plan.
Oft have I seen7 notea hot o'er-weening cur
Run back and bite, because he was withheld;
Who, being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw,
Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs, and cry'd:
And such a piece of service will you do,
If you oppose yourselves to match lord Warwick.
Clif.
Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump,
As crooked in thy manners as thy shape!
York.
Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon.
Clif.
Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves.
K. Henry.
Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow?—
Old Salisbury,—shame to thy silver hair,
Thou mad mis-leader of thy brain-sick son!—
What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian,
And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles?—
Oh, where is faith? oh, where is loyalty?
-- 420 --
If it be banish'd from the frosty head,
Where shall it find a harbour in the earth?—
Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war,
And shame thine honourable age with blood?
Why art thou old, and want'st experience?
Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it?
For shame! in duty bend thy knee to me,
That bows unto the grave with mickle age.
Sal.
My lord, I have consider'd with myself
The title of this most renowned duke;
And in my conscience do repute his grace
The rightful heir to England's royal seat.
K. Henry.
Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me?
Sal.
I have.
K. Henry.
Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath?
Sal.
It is great sin, to swear unto a sin;
But greater sin, to keep a sinful oath.
Who can be bound by any solemn vow
To do a murderous deed, to rob a man,
To force a spotless virgin's chastity,
To reave the orphan of his patrimony,
To wring the widow from her custom'd right;
And have no other reason for this wrong,
But that he was bound by a solemn oath?
Q. Mar.
A subtle traitor needs no sophister.
K. Henry.
Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself.
York.
Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast,
I am resolv'd for death, or dignity.
Old Clif.
The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true.
War.
You were best go to bed, and dream again,
To keep thee from the tempest of the field.
Old Clif.
I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm,
Than any thou canst conjure up to-day;
-- 421 --
And that I'll write upon thy burgonet8 note
,
Might I but know thee by thy house's badge.
War.
Now by my father's badge9 note, old Nevil's crest,
The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff,
This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet,
(As on a mountain top the cedar shews,
That keeps his leaves in spight of any storm)
Even to affright thee with the view thereof.
Old Clif.
And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear,
And tread it under foot with all contempt,
Despight the bear-ward that protects the bear.
Y. Clif.
And so to arms, victorious noble father,
To quell these traitors, and their 'complices.
R. Plan.
Fie! charity, for shame! speak not in spight,
For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night.
Y. Clif.
Foul stigmatic1 note, that's more than thou canst tell.
R. Plan.
If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell.
[Exeunt severally.
SCENE II.
The field of battle at Saint Albans.
Enter Warwick.
War.
Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls!
And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear,
-- 422 --
Now,—when the angry trumpet sounds alarm,
And dead mens' cries do fill the empty air,—
Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me!
Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland,
Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms.
Enter York.
How now, my noble lord? what, all a-foot?
York.
The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed;
But match to match I have encounter'd him,
And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well.
Enter Clifford.
War.
Of one or both of us the time is come.
York.
Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chace,
For I myself must hunt this deer to death.
War.
Then, nobly, York; 'tis for a crown thou fight'st.—
As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day,
It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd.
[Exit Warwick.
Clif.
What seest thou in me, York? why dost thou pause?
York.
With thy brave bearing should I be in love,
But that thou art so fast mine enemy.
Clif.
Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem,
But that 'tis shewn ignobly, and in treason.
York.
So let it help me now against thy sword,
As I in justice and true right express it!
Clif.
My soul and body on the action both!—
York.
9 noteA dreadful lay!—address thee instantly.
[Fight, and Clifford falls.
-- 423 --
Clif.
La fin couronne les oeuvres3 note
.
[Dies4 note
.
York.
Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still.
Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will!
[Exit.
Enter young Clifford.
Y. Clif.
Shame and confusion! all is on the rout;
Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds
Where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell,
Whom angry heavens do make their minister,
Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part
Hot coals of vengeance!—Let no soldier fly:
He, that is truly dedicate to war,
Hath no self-love; nor he, that loves himself,
Hath not essentially, but by circumstance,
The name of valour.—O, let the vile world end,
[Seeing his dead father.
5 noteAnd the premised flames of the last day
Knit earth and heaven together!
Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,
Particularities and petty sounds
To cease6 note
!—Wast thou ordain'd, dear father,
-- 424 --
To lose thy youth in peace, and 7 noteto atchieve
The silver livery of advised age; 9Q0833
And, in thy reverence, and thy chair-days, thus
To die in ruffian battle?—Even at this sight,
My heart is turn'd to stone: and, while 'tis mine,
It shall be stony. York not our old men spares;
No more will I their babes: tears virginal
Shall be to me even as the dew to fire;
And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims,
Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax8 note
.
Henceforth, I will not have to do with pity:
Meet I an infant of the house of York,
Into as many gobbets will I cut it,
As wild Medea young Absyrtus did:
In cruelty will I seek out my fame.
Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house;
[Taking up the body.
As did Æneas old Anchises bear,
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders9 note
:
But then Æneas bare a living load,
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.
[Exit.
-- 425 --
Enter Richard Plantagenet and Somerset, to fight.
R. Plan.
1 note
So, lie thou there;—
[Somerset is killed.
For, underneath an ale-house' paltry sign, 9Q0834
The Castle in saint Albans, Somerset
Hath made the wizard 2 note
famous in his death.—
Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still:
Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill.
[Exit.
Fight. Excursions. Enter king Henry, and queen Margaret, and others.
Q. Mar.
Away, my lord, you are slow; for shame, away!
-- 426 --
K. Henry.
Can we out-run the heavens? good Margaret, stay.
Q. Mar.
What are you made of? you'll nor fight, nor fly:
Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence,
To give the enemy way; and to secure us
By what we can, which can no more but fly.
[Alarum afar off.
If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom
Of all our fortunes: but if we haply scape,
(As well we may, if not through your neglect)
We shall to London get; where you are lov'd;
And where this breach, now in our fortunes made,
May readily be stopp'd.
Enter young Clifford.
Clif.
But that my heart's on future mischief set,
I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly;
But fly you must; uncurable discomfit
Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts3 note.
Away, for your relief! and we will live
To see their day, and them our fortune give:
Away, my lord, away! 9Q0835
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Alarum. Retreat. Enter York, Richard Plantagenet, Warwick, and Soldiers, with drum and colours.
York.
Of Salisbury, who can report of him;
That winter lion, who, in rage, forgets
Aged contusions and all 4 note
brush of time;
-- 427 --
And, like a 5 note
gallant in the brow of youth,
Repairs him with occasion? this happy day
Is not itself, nor have we won one foot,
If Salisbury be lost.
R. Plan.
My noble father,
Three times to day I holp him to his horse,
6 noteThree times bestrid him; thrice I led him off,
Persuaded him from any further act:
But still, where danger was, still there I met him;
And like rich hangings in a homely house,
So was his will in his old feeble body.
But, noble as he is, look where he comes.
Enter Salisbury.
Sal.
Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought today;
By the mass, so did we all.—I thank you, Richard:
God knows, how long it is I have to live;
And it hath pleas'd him, that three times to-day
You have defended me from imminent death.—
Well, lords, we have not got that which we have;
'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled,
Being opposites of such repairing nature. 9Q0836
York.
I know, our safety is to follow them;
For, as I hear, the king is fled to London,
To call a present court of parliament.
Let us pursue him, ere the writs go forth:—
-- 428 --
What says lord Warwick, shall we after them?
War.
After them! nay, before them, if we can.
Now by my hand, lords, 'twas a glorious day:
Saint Alban's battle, won by famous York,
Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come.—
Sound, drums and trumpets;—and to London all:
And more such days as these to us befall!
[Exeunt.
