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George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
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SCENE IX. Enter Vaux.

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

Vaux.
To signifie unto his Majesty,
That Cardinal Beauford's at the 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.
Sometimes he talks, as if Duke Humphry's ghost
Were by his side; sometimes 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,
Then even now he cries aloud for him.

Q. Mar.
Go tell this heavy message to the King. [Ex. Vaux.
Ay me! what is this world? what news are these?
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,
Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure?
Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
And with the southern clouds contend in tears?
Theirs for the earth's increase; 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 I should be raging mad,
And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes;

-- 167 --


To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth:
So shouldst thou either 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, befal what may befal.

Q. Mar.
Away; though parting be a fretful corrosive,
It is applied to a deathful wound.
To France, sweet Suffolk; let me hear from thee:
For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe,
I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.

Suf.
I go.

Q. Mar.
And take my heart with thee.

Suf.
A jewel lock'd into the woful'st casket
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.
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George Sewell [1723–5], The works of Shakespear in six [seven] volumes. Collated and Corrected by the former Editions, By Mr. Pope ([Vol. 7] Printed by J. Darby, for A. Bettesworth [and] F. Fayram [etc.], London) [word count] [S11101].
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