K. Henry.
How fares my lord? speak Beauford to thy Soveraign.

Car.
If thou beest 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,
Where death's approach is seen so terrible!

War.
Beauford, it is thy Soveraign speaks to thee.

Car.
Bring me unto my tryal when you will.
Dy'd he not in his bed? where should he die?
Can I make men live whe're they will or no?
Oh torture me no more, I will confess—
Alive again? then shew me where he is:
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him—
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them:
Combe down his hair; look, look, it stands upright,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul:
Give me some drink, and bid th' apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.

K. Henry.
O thou eternal mover of the heav'ns,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch;
Oh beat away the busie medling 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 heav'n's bliss,
Hold up thy hand, 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.
Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close,
And let us all to meditation. [Exeunt.

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