Oppose himself against a troop of Kernes;
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 a wild Mórisco,
Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells.
Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty Kerne,
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' mind,
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:
For, Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put apart, the next for me.
SCENE II.-Bury. A room in the palace.
Enter certain Murderers hastily.
1 Mur. Run to my lord of Suffolk; let him know, We have despatch'd the duke, as he commanded.
2 Mur. O, that it were to do!-What have we
Didst ever hear a man so penitent?
Enter Suffolk.
1 Mur. Here comes my lord.
Suf. Now, sirs, have you
Despatch'd this thing?
1 Mur. 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 laid fair the bed? are all things well,
you
According as I gave directions?
Mur. "Tis, my good lord.
Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, Cardinal BEAUFORT, Somerset, Lords, and Others.
K. Hen. 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. Hen. 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. Hen. I thank thee, Margaret; these words content me much.
How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest
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
The duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. [The King swoons. Q. Mar. How fares my y lord?—Help, lords! the king is dead.
Som. Rear up his body; wring him by the nose. Q. Mar. Run, go, help, help!-O, Henry, ope thine eyes!
Suf. He doth revive again;-Madam, be patient. K. Hen. O heavenly God!
Q. Mar. How fares my gracious lord?
Suf. Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, comfort!
K. Hen. What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort
Came he right now to sing a raven's note,
Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers;
And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
Can chase away the first-conceived sound?
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words.
Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say;
Their touch affrights me, as a serpent's sting.
Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight!
Upon thy eye-balls murd'rous tyranny
Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world.
Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding:
Yet do not go away;-Come, basilisk,
And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight:
For in the shade of death I shall find joy;
In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead.
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,
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: Ah me, unhappy!
To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!
K. Hen. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched man!
Q. Mar. Be 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 deaf?
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 alehouse sign.
Was I, for this, nigh wreck'd upon the sea;
And twice by aukward wind from England's bank
Drove back again unto my native clime?
What boded this, but well-forewarning 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 shores,
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 would'st have me drown'd on shore,
With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkindness:
The splitting rocks cow'rd 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 Margaret.
As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from the shore the tempest beat us back,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm:
And when the dusky sky began to rob
My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view,
I took a costly jewel from my neck,-
A heart it was, bound in with diamonds,——
And threw it towards thy land ;-the sea receiv'd it ;
And so, I wish'd, thy body might my heart:
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,)
To sit 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?
Ah me, I can no more! Die, Margaret!
For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long.
Noise within. Enter Warwick and Salisbury. The Commons press to the door.
War. It is reported, mighty sovereign, That good duke Humphrey traitorously is murder'd By Suffolk and the cardinal Beaufort's means. The commons, like an angry hive of bees, That want their leader, scatter up and down, And 'care not who they sting in his revenge. Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny, Until they hear the order of his death.
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