Than bring a burden of dishonour home, Q. Mar. Nay then, this spark will prove a raging fire, 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 naught? 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 kernes of Ireland are in arms, York. I will, my lord, so please his majesty. And what we do establish, he confirms: York. I am content. Provide me soldiers, lords, Suf. A charge, lord York, that I will see perform’d. Car. No more of him; for I will deal with him, York. My lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days, At Bristol I expect my soldiers, For there I'll ship them all for Ireland. 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, Faster than spring-time showers comes thought on thought, My brain, more busy than the labouring spider, I fear me you but warm the starved snake, Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your hearts. I take it kindly; yet, be well assur'd, Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman, To make commotion, as full well he can, In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade For that John Mortimer, which now is dead, 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! Didst ever hear a man so penitent? What have we done? Enter SUFfolk. Suf. Now, Sirs, have you despatch'd this thing? [Exit. Go, get you to my house; I will reward you for this venturous deed. Have you laid fair the bed? are all things well, According as I gave directions? 1 Mur. 'Tis, my good lord. Suf. Away! be gone. [Exeunt Murderers. Sound trumpets. 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 't is published. Suf. I'll call him presently, my noble lord. 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 noble man! Pray God, he may acquit him of suspicion! [Exit. K. Hen. I thank thee, Meg; these words content me much. — Re-enter SUFFOLK. How now! why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou? Suf. Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloster is dead. Car. God's secret judgment! I did dream to-night, [The King swoons. Q. Mar. How fares my lord? Help, lords! the king is Som. dead. 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! Came he right now to sing a raven's note, Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight! Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding. — And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight; 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: Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans, I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, What know I how the world may deem of me? So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded, To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy! K. Hen. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched man! What! dost thou turn away, and hide thy face? And make my image but an alehouse sign. |