*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 madman'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 mad-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 kernes ;"

* And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts
* Were almost like a sharp-quilled 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;

y

STEEVENS.

mad-bred flaw.] Flaw is a sudden violent gust of wind.-JOHNSON. a troop of kernes ;] Kernes were light-armed Irish foot-soldiers.

a — a wild Morisco,] A Moor in a military dance, now called morris, that is, a Moorish dance.-JOHNSON.

*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 tortur'd;

I know, no pain, they can inflict upon him,

́ Will make him şay-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.

[Exit.

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 done? * Didst ever hear a man so penitent?

Now, sirs, have you

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?

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.

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. 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!—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 me? 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,

b

right now-] Just now, even now.-JOHNSON.