Ere you can take due orders for a priest: I tender so the safety of my liege. Suf. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing. York. And I and now we three have spoke it, Mess. Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain, To signify that rebels there are up, And put the Englishmen unto the sword: Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime, For, being green, there is great hope of help. Car. A breach, that craves a quick expedient stop. Som. If York, with all his far-fet policy, Q. Mar. Nay then, this spark will prove a raging fire, 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. Th' uncivil Kernes of Ireland are in arms, And temper clay with blood of Englishmen : To Ireland will you lead a band of men, Collected choicely, from each county som, [7] i. e. approve the deed, judge the deed good. JOHNSON. It skills not-it is of no importance. JOHNSON. And try your hap against the Irishmen? Suf. A charge, lord York, that I will see perform'd. 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 th' 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 politicly 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. You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands. Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven, or hell: [9] Flaw, a sudden violent gust of wind. JOHNSON. And, for a minister of my intent, I have seduc'd a head-strong Kentishman, To make commotion, as full well he can, In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells. SCENE II [Exit 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 done? Didst ever hear a man so penitent? Enter SUFFOLK. 1 Mur. Here comes my lord. Suf. Now, sirs, have you Read-And fight so long. RITSON. (2) A Moor in a military dance, now called Morris, that is, a Moorish dance. JOHNSON. Morrice-dancing, with bells on the legs, is common at this day in Oxfordshire and the adjacent counties, on May-day. Iloly Thursday, and Whitsun-ales, attended by the fool, or, as he is generally called, the 'Squire, and also a lord and lady: the Jatter most probably Maid Marian; "nor is the hobby-horse forgot." HARRIS. Despatch'd this thing? 1 Mur. Ay, my good lord, he's dead. Suf. Why, that's well said. Go, get you to my 1 Mur. 'Tis, my good lord. Suf. Away, begone! [Exeunt Murderers. 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? 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. How fares my gracious lord? [3] As nothing further is spoken either by Somerset or the Cardinal, or by any one else to show that they continue in the presence, it is to be presumed that they take advantage of the confusion occasioned by the king's swooning, and slip out unperceived. RITSON. Suf. Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, comfort! K. Hen. What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me? Came be 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 chace away the first-conceived sound? Hide not thy pois a 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 murderous 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 ? Yet he, most christian-like, laments his death: I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, What know I how the world may deem of me? It may be judg'd, I made the duke away : So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded, . To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy! 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: Just now, even now. JOHNSON. [5] That is, Let not woe be to thee for Gloster, but for me. JOHNSON. |