>

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, * 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.

a

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mad-bred flaw.] Flaw

a sudden violent gust of wind.

* 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-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:

6 For, Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, ' And Henry put apart, the next for me.

[Exit.

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.

9 a troop of Kernes;] Kernes were light-armed Irish foot-soldiers.

— a wild Mórisco,] A moor in a military dance, now called Morris, that is, a Moorish dance.

* 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.

'Despatch'd this thing?

6

1 Mur.

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?

1 Mur. "Tis, my good lord.

Suf. Away, be gone!

[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.

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. " R. Mar. How fares my lord? Help, fords! the

king is dead. * Som. Rear up his body; wring him by the nose. * Q. Mar. Run, go, help, help!-0, 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 nowo 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 • Upon thy eye-balls murderous tyranny

Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. • Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding:

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my sight!

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right now -] Just now, even now.

" 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 bewounded, * And princes' courts be filld 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

*