Ah me, I can no more: Dye Margaret,
For Henry weeps, that thou didst live fo long.

Noife within. Enter Warwick, and many Commons,
War. It is reported, mighty Sovereign,
That good Duke Humphry traiterously is murther'd
By Suffolk, and the Cardinal Beauford's means:
The Commons, like an angry Hive of Bees
That want their Leader, fcatter up and down,
And care not who they fting in his Revenge.
My felf have calm'd their fpleenful Mutiny,
Until they hear the order of his Death,

K. Henry. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true, But how he died, God knows, not Henry:

Enter his Chamber, view his breathless Corps,
And comment then upon his fudden Death.

War. That I fhall do, my Liege: Stay Salisbury,

With the rude Multitude, 'till I return.

K. Henry. Othou that judgeft all things, ftay my Thoughts; My Thoughts, that labour to perfuade my Soul, Some violent Hands were laid on Humphry's Life: If my fufpect be falfe, forgive me God, For Judgment only doth belong to thee. Fain would I go to chafe his paly Lips, With twenty thousand Kiffes, and to drain Upon his Face an Ocean of falt Tears, To tell my Love unto his dumb deaf Trunk, And with my Fingers feel his Hand unfeeling: But all in vain are these mean Obfequies.

[Bed with Glo'fter's Body put forth And to furvey his dead and earthly Image:

What were it but to make my Sorrow greater?

War. Come hither, gracious Sovereign, view this Body. K. Henry That is to fee how deep my Grave is made: For with his Soul fled all my worldly folace;

For feeing him, I fee my Life is Death.

War. As furely as my Soul intends to live
With that dread King that took our State upon him,
To free us from his Father's wrathful Curfe,
I do believe that violent Hands were laid,
Upon the Life of this thrice-famed Duke.

Suf.

Suf. A dreadful Oath, fworn with a folemn Tongue What inftance gives Lord Warwick for his Vow..

War. See how the Blood is fettled in his Face..
Oft have I feen a timely parted Ghost,

Of afhy femblance, meager, pale, and bloodless,
Being all defcended to the labouring Heart,
Who in the Conflict that it holds with Death,
Attracts the fame for aidance 'gainst the Enemy,
Which with the Heart there cools, and ne'er returneth
To blush and beautify the Cheek again.

But fee, his Face is black, and full of Blood,
His Eye-balls further out, than when he lived,
Staring full gaftly, like a ftrangled Man;

His Hair up rear'd, his Noftrils ftretch'd with ftruggling,
His Hands abroad difplay'd, as one that grafpt
And tugg'd for Life, and was by strength fubdued.
Look on the Sheets, his Hair, you fee, is fticking;
His well-proportion'd Beard, made rough and rugged,
Like to the Summer's Corn by Tempest lodged:
It cannot be but he was murdered here,
The least of all these figns were probable.

Suf. Why Warwick, who fhould do the Duke to death?
My telf and Beauford had him in protection,
And we, I hope, Sirs, are no Murtherers.

War. But both of you have vow'd Duke Humphry's death i And you, forfooth, had the good Duke to keep: 'Tis like you would not feast him like a Friend, And 'tis well feen be found an Enemy.

Q.Mar. Then you belike fufpect these Noblemen, As guilty of Duke Humphry's timeless death.

War. Who finds the Heifer dead, and bleeding fresh, And fees faft by a Butcher with an Ax,

But will fufpect 'twas he that made the flaughter?
Who finds the Partridge in the Puttock's Neft,
But may imagine how the Bird was dead,
Although the Kite foar with unbloodied Beak?
Even fo fufpicious is this Tragedy.

Q.Mar. Are you the Butcher, Suffolk ? where's the Knife? Is Beauford term'd a Kite? where are his Tallons?

Suf

Suff. I wear no Knife; to flaughter fleeping Men,
But heres a 'vengeful Sword, rufted with ease,
That fhall be fcoured in his rancorous Heart,
That flanders me with Murther's Crimson Badge.
Say, if thou dar'ft, proud Lord of Warwickshire,
That I am faulty in Duke Humphry's death.

War. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him 2.Mar. He dare not calm his contumelious Spirit, Nor ceafe to be an arrogant Controller,

Tho' Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.
War. Madam be ftill; with reverence may I fay,
For every word you speak in his behalf,
Is flander to your Royal Dignity.

Suf. Blunt-witted Lord, ignoble in demeanour,
If ever Lady wrong'd her Lord fo much,
Thy Mother took into her blameful Bed
Some ftern untutor'd Churl; and noble Stock
Was graft with Crab-tree flip, whose Fruit thou art,
And never of the Nevil's Noble Race.

War. But that the guilt of Murther bucklers thee,
And I fhould rob the Deaths-man of his Fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand Shames,
And that my Sovereign's Prefence makes me mild,
I would, falfe murd'rous Coward, on thy Knee
Make thee beg pardon for thy paffed Speech,
And fay, it was thy Mother that thou meant'ft;
That thou thy felf waft born in Bastardy:
And after all this fearful Homage done,
Give thee thy hire, and fend thy Soul to Hell,
Pernicious Blood-fucker of fleeping Men.

Suf Thou shalt be waking, while I fhed thy Blood, If from this Prefence thou dar'ft go with me.

War. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence, Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee,

[ed

And do fome service to Duke. Humphry's Ghoft. [Exeunt.
K. Henry. What ftronger Breaft-plate than a Heart untaint-
Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his Quarrel juft;
And he but naked, though lockt up in Steel,
Whofe Confcience with Injustice is corrupted.

[A noife within. 2. Mar

Q.Mar. What noife is this?

Enter Suffolk and Warwick, with their Weapons drawn.
K. Henry. Why how now, Lords?

Your wrathful Weapons drawn,

Here in our Prefence! Dare you be fo bold?
Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?
Suf. The trait'rous Warwick with the Men of Bury,
Set all upon me, mighty Sovereign.

Enter Salisbury.

Sal. Sirs, ftand apart, the King fhall your Mind.
Dread Lord, the Commons fend you word by me,
Unless Lord Suffolk ftraight be put to death,
Or banished fair England's Territories,

They will by violence tear him from your Palace,
And torture him with grievous lingring death.
They fay, by him the good Duke Humphry dy'd;
They fay, in him they fear your Highness death;
And mere inftinct of Love and Loyalty,
Free from a ftubborn oppofite intent,

As being thought to contradict your liking,
Makes them thus forward in his Banifhment.
They fay, in care of your moft Royal Perfon,
That if your Highnefs fhould intend to fleep,
And charge that no Man should disturb your reft,
In pain of your Diflike, or pain of Death;
Yet notwithstanding fuch a ftrange Edict,
Were there a Serpent feen with forked Tongue,
That flyly glided towards your Majesty,
It were but neceffary you were wak'd;
Left being fuffer'd in that harmless slumber,
The mortal Worm might make the Sleep Eternal
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you whe're you will or no,
From fuch fell Serpents as falfe Suffolk is;
With whofe invenomed and fatal Sing,
Your loving Uncle, twenty times his worth,
They fay, is fhamefully bereft of Life.

[Salisburg

Commons within. An Anfwer from the King, my Lord of Suf. 'Tis like the Commons, rude unpolifht Hinds,,t. Could fend fuch Meffage to their Sovereign:

Bur

But you, my Lord, were glad to be employ'd,
To fhew how queint an Orator you are.
But all the honour Salisbury hath won,
Is, that he was the Lord Ambaffador

Sent from a fort of Tinkers to the King.

Within. Ananfwer from the King, or we will all break

in.

K. Henry. Go Salisbury, and tell them all from me,
I thank them for their tender loving care;
And had I not been cited fo by them,
Yet did I purpose as they do entreat;
For fure my Thoughts do hourly prophefie
Mifchance unto my State by Suffolk's means.
And therefore by his Majesty I swear,
Whofe far-unworthy Deputy I am,

He shall not breathe Infection in this Air,
But three Days longer, on the pain of Death.

Q Mar. Oh Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk.
K. Henry. Ungentle Queen, to call him gentle Suffolk..
No more, I fay; if thou doft plead for him,
Thou wilt but add increase unto my Wrath.
Had I but faid, I would have kept my Word;
But when I fwear it is irrevocable:

If after three Days space thou here beʼst found,
Or any Ground that I am Ruler of,
The World fhall not be Ranfome for thy Life.
Come Warwick, come good Warwick, go
I have great matters to impart to thee.

with me;

[Exit.

Q.Mar. Mifchance and Sorrow go along with you,
Hearts Difcontent, and four Affliction,

Be Play-fellows to keep you company;
There's two of you, the Devil make a third,
And three-fold Vengeance tend upon your Steps.
Suf. Ceafe, gentle Queen, thefe Execrations,

And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.

Q.Mar. Fie coward Woman, and foft-hearted Wretch, Haft thou not Spirit to curfe thine Enemy?

Suf. A Plague upon them; wherefore fhould I curfe them?

Would Curfes kill, as doth the Mandrakes groan,