War. Madam, be ftill; with rev'rence may I fay; For ev'ry 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 flock
Was graft with crab-tree flip, whose fruit thou art;
And never of the Nevills' noble race.
War. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee,
And I fhould rob the death's-man of his fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand fhames,
And that my Sovereign's presence makes me milė,
I would, falfe murd'rous coward, on thy knee
Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech,
And fay it was thy mother that thou meant'ft;—
That thou thyself wast born in bastardy:
And, after all this fearful homage done,
Give thee thy hire, and fend thy foul to hell,
Pernicious blood-fucker of fleeping men!
Suf. Thou shalt be waking, while I fhed thy blood,
If from this presence thou dar'st
go with me.
War. Away ev'n now, or I will drag thee hence;
Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee,
And do fome fervice to Duke Humphry's ghoft.
[Exeunt Suffolk and Warwick.
K. Henry. What ftronger breaft-plate than a heart un
Thrice is he arm'd that hath this quarrel juft;
And he but naked (though lock'd up in fteel)
Whofe confcience with injustice is corrupted.
2. 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.
Sal. Sirs, ftand apart; the King fhall know your mind,
Dread Lord, the Commons fend you word by me,
Unlefs Lord Suffolk ftrait be put to death,
Or banished fair England's territories,
They will by violence tear him from your palace,
And torture him with grievous ling'ring death.
They fay, by him the good Duke Humphry died;
They fay, in him they fear your Highnefs' death,
And mere inftinct of love and loyalty
(Free from a stubborn oppofite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking)
Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
They fay, in care of your most royal perfon,
That if your Highness fhould intend to fleep,
And charge that no man fhould disturb your reft,
In pain of your dislike, or pain of death;
Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict,
Were there a ferpent feen with forked tongue,
That flily glided tow'rds your Majefty,
It were but neceffary you were wak'd,
Left, being fuffer'd in that harmful flumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal.
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you whe'r you will or no,
From fuch fell ferpents as falfe Suffolk is;
With whose invenomed and fatal fting.
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
They fay, is fhamefully bereft of life.
Commons within. An anfwer from the King, my Lord of Salisbury.
Suf. 'Tis like the Commons, rude unpolifh'd hands, Could fend fuch message to their Sovereign!
But you, my Lord, were glad to be employ'd,
To fhew how quient 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. An anfwer from the King, or we will all break
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 intreat;
For, fure, my thoughts do hourly prophefy
Mifchance unto my state by Suffolk's means.
And therefore by his Majefty I fwear,
Whofe far unworthy deputy I am,
He fhall not breathe infection in this air
But three days longer, on the pain of death.
2. 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 swear, it is irrevocable;
If after three days space thou here be'st found
On any ground that I am ruler of,
The world shall not be ranfom for thy life.
Come, Warwick; good Warwick; go with me;
I have great matters to impart to thee.
[Exeunt King Henry, Warwick, Sc.
SCENE VIII. Manent Queen and Suffolk.
2. Mar. Mifchance and forrow go along with you! Heart's difcontent and four affliction
Be play-fellows to keep you company!
There's two of you, the devil make a third,
And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps!
Suf. Ceafe, gentle Queen, thefe execrations,
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.
2. Mar. Fie, coward woman, and foft-hearted wretch, Haft thou not fpirit to curfe thine enemy?
Suf. A plague upon them? Wherefore fhould I curfe Would curfes kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, [them? I would invent as bitter fearching terms,
As curs❜d, as harsh, and horrible to hear,
Deliver'd ftrongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many figns of deadly hate,
As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave.
My tongue fhould stumble in mine earnest words,
Mine eyes fhould fparkle like the beaten flint,
Mine hair be fix'd on end like one distract:
Ay, ev'ry joint should seem to curfe and ban.
And even now my burden'd heart would break,
Should I not curfe them. Poifon be their drink!
Gall, worfe than gall, the daintieft meat they taste!
Their sweetest fhade a grove of cypress trees!
Their chiefeft profpect murd'ring bafilifks!
Their fofteft touch as smart as lizards' ftings!
Their mufic frightful as the ferpent's hils!
And boding fcreech-owls make the concert full!
All the foul terrors in dark-feated hell-
[felf; 2. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st thyAnd thefe dread curfes, like the fun 'gainst glass,.
Or like an over-charged gun, recoil,
And turn the force of them upon thyfelf.
Suf. You bade me ban, and will
you bid me leave?:
Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,
Well could I curfe away a winter's night,
Though ftanding naked on a mountain-top,
Where biting cold would never let grafs grow,
And think it but a minute spent in sport.
2. Mar. Oh, let me intreat thee ceafe; give me thy That I may dew it with my mournful tears; Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place, To wash away my woful monuments... Oh, could this kifs be printed in thy hand,
That thou might'ft think on these lips by the feal, Through whom a thousand fighs are breath'd for thee.
So get thee. gone, that I may know my grief;
'Tis but furmis'd, whilst thou art ftanding by,.
As one that furfeits, thinking on a want.
I will repeal thee, or, be well affur'd,
Adventure to be banished myself:.
And banished I am, if but from thee.
Go, fpeak not to me; even now be gone
Oh, go not yet- -Ev'r thus two friends condemn'dı
Embrace and kifs, and take ten thousand leaves,
Loather a hundred times to part than die.
Yet now farewell, and farewell life with thee!.
Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,
Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee!
'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence;
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heav'nly company.
For where thou art, there is world itfelf;
With ev'ry fev'ral pleasure in the world:
And where thou art not, defolation.
I can no more. Live thou to joy thy life;
Myself no joy in aught but that thou liv't.
SCENE IX. Enter Vaux.
2. Mar. Whither goes Vaux fo faft? what news, E Vaux. To figuify unto his Majefty.
That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death:
For fuddenly a grievous ficknefs took him,
That makes him gafp, and flare, and catch the air,
Blafpheming God, and curfing men on earth.
Sometimes he talks as if Duke Humphry's ghoft
Were by his fide; fometimes he calls the King,
And whispers to his pillow, as to him,
The fecrets of his over-charged fout:
And I am fent to tell his Majefty,
That even now he cries aloud for him.
2. Mar. Go tell this heavy meffage to the King.
[Exit Vaux
Ay me! what is this world? what news are these?
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor lofs,
Omitting Suffolk's exile, my foul's treasure?
Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
And with the fouthern clouds contend in tears?
Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my forrows.
Now get thee hence; the King, thou know'ft, is coming;
If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.
Suf. If I depart from thee, I cannot live;
And in thy fight to die, what were it else,
But like a pleasant flumber in thy lap?
Here could I breathe my foul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe
Dying with mother's dug between its lips:
Where, from thy fight, I fhould be raging mad,,
And cry out for thee to clofe up mine eyes,
To have thee with thy lips to ftop my mouth:
So fhouldft thou either turn my flying foul,
Or I should breathe it fo into thy body;
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