1

Full often, like a fhag-hair'd crafty Kern,
Hath he converfed with the enemy;
And undiscover'd come to me again,
And giv'n me notice of their villanies.
This devil here fhall be my fubftitute;
For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,
In face, in gait, in fpeech he doth refemble.
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 fay I mov'd him to thofe arms.
Say, that he thrive; as 'tis great like, he will;
Why, then, from Ireland come I with my ftrength,
And reap the harveft which that rafcal fow'd:
For Humphry being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put a-part, the next for me.

[Exit,

SCENE, an Apartment in the Palace.

Enter two or three, running over the Stage, from the murder of Duke Humphry.

1.

"R

UN to my Lord of Suffolk; let him know, We have difpatch'd the Duke, as he commanded. 2. Oh, that it were to do! what have we done? Didft ever hear a man fo penitent?

Enter Suffolk.

1. Here comes my Lord.

Suf. Now, Sirs, have you dispatch'd this thing? 1. Ay, my good Lord, he's dead.

Suf. Why, that's well faid. Go, get you to my houfe;

I will reward you for this-vent'rous 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. Yes, my good Lord.

Suf. Away, be gone.

[Exeunt Murderers.

Enter

Enter King Henry, the Queen, Cardinal, Somerfet, with Attendants.

K. Henry. Go, call our uncle to our presence ftrait : Say, we intend to try his Grace to-day,

If he be guilty, as 'tis published.

Suf. I'll call him prefently, my noble Lord. [Exit. K. Henry. Lords, take your places: and, I pray you all, Proceed no ftraiter 'gainst our uncle Glofter, Than from true evidence, of good efteem, He be approv'd in practice culpable.

Q. Mar. God forbid, any malice fhould prevail, That faultless may condemn a nobleman!

Pray God, he may acquit him of suspicion!

K. Henry. I thank thee: well, thefe words content me much. (10)

(10) I thank thee, Nell, these words content me mach.] This is K. Henry's reply to his wife Margaret, Our poet, I remember, in his King John, makes Falconbridge the baftard, upon his first stepping into honour, fay, that he will study to forget his old acquaintance; And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter;

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For new-made honour doth forget men's names.

But, furely, this is wide of King Henry's cafe; and it can be no reafon why he fhould forget his own wife's name, and call her Nell inftead of Margaret. Perhaps, it may be alledg'd, that the blander was original in the poet; that his head was full of another character, which he introduces in this play, Eleanor Dutchefs of Gloucefter, whom her husband frequently calls Nell and thence thro' inadvertence le might flip into this mistake. Were this to be allow'd the cafe, is not the mistake therefore to be rectified. As the change of a fingle letter fets all right, I am much more willing to fuppofe it came from his pen thus;

I thank thee: Well; these words content me much.

K. Henry was a Prince of great piety and meekness, a great lover of his uncle Gloucefter, whom his nobles were rigidly perfecuting; and to whom he fufpected the Queen bore no very good will in her heart: But finding her, beyond his hopes, fpeak fo candidly in the Duke's cafe, he is mightily comforted and contented at her impartial feeming, ferv'd, that eve, every body in converfation must have ufed to exprefs an air of fatisfaction, when say incident in life goes to our with; or any purpofe, that was dreaded, happens to be difappointed.---I amended this passage in my SHAKESPEARE reflor'd, and Mr. Pope has fince embrac'd the correction.

Enter Suffolk.

How now? why look'st thou pale? why trembleft thou?
Where is our uncle? what's the matter, Suffolk ?
Suf. Dead in his bed, my Lord; Glo'fter is dead.
Q. Mar. Marry, God forfend!

Car. God's fecret judgment: I did dream to-night, The Duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. [King woons.

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: oh, Henry, ope thine eyes.
Suf. He doth revive again; Madam, be patient.
K. Henry. O heav'nly God!

Q. Mar. How fares my gracious Lord?

Suf. Comfort, my Sovereign; gracious Henry, comfort. K. Henry. What, doth my Lord of Suffolk comfort me? Came he right now to fing a raven's note, Whofe difmal tune bereft my vital pow'rs: And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breast, Can chafe away the firft-conceived found? Hide not thy poison with such fugar'd words; d Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I fay; Their touch affrights me as a ferpent's fting. Thou baleful meffenger, out of my fight! Upon thy eye balls murd'rous tyranny Sits in grim majesty to fright the world. Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding! Yet do not go away; come, bafilisk,

And kill the innocent gazer with thy fight:

For in the fhade of death I fhall find joy;

In life, but double death, now Glofter's dead.

Q. Mar. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus?

Although the Duke was enemy to him,

Yet he, most chriftian-like, laments his death.
And for myself, foe as he was to me,

Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans,
Or blood-confuming fighs recal his life;

I

I would be blind with weeping, fick with groans,
Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking fighs,
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 fhall my name with flander's tongue be wounded,
And Princes courts be fill'd with my reproach:
This get I by his death: ah, me unhappy!
To be a Queen, and crown'd with infamy.

!

K. Henry. Ah, woe is me for Glofter, wretched man Q. Mar. Be woe for me, more wretched than he is. What, doft thou turn away and hide thy face? I am no loathfome leper; look on me. What, art thou like the adder waxen deaf? Be pois'nous too, and kill thy forlorn Queen. Is all thy comfort fhut in Glo'ster's tomb? Why, then, dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy. Erect his ftatue, and do worship to it, And make my image but an ale-house fign. Was I for this nigh wreckt upon the fea, And twice by adverse winds from England's bank Drove back again unto my native clime? What boaded this? but well-fore warning winds Did feem to fay, feek not a fcorpion's neft; Nor fet no footing on this unkind fhore.

What did I then? but curft the gentle gufts, 1 mod i
And he that loos'd them from their brazen caves;
And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore,
Or turn our ftern upon a dreadful rock:

Yet Eolus would not be a murderer;
But left that hateful office unto thee.

A

The pretty vaulting fea refus'd to drown me:
Knowing, that thou wouldst have me drown'd on shore
With tears as falt as fea, through thy unkindness.
The splitting rocks cow'r'd in the finking fands
And would not dash me with their ragged fides;
Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they,
Might in thy palace perith Margaret.
As far as I could ken the chalky cliffs,
C 3

When

When from thy fhore the tempeft beat us back,
I ftood upon the hatches in the ftorm;
And when the dusky fky began to rob
My earneft-gaping fight of thy land's view,
I took a coftly jewel from my neck,

(A heart it was, bound in with diamonds,)
And threw it tow'rds thy land; the sea receiv'd it,
And fo I wifh'd thy body might my heart.
And evʼn with this I loit fair England's view,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart;
And call'd them blind and dufky fpectacles,
For lofing ken of Albion's wifhed conft.
How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue
(The agent of thy foul inconftancy)

To fit and witch ine, as Afcanius did, (11) ·
When he to madding Dido would unfold

His father's acts, commenc'd in burning Toy?

Am I not witcht like her ? or thou not false like him?

(11) To fit and watch me, as Afcanius did, When be to madding Dido would unfold His father's acts, commenc'd in burning Troy?]

The poet here is unquestionably alluding to Virgil, (Æneid, 1,) but he ftrangely blends fact with fiction. In the first place, it was Cupid, in the femblance of Afcanius, who fat in Dido's lap, and was fondled by her. But then it was not Cupid, who related to her the procefs of Troy's deftruction, but it was Eneas himself, who related this hiftory. Again, how did the fuppos'd Afcanius fit and watch her? Cupid was order'd, while Dido mistakenly carefs'd him, to bewitch and infect her with love. To this circumftance the poet certainly alludes; and unless he had wrote, as I have reftor'd to the text; To fit and witch me,

Why should the Queen immediately draw this inference,

Am I not witch'd like her ?

Nor is this the only place, in which we find the verb witch, us'd (where the numbers require) for, bewitch.

So in 1 Henry IV.

As if an angel drop'd down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus ;

And witch the world with noble horfemanship.

So in 3 Henry VI.

I'll make my heaven in a Lady's lap ;

And deck my body in gay ornaments;

And witch fweet Ladies with my words and looks.

Ah