Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans,
Or blood-consuming sighs, recal 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 judged I made the duke away:
So shall my name with slander's tongue be

wounded,
And princes' courts be filled with my reproach.
This get I by his death. Ah me, unhappy :
To be a Queen, and crowned 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 wrecked upon the sea; And twice by aukward wind from England's

bank Drove back again unto my native clime ? What boded this but well-forewarning wind Did seem to say, “Seek not a scorpion's nest, Nor set no footing on this unkind shore?" What did I then but cursed the gentle gusts, And he that loosed them from their brazen caves; And bid them blow towards England's blesséd

shores, Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock? Yet Æolus would not be a murderer, But left that hateful office unto thee: The pretty vaulting sea refused to drown me; Knowing that thou would'st have me drowned

on shore, With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkindness: The splitting rocks cowered in the sinking sands, And would not dash me with their ragged sides; Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, Might in thy palace perish Margaret. As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, When from the shore the tempest beat us back, I stood upon the hatches in the storm : And when the dusky sky began to rob My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view, I took a costly jewel from my neck (A heart it was, bound in with diamonds), And threw it towards thy land: the sea

received it; And so I wished thy body might my heart :

And even with this I lost fair England's view,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart;
And called them blind and dusky spectacles,
For losing ken of Albion's wishéd coast.
How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue
(The agent of thy foul inconstancy)
To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did
When he to madding Dido would unfold
His father's acts, commenced in burning Troy?
Am I not witched like her; or thou not false

like him?
Ah me, I can no more! Die, Margaret:
For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long!
Noise within. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY.

The Commons press to the door. War. It is reported, mighty sovereign, That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is mur

dered By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means. The commons, like an angry hive of bees That want their leader, scatter up and down, And care not who they sting in his revenge. Myself have calmed their spleenful mutiny, Until they hear the order of his death. K. Hen. That he is dead, good Warwick, 't is

too true : But how he died God knows, not Henry. Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse, And comment then upon his sudden death. War. That I shall do, my liege.—Stay, Salis

bury, With the rude multitude, till I return. (Warwick goes into an inner room, and

SALISBURY retires.
K. Hen. O Thou that judgest all things, stay

my thoughts;
My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul
Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life!
If my suspect be false, forgive me, God;
For judgment only doth belong to thee.-
Fain would I go to chafe bis paly lips
With twenty thousand kisses, and to draiu
Upon his face an ocean of salt 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 obsequies;
And to survey his dead and earthly image,
What were it but to make my sorrow greater ?
The folding doors of an inner chamber are thrown

open, and Gloster is discovered dead in his
bed: Warwick and others standing by it.
War. Come hither, gracious sovereign; view

this body.
K. Hen. That is to see how deep my grave is

made;

That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart That slanders me with murder'scrimson badge:Say, if thou dar'st, proud lord of Warwickshire, That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey’s death.

[Exeunt CARDINAL, Somerset, and others. War. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk

dare him? Q. Mar. He dares not calm his contumelious

spirit, Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.

War. Madam, be still, with reverence may

I say:

For with his soul fled all my worldly solace:
For seeing him, I see my life in death.

War. As surely as my soul intends to live
With that dread King that took our state upon him
To free us from his Father's wrathful curse,
I do believe that violent hands were laid
Upon the life of this thrice-faméd duke.
Suf. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn

tongue ! What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow?

War. See how the blood is settled in his face! Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy: Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er

returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again. But see, his face is black and full of blood; His eyeballs further out than when he lived, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man: His hair upreared, his nostrils stretched with

struggling; His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasped And tugged for life, and was by strength subdued. Look on the sheets; his hair you see is sticking : His well-proportioned 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 signs were probable. Suf. Why, Warwick, who should do the duke

to death? Myself and Beaufort had him in protection : And we I hope, sir, are no murderers. War. But both of you were vowed Duke

Humphrey's foes; And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep. 'T is like you would not feast him like a friend; And 't is well seen he found an enemy.

Q. Mar. Then you belike suspect these noble

For every word you speak in his behalf
Is slander to your royal dignity.

Suf. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour!
If ever lady wronged her lord so much,
Thy mother took into her blameful bed
Some stern untutored churl, and noble stock
Was graft with crabtree slip: whose fruit thou art,
And never of the Nevils' noble race.
War. But that the guilt of murder bucklers

thee, And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild, I would, false murderous coward, on thy knee Make thee beg pardon for thy passéd speech, And say it was thy mother that thou mean'st; That thou thyself was born in bastardy: And, after all this fearful homage done, Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell, Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men! Suf. Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy

blood, If from this presence thou dar'st go with me.

War. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence: Unworthy though thou art, I 'll cope with thee, And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost.

(Exeunt SUFFOLK and WARWICK. K. Hen. What stronger breastplate than a

heart untainted ? Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

a

men

[A noise wilkin.

Q. Mar. What noise is this?

As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death. War. Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding

fresh, And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect’t was he that made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak ? Even so suspicious is this tragedy.

Q. Mar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk: where's

your knife ?

a

Is Beaufort termed a kite: where are his talons ?

Suf. I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men; But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease,

of Bury,

Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.

will or no,

Noise of a crowd within. Re-enter SALISBURY.
Sal. Sirs, stand apart; the King shall know

your mind. [Speaking to those within.
Dread lord, the commons send you word by me,
Unless false Suffolk straight he done to death,
Or banished fair England's territories,
They will by violence tear him from your palace,
And torture bim with grievous ling'ring death.
They say by him the good Duke Humphrey

died; They say in him they fear your highness’death : And mere instinct of love and loyalty (Free from a stubborn opposite intent, As being thought to contradict your liking) Makes them thus forward in his banishment. They say, in care of your most royal person, That if your highness should intend to sleep, And charge that no man should disturb your

rest, In pain of your dislike or pain of death, Yet

, notwithstanding such a strait edict,
Were there a serpent seen, with forkéd tongue,
That slily glided towards your majesty,
It were but necessary you were waked ;
Lest, being suffered in that harmful slumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal :
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you,

whe'r you
From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is ;
With whose envenoméd and fatal sting
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
They say is shamefully bereft of life.

Commons. Within.] An answer from the
King, my lord of Salisbury.
Suf. ’T is like the commons, rude unpolished

hinds,
Could send such message to their sovereign!
But you, my lord, were glad to be employed,
To shew how quaint an orator you are :
But all the honour Salisbury hath won
Is that he was the lord ambassador
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the King.

Commons. [Within.] An answer from the King, or we will all break in.

K. Hen. Go, Salisbury,and tell them all from me, I thank them for their tender loving care ; And had I not been 'cited so by them, Yet did I purpose as they so entreat: For sure my thoughts do hourly prophesy Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means. And therefore by His majesty I swear, Whose far unworthy deputy I am, He shall not breathe infection in this air But three days longer, on the pain of death.

[Exit SALISBURY. Q. Mar. O Henry, let me plead for gentle

Suffolk!

K. Hen. Ungentle Queen, to call him gentle

Suffolk ! No more, I say: if thou dost plead for him, Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath. Had I but said, I would have kept my word; But when I swear, it is irrevocable :If, after three days' space, thou here be found On any ground that I am ruler of, The world shall not be ransom for thy life.-Come Warwick, come good Warwick, go with me: I have great matters to impart to thee.

[Exeunt K. Henry, Warwick, Lords, 8c. Q. Mar. Mischance and sorrow go along with

you: Heart's discontent and sour affliction Be playfellows to keep you company ! There's two of you; the devil make a third : And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps !

Suf. Cease, gentle Queen, these execrations, And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave. Q. Mar. Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted

wretch! Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies ? Suf. A plague upon them! wherefore should

I curse them? Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, I would invent as bitter-searching terms, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, Delivered strongly through my fixéd teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave: My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words; Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; My hair be fixed on end as one distract; Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban :And even now my burdened heart would break, Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink: Gall, worse than gall, the dantiest that they

taste: Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees : Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks : Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings: Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss ; And boding screech-owls make the concert full! All the foul terrors in dark-seated hellQ. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk : thou tor

ment'st thyself; And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass, Or like an overchargéd gun, recoil, And turn the force of them upon thyself. Suf. You bade me ban, and will you bid me

leave? Now, by the ground that I am banished from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, Though standing naked on a mountain top, Where biting cold would never let grass grow, And think it but a minute spent in sport.