'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me;
I take it kindly yet be well affur'd,
You put sharp weapons in a mad-man's hands.
Whilft I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
I will ftir up in England fome black storm,
Shall blow ten thousand fouls to heav'n or hell.
And this fell tempeft fhall not cease to rage,
Until the golden circuit on my head,
(Like to the glorious fun's tranfparent beams,)
Do calm the fury of this mad-brain'd flaw.
And, for a minifter of my intent,
I have feduc'd a headstrong Kentish man,
John Cade of Afhford,
To make commotion, as full well he can,
Under the title of John Mortimer.
In Ireland have I feen this ftubborn Cade
Oppofe himself against a troop of Kerns;
And fought fo long, till that his thighs with darts
Were almoft like a fharp-quill'd porcupine:
And, in the end being refcu'd, I have seen
Him caper upright like a wild Morisco,
Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells.
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 gate, in fpeech he doth resemble.
By this, I fhall 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 thofe arms.
Say, that he thrive; as 'tis great like, he will;
Why, then, from Ireland come I with my ftrength,
And reap the harvest which that rascal fow'd
For Humphry being dead, as he fhall be,
And Henry put a-part, the next for me.
S CE NE
An Apartment in the Palace.
Enter two or three, running over the Stage, from the murther of Duke Humphry.
UN to my lord of Suffolk; let him know,
We have dispatch'd the Duke, as he commanded.
2. Oh, that it were to do! what have we done! Didit ever hear a man fo penitent!
Enter Suffolk.
1. Here comes my lord.
Suf. Now, Sir, have you dispatch'd this thing? 1. Ay, my good lord, he's dead.
Suf. Why, that's well faid.
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.
Enter King Henry, the Queen, Cardinal, Somerset, with Attendants.
K. Henry. Go, call our Uncle to our prefence ftrait : 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. [Exit. K. Henry. Lords, take your places: and, I pray you all,
Proceed no ftraiter 'gainst our uncle Glo'fter,
Than from true evidence, of good esteem,
He be approv'd in practice culpable,
Q. Mar. God forbid, any malice fhould prevail, That faultlefs may condemn a Nobleman!
Pray God, he may acquit him of fufpicion!
K. Henry. I thank thee: (a) Well, these words content me much.
How now? why look'ft thou pale? why trembleft thou?
Where is our Uncle? what is the matter, Suffolk? Suf. Dead in his bed, my lord; Glo'fter is dead. Q Mar. Marry, God forefend!
Car. God's fecret judgment: I did dream to night, The Duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. [King fwoons.
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
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,
2 Rear up his body, &c.] This line is not in the old Edition.
[(a) Well. Mr. Theobald-Vulg. Nell.]
By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
Can chafe away the firft-conceived found?
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words;
Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I fay;
Their touch affrights me as a serpent's fting.
Thou baleful meffenger, out of my fight!
Upon thy eye-balls murd'rous tyranny
Sits in grim majefty to fright the world.
Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding!
Yet do not go away; come, bafilik :
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, moft 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 recall his life;
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: ab, 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 Glofter'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 adverfe 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 fhoar.
What did I then? but curft the gentle gufts,
And he that loos'd them from their brazen caves;
And bid them blow towards England's bleffed fhoar,
Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock:
Yet Eolus would not be a murtherer;
But left that hateful office unto thee.
The pretty vaulting fea refus'd to drown me; Knowing, that thou wouldst have me drown'd on fhoar
With tears as falt as fea, through thy unkindness.
The splitting rocks cow'r'd in the finking sands,
And would not dash me with their ragged fides;
Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they,
Might in thy Palace perish Margaret.
As far as I could ken the chalky cliffs,
When from thy fhoar the tempeft beat us back,
I ftood upon the hatches in the storm;
And when the dusky sky began to rob
My earnest-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 fea receiv'd it,
And fo, I wish'd, thy body might my heart.
And ev❜n with this I loft fair England's view,
And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart;
And call'd them blind and dusky fpectacles,
For lofing ken of Albion's wifhed Coaft.
How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue
(The agent of thy foul inconftancy)
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