parliament, and, on a remonstrance from the qucen, thus speaks:
Ay, Margaret, my heart is drown'd with grief,
Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes;
My body round engirt with misery;
For what's more miserable than discontent ?
Ah, uncle Humphrey ! in thy face I see
The map of honour, truth, and loyalty;
And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come,
That e'er I proved thee false, or fear'd thy faith.
What low'ring star now envies thy estate,
That these great lords, and Margaret our Queen,
Do seek supervision of thy harmless life?
Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong:
And as the butcher takes away the calf,
And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays,
Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house;
Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence:
And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
Looking the way her harmless young one went,
And can do nought but wail her darling's loss;
Even so myself bewails good Gloster's case
With sad unhelpful tears, and with dimm'd eyes
Look after him, and cannot do him good;
So mighty are his vowed enemies.
His fortunes I will weep; and twixt each groan,
Say,— Who's a traitor? Gloster he is none.
SPEECH OF THE DUKE OF GLOSTER.
FROM THE SECOND PART OF THE PLAY OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH.'
Brave peers of England, pillars of the state,
To you duke Humphrey must unload his grief,
Your grief, the common grief of all the land.
What! did my brother Henry spend his youth,
His valour, coin, and people, in the wars?
Did he so often lodge in open field,
In winter's cold, and summer's parching heat,
To conquer France, his true inheritance?
And did my brother Bedford toil his wits,
To keep by policy what Henry got?
Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham,
Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick,
Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy?
Or hath my uncle Beaufort, and myself,
With all the learned counsel of the realm,
Studied so long, sat in the counsel-house,
Early and late, debating to and fro
How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe?
And hath his highness in his infancy
Been crown'd in Paris, in despite of foes,
And shall these labours, and these honours, die?
Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance,
Your deeds of war, and all our counsel, die?
O peers of England, shameful is this league!
Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame;
Blotting your names from books of memory;
Razing the characters of your renown;
Defacing monuments of conquer'd France;
Undoing all, as all had never been!
CARDINAL BEAUFORT'S DEATH.
FROM THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH.'
K. Henry. How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.
Card. If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's treasure,
Enough to purchase such another island,
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.
K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,
When death's approach is seen so terrible!
War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.
Car. Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Died he not in his bed? where should he die?
Can I make men live, whether they will or no?
O! torture me no more, I will confess.-
Alive again? then show me where he is;
I'll give a thousand pounds to look upon him.
He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them!
Comb down his hair; look! look! it stands upright,
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul!
Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
K. Hen. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
O, beat away the busy meddling fiend
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,
And from his bosom purge this black despair!
War. See how the pangs of death do make him grin!
Sal. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.
K. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!
Lord Cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,
Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.—
He dies, and makes no sign. O God, forgive him!
War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life.
K. Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.—
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close;
And let us all to meditation.
The wisdom and piety of King Henry the Sixth are here exhibited to the utmost advantage. His anxiety for the future happiness of the Cardinal is manifested in his earnest and eloquent prayers to Almighty God for the Cardinal's salvation, while, at the same time, his wisdom and forbearance are shown by his unwillingness to pass a judgment as to the future condition of this (to all human appearance) wicked and unpardoned ecclesiastic. The sovereign leaves him
to his God, the infallible Judge, and, in this respect, his conduct should be more frequently imitated. As contrasted with the above fearful relation, we refer our readers to our poet's description of Cardinal Wolsey's death, as given in another part of this work.
FROM THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH.'
Justice with favour have I always done;
Prayers and tears have moved me, gifts could never.
When have I aught exacted at your hands,
Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and you.
Large gifts have I bestowed on learned clerks,
Because my book preferr'd me to the king:
And, seeing ignorance is the curse of God,
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven-
Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits,
You cannot but forbear to murder me.
HENRY THE SIXTH ON HIS LENITY.
'FROM THE THIRD PART OF HENRY THE SIXTH.'
I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands,
Nor posted off their suits with slow delays;
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds,
My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs,
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