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'Tis like, you would not feast him like a friend; And 'tis well feen, he found an enemy.

Q. Mar. Then you, belike, suspect these Noblemen, As guilty of Duke Humphry's timeless death.

War. Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh, And fees faft by a butcher with an ax,

But will fufpect, 'twas he that made the flaughter?
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's neft,
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite foar with unbloodied beak?
Ev'n fo fufpicious is this tragedy.

Q. Mar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk? where's your knife?

Is Beauford term'd a kite? where are his talons?
Suf. I wear no knife to flaughter sleeping men;
But here's a 'vengeful fword, rufted with ease,
That fhall be fcoured in his ranc'rous heart
That flanders me with murder's crimfon badge.
Say, if thou dar'ft, proud Lord of Warwickshire,
That I am faulty in Duke Humphry's death.

War. What dares not Warwick, if falfe Suffolk dare him?

Q. Mar. He dares not calm his contumelious fpirit, Nor cease to be an arrogant controller,

Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times. War. Madam, be ftill. With rev'rence may I fay; For ev'ry word, you fpeak 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 stock
Was graft with crab-tree fiip, whofe fruit thou art;
And never of the Nevil's noble Race.

War. But that the guilt of murder buckler's thee,
And I should rob the death's man of his fee,
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand fhames,
And that my Sovereign's prefence makes me mild,

VOL. V.

F

I would,

I would, false murd'rous Coward, on thy knee
Make thee beg pardon for thy paffed fpeech,
And fay, it was thy mother that thou meant'ft,
That thou thyself waft 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 shed thy blood, If from this prefence thou dar'ft 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 service to Duke Humphry's ghost.

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[Exeunt.

K. Henry. What ftronger breaft-plate than a heart

untainted?

Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel juft;
And he but naked, though lock'd up in fteel,
Whose confcience with injuftice is corrupted.

Q. Mar. What noise is this?

[A noife within./

Enter Suffolk and Warwick, with their weapons

drawn.

K. Henry. Why, how now, Lords? your wrathful weapons drawn

Here in our presence! 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.

Noife of a crowd within. Enter Salisbury.

Sal. Sirs, ftand apart; the King fhall know your

mind.

-Dread Lord, the Commons fend you word by me, Unless Lord Suffolk ftrait be done to death,

Cr

Or banished fair England's territories,

They will by violence tear him from your Palace,
And torture him with grievous lingring death.
They fay, by him the good Duke Humphry died;
They fay, in him they fear your Highness' 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 Banifhment.
They fay, in care of your moft 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 fuch 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 fleep eternal.
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you whether 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 unpolish'd hinds, Could send fuch meffage to their Sovereign; But you, my Lord, were glad to be employ'd, To fhew how queint' 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 answer from the King, or we will all

break in.

SA fort, is a company.
F 2

K. Henry,

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 entreat;
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.

Q. 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 fwear, it is irrevocable.

-If after three days space thou here be'ft found,
On any ground that I am ruler of,

The world fhall 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, &i.

SCENE VIII.

Manent Suffolk, and Queen.

Q. Mar. Mifchance and Sorrow 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.

Q. Mar. Fy, coward woman, and foft-hearted wretch,

Haft thou not fpirit to curfe thine enemy?

Suf. A plague upon them! Wherefore fhould I curfe

them?

Would

'Would curfes kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,
I would invent as bitter fearching terms,
As curft, as harsh, and horrible to hear,
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth,
With full as many figns of deadly hate,
As lean-fac'd envy in her loathsome cave.
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words,
Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint,
Mine hair be fixt on end like one diftract:
Ay, ev'ry joint fhould feem to curfe and ban.
And even now my burden'd heart would break,
Should I not curfe them. Poifon be their drink!
Gall, worse than gall, the daintieft meat they taste!
Their sweeteft fhade a grove of cypress trees!
Their chiefeft profpect murd'ring bafilifks!
Their fofteft touch, as fmart as lizards' ftings!
Their mufick frightful as the ferpent's hifs!
And boading fcreech-owls make the concert full!
All the foul terrors in dark feated hell-—————

Q. Mar. Enough, fweet Suffolk, thou torment it thyfelf;

And thefe dread curfes, like the fun 'gainst glass,
Or like an over-charged gun, recoil

And turn the force of them upon thyself.

Suf. You bad me ban, and will you bid me leave? Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, Well could I curfe away a

1 Would curfes kill, as doth the mandrake's groan.] The fabulous accounts of the plant called a mandrake give it an inferiour degree of animal life, and relate, that when it is torn from the ground, it groans, and that this groan being certainly fatal to him that is offering fuch unwelcome violence, the practice of those who gather mandrakes is to tie one end of a string to the plant, and the other to a dog,

winter's night,

upon whom the fatal groan difcharges its malignity.

You bad me ban, and will

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