Car. My liege, his railing is intolerable:
If those that care to keep your royal person
From treason's secret knife, and traitors' rage,
Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,
And the offender granted scope of speech,
"Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.
Suff. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here,
With ignominious words, though clerkly couched,
As if she had suborned some to swear
False allegations to o'erthrow his state?

Q. Mar. But I can give the loser leave to chide.
Glo. Far truer spoke than meant; I lose indeed; -
Beshrew the winners, for they played me false !
And well such losers may have leave to speak.

Buck. He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day.— Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner.

Car. Sirs, take away the duke, and guard him sure. Glo. Ah, thus king Henry throws away his crutch, Before his legs be firm to bear his body;

Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side,

And wolves are gnarling who shall graw thee first.
Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were !

For, good king Henry, thy decay I fear.

[Exeunt Attendants, with GLOSTER. K. Hen. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best, Do, or undo, as if ourself were here.

Q. Mar. What, will your highness leave the parliament ? K. Hen. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drowned 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 honor, truth, and loyalty!

And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come,
That e'er I proved thee false, or feared thy faith.
What lowering star now envies thy estate,
That these great lords, and Margaret our queen,
Do seek subversion 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 dimmed 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.

[Exit.

Q. Mar. Free lords; cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams. Henry my lord is cold in great affairs,

Too full of foolish pity; and Gloster's show
Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting passengers;
Or as the snake, rolled in a flowering bank,
With shining, checkered slough, doth sting a child,
That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent.
Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I,
(And yet, herein, I judge mine own wit good,)
This Gloster should be quickly rid the world,
To rid us from the fear we have of hira.

Car. That he should die, is worthy policy;
But yet we want a color for his death:
'Tis meet he be condemned by course of law.
Suff. But, in my mind, that were no poliey;
The king will labor still to save his life;
The commons haply rise to save his life;
And yet we have but trivial argument,

More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death.
York. So that, by this, you would not have him die.
Suff. Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I.

York. 'Tis York that hath more reason for his death.— But, my lord cardinal, and you, my lord of Suffolk,Say as you think, and speak it from your souls,—— Wer't not all one, an empty eagle were set

To guard the chicken from a hungry kite,

As place duke Humphrey for the king's protector?
Q. Mar. So the poor chicken should be sure of death.
Suff. Madam, 'tis true; and wer't not madness, then,
To make the fox surveyor of the fold?

Who being accused a crafty murderer,
His guilt should be but idly posted over,
Because his purpose is not executed.
No; let him die, in that he is a fox,
By nature proved an enemy to the flock,

Before his chaps be stained with crimson blood;
As Humphrey, proved by reasons, to my liege.
And do not stand on quillets, how to slay him:
Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety,

D*

Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how,
So he be dead; for that is good deceit
Which mates him first, that first intends deceit.
Q. Mar. Thrice-noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke.
Suff. Not resolute, except so much were done;
For things are often spoke, and seldom meant:
But, that my heart accordeth with my tongue,-
Seeing the deed is meritorious,

And to preserve my sovereign from his foe,-
Say but the word, and I will be his priest.

Car. But I would have him dead, my lord of Suffolk,

Ere you can take due orders for a priest:

Say you consent, and censure well the deed,
And I'll provide his executioner,

I tender so the safety of my liege.

Suff. Here is my hand; the deed is worthy doing. Q. Mar. And so say I.

York. And I; and now we three have spoke it, It skills not greatly who impugns our doom.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain, To signify that rebels there are up,

And put the Englishmen unto the sword:

Send succors, lords, and stop the rage betime,
Before the wound do grow incurable;

For, being green, there is great hope of help.
Car. A breach, that craves a quick, expedient stop!
What counsel give you in this weighty cause?
York. That Somerset be sent as regent thither:
'Tis meet, that lucky ruler be employed;
Witness the fortune he hath had in France.

Som. If York, with all his far-fet policy,
Had been the regent there instead of me,
He never would have staid in France so long.
York. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done.
I rather would have lost my life betimes,

Than bring a burden of dishonor home,

By staying there so long, till all were lost.
Show me one scar charáctered on thy skin;
Men's flesh preserved so whole, do seldom win.

Q. Mar. Nay, then, this spark will prove a raging fire,
If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with:-
No more, good York:-sweet Somerset, be still:—
Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there,
Might happily have proved far worse than his.

York. What, worse than naught? nay, then a shame

take all!

Som. And in the number, thee, that wishest shame!
Car. My lord of York, try what your fortune is.
The uncivil kernes of Ireland are in arms,
And temper clay with blood of Englishmen;
To Ireland will you lead a band of men,
Collected choicely, from each county some,
And try your hap against the Irishmen?

York. I will, my lord, so please his majesty.
Suff. Why, our authority is his consent;
And what we do establish, he confirms:
Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand.
York. I am content. Provide me soldiers, lords,
Whiles I take order for mine own affairs.

Suff. A charge, lord York, that I will see performed.
But now return we to the false duke Humphrey.
Car. No more of him; for I will deal with him,
That, henceforth, he shall trouble us no more.
And so break off; the day is almost spent:
Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event.
York. My lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days,
At Bristol I expect my soldiers;

For there I'll ship them all for Ireland.

Suff. I'll see it truly done, my lord of York.

[Exeunt all but YORK. York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts,

And change risdoubt to resolution.

Be that thou hop'st to be; or what thou art

Resign to death; it is not worth the enjoying.

Let pale-faced fear keep with the mean-born man,

And find no harbor in a royal heart.

Faster than spring-time showers, comes thought on thought;

And not a thought, but thinks on dignity.

My brain, more busy than the laboring spider,

Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.

Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done,

To send me packing with a host of men;

I fear me, you but warm the starved snake,

Who, cherished in your breasts, will sting your hearts. 'Twas men I lacked, and you will give them me;

I take it kindly; yet, be well assured

You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.
Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
I will stir up in England some black storm,
Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven, or hell;

And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage
Until the golden circuit on my head,
Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams,
Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.
And, for a minister of my intent,

I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman,
John Cade of Ashford,

To make commotion, as full well he can,
Under the title of John Mortimer.

In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade
Oppose himself against a troop of kernes;

And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts
Were almost like a sharp-quilled porcupine;
And, in the end being rescued, I have seen him
Caper upright like a wild Morisco,

Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells.
Full often, like a shag-haired crafty kerne,
Hath he conversed with the enemy;
And undiscovered come to me again,
And given me notice of their villanies.
This devil here shall be my substitute;
For that John Mortimer which now is dead,
In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble;
By this I shall perceive the commons' mind,
How they affect the house and claim of York.
Say, he be taken, racked, and tortured;
I know no pain they can inflict upon him,
Will make him say-I moved him to those arms.
Say, that he thrive, (as 'tis great like he will,)
Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength,
And reap the harvest which that rascal sowed;
For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,
And Henry put apart, the next for me.

SCENE II. Bury. A Room in the Palace.

Enter certain Murderers, hastily.

[Exit.

1 Mur. Run to my lord of Suffolk; let him know, We have despatched the duke, as he commanded.

2 Mur. O, that it were to do!-What have we done? Didst ever hear a man so penitent?

Enter SUFFOLK.

1 Mur. Here comes my lord.

Suff.

Despatched this thing?

Now, sirs, have you