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: ah, 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 alehouse fign,
Was I for this nigh wreck'd 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 nest;
Nor fet no footing on this unkind fhore.
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 fhore,
Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock:
Yet Eolus would not be a murderer;
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 shore
With tears as falt as fea, through thy unkindness.
The splitting rocks cow'r'd in the finking fands,
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,
C 3
When from thy fhore the tempeft beat us back,
I ftood upon the hatches in the storm;
And when the dufky fky began to rob
My earneft-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 sea receiv'd it,
And fo I wifh'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 dufky fpectacles,
For lofing ken of Albion's wifhed coaft.
How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue
(The agent of thy foul inconftancy)
To fit and witch me, as Afcanius did, (11)
When he to madding Dido would unfold
His father's acts, commenc'd in burning Troy?
Am I not witcht like her? or thou not falfe like him!
(11) To fit and watch me, as Afcanius did,
When be to madding Dido would unfold
His father's as, commenc'd in burning Troy?]
The poet here is unquestionably aliuding to Virgil, (Æneid. I.) but
he ftrangely blends fact with fiction. In the first place, it was Cupid,
in the femblance of Afcanius, who fat in Dido's lap, and was fondled
by her. But then it was not Cupid, who related to her the process
of Troy's deftruction, but it was Eneas himself, who related this
history. Again, how did the fuppofed Afcanius fit and watch her?
Cupid was order'd, while Dido miftakenly carefs'd him, to bewitch
and infect her with love. To this circumftance the poet certainly
alludes; and unless he had wrote, as I have restor'd to the text;
To fit and witch me,→→→→
Why should the Queen immediately draw this inference,
Am I not witch'd like ber?
Nor is this the only place, in which we find the verb witch, us' (where the numbers require) for bewitch.
As if an angel drop'd down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus ;
And witch the world with noble horfemanship.
I'll make my heaven in a Lady's lap ;
And deck my body in gay ornaments;
And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks.
Ah me, I can no more: die, Margaret!
For Henry weeps, that thou do'ft live fo long.
Noife within. Enter Warwick, Salisbury, and many
Commons.
War. It is reported, mighty Sovereign,
That good Duke Humphry traiteroufly is murder'd
By Suffolk, and the Cardinal Beauford's means:
The Commons like an angry hive of bees
That want their leader, fcatter up and down;
And care not who they fting in their revenge."
Myfelf have calm'd their spleenful mutiny,
Until they hear the order of his death.
K. Henry. That he is dead, good Warwick,
But how he died, God knows, not Henry:
Enter his chamber, view his breathless corps,
And comment then upon his fudden death.
War. That I fhall do, my Liege: ftay, Salisbury, With the rude multitude, till I return.
K. Henry. O thou, that judgeft all things, ftay my
My thoughts, that labour to perfuade my foul,
Some violent hands were laid on Humphry's life;
If my fufpect be falfe, forgive me, God!
For judgment only doth belong to thee.
Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips
With twenty thousand kiffes, and to drain
Upon his face an ocean of falt 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 obfequies.
[Bed with Glo'fter's body put forth. And to furvey his dead and earthy image,
What were it but to make my forrow greater?
War. Come hither, gracious Sovereign, view this body. K. Henry. That is to fee how deep my grave is made: For with his foul fled all my worldly folace;
For feeing him, I fee my life in death.
War. As furely as my foul intends to live
With that dread King, that took our flate upon him,
'To free us from his Father's wrathful curfe,
I do believe, that violent hands were laid
Upon the life of this thrice famed Duke.
Suf. A dreadful oath, fworn with a folemn tongue!
What inftance gives Lord Warwick for his vow?
War. See, how the blood is fettled in his face.
Oft have I feen a timely-parted ghoft,
Of afhy femblance, meager, pale, and bloodless;
Being all defcended to the lab'ring heart,
Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
Attracts the fame for aidance 'gainst the enemy;
Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er returneth
To blush and beautify the cheek again.
But fee his face is black and full of blood;
His eye-balls further out, than when he liv'd;
Staring full-ghaftly, like a ftrangled man ;
His hair uprear'd, his noftrils ftretch'd with ftruggling:
His hands abroad difplay'd, as one that grafpt
And tugg'd for life, and was by ftrength fubdu'd.
Look on the fheets, his hair you fee is sticking;
His well proportion'd beard made rough and rugged,
Like to the fummer's corn by tempeft lodg'd:
It cannot be, but he was murder'd here:
The leaft of all these figns were probable.
Suf. Why, Warwick, who should do the Duke to death?
Myfelf and Beauford had him in protection;
And we, I hope, Sirs, are no murderers.
[death, War. But both of you have vow'd Duke Humphry's And you, forfooth, had the good Duke to keep: 'Tis like, you would not feaft him like a friend; And 'tis well feen, he found an enemy.
Q. Mar. Then you, belike, fufpect 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?
Even fo fufpicious is this tragedy.
Q. Mar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk ? where's your Is Beauford term'd a kite? where are his talons ? Suf. I wear no knife to flaughter fleeping men ; But here's a 'vengeful fword, rusted with ease, That shall 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 false 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 speak 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 flip, whose fruit thou art;
And never of the Nevil's noble race.
War. But that the guilt of murder bucklers 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,
I would, falfe 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 fhed thy blood, If from this presence 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 fervice to Duke Humphry's ghoft. [Exeunt.
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