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 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?— And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays, So mighty are his vowèd enemies. His fortunes I will weep; and, 'twixt each groan, Say, "Who's a traitor, Gloster he is none." [Exit. Q. Mar. Free (37) 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 This Gloster should be quickly rid the world, Car. That he should die is worthy policy; Suf. But, in my mind, that were no policy: More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death. York. So that, by this, you would not have him die. York. 'Tis York that hath more reason for his death.— But, my lord cardinal, and you, my Lord of Suffolk,— As place Duke Humphrey for the king's protector? Q. Mar. So the poor chicken should be sure of death. Suf. Madam, 'tis true; and were't not madness, then, To make the fox surveyor of the fold? Who being accus'd 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 prov'd an enemy to the flock, Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood,— As Humphrey, (38) prov'd by reasons, to my liege. And do not stand on quillets how to slay him: Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety, 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. Suf. 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. Suf. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing. 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 succours, lords, and stop the rage betime, Before the wound do grow uncurable; 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 employ'd; York. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done: 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:- Might happily have prov'd far worse than his. York. What, worse than naught? nay, then, a shame take all! Som. And, in the number, thee that wishest shame! York. I will, my lord, so please his majesty. York. I am content: provide me soldiers, lords, Suf. A charge, Lord York, that I will see perform❜d. Car. No more of him; for I will deal with him, For there I'll ship them all for Ireland. Suf. I'll see it truly done, my Lord of York. [Exeunt all except York. York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts, And change misdoubt to resolution: Be that thou hop'st to be; or what thou art Resign to death,-it is not worth the enjoying: Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man, And find no harbour 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 labouring spider, Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done, To send me packing with an host of men: I fear me you but warm the starved snake, Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your hearts. 'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me: I take it kindly; yet be well assur'd I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman, To make commotion, as full well he can, In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade I know no pain they can inflict upon him [Exit. |