Page images
PDF
EPUB

York. That Somerset be fent a regent thither: 'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd: Witness the fortune he hath had in France.

Som. If York, with all his far-fetch'd policy,
Had been the regent there instead of me,
He never would have staid in France fo long.
York. No, not to lose it all, as thou haft done :
I rather would have loft my life betimes,
Than bring a burden of dishonour home,
By staying there fo long, till all were loft.
Shew me one scar, character'd on thy skin:
Mens flesh preferv'd fo whole, do feldom win.

Q. Mar. Nay, then this fpark will prove a raging fire,
If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with :
No more, good York; fweet Somerset, be still.
Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there,
Might happily have prov'd far worse than his.

York. What, worse than nought? nay, then a shame take all!

Som. And, in the number, thee that witheft shame!
Car. My Lord of York, try what your fortune is ;
Th' uncivil Kerns 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 fome,
And try your hap against the Irishmen?

York. I will, my Lord, fo please his Majesty.
Suf. Why, our authority is his confent;
And what we do establish, he confirms;
Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand.

York. I am content: provide me foldiers, Lords,
Whilft I take order for mine own affairs.

Suf. A charge, Lord York, that I will fee perform'd: But now return we to the falfe Duke Humphry. Car. No more of him: for I will deal with him, That henceforth he fhall trouble us no more: And fo break off: the day is almost spent : Lord Suffolk, you and I muft talk of that event. York. My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days At Bristol I expect my foldiers;

For

For there I'll ship them all for Ireland.

Suf. I'll fee it truly done, my Lord of York. [Exeunt.

Manet York.

York. Now, York, or never, fteel thy fearful thoughts, And change misdoubt to refolution :

Be that thou hop'it to be, or what thou art
Refign to death, it is not worth th' enjoying :

Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man,
And find no harbour in a royal heart.

[thought,

Fafter than fpring-time fhow'rs, comes thought on
And not a thought but thinks on dignity.

My brain, more busy than the lab'ring fpider,
Weaves tedious fnares to trap mine enemies.
Well, nobles, well; 'tis politickly done,
To fend me packing with an hoft of men:
I fear me, you but warm the ftarved snake,
Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will fting your hearts
'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me;
I take it kindly yet be well affur'd,

You put fharp weapons in a mad-man's hands.
Whilft I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
I will ftir up in England fome black storm,
Shall blow ten thousand fouls to heav'n or hell.
And this fell tempeft fhall not cease to rage,
Until the golden circuit on my head,
(Like to the glorious fun's tranfparent beams)
Do calm the fury of this mad-brain'd flaw.
And, for a minifter of my intent,

I have feduc'd a headstrong Kentish man,
John Cade of Abford,

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

In Ireland have I feen this ftubborn Cade

Oppofe himself against à troop of Kerns;

And fought fo long, till that his thighs with darts
Were almost like a fharp-quill'd porcupine:
And, in the end being refcu'd, I have feen
Him caper upright like a wild Morifco,
Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells.
VOL. V.
C

Full

Full often, like a fhag-hair'd crafty Kern,
Hath he converfed with the enemy;
And undiscover'd come to me again,
And given me notice of their villanies.
This devil here shall be my fubftitute;
For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,
In face, in gait, in fpeech he doth resemble.
By this, I fhall perceive the commons' mind;
How they affect the house and claim of York.
Say, he be taken, rack'd and tortured ;
I know no pain they can inflict upon him,
Will make him fay I mov'd him to those arms.
Say, that he thrive; as 'tis great like, he will;
Why, then, from Ireland come I with my ftrength,
And reap the harveft which that rascal fow'd:
For Humphry being dead, as he fhall be,
And Henry put a-part, the next for me.

SCENE, an Apartment in the Palace.

[Exit.

Enter two or three, running over the Stage, from the murder of Duke Humphry.

I.

R

UN to my Lord of Suffolk; let him know,

We have difpatch'd the Duke, as he commanded. 2. Oh, that it were to do! what have we done? Didst ever hear a man fo penitent?

Enter Suffolk.

1. Here comes my Lord.

Suf. Now, Sirs, have you difpatch'd this thing? 1. Ay, my good Lord, he's dead.

Suf. Why, that's well faid. Go, get you to my houfe;

I will reward you for this vent'rous deed:

The King and all the Peers are here at hand..

Have you laid fair the bed? are all things well,

According as I gave directions?

1. Yes, my good Lord.

Suf. Away, be gone.

[Exeunt Murderers.

Enter

Enter King Henry, the Queen, Cardinal, Somerfet, with Attendants.

K. Henry. Go, call our uncle to our prefence ftrait : Say, we intend to try his Grace to-day,

If he be guilty, as 'tis published.

Suf. I'll call him prefently, my noble Lord.

[Exit.

K. Henry. Lords, take your places: and, I pray you all, Proceed no ftraiter 'gainst our uncle Glofter,

Than from true evidence, of good esteem,

He be approv'd in practice culpable.

Q. Mar. God forbid, any malice fhould prevail, That faultlefs may condemn a nobleman!

Pray God, he may acquit him of suspicion!

K. Henry. I thank thee: well, these words content me much. (10)

(10) I thank thee, Nell, these words content me much.] This is K. Henry's reply to his wife Margaret. Our poet, I remember, in his King John, makes Falconbridge the baftard, upon his first stepping into honour, fay, that he will study to forget his old acquaintance; And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names.

But, furely, this is wide of King Henry's cafe; and it can be no reason why he fhould forget his own wife's name, and call her Nell inftead of Margaret.. Perhaps, it may be alledg'd, that the blunder was original in the poet; that his head was full of another character, which he introduces in this play, Eleanor Dutchess of Gloucefter, whom her husband frequently calls Nell: and thence thro' inadvertence he might flip into this mistake. Were this to be allow'd the cafe, is not the mistake therefore to be rectified. As the change of a fingle letter fets all right, I am much more willing to suppose it came from his pen thus:

I thank thee: Well; these words content me much.

K. Henry was a Prince of great piety and meekness, a great lover of his uncle Gloucefter, whom his nobles were rigidly perfecuting; and to whom he fufpected the Queen bore no very good will in her heart: But finding her, beyond his hopes, speak fo candidly in the Duke's cafe, he is mightily comforted and contented at her impartial feeming. I believe every body in converfation must have obferv'd, that, well, is used to exprefs an air of fatisfaction, when any incident in life goes to our wish; or any purpose, that was dreaded, happens to be disappointed.—I amended this paffage in my SHAKESPEARE refter'd, and Mr. Pope has fince embrac'd the correction.

[blocks in formation]

Enter Suffolk.

How now why look'st thou pale? why trembleft thou?
Where is our uncle? what's the matter, Suffolk?
Suf. Dead in his bed, my Lord; Glo'fter is dead.
Q. Mar. Marry, God forfend!

Car. God's fecret judgment: I did dream to-night, The Duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. [King woons. Q. Mar. How fares my Lord? help, Lords, the King is dead.

Som. Rear up his body, wring him by the nofe.

Q. Mar. Run, go, help, help: oh, Henry, ope thine eyes.
Suf. He doth revive again; Madam, be patient.
K. Henry. O heavenly God!

Q. Mar. How fares my gracious Lord?

Suf. Comfort, my Sovereign; gracious Henry, comfort. K. Henry. What, doth my Lord of Suffolk comfort me? Came he right now to fing a raven's note, Whose dismal tune bereft my vital pow'rs: And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breaft, Can chafe away the first-conceived found? Hide not thy poison with such fugar'd words; Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I fay; Their touch affrights me as a ferpent's fting. Thou baleful meflenger, out of my fight! Upon thy eye-balls murd'rous tyranny Sits in grim majefty to fright the world. Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding! Yet do not go away; come, bafilifk, And kill the innocent gazer with thy fight:

For in the shade of death I shall find joy;

In life, but double death, now Glo'fter's dead.

Q. Mar. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus? Although the Duke was enemy to him,

Yet he, most chriftian-like, laments his death.
And for myself, foe as he was to me,

Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans,
Or blood confuming fighs recal his life;

[ocr errors]
« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »