K. Henry. What ftronger breaft-plate than a heart untainted? (12)

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

Q. Mar. What noife 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 prefence! 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.

Enter Salisbury.

Sal. Sirs, ftand apart; the King fhall know your mind.
Dread Lord, the commons fend you word by me,
Unless Lord Suffolk strait be done to death,
Or banished fair England's territories,

They will by violence tear him from your palace,
And torture him with grievous ling'ring 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 ftubborn oppofite intent,
As being thought to contradict your liking)
Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
They fay, in care of your moft royal perfon,
That if your Highnefs fhould intend to fleep,
And charge that no man fhould disturb your reft,
In pain of your diflike, or pain of death;
Yet, notwithstanding fuch a ftrait edict,

(12) What ftrorger breast-plate than a heart untainted?

Thrice is be arm'd-] The poet feems to have had in view this expreffion of Horace, (Lib. i. Ode 3.)

Illi rubor &æs triplex

Circa pectus erat, &c.

however he has varied it in the application,

Were there a ferpent feen with forked tongue,
That flily glided tow'rds your Majesty,
It were but neceffary you were wak'd;
Left, being fuffer'd in that harmful flumber,
The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal.
And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
That they will guard you whe're you will or no,
From fuch fell ferpents as falfe Suffolk is;
With whofe invenomed and fatal fting
Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
They fay, is fhamefully bereft of life.

Commons within. An answer from the King, my Lord of Salisbury.

Suf. "Tis like, the Commons, rude unpolish'd hinds, Could fend fuch meffage to their Sovereign:

But you, my Lord, were glad to be employed,
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 anfwer from the King, or we will all break in.

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 intreat; For, fure, my thoughts do hourly prophecy Mifchance unto my ftate by Suffolk's means. And therefore by his Majefty I swear, Whose far unworthy Deputy I am,

He shall 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 increafe 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,
C 6

The

The world shall not be ranfom for thy life.

Come, Warwick; come, good Warwick; go with me; I have great matters to impart to thee.

[Exeunt K. Henry and Warwick, &c.

Manent Suffolk and Queen.

Q. Mar. Mifchance and forrow 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, these execrations;

And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.

Q. Mar. Fy, coward woman, and soft-hearted wretch, Haft thou not spirit to curfe thine enemy?

Suf. A plague upon them! wherefore fhould I curfe them?
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 loathfome cave.
My tongue fhould ftumble in mine earnest words,
Mine eyes fhould sparkle like the beaten flint,
Mine hair be fixt on end like one diftract:
Ay, ev'ry joint should seem to curfe and ban.
And even now my burden'd heart would break,
Should I not curse them. Poifon be their drink!
Gall, worse than gall, the daintieft meat they taste!
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees!
Their chiefeft prospect murd'ring bafilifks!
Their fofteft touch, as fmart as lizard's ftings! (13)

Their

(13) as fmart as lizards' ftings!] In feveral other paffages, I have obferv'd, our poet fpeaks of the lizard, fo inoffenfive with us, as of a noxious animal. I don't know, whether in Italy these reptiles be venomous, or no; or whether, by lizard, the poet means ferpent, as Virgil is faid to do, Eclog. 2. v. 9.

Nunc virides etiam occultant fpineta Lacertos. Lacertos.] Genus ferpentis; fays Servius. But we know thefe animals are terrible and noxious in fume parts of the world; as in the island of Java, for in

ftance,

Their mufick frightful as the ferpent's hiss!
And boading fcreech-owls make the concert full!
All the foul terrors in dark-feated hell-

Q. Mar. Enough, fweet Suffolk, thou torment'ft thyself;
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 winter's night,
Though standing naked on a mountain top,
Where biting cold would never let grafs grow,
And think it but a minute spent in fport.

Q. Mar. Oh, let me intreat thee cease; give me thy hand,
That I may dew it with my mournful tears;
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,
To wash away my woeful monuments.
Oh, could this kifs be printed in thy hand,
That thou might'ft think upon thefe by the feal,
Through whom a thousand fighs are breath'd for thee.
So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;
'Tis but furmis'd, whilft thou art ftanding by:
As one that furfeits, thinking on a want.
I will repeal thee, or, be well affur'd,
Adventure to be banished myself;

And banished I am, if but from thee.
Go, speak not to me; even now be

gone

Oh, go not yet-Ev'n thus two friends condemn'd
Embrace and kifs, and take ten thousand leaves,
Loather a hundred times to part than die :
Yet now farewel, and farewel life with thee!
Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished,

Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee.

ftance. In Sylvis Javæ, in paludibus & coeno, Lacertæ quoddam genus, aut, ut aptius dicam, crocodili terreftris fpecies.--Nullus, ex plurimis quos vidi, ultra quinque pedes excreverat. Ferunt tamen Javani, fevos et majores in montibus verfari. Animal per totum Vertebrarum dorfi proceffum ferratum eft, cute rugosa et fquamoja, fæde viridi & maculofa ; ita ut folo afpectu fuo infuetis borrorem incutiat. Bontius in Natural. Hiftor, lib. v. c. 4.

1

'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence; A wilderness is populous enough,

So Suffolk had thy heav'nly company.

For where thou art, there is the world itself;
With ev'ry fev'ral pleafure in the world:
And where thou art not, defolation.

I can no more- Live thou to joy thy life;
Myself no joy in aught but that thou liv'ft.

Enter Vaux.

Q. Mar. Whither goes Vaux fo faft? what news, I
Vaux. To fignify unto his Majefty,

That Cardinal Beauford is at point of death:
For fuddenly a grievous ficknefs took him,

[pr'ythee?

That makes him gasp, and ftare, and catch the air,
Blafpheming God, and curfing men on earth.
Sometimes he talks, as if Duke Humphry's ghoft
Were by his fide; fometimes, he calls the King;
And whispers to his pillow, as to him,
The fecrets of his over-charged foul:
And I am fent to tell his Majefty,
That even now he cries aloud for him.

Q. Mar. Go tell this heavy meffage to the King.

[Ex. Vaux
Ay me! what is this world? what news are these?
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor lofs,
Omitting Suffolk's exile, my foul's treasure?
Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
And with the fouthern clouds contend in tears?
Theirs for the earth's increafe; mine for my forrows.
Now, get thee hence; the King, thou know'ft, is coming
If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.

Suf. If I depart from thee, I cannot live;
And in thy fight to die, what were it else,
But like a pleasant flumber in thy lap?
Here could I breathe my foul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe
Dying with mother's dug between its lips.
Where, from thy fight, I fhould be raging mad,
And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes;