To have thee with thy lips to ftop my mouth:
So, fhouldst thou either turn my flying foul;
Or I fhould breathe it fo into thy body;
And then it liv'd in sweet Elyfium.

To die by thee, were but to die in jeft;
From thee to die, were torture more than death;
Oh! let me ftay, befal what may befal.

Q. Mar. Away; though parting be a fretful corrofive,

It is applied to a deathful wound.

To France, fweet Suffolk; let me hear from thee:
For wherefoe'er thou art in this world's globe,
I'll have an Iris, that fhall find thee out.

Suf. I go.

Q. Mar. And take my heart with thee.
Suf. A jewel lock'd into the woeful'st casket
That ever did contain a thing of worth.

Even as a splitted bark, fo funder we;
This way fall I to death.

Q. Mar. This way for me.

[Exeunt feverally.

SCENE the Cardinal's Bedchamber.

Enter King Henry, Salisbury, and Warwick, to the Cardinal in bed.

K. Henry.TOW fares my Lord? fpeak, Beauford, to thy Sovereign.

How

Car. If thou beeft death, I'll give thee England's treasure, Enough to purchase fuch another island,

So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.

K. Henry. Ah, what a fign it is of evil life,
Where death's approach is feen fo terrible!

War. Beauford, it is thy Sovereign fpeaks to thee..
Car. Bring me unto my tryal, when you will.
Dy'd he not in his bed? where should he die?
Can I make men live whe're they will or no?
Oh, torture me no more, I will confefs-
Alive again? then fhew me where he is:
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him
He hath no eyes, the duft hath blinded them:
Comb down his hair; look! look! it stands upright,

Like lime-twigs fet to catch my winged foul:
Give me fome drink, and bid th' apothecary
Bring the ftrong poifon that I bought of him.
K. Henry. O thou eternal Mover of the heav'ns,
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch;
Oh, beat away the bufy, medling, fiend,
That lays ftrong fiege unto this wretch's foul,
And from his bofom purge this black defpair.
War. See, how the pangs of death do make him grin!
Sal. Disturb him not, let him pafs peaceably.

K. Henry, Peace to his foul, if God's good pleasure be!
Lord Cardinal, if thou think'ft on heaven's blifs,
Hold up thy hand, make fignal of thy hope.
He dies, and makes no fign! O God, forgive him.
War. So bad a death argues a monftrous life.
K. Henry. Forbear to judge, for we are finners all.
Clofe up his eyes, and draw the curtain close,
And let us all to meditation.

[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE, the Coast of Kent.

Alarum. Fight at fea. Ordnance goes off. Enter Captain, Whitmore, and other Pirates, with Suffolk and other prisoners.

T

CAPTAIN.

HE gaudy, babbling, and remorseful day
Is crept into the bofom of the fea:

And now loud howling wolves aroufe the jades,
That drag the tragick melancholy night;
Who with their drowfy, flow, and flagging wings
Clip dead mens graves; and from their mifty jaws
Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.
Therefore bring forth the foldiers of our prize:
For whilft our pinnace anchors in the Downs,

Here

Here shall they make their ran fom on the fand;
Or with their blood ftain this difcolour'd shore.
Mafter, this prifoner freely give I thee;

And thou, that art his mate, make boot of this:
The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy fhare.

1 Gent. What is my raníom, mafter, let me know. Maft. A thoufand crowns, or elfe lay down your head. Mate. And fo much shall you give, or off goes yours. Whit.What, think you much to pay two thoufand crowns, And bear the name and port of gentlemen?

Cut both the villains throats, for die you fhall:
Nor can those lives, which we have loft in fight,
Be counter-pois'd with such a petty fum.

1 Gent. I'll give it, Sir, and therefore spare my life. 2 Gent. And fo will I, and write home for it ftraight. Whit. I loft mine eye in laying the prize aboard,

And therefore, to revenge it, fhalt thou die; [To Suffolk. And fo fhould these, if I might have my will.

Cap. Be not fo rash, take ransome, let him live. Suf. Look on my George, I am a gentleman; Rate me at what thou wilt, thou fhalt be paid

Whit. And fo am I; my name is Walter Whitmore. How now? why start'ft thou? what, doth death affright? Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whofe found is death. A cunning man did calculate my birth,

And told me that by water I should die :
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded,
Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly founded.

Whit. Gualtier or Walter, which it is, I care not;
Ne'er yet did base dishonour blur our name,
But with our fword we wip'd away the blot.
Therefore, when merchant-like I fell revenge,
Broke be my fword, my arms torn and defac'd,
And I proclaim'd a coward through the world!
Suf. Stay, Whitmore; for thy prifoner is a Prince ;
The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.

Whit. The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags ? Suf. Ay, but thefe rags are no part of the Duke. Jove fometimes went difguis'd, and why not I? Cap. But Jove was never flain, as thou fhalt be.

Suf.

Suf. Obfcure and lowly fwain, King Henry's blood, The honourable blood of Lancaster,

Muft not be shed by fuch a jaded groom:

Haft thou not kifs'd thy hand, and held my flirrop?
Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule,

And thought thee happy when I fhook my head?
How often haft thou waited at my cup,

Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board,
When I have feafted with Queen Margaret?
Remember it, and let it make thee creft-fal'n;
Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride.
How in our voiding lobby haft thou ftood,
And duly waited for my coming forth?
This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf,
And therefore fhall it charm thy riotous tongue.
Whit. Speak, Captain, fhall I ftab the forlorn fwain ?
Cap. First let my words ftab him, as he hath me.
Suf. Bafe flave, thy words are blunt; and fo art thou.
Cap. Convey him hence, and, on our longboat's fide,
Strike off his head.

Suf. Thou dar'ft not for thy own.
Cap. Poole, Sir Pool? Lord?

Ay, kennel-puddlefink, whofe filth and dirt
Troubles the filver fpring where England drinks :
Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth,

For fwallowing up the treasure of the realm.

Thy lips, that kifs'd the Queen, fhall fweep the ground;
And thou, that fmil'ft at good Duke Humphry's death,
Against the fenfelefs winds fhalt grin in vain,

Who in contempt fhall hifs at thee again.
And wedded be thou to the hags of hell,
For daring to affie a mighty Lord
Unto the daughter of a worthlefs King,
Having nor fubject, wealth, nor diadem!
By devilish policy art thou grown great,
And, like ambitious Sylla, over-gorg'd
With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart.
By thee Anjou and Maine were fold to France;
The falfe revolting Normans, thorough thee,
Dildain to call us Lord; and Picardy

Hath

Hath flain their Governors, furpriz'd our forts,
And fent the ragged foldiers wounded home.
The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all,
(Whose dreadful fwords were never drawn in vain)
As hating thee, are rifing up in arms.

And now the house of York (thruft from the crown)
By fhameful murder of a guiltlefs King,
And lofty proud incroaching tyranny,

Burns with revenging fire; whofe hopeful colours
Advance a half-fac'd fun ítriving to shine;
Under the which is writ, Invitis nubibus.
The commons here in Kent are up in arms:
And to conclude, reproach, and beggary
Is erept into the palace of our King,
And all by thee. Away! convey him hence.

Suf. O, that I were a god, to fhoot forth thunde" Upon these paultry, fervile, abject drudges! Small things make bafe men proud. This villain here Being Captain of a pinnace, threatens more Than Bargulus the ftrong Illyrian pirate. (14) Drones fuck not eagles blood, but rob bee-hives. It is impoffible that I should die

By fuch a lowly vaffal as thyself.

Thy words move rage, and not remorse, in me: go of meffage from the Queen to France;

I

I charge thee waft me fafely cross the channel.
Cap. Walter

Whit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death. Suf. Pana gelidus timor occupat artus: it's thee I fear. (15) Whit. Thou fhalt have cause to fear, before I leave thee. What, are ye daunted now? now will ye ftoop?

1 Gent. My gracious Lord, intreat him; speak him fair.

(14) Than Bargulus the ftrong Illyrian pirate.]

The old 4to reads, than mighty Abradas the great Macedonian pirate. Neither of these wights have I been able to trace, or difcover from what legend our author deriv'd his acquaintance with them.

(15) Pine gelidus timor occupat artus.] Thus the 1ft folio impreffion. Whence the poet glean'd this Hemiftich, I do not know. 'Tis certain, the firft word is corrupted. I believe, I have reftor'd it, as it ought to be. Suffolk would fay, the fear of that punishment, that revenge, they were about to take upon him, put his limbs into a cold trembling.

Suf