Shakespeare's First Folio Part 374

Exit Gloster.

King. My Lords, what to your wisdomes seemeth best, Doe, or vndoe, as if our selfe were here

Queene. What, will your Highnesse leaue the Parliament?

King. I Margaret: my heart is drown'd with griefe, Whose floud begins to flowe within mine eyes; My Body round engyrt with miserie: For what's more miserable then Discontent?

Ah Vnckle Humfrey, in thy face I see The Map of Honor, Truth, and Loyaltie: And yet, good Humfrey, is the houre to come, That ere I prou'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith.

What lowring Starre now enuies thy estate?

That these great Lords, and Margaret our Queene, Doe seeke subuersion of thy harmelesse Life.

Thou neuer didst them wrong, nor no man wrong: And as the Butcher takes away the Calfe, And binds the Wretch, and beats it when it strayes, Bearing it to the b.l.o.o.d.y Slaughter-house; Euen so remorselesse haue they borne him hence: And as the Damme runnes lowing vp and downe, Looking the way her harmelesse young one went, And can doe naught but wayle her Darlings losse; Euen so my selfe bewayles good Glosters case With sad vnhelpefull teares, and with dimn'd eyes; Looke after him, and cannot doe him good: So mightie are his vowed Enemies.

His fortunes I will weepe, and 'twixt each groane, Say, who's a Traytor? Gloster he is none.

Enter.

Queene. Free Lords: Cold Snow melts with the Sunnes hot Beames: Henry, my Lord, is cold in great Affaires, Too full of foolish pittie: and Glosters shew Beguiles him, as the mournefull Crocodile With sorrow snares relenting pa.s.sengers; Or as the Snake, roll'd in a flowring Banke, With shining checker'd slough doth sting a Child, That for the beautie thinkes it excellent.

Beleeue me Lords, were none more wise then I, And yet herein I iudge mine owne Wit good; This Gloster should be quickly rid the World, To rid vs from the feare we haue of him

Card. That he should dye, is worthie pollicie, But yet we want a Colour for his death: 'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of Law

Suff. But in my minde, that were no pollicie: The King will labour still to saue his Life, The Commons haply rise, to saue his Life; And yet we haue but triuiall argument, More then mistrust, that shewes him worthy death

Yorke. So that by this, you would not haue him dye

Suff. Ah Yorke, no man aliue, so faine as I

Yorke. 'Tis Yorke that hath more reason for his death.

But my Lord Cardinall, and you my Lord of Suffolke, Say as you thinke, and speake it from your Soules: Wer't not all one, an emptie Eagle were set, To guard the Chicken from a hungry Kyte, As place Duke Humfrey for the Kings Protector?

Queene. So the poore Chicken should be sure of death

Suff. Madame 'tis true: and wer't not madnesse then, To make the Fox surueyor of the Fold?

Who being accus'd a craftie Murtherer, His guilt should be but idly posted ouer, Because his purpose is not executed.

No: let him dye, in that he is a Fox, By nature prou'd an Enemie to the Flock, Before his Chaps be stayn'd with Crimson blood, As Humfrey prou'd by Reasons to my Liege.

And doe not stand on Quillets how to slay him: Be it by Gynnes, by Snares, by Subtletie, Sleeping, or Waking, 'tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good deceit, Which mates him first, that first intends deceit

Queene. Thrice n.o.ble Suffolke, 'tis resolutely spoke

Suff. Not resolute, except so much were done, For things are often spoke, and seldome meant, But that my heart accordeth with my tongue, Seeing the deed is meritorious, And to preserue my Soueraigne from his Foe, Say but the word, and I will be his Priest

Card. But I would haue him dead, my Lord of Suffolke, Ere you can take due Orders for a Priest: Say you consent, and censure well the deed, And Ile prouide his Executioner, I tender so the safetie of my Liege

Suff. Here is my Hand, the deed is worthy doing

Queene. And so say I

Yorke. And I: and now we three haue spoke it, It skills not greatly who impugnes our doome.

Enter a Poste.

Post. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amaine, To signifie, that Rebels there are vp, And put the Englishmen vnto the Sword.

Send Succours (Lords) and stop the Rage betime, Before the Wound doe grow vncurable; For being greene, there is great hope of helpe

Card. A Breach that craues a quick expedient stoppe.

What counsaile giue you in this weightie cause?

Yorke. That Somerset be sent as Regent thither: 'Tis meet that luckie Ruler be imploy'd, Witnesse the fortune he hath had in France

Som. If Yorke, with all his farre-fet pollicie, Had beene the Regent there, in stead of me, He neuer would haue stay'd in France so long

Yorke. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done.

I rather would haue lost my Life betimes, Then bring a burthen of dis-honour home, By staying there so long, till all were lost.

Shew me one skarre, character'd on thy Skinne, Mens flesh preseru'd so whole, doe seldome winne

Qu. Nay then, this sparke will proue a raging fire, If Wind and Fuell be brought, to feed it with: No more, good Yorke; sweet Somerset be still.

Thy fortune, Yorke, hadst thou beene Regent there, Might happily haue prou'd farre worse then his

Yorke. What, worse then naught? nay, then a shame take all

Somerset. And in the number, thee, that wishest shame

Card. My Lord of Yorke, trie what your fortune is: Th' vnciuill Kernes of Ireland are in Armes, And temper Clay with blood of Englishmen.

To Ireland will you leade a Band of men, Collected choycely, from each Countie some, And trie your hap against the Irishmen?

Yorke. I will, my Lord, so please his Maiestie

Suff. Why, our Authoritie is his consent, And what we doe establish, he confirmes: Then, n.o.ble Yorke, take thou this Taske in hand

Yorke. I am content: Prouide me Souldiers, Lords, Whiles I take order for mine owne affaires

Suff. A charge, Lord Yorke, that I will see perform'd.

But now returne we to the false Duke Humfrey

Card. No more of him: for I will deale with him, That henceforth he shall trouble vs no more: And so breake off, the day is almost spent, Lord Suffolke, you and I must talke of that euent

Yorke. My Lord of Suffolke, within foureteene dayes At Bristow I expect my Souldiers, For there Ile shippe them all for Ireland

Suff. Ile see it truly done, my Lord of Yorke.

Exeunt.

Manet Yorke.

Yorke. Now Yorke, or neuer, steele thy fearfull thoughts, And change mis...o...b.. to resolution; Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art; Resigne to death, it is not worth th' enioying: Let pale-fac't feare keepe with the meane-borne man, And finde no harbor in a Royall heart.

Faster the[n] Spring-time showres, comes thoght on thoght, And not a thought, but thinkes on Dignitie.

My Brayne, more busie then the laboring Spider, Weaues tedious Snares to trap mine Enemies.

Well n.o.bles, well: 'tis politikely done, To send me packing with an Hoast of men: I feare me, you but warme the starued Snake, Who cherisht in your b.r.e.a.s.t.s, will sting your hearts.

'Twas men I lackt, and you will giue them me; I take it kindly: yet be well a.s.sur'd, You put sharpe Weapons in a mad-mans hands.

Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mightie Band, I will stirre vp in England some black Storme, Shall blowe ten thousand Soules to Heauen, or h.e.l.l: And this fell Tempest shall not cease to rage, Vntill the Golden Circuit on my Head, Like to the glorious Sunnes transparant Beames, Doe calme the furie of this mad-bred Flawe.

And for a minister of my intent, I haue seduc'd a head-strong Kentishman, Iohn Cade of Ashford, To make Commotion, as full well he can, Vnder the t.i.tle of Iohn Mortimer.

In Ireland haue I seene this stubborne Cade Oppose himselfe against a Troupe of Kernes, And fought so long, till that his thighes with Darts Were almost like a sharpe-quill'd Porpentine: And in the end being rescued, I haue seene Him capre vpright, like a wilde Morisco, Shaking the b.l.o.o.d.y Darts, as he his Bells.

Full often, like a s.h.a.g-hayr'd craftie Kerne, Hath he conuersed with the Enemie, And vndiscouer'd, come to me againe, And giuen me notice of their Villanies.

This Deuill here shall be my subst.i.tute; For that Iohn Mortimer, which now is dead, In face, in gate, in speech he doth resemble.

By this, I shall perceiue the Commons minde, How they affect the House and Clayme of Yorke.

Say he be taken, rackt, and tortured; I know, no paine they can inflict vpon him, Will make him say, I mou'd him to those Armes.