Part 16

Queene. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolke thus? Although the Duke was enemie to him, Yet he most Christian-like laments his death: And for my selfe, Foe as he was to me, Might liquid teares, or heart-offending groanes, Or blood-consuming sighes recall his Life; I would be blinde with weeping, sicke with grones, Looke pale as Prim-rose with blood-drinking sighes, And all to haue the Noble Duke aliue. What know I how the world may deeme of me? For it is knowne we were but hollow Friends: It may be iudg'd I made the Duke away, So shall my name with Slanders tongue be wounded, And Princes Courts be fill'd with my reproach: This get I by his death: Aye me vnhappie, To be a Queene, and Crown'd with infamie

King. Ah woe is me for Gloster, wretched man

Queen. Be woe for me, more wretched then he is. What, Dost thou turne away, and hide thy face? I am no loathsome Leaper, looke on me. What? Art thou like the Adder waxen deafe? Be poysonous too, and kill thy forlorne Queene. Is all thy comfort shut in Glosters Tombe? Why then Dame Elianor was neere thy ioy. Erect his Statue, and worship it, And make my Image but an Ale-house signe. Was I for this nye wrack'd vpon the Sea, And twice by aukward winde from Englands banke Droue backe againe vnto my Natiue Clime. What boaded this? but well fore-warning winde Did seeme to say, seeke not a Scorpions Nest, Nor set no footing on this vnkinde Shore. What did I then? But curst the gentle gusts, And he that loos'd them forth their Brazen Caues, And bid them blow towards Englands blessed shore, Or turne our Sterne vpon a dreadfull Rocke: Yet aeolus would not be a murtherer, But left that hatefull office vnto thee. The pretty vaulting Sea refus'd to drowne me, Knowing that thou wouldst haue me drown'd on shore With teares as salt as Sea, through thy vnkindnesse. The splitting Rockes cowr'd in the sinking sands, And would not dash me with their ragged sides, Because thy flinty heart more hard then they, Might in thy Pallace, perish Elianor. As farre as I could ken thy Chalky Cliffes, When from thy Shore, the Tempest beate vs backe, I stood vpon the Hatches in the storme: And when the duskie sky, began to rob My earnest-gaping-sight of thy Lands view, I tooke a costly Iewell from my necke, A Hart it was bound in with Diamonds, And threw it towards thy Land: The Sea receiu'd it, And so I wish'd thy body might my Heart: And euen with this, I lost faire Englands view, And bid mine eyes be packing with my Heart, And call'd them blinde and duskie Spectacles, For loosing ken of Albions wished Coast. How often haue I tempted Suffolkes tongue (The agent of thy foule inconstancie) To sit and watch me as Ascanius did, When he to madding Dido would vnfold His Fathers Acts, commenc'd in burning Troy. Am I not witcht like her? Or thou not false like him? Aye me, I can no more: Dye Elinor, For Henry weepes, that thou dost liue so long.

Noyse within. Enter Warwicke, and many Commons.

War. It is reported, mighty Soueraigne, That good Duke Humfrey Traiterously is murdred By Suffolke, and the Cardinall Beaufords meanes: The Commons like an angry Hiue of Bees That want their Leader, scatter vp and downe, And care not who they sting in his reuenge. My selfe haue calm'd their spleenfull mutinie, Vntill they heare the order of his death

King. That he is dead good Warwick, 'tis too true, But how he dyed, God knowes, not Henry: Enter his Chamber, view his breathlesse Corpes, And comment then vpon his sodaine death

War. That shall I do my Liege; Stay Salsburie With the rude multitude, till I returne

King. O thou that iudgest all things, stay my thoghts: My thoughts, that labour to perswade my soule, Some violent hands were laid on Humfries life: If my suspect be false, forgiue me God, For iudgement onely doth belong to thee: Faine would I go to chafe his palie lips, With twenty thousand kisses, and to draine Vpon his face an Ocean of salt teares, To tell my loue vnto his dumbe deafe trunke, And with my fingers feele his hand, vnfeeling: But all in vaine are these meane Obsequies,

Bed put forth.

And to suruey his dead and earthy Image: What were it but to make my sorrow greater? Warw. Come hither gracious Soueraigne, view this body

King. That is to see how deepe my graue is made, For with his soule fled all my worldly solace: For seeing him, I see my life in death

War. As surely as my soule intends to liue With that dread King that tooke our state vpon him, To free vs from his Fathers wrathfull curse, I do beleeue that violent hands were laid Vpon the life of this thrice-famed Duke

Suf. A dreadfull Oath, sworne with a solemn tongue: What instance giues Lord Warwicke for his vow

War. See how the blood is setled in his face. Oft haue I seene a timely-parted Ghost, Of ashy semblance, meager, pale, and bloodlesse, Being all descended to the labouring heart, Who in the Conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aydance 'gainst the enemy, Which with the heart there cooles, and ne're returneth, To blush and beautifie the Cheeke againe. But see, his face is blacke, and full of blood: His eye-balles further out, than when he liued, Staring full gastly, like a strangled man: His hayre vprear'd, his nostrils stretcht with strugling: His hands abroad display'd, as one that graspt And tugg'd for Life, and was by strength subdude. Looke on the sheets his haire (you see) is sticking, His well proportion'd Beard, made ruffe and rugged, Like to the Summers Corne by Tempest lodged: It cannot be but he was murdred heere, The least of all these signes were probable

Suf. Why Warwicke, who should do the D. to death? My selfe and Beauford had him in protection, And we I hope sir, are no murtherers

War. But both of you were vowed D. Humfries foes, And you (forsooth) had the good Duke to keepe: Tis like you would not feast him like a friend, And 'tis well seene, he found an enemy

Queen. Than you belike suspect these Noblemen, As guilty of Duke Humfries timelesse death

Warw. Who finds the Heyfer dead, and bleeding fresh, And sees fast-by, a Butcher with an Axe, But will suspect, 'twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the Partridge in the Puttocks Nest, But may imagine how the Bird was dead, Although the Kyte soare with vnbloudied Beake? Euen so suspitious is this Tragedie

Qu. Are you the Butcher, Suffolk? where's your Knife? Is Beauford tearm'd a Kyte? where are his Tallons? Suff. I weare no Knife, to slaughter sleeping men, But here's a vengefull Sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scowred in his rancorous heart, That slanders me with Murthers Crimson Badge. Say, if thou dar'st, prowd Lord of Warwickshire, That I am faultie in Duke Humfreyes death

Warw. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolke dare him? Qu. He dares not calme his contumelious Spirit, Nor cease to be an arrogant Controller, Though Suffolke dare him twentie thousand times

Warw. Madame be still: with reuerence may I say, For euery word you speake in his behalfe, Is slander to your Royall Dignitie

Suff. Blunt-witted Lord, ignoble in demeanor, If euer Lady wrong'd her Lord so much, Thy Mother tooke into her blamefull Bed Some sterne vntutur'd Churle; and Noble Stock Was graft with Crab-tree slippe, whose Fruit thou art, And neuer of the Neuils Noble Race

Warw. But that the guilt of Murther bucklers thee, And I should rob the Deaths-man of his Fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my Soueraignes presence makes me milde, I would, false murd'rous Coward, on thy Knee Make thee begge pardon for thy passed speech, And say, it was thy Mother that thou meant'st, That thou thy selfe wast borne in Bastardie; And after all this fearefull Homage done, Giue thee thy hyre, and send thy Soule to Hell, Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men

Suff. Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy blood, If from this presence thou dar'st goe with me

Warw. Away euen now, or I will drag thee hence: Vnworthy though thou art, Ile cope with thee, And doe some seruice to Duke Humfreyes Ghost.

Exeunt.

King. What stronger Brest-plate then a heart vntainted? Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his Quarrell iust; And he but naked, though lockt vp in Steele, Whose Conscience with Iniustice is corrupted.

A noyse within.