The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 199

SUFFOLK. My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answer'd; But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge, Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.

I do arrest you in His Highness' name, And here commit you to my Lord Cardinal To keep until your further time of trial.

KING HENRY. My Lord of Gloucester, 'tis my special hope That you will clear yourself from all suspense.

My conscience tells me you are innocent.

GLOUCESTER. Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous!

Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition, And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand; Foul subornation is predominant, And equity exil'd your Highness' land.

I know their complot is to have my life; And if my death might make this island happy And prove the period of their tyranny, I would expend it with all willingness.

But mine is made the prologue to their play; For thousands more that yet suspect no peril Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.

Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice, And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate; Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue The envious load that lies upon his heart; And dogged York, that reaches at the moon, Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back, By false accuse doth level at my life.

And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, Causeless have laid disgraces on my head, And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up My liefest liege to be mine enemy; Ay, all of you have laid your heads together- Myself had notice of your conventicles- And all to make away my guiltless life.

I shall not want false witness to condemn me Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt.

The ancient proverb will be well effected: 'A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.'

CARDINAL. My liege, his railing is intolerable.

If those that care to keep your royal person From treason's secret knife and traitor's rage Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at, And the offender granted scope of speech, 'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your Grace.

SUFFOLK. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd, As if she had suborned some to swear False allegations to o'erthrow his state?

QUEEN. But I can give the loser leave to chide.

GLOUCESTER. Far truer spoke than meant: I lose indeed.

Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false!

And well such losers may have leave to speak.

BUCKINGHAM. He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day.

Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner.

CARDINAL. Sirs, take away the Duke, and guard him sure.

GLOUCESTER. Ah, thus King Henry throws away his crutch Before his legs be firm to bear his body!

Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first.

Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were!

For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear. Exit, guarded KING HENRY. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best Do or undo, as if ourself were here.

QUEEN. What, will your Highness leave the Parliament?

KING HENRY. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with grief, Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes; My body round engirt with misery- For what's more miserable than discontent?

Ah, uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see The map of honour, truth, and loyalty!

And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come That e'er I prov'd thee false or fear'd thy faith.

What louring star now envies thy estate That these great lords, and Margaret our Queen, Do seek subversion of thy harmless life?

Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong; And as the butcher takes away the calf, And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays, Bearing it to the b.l.o.o.d.y slaughter-house, Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence; And as the dam runs lowing up and down, Looking the way her harmless young one went, And can do nought but wail her darling's loss, Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case With sad unhelpful tears, and with dimm'd eyes Look after him, and cannot do him good, So mighty are his vowed enemies.

His fortunes I will weep, and 'twixt each groan Say 'Who's a traitor? Gloucester he is none.' Exit QUEEN. Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams: Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, Too full of foolish pity; and Gloucester's show Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile With sorrow snares relenting pa.s.sengers; Or as the snake, roll'd in a flow'ring bank, With s.h.i.+ning checker'd slough, doth sting a child That for the beauty thinks it excellent.

Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I- And yet herein I judge mine own wit good- This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world To rid us from the fear we have of him.

CARDINAL. That he should die is worthy policy; But yet we want a colour for his death.

'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law.

SUFFOLK. But, in my mind, that were no policy: The King will labour still to save his life; The commons haply rise to save his life; And yet we have but trivial argument, More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death.

YORK. So that, by this, you would not have him die.

SUFFOLK. Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I!

YORK. 'Tis York that hath more reason for his death.

But, my Lord Cardinal, and you, my Lord of Suffolk, Say as you think, and speak it from your souls: Were't not all one an empty eagle were set To guard the chicken from a hungry kite As place Duke Humphrey for the King's Protector?

QUEEN. So the poor chicken should be sure of death.

SUFFOLK. Madam, 'tis true; and were't not madness then To make the fox surveyor of the fold?

Who being accus'd a crafty murderer, His guilt should be but idly posted over, Because his purpose is not executed.

No; let him die, in that he is a fox, By nature prov'd an enemy to the flock, Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood, As Humphrey, prov'd by reasons, to my liege.

And do not stand on quillets how to slay him; Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety, Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good deceit Which mates him first that first intends deceit.

QUEEN. Thrice-n.o.ble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke.

SUFFOLK. Not resolute, except so much were done, For things are often spoke and seldom meant; But that my heart accordeth with my tongue, Seeing the deed is meritorious, And to preserve my sovereign from his foe, Say but the word, and I will be his priest.

CARDINAL. But I would have him dead, my Lord of Suffolk, Ere you can take due orders for a priest; Say you consent and censure well the deed, And I'll provide his executioner- I tender so the safety of my liege.

SUFFOLK. Here is my hand the deed is worthy doing.

QUEEN. And so say I.

YORK. And I. And now we three have spoke it, It skills not greatly who impugns our doom.

Enter a POST

POST. Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain To signify that rebels there are up And put the Englishmen unto the sword.

Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime, Before the wound do grow uncurable; For, being green, there is great hope of help.

CARDINAL. A breach that craves a quick expedient stop!

What counsel give you in this weighty cause?

YORK. That Somerset be sent as Regent thither; 'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd, Witness the fortune he hath had in France.

SOMERSET. If York, with all his far-fet policy, Had been the Regent there instead of me, He never would have stay'd in France so long.

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

I rather would have lost my life betimes Than bring a burden of dishonour home By staying there so long till all were lost.

Show me one scar character'd on thy skin: Men's flesh preserv'd so whole do seldom win.

QUEEN. Nay then, this spark will prove a raging fire, If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with; No more, good York; sweet 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!

SOMERSET. And in the number, thee that wishest shame!

CARDINAL. 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 some, And try your hap against the Irishmen?

YORK. I will, my lord, so please his Majesty.

SUFFOLK. Why, our authority is his consent, And what we do establish he confirms; Then, n.o.ble York, take thou this task in hand.

YORK. I am content; provide me soldiers, lords, Whiles I take order for mine own affairs.

SUFFOLK. A charge, Lord York, that I will see perform'd.

But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey.

CARDINAL. No more of him; for I will deal with him That henceforth he shall trouble us no more.

And so break off; the day is almost spent.

Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event.

YORK. My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days At Bristol I expect my soldiers; For there I'll s.h.i.+p them all for Ireland.

SUFFOLK. I'll see it truly done, my Lord of York.

Exeunt all but YORK YORK. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts And change mis...o...b.. to resolution; Be that thou hop'st to be; or what thou art Resign 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.

Faster than spring-time show'rs comes thought on thought, And not a thought but thinks on dignity.

My brain, more busy than the labouring spider, Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.

Well, n.o.bles, well, 'tis politicly done To send me packing with an host of men.

I fear me you but warm the starved snake, Who, cherish'd in your b.r.e.a.s.t.s, will sting your hearts.

'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me; I take it kindly. Yet be well a.s.sur'd You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.

Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, I will stir up in England some black storm Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or h.e.l.l; And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage Until the golden circuit on my head, Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.

And for a minister of my intent I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman, John Cade of Ashford, To make commotion, as full well he can, Under the tide of John Mortimer.

In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade Oppose himself against a troop of kerns, And fought so long tiff that his thighs with darts Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine; And in the end being rescu'd, I have seen Him caper upright like a wild Morisco, Shaking the b.l.o.o.d.y darts as he his bells.

Full often, like a s.h.a.g-hair'd crafty kern, Hath he conversed with the enemy, And undiscover'd come to me again And given me notice of their villainies.

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

By this I shall 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 say 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 strength, And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd; For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, And Henry put apart, the next for me. Exit

SCENE II.