The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 200

Bury St. Edmunds. A room of state

Enter two or three MURDERERS running over the stage, from the murder of DUKE HUMPHREY

FIRST MURDERER. Run to my Lord of Suffolk; let him know We have dispatch'd the Duke, as he commanded.

SECOND MURDERER. O that it were to do! What have we done?

Didst ever hear a man so penitent?

Enter SUFFOLK

FIRST MURDERER. Here comes my lord.

SUFFOLK. Now, sirs, have you dispatch'd this thing?

FIRST MURDERER. Ay, my good lord, he's dead.

SUFFOLK. Why, that's well said. Go, get you to my house; I will reward you for this venturous deed.

The King and all the peers are here at hand.

Have you laid fair the bed? Is all things well, According as I gave directions?

FIRST MURDERER. 'Tis, my good lord.

SUFFOLK. Away! be gone. Exeunt MURDERERS

Sound trumpets. Enter the KING, the QUEEN, CARDINAL, SOMERSET, with attendants

KING HENRY. Go call our uncle to our presence straight; Say we intend to try his Grace to-day, If he be guilty, as 'tis published.

SUFFOLK. I'll call him presently, my n.o.ble lord. Exit KING HENRY. Lords, take your places; and, I pray you all, Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloucester Than from true evidence, of good esteem, He be approv'd in practice culpable.

QUEEN. G.o.d forbid any malice should prevail That faultless may condemn a n.o.bleman!

Pray G.o.d he may acquit him of suspicion!

KING HENRY. I thank thee, Meg; these words content me much.

Re-enter SUFFOLK

How now! Why look'st thou pale? Why tremblest thou?

Where is our uncle? What's the matter, Suffolk?

SUFFOLK. Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloucester is dead.

QUEEN. Marry, G.o.d forfend!

CARDINAL. G.o.d's secret judgment! I did dream to-night The Duke was dumb and could not speak a word.

[The KING swoons]

QUEEN. How fares my lord? Help, lords! The King is dead.

SOMERSET. Rear up his body; wring him by the nose.

QUEEN. Run, go, help, help! O Henry, ope thine eyes!

SUFFOLK. He doth revive again; madam, be patient.

KING. O heavenly G.o.d!

QUEEN. How fares my gracious lord?

SUFFOLK. Comfort, my sovereign! Gracious Henry, comfort!

KING HENRY. What, doth my Lord of Suffolk comfort me?

Came he right now to sing a raven's note, Whose dismal tune bereft my vital pow'rs; And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breast, Can chase away the first conceived sound?

Hide not thy poison with such sug'red words; Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say, Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting.

Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight!

Upon thy eye-b.a.l.l.s murderous tyranny Sits in grim majesty to fright the world.

Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding; Yet do not go away; come, basilisk, And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight; For in the shade of death I shall find joy- In life but double death,'now Gloucester's dead.

QUEEN. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus?

Although the Duke was enemy to him, Yet he most Christian-like laments his death; And for myself- foe as he was to me- Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans, Or blood-consuming sighs, recall his life, I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs, And all to have the n.o.ble Duke alive.

What know I how the world may deem of me?

For it is known we were but hollow friends: It may be judg'd I made the Duke away; So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded, And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach.

This get I by his death. Ay me, unhappy!

To be a queen and crown'd with infamy!

KING HENRY. Ah, woe is me for Gloucester, wretched man!

QUEEN. Be woe for me, more wretched than he is.

What, dost thou turn away, and hide thy face?

I am no loathsome leper- look on me.

What, art thou like the adder waxen deaf?

Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn Queen.

Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester's tomb?

Why, then Dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy.

Erect his statue and wors.h.i.+p it, And make my image but an alehouse sign.

Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the sea, And twice by awkward wind from England's bank Drove back again unto my native clime?

What boded this but well-forewarning wind Did seem to say 'Seek not a scorpion's nest, Nor set no footing on this unkind sh.o.r.e'?

What did I then but curs'd the gentle gusts, And he that loos'd them forth their brazen caves; And bid them blow towards England's blessed sh.o.r.e, Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock?

Yet Aeolus would not be a murderer, But left that hateful office unto thee.

The pretty-vaulting sea refus'd to drown me, Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown'd on sh.o.r.e With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness; The splitting rocks cow'r'd in the sinking sands And would not dash me with their ragged sides, Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, Might in thy palace perish Margaret.

As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, When from thy sh.o.r.e the tempest beat us back, I stood upon the hatches in the storm; And when the dusky sky began to rob My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view, I took a costly jewel from my neck- A heart it was, bound in with diamonds- And threw it towards thy land. The sea receiv'd it; And so I wish'd thy body might my heart.

And even with this I lost fair England's view, And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart, And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles For losing ken of Albion's wished coast.

How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue- The agent of thy foul inconstancy- To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did When he to madding Dido would unfold His father's acts commenc'd in burning Troy!

Am I not witch'd like her? Or thou not false like him?

Ay me, I can no more! Die, Margaret, For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long.

Noise within. Enter WARWICK, SALISBURY, and many commons

WARWICK. It is reported, mighty sovereign, That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is murd'red By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means.

The commons, like an angry hive of bees That want their leader, scatter up and down And care not who they sting in his revenge.

Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny Until they hear the order of his death.

KING HENRY. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true; But how he died G.o.d knows, not Henry.

Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse, And comment then upon his sudden death.

WARWICK. That shall I do, my liege. Stay, Salisbury, With the rude mult.i.tude till I return. Exit Exit SALISBURY with the commons KING HENRY. O Thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts- My thoughts that labour to persuade my soul Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life!

If my suspect be false, forgive me, G.o.d; For judgment only doth belong to Thee.

Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips With twenty thousand kisses and to drain Upon his face an ocean of salt tears To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk; And with my fingers feel his hand un-feeling; But all in vain are these mean obsequies; And to survey his dead and earthy image, What were it but to make my sorrow greater?

Bed put forth with the body. Enter WARWICK

WARWICK. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body.

KING HENRY. That is to see how deep my grave is made; For with his soul fled all my worldly solace, For, seeing him, I see my life in death.

WARWICK. As surely as my soul intends to live With that dread King that took our state upon Him To free us from his Father's wrathful curse, I do believe that violent hands were laid Upon the life of this thrice-famed Duke.

SUFFOLK. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue!

What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow?

WARWICK. See how the blood is settled in his face.

Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart, Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy, Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again.

But see, his face is black and full of blood; His eye-b.a.l.l.s further out than when he liv'd, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man; His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling; His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdu'd.

Look, on the sheets his hair, you see, is sticking; His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged, Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged.

It cannot be but he was murd'red here: The least of all these signs were probable.

SUFFOLK. Why, Warwick, who should do the Duke to death?

Myself and Beaufort had him in protection; And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers.

WARWICK. But both of you were vow'd Duke Humphrey's foes; And you, forsooth, had the good Duke to keep.