QUEEN MARGARET    Why do you rate57 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-offending61 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 noble duke alive.

  What know I how the world may deem66 of me?

  For it is known we were but hollow67 friends:

  It may be judged I made the duke away.

  So shall my name with slander’s tongue be wounded,

  And princes’ courts be filled with my reproach70:

  This get I by his death: ay me, unhappy,

  To be a queen, and crowned with infamy.

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

  QUEEN MARGARET    Be woe74 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, waxen77 deaf?

  Be poisonous too and kill thy forlorn78 queen.

  Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester’s tomb?

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

  Erect his statue and worship it,

  And make my image but an ale-house sign.

  Was I for this nigh83 wracked upon the sea

  And twice by awkward wind from England’s bank84

  Drove back again unto my native clime85?

  What boded this, but86 well forewarning wind

  Did seem to say ‘Seek not a scorpion’s nest,

  Nor set no footing on this unkind88 shore’?

  What did I then, but cursed the gentle89 gusts

  And he that loosed them forth90 their brazen caves,

  And bid them blow towards England’s blessèd shore,

  Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock?

  Yet Aeolus93 would not be a murderer,

  But left that hateful office unto thee.

  The pretty95 vaulting sea refused to drown me,

  Knowing that thou wouldst have me drowned on shore

  With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkindness.

  The splitting rocks cowered in the sinking sands98,

  And would not dash me with their ragged sides,

  Because100 thy flinty heart, more hard than they,

  Might in thy palace perish101 Margaret.

  As far as I could ken102 thy chalky cliffs,

  When from thy shore the tempest beat us back,

  I stood upon the hatches104 in the storm,

  And when the dusky sky began to rob

  My earnest-gaping106 sight of thy land’s view,

  I took a costly jewel from my neck —

  A heart it was, bound in with108 diamonds —

  And threw it towards thy land. The sea received it,

  And so I wished thy body might my heart:

  And even with this, I lost fair England’s view,

  And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart112,

  And called them blind and dusky spectacles,

  For losing ken of Albion’s wishèd114 coast.

  How often have I tempted Suffolk’s tongue,

  The agent116 of thy foul inconstancy,

  To sit and witch117 me as Ascanius did,

  When he to madding118 Dido would unfold

  His father’s acts commenced in burning Troy.

  Am I not witched like her? Or thou not false120 like him?

  Ay me, I can no more121: 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 murdered

  By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort’s means:

  The commons, like an angry hive of bees

  That want127 their leader, scatter up and down

  And care not who they sting in his revenge128.

  Myself have calmed their spleenful129 mutiny,

  Until they hear the order130 of his death.

  KING HENRY VI    That he is dead, good Warwick, ’tis too true:

  But how he died, God knows, not Henry:

  Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,

  And comment then upon134 his sudden death.

  WARWICK    That shall I do, my liege.— Stay, Salisbury,

  With the rude136 multitude till I return.

  [Exeunt Warwick, Salisbury and Commons]

  KING HENRY VI    O, thou that judgest all things, stay137 my thoughts:

  My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul

  Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey’s life:

  If my suspect140 be false, forgive me, God,

  For judgement only doth belong to thee:

  Fain would I go to chafe his paly142 lips

  With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain

  Upon his face an ocean of salt tears,

  To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk145,

  And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling:

  But all in vain are these mean obsequies147;.

  Bed put forth

  And to survey his dead and earthy image:

  What were it but to make my sorrow greater?

  [Enter Warwick to reveal Gloucester’s body in his bed]

  WARWICK    Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body.

  KING HENRY VI    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 death153.

  WARWICK    As surely as my soul intends to live

  With that dread king155 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-famèd158 duke.

  SUFFOLK    A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue:

  What instance160 gives Lord Warwick for his vow?

  WARWICK    See how the blood is settled161 in his face.

  Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost162,

  Of ashy semblance, meagre163, pale and bloodless,

  Being164 all descended to the labouring heart,

  Who in the conflict that it holds with death,

  Attracts the same for aidance166 gainst the enemy,

  Which167 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 eyeballs further out than when he lived,

  Staring full ghastly like a strangled man:

  His hair upreared172, his nostrils stretched with struggling:

  His hands abroad displayed173, as one that grasped

  And tugged for life and was by strength subdued.

  Look, on the sheets his hair, you see, is sticking.

  His well-proportioned beard, made rough and rugged176,

  Like to the summer’s corn by tempest lodged177:

  It cannot be but he was murdered here:

  The least of all these signs were probable179.

  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 vowed Duke Humphrey’s foes,

  And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep184:

  ’Tis like you would not feast185 him like a friend,

  And ’tis well seen186 he found an enemy.

  QUEEN MARGARET    Then you, belike187, suspect these noblemen

  As guilty of Duke Humphrey’s timeless188 death.

  WARWICK    Who finds the heifer 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 puttock192’s nest,

  But may imagine how the bird was dead,

  Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak?

  Even so suspicious is this tragedy.

  QUEEN MARGARET    Are you the butcher, Suffolk? Where’s your knife?

  Is Beaufort termed a kite? Where are his talons?

  SUFFOLK    I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men:

  But here’s a vengeful sword, rusted with ease199,

  That shall be scoured200 in his rancorous heart

  That slanders me with murder’s crimson badge201.

  Say, if thou dar’st, proud Lord of Warwickshire,

  That I am faulty203 in Duke Humphrey’s death.

  [Exeunt Cardinal and Somerset]

  WARWICK    What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him?

  QUEEN MARGARET    He dares not calm his contumelious205 spirit,

  Nor cease to be an arrogant controller206,

  Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.

  WARWICK    Madam, be still: with reverence may I say,

  For every word you speak in his behalf

  Is slander to your royal dignity.

  SUFFOLK    Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour,

  If ever lady wronged her lord so much,

  Thy mother took into her blameful bed

  Some stern untutored churl: and noble stock214

  Was graft with crab-tree slip215, whose fruit thou art,

  And never of the Nevilles’ noble race.

  WARWICK    But that the guilt of murder bucklers217 thee,

  And I should rob the deathsman218 of his fee,

  Quitting219 thee thereby of ten thousand shames,

  And that my sovereign’s presence makes me mild220,

  I would, false murd’rous coward, on thy knee

  Make thee beg pardon for thy passèd222 speech,

  And say it was thy mother that thou meant’st,

  That thou thyself was born in bastardy:

  And after all this fearful homage225 done,

  Give thee thy hire226 and send thy soul to hell,

  Pernicious227 bloodsucker of sleeping men!

  SUFFOLK    Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood,

  If from this presence229 thou dar’st go with me.

  WARWICK    Away even now, or I will drag thee hence:

  Unworthy though thou art, I’ll cope231 with thee,

  And do some service to Duke Humphrey’s ghost.

  Exeunt [Suffolk and Warwick]

  KING HENRY VI    What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted?

  Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just234:

  And he but naked, though locked up in steel235,

  Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

  A noise within

  QUEEN MARGARET    What noise is this?

  Enter Suffolk and Warwick, with their weapons drawn

  KING HENRY VI    Why, how now, lords? Your wrathful weapons drawn

  Here in our presence239? Dare you be so bold?

  Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?

  SUFFOLK    The trait’rous Warwick with the men of Bury

  Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.

  Enter Salisbury [from the Commons, within]

  To the commons

  SALISBURY    Sirs, stand apart: the king shall know your mind.—

  To King Henry

  Dread lord, the commons send you word by me,

  Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death,

  Or banishèd fair England’s territories,

  They will by violence tear him from your palace,

  And torture him with grievous ling’ring death.

  They say, by him the good Duke Humphrey died:

  They say, in him they fear your highness’ death:

  And mere251 instinct of love and loyalty,

  Free from a stubborn opposite252 intent,

  As being thought to contradict your liking253,

  Makes them thus forward in254 his banishment.

  They say, in care of your most royal person,

  That if your highness should intend to sleep

  And charge257 that no man should disturb your rest

  In258 pain of your dislike, or pain of death,

  Yet, notwithstanding such a strait259 edict,

  Were there a serpent seen, with forkèd tongue,

  That slyly glided towards your majesty,

  It were but necessary you were waked:

  Lest, being suffered263 in that harmful slumber,

  The mortal worm264 might make the sleep eternal.

  And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,

  That they will guard you, whe’er266 you will or no,

  From such fell267 serpents as false Suffolk is,

  With whose envenomèd and fatal sting,

  Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,

  They say, is shamefully bereft of life.

  Within

  COMMONS    An answer from the king, my lord of Salisbury!

  SUFFOLK    ’Tis like the commons, rude unpolished hinds272,

  Could send such message to their sovereign:

  But you, my lord, were glad to be employed,

  To show how quaint275 an orator you are.

  But all the honour Salisbury hath won

  Is that he was the Lord Ambassador

  Sent from a sort of tinkers278 to the king.

  Within

  COMMONS    An answer from the king, or we will all break in.

  KING HENRY VI    Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me

  I thank them for their tender loving care:

  And had I not been cited282 so by them,

  Yet did I purpose283 as they do entreat:

  For sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy

  Mischance unto my state285 by Suffolk’s means.

  And therefore by his286 majesty I swear,

  Whose far unworthy deputy I am,

  He shall not breathe infection in288 this air

  But289 three days longer, on the pain of death.

  [Exit Salisbury]

  QUEEN MARGARET    O Henry, let me plead for gentle290 Suffolk.

  KING HENRY VI    Ungentle291 queen, to call him gentle Suffolk.

  No more, I say: if thou dost plead for him,

  Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath.

  Had I but said, I would have kept my word:

  But when I swear, it is irrevocable:

  If after three days’ space thou here be’st296 found

  On any ground that I am ruler of,

  The world shall not be ransom for thy life.

  Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me:

  I have great matters to impart to thee.

  Exeunt [all but Queen Margaret and Suffolk]

  QUEEN MARGARET    Mischance and sorrow go along with you!

  Heart’s discontent and sour affliction

  Be playfellows to keep you company!

  There’s two of you, the devil make a third,

  And threefold vengeance tend305 upon your steps.

  SUFFOLK    Cease, gentle queen, these execrations306,

  And let thy Suffolk take his heavy307 leave.

  QUEEN MARGARET    Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch!

  Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies?

  SUFFOLK    A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse them?

  Could curses kill, as doth the mandrake’s311 groan,

  I would invent as bitter-searching312 terms,

  As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear,

  Delivered strongly through my fixèd314 teeth,

  With full as many signs of deadly hate,

  As lean-faced envy in her loathsome cave.

  My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words:

  Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint318:

  Mine hair be fixed on end, as one distract319:

  Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban320,

  And even now my burdened heart would break

  Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!

  Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest323 that they taste:

  Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees324:

  Their chiefest prospect, murd’ring basilisks325:

  Their softest touch, as smart as lizards’326 stings:

  Their music, frightful as the serpent’s hiss,

  And boding screech-owls make the consort328 full!

  All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell—

  QUEEN MARGARET    Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment’st thyself,

  And these dread curses, like the sun gainst glass,

  Or like an overchargèd332 gun, recoil,

  And turn the force of them upon thyself.

  SUFFOLK    You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave334?

  Now by the ground that I am banished from,

  Well could I curse away a winter’s night,

  Though standing naked on a mountain top,

  Where biting cold would never let grass grow,

  And think it but a minute spent in sport339.

  QUEEN MARGARET O, let me entreat thee cease: give me thy hand,

  That I may dew it with my mournful tears: