Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,

  She kisses his hand

  To wash away my woeful monuments343.

  O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand,

  That thou mightst think upon these by the seal345,

  Through whom a thousand sighs are breathed for thee.

  So get thee gone, that I may know347 my grief:

  ’Tis but surmised348 whiles thou art standing by,

  As one that surfeits thinking on a want349:

  I will repeal350 thee, or, be well assured,

  Adventure351 to be banishèd myself:

  And banishèd I am, if but from thee.

  Go, speak not to me: even now be gone.

  O, go not yet. Even thus two friends354 condemned

  Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves,

  Loather356 a hundred times to part than die:

  Yet now farewell, and farewell life with thee.

  SUFFOLK    Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banishèd:

  Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee.

  ’Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence360:

  A wilderness is populous enough,

  So362 Suffolk had thy heavenly company:

  For where thou art, there is the world itself,

  With every several364 pleasure in the world:

  And where thou art not, desolation.

  I can no more: live thou to joy366 thy life:

  Myself no joy in naught but that thou liv’st.

  Enter Vaux

  QUEEN MARGARET    Whither goes Vaux so fast? What news, I prithee?

  VAUX    To signify unto his majesty

  That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death:

  For suddenly a grievous sickness took him,

  That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the372 air,

  Blaspheming God and cursing men on earth.

  Sometimes he talks as if Duke Humphrey’s ghost

  Were by his side: sometime he calls the king,

  And whispers to his pillow, as376 to him,

  The secrets of his overchargèd377 soul;

  And I am sent to tell his majesty

  That even now he cries aloud for him.

  QUEEN MARGARET    Go tell this heavy380 message to the king.

  Exit [Vaux]

  Ay me! What is this world? What news are these?

  But wherefore grieve I at an hour’s poor loss382,

  Omitting383 Suffolk’s exile, my soul’s treasure?

  Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,

  And with the southern clouds contend in385 tears?

  Theirs for the earth’s increase, mine for my sorrows.

  Now get thee hence: the king, thou know’st, is coming:

  If thou be found by me, thou art but388 dead.

  SUFFOLK    If I depart from thee, I cannot live:

  And in thy sight to die390, what were it else

  But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap391?

  Here could I breathe my soul into the air392,

  As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe

  Dying with mother’s dug394 between its lips.

  Where, from395 thy sight, I should be raging mad,

  And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes,

  To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth,

  He kisses her

  So shouldst thou either turn398 my flying soul,

  Or I should breathe it so into thy body,

  And then it lived in sweet Elysium400.

  To die by thee were but to die in jest401:

  From thee to die were torture more than death:

  O let me stay, befall what may befall!

  QUEEN MARGARET    Away: though parting be a fretful404 corrosive,

  It is applièd to a deathful405 wound.

  To France, sweet Suffolk: let me hear from thee:

  For wheresoe’er thou art in this world’s globe,

  I’ll have an Iris408 that shall find thee out.

  SUFFOLK    I go.

  She kisses him

  QUEEN MARGARET    And take my heart with thee.

  SUFFOLK    A jewel, locked into the woefull’st cask411

  That ever did contain a thing of worth:

  Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we413:

  This way fall I to death.

  QUEEN MARGARET    This way for me.

  Exeunt [severally]

  [Act 3 Scene 3]

  running scene 11

  Enter the King [Henry VI], Salisbury and Warwick, to the Cardinal in bed

  KING HENRY VI    How fares my lord? Speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.

  CARDINAL    If thou be’st death, I’ll give thee England’s treasure,

  Enough to purchase such another island,

  So4 thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.

  KING HENRY VI    Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,

  Where death’s approach is seen6 so terrible.

  WARWICK    Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.

  CARDINAL    Bring me unto my trial when you will.

  Died he9 not in his bed? Where should he die?

  Can I make men live, whe’er they will or no?

  O torture me no more, I will confess.

  Alive again? Then show me where he is:

  I’ll give a thousand pound to look upon him.

  He hath no eyes, the dust14 hath blinded them.

  Comb down his hair: look, look, it stands upright,

  Like lime-twigs16 set to catch my wingèd soul:

  Give me some drink, and bid the apothecary

  Bring the strong poison that I bought of18 him.

  KING HENRY VI    O, thou eternal mover of the heavens,

  Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch:

  O beat away the busy meddling fiend21

  That lays strong siege unto this wretch’s soul,

  And from his bosom purge this black despair.

  WARWICK    See how the pangs of death do make him grin24.

  SALISBURY    Disturb him not: let him pass peaceably.

  KING HENRY VI    Peace to his soul, if God’s good pleasure be.

  Lord Card’nal, if thou think’st on heaven’s bliss,

  Cardinal dies

  Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.

  He dies and makes no sign: O God, forgive him.

  WARWICK    So bad a death argues30 a monstrous life.

  KING HENRY VI    Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.

  Close32 up his eyes and draw the curtain close,

  And let us all to meditation33.

  Exeunt

  [Act 4 Scene 1]

  running scene 12

  Alarum. Fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter [a] Lieutenant, [a Master, a Master’s Mate, Walter Whitmore; with] Suffolk [disguised and two Gentlemen as their prisoners] and others

  LIEUTENANT    The gaudy, blabbing1 and remorseful day

  Is crept into the bosom of the sea:

  And now loud-howling wolves arouse3 the jades

  That drag the tragic melancholy night:

  Who, with their drowsy, slow and flagging5 wings

  Clip6 dead men’s graves, and from their misty jaws

  Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air:

  Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize8,

  For whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs9,

  Here shall they make their ransom on the sand,

  Or with their blood stain this discoloured11 shore.

  Pointing to First Gentleman

  Master, this prisoner freely give I thee,

  Pointing to Second Gentleman

  And thou that art his mate, make boot13 of this:

  The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share.

  Pointing to Suffolk To the Master

  FIRST GENTLEMAN    What is my ransom, master, let me know?

  MASTER    A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.

  To Second Gentleman

  MATE    And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.

  To both Gentlemen

  LIEUTENANT    What, think you much18 to pay two thousand crowns,

  And bear the name and port19 of gentlemen?

  WHITMORE    Cut both the villains’ throats, for die you shall:

  The lives of those which we have lost in fight

  Be counterpoised22 with such a petty sum.

  To the Master

  FIRST GENTLEMAN    I’ll give it, sir, and therefore spare my life.

  To the Mate

  SECOND GENTLEMAN    And so will I, and write home for it straight.

  To Suffolk

  WHITMORE    I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard25,

  And therefore to revenge it, shalt thou die,

  And so should these, if I might have my will.

  LIEUTENANT    Be not so rash: take ransom: let him live.

  SUFFOLK    Look on my George29: I am a gentleman:

  Rate30 me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.

  WHITMORE    And so am I: my name is Walter31 Whitmore.

  How now? Why starts thou? What, doth death affright32?

  SUFFOLK    Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death:

  A cunning man34 did calculate my birth

  And told me that by water I should die:

  Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded36:

  Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly sounded37.

  WHITMORE    Gualtier or Walter, which it is, I care not:

  Never yet did base dishonour blur our name,

  But with our sword we wiped away the blot.

  Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge41,

  Broke be my sword, my arms42 torn and defaced,

  And I proclaimed a coward through the world.

  SUFFOLK    Stay, Whitmore, for thy prisoner is a prince,

  The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.

  WHITMORE    The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags?

  SUFFOLK    Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke:

  Jove48 sometimes went disguised, and why not I?

  LIEUTENANT    But Jove was never slain as thou shalt be,

  Obscure and lousy swain50, King Henry’s blood!

  SUFFOLK    The honourable blood of Lancaster

  Must not be shed by such a jaded groom52:

  Hast thou not kissed thy hand53 and held my stirrup?

  Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule54

  And thought thee happy when I shook my head55?

  How often hast thou waited at my cup56,

  Fed from my trencher, kneeled down at the board57,

  When I have feasted with Queen Margaret?

  Remember it, and let it make thee crest-fall’n59,

  Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride:

  How in our voiding lobby61 hast thou stood

  And duly waited for my coming forth?

  This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf,

  And therefore shall it charm64 thy riotous tongue.

  WHITMORE    Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain65?

  LIEUTENANT    First let my words stab him, as he hath me.

  SUFFOLK    Base slave, thy words are blunt67 and so art thou.

  LIEUTENANT    Convey him hence and on our longboat’s68 side

  Strike off his head.

  SUFFOLK    Thou dar’st not for thy own70.

  LIEUTENANT    Pole—

  SUFFOLK    Pole?72

  LIEUTENANT    Ay, kennel, puddle, sink73, whose filth and dirt

  Troubles74 the silver spring where England drinks:

  Now will I dam up this thy yawning75 mouth

  For swallowing the treasure of the realm.

  Thy lips that kissed the queen shall sweep the ground77:

  And thou that smiled’st at good Duke Humphrey’s death,

  Against the senseless winds shalt grin79 in vain,

  Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again80.

  And wedded be thou to the hags of hell81,

  For daring to affy82 a mighty lord

  Unto the daughter of a worthless king,

  Having neither subject84, wealth, nor diadem:

  By devilish policy85 art thou grown great,

  And like ambitious Sylla, overgorged86

  With gobbets87 of thy mother’s bleeding heart.

  By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France,

  The false revolting Normans thorough89 thee

  Disdain to call us lord, and Picardy90

  Hath slain their governors, surprised91 our forts,

  And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home.

  The princely Warwick, and the Nevilles all,

  Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain,

  As hating95 thee, are rising up in arms:

  And now the House of York, thrust from the crown

  By shameful murder of a guiltless king97

  And lofty proud encroaching98 tyranny,

  Burns with revenging fire, whose hopeful colours99

  Advance our half-faced sun100, striving to shine,

  Under the which is writ. ‘Invitis nubibus’101.

  The commons102 here in Kent are up in arms,

  And, to conclude, reproach and beggary

  Is crept into the palace of our king,

  And all by thee.— Away, convey him hence.

  SUFFOLK    O, that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder106

  Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges107:

  Small things make base men proud. This villain here,

  Being captain of a pinnace109, threatens more

  Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate110.

  Drones suck not eagles’ blood, but rob beehives111:

  It is impossible that I should die

  By such a lowly vassal113 as thyself.

  Thy words move rage and not remorse in me:

  I go of115 message from the queen to France:

  I charge thee waft116 me safely cross the Channel.

  LIEUTENANT    Walter—

  WHITMORE    Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.

  SUFFOLK    Paene gelidus timor occupat artus119: it is thee I fear.

  WHITMORE    Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee.

  What, are ye daunted now? Now will ye stoop?

  FIRST GENTLEMAN    My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair122.

  SUFFOLK    Suffolk’s imperial123 tongue is stern and rough:

  Used to command, untaught to plead for favour.

  Far be it we125 should honour such as these

  With humble suit126: no, rather let my head

  Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any,

  Save to the God of heaven and to my king:

  And sooner dance upon a bloody pole129

  Than stand uncovered130 to the vulgar groom.

  True nobility is exempt from fear:

  More can I bear than you dare execute.

  LIEUTENANT    Hale133 him away, and let him talk no more.

  SUFFOLK    Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can,

  That this my death may never be forgot.

  Great men oft die by vile Besonians136:

  A Roman sworder and banditto137 slave

  Murdered sweet Tully: Brutus’ bastard138 hand

  Stabbed Julius Caesar: savage islanders

  Pompey the Great140: and Suffolk dies by pirates.

  Exit Walter [Whitmore] with Suffolk

  LIEUTENANT    And as for these whose ransom we have set,

  It is our pleasure one of them depart:

  Therefore come you with us and let him go.

  Exit Lieutenant, and the rest [leaving] the First Gentleman

  Enter Whitmore with the body [of Suffolk]

  WHITMORE    There let his head and lifeless body lie,

  Until the queen his mistress145 bury it.

  Exit

  FIRST GENTLEMAN    O, barbarous and bloody spectacle!

  His body will I bear unto the king:

  If he revenge it not, yet will his friends:

  So will the queen, that living held him dear.

  [Exit with the body]

  [Act 4 Scene 2]

  running scene 13

  Enter [George] Bevis and John Holland [with long staves]

  BEVIS    Come and get thee a sword, though made of a lath1:

  they have been up2 these two days.

  HOLLAND    They have the more need to sleep now then.

  BEVIS    I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress4 the

  commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap5 upon it.

  HOLLAND    So he had need, for ’tis threadbare. Well, I say it was

  never merry world7 in England since gentlemen came up.

  BEVIS    O miserable age: virtue is not regarded8 in

  handicraftsmen.

  HOLLAND    The nobility think scorn10 to go in leather aprons.

  BEVIS    Nay more, the King’s Council are no good workmen.