 | Henry the Sixth, The First part |  |
The Scene is drawn, and the Duke of Glocester is shewn dead in a Chair.
King.
Oh! thou good man! And hast thou thus been us'd?
And is this all of thee that's left to me?
Oh! to how little, and how poor a pittance
Are all my Comforts in this life now brought!
Enter Warwick.
War.
Oh! Sir, Reports are spread among the People,
The good Duke Humphry treacherously is murder'd,
By Suffolk's and the Cardinal Beauford's means.
Suff.
By mine?
War.
By yours.
Suff.
I did expect as much.
War.
The Commons, like a Hive of angry Bees,
That want their Leader, scatter up and down,
And care not whom they sting in their revenge.
I have endeavour'd to allay their rage,
Until they are satisfied about his death.
King.
Ah! my Lord he is dead, 'tis true! too true!
See here:—But how he died, God knows, not I.
I fear foul play was plaid him for his Life.
Oh Heaven! to whom Judgment alone belongs,
Forgive me if I injure any one
With false suspitions.
War.
Sir, as certainly,
As I believe that Heaven was his Maker,
I believe Treachery was his destroyer.
Suff.
Do you know it, that so dreadfully you swear it?
War.
I swear that I believe it.
Suff.
What's your reason?
War.
I see already above a thousand proofs,
That he was basely strangled.
Suff.
Strangled!
War.
Strangled.
His Face is black and swell'd with settled Blood,
Which shews the passage to the Heart was stopt,
Whether the Blood in natural deaths descends,
To aid the labouring Heart in his last conflict;
And failing, freezes with the cold of Death,
And ne're returns, but leaves the face all pale.
His eyes stand gastly from his Head, and almost
Come out to meet us to complain of strangling.
His gaping nostrils are stretch'd out with striving,
His hands are spread abroad, as one that grasp'd
And tugg'd for Life, but was by strength o're-master'd.
His well proportion'd Beard, is rugged made
Like Summer's Corn, by furious tempest lodg'd.
See a blew Ring encompasses his Neck.
Oh! Murder here has danc'd her fairy round.
If the Duke was not strangled, ne're was man.
Suff.
Why, who shou'd do it, my Lord? none but my self
And Cardinal Beauford, had him in protection.
War.
Who finds the Heifer dead, and bleeding fresh,
And sees a Butcher with his Ax stand by,
May easily suspect who made the Slaughter.
Qu.
The Cardinal, and you, my Lord, are Murderers!
For shame, my Lord of Warwick, rule your arrogance.
War.
Pray, Madam, let me with due reverence tell you,
Each word you speak for him, slaunders your Honour.
Suff.
Blunt-witted Lord, thy evil manners say,
Thy Mother took into her blameful Bed
Some rough untutour'd Churl; and grafted there
On Nevil's noble race a rugged Clown.
War.
Did not my Sovereign's presence check my fury,
I'de make thee kneel for pardon for this speech,
And say, 'twas thy own Mother that thou mean'st,
And after this low homage, I wou'd kill thee,
Thou treacherous murderer of sleeping men.
Suff.
Thou shalt be waking when I shed thy blood;
If er'e I meet thee from this royal presence.
War.
Away, or I will drag thee!—though I scorn thee,
I'le fight with thee, to appease Duke Humphry's Ghost.
King.
Forbear my Lords, for shame! stay, I command you.
A Noise, Enter Salisbury.
Sal.
Great Sir, the Commons humbly implore by me,
The Duke of Suffolk may be put to death,
Or Banish'd instantly; for else they threaten,
They'l tear him hence by violence and Torture him.
Free from bold contradiction to your liking,
But out of Loyalty they drive him from you.
They say, If you desir'd to sleep, and charg'd
No one on pain of Death shou'd dare to wake you;
Yet if they saw a Serpent in your Bosom,
They with the hazard of their lives wou'd wake you,
And drive him from you whether you wou'd or no.
They say the Duke of Suffolk is that Serpent,
By whose envenom'd sting your Uncle perish'd;
A Prince a thousand times of Suffolk's value,
From him they also fear your Majestie's Death.
Suff.
They durst not send this message to their King,
My noble Lord Embassador from Weavers.
King.
My Lord of Salisbury, Tell e'm from me,
I thank e'm for their Loyal care of me;
That I have been awake long e're they rouz'd me,
And seen the dangerous Serpent I have cherish'd
To my great danger, and my Friends destruction.
For oh! the slimy paths the Serpent crawl'd
To sting my Friend to Death, shine in my eyes.
Suff.
Sir, will you judg me e're you know my innocence?
King.
Go tell e'm, By that Heavenly Majesty,
Whose most unworthy Deputy I am,
I vow most solemnly, the English Air
Shall not receive three days infection more
From this most wicked man; for if it does
The fourth shall end his wickedness and him.
Exit Salis.
Suff.
Sir, this is hard, to doom me e're I'me tried.
Qu.
Oh! let me plead, Sir, for this injur'd Lord.
King.
Oh fye, forbear! forbear! your pleading for him
Will add but very little to your Honour,
But to my anger much; 'twill make me pass
Censure on you, and heavier Doom on him.
Had I but said it, nothing shou'd ha chang'd me;
But having sworn it, you may easier
Remove the Kingdom than stay that man in it.
Then let him hear his Sentence once again:
If after three days space he shall be found
On any Ground that I am Ruler of,
The World shall not be Ransom for his Life.
Exit.
Qu.
Oh wretched! wretched me! Oh! I cou'd turn
My Breath and Spirits all, all into Curses,
Curse all thy Enemies, and all the World.
I prethee joyn with me, and let us Curse e'm.
Suff.
A Plague upon e'm! Wherefore shou'd I curse e'm?
Were Curses killing as the groans of Mandrakes.
I'de stay to curse e'm were the Palace burning,
And every word I said were half on't fire,
And I, my Curses ended, shou'd be Ashes.
For what's the difference 'tween being Ashes,
Or Water, as I soon shall be with Sorrow?
Qu.
I must be take my self now to my Tears,
The last poor refuge of a wretched Woman.
Suff.
Must I see this? And can I not revenge it?
Like one of the fallen Spirits banish'd Heaven.
I stand upon the shining Precipice,
And look with grief on all the Joys I'me leaving;
Then down with Terror on my desperate fall,
Then grin with rage because I cannot help my self;
And amidst all these Passions, I'me more tortur'd.
In Heaven, than I shall be when fallen to Hell.
Qu.
My griefs no flesh can bear, no soul can guess.
Oh! that the moment when thou took'st me Prisoner,
Thy Sword had seperated my Soul and Body,
Then had I been at ease; but now thy Banishment
Divides e'm, and I live to feel the torment.
Suff.
I'le stay with you, what ever shall befal me.
Qu.
What shou'd befal but Death to both of us?
The strong convulsions of my griefs have tir'd,
Wasted, and weakned so my vanquish't Spirits,
That I am fainting now into a calm.
Suff.
And in this calm the current of my Sorrows,
Shall bear my drowning Spirits to thy Bosom,
And lay it there as on a Bank of Lillies,
Where I will Die as in a pleasing slumber.
Qu.
This must not be, we must not stay together,
No we must part, or staying thou must Die.
I rather will endure a lingring Death
Of a long parting, than by Death to lose thee.
Whilst we are living we may meet again.
Suff.
We may, we shall, the King is not Immortal,
Or if he were, his Anger is not so.
But both will have an end, so will our Sorrows.
The longest life has still an utmost point:
No Creature is infinite.
Qu.
Except my Love.
Suff.
In hopes then once to meet again,—Farewel!
Qu.
Oh! sad heart-breaking word!—Where e're thou wandrest
Send to me oft.
Suff.
What joy shall I have else?
All Places will be desolate, and I
Shall live no longer than I hear you live.
Qu.
My Fit returns again! unhappy we!
Why are we two so nearly joyn'd in Love,
And yet by Fortune kept so wide asunder,
First by thy Marriage, and now by thy Banishment?
My Love was thrown as soon as it was Born
On cold Dispair, hearing thou hadst a Wife.
Hadst thou had none, and only been a Shepherd,
And known no other wealth than a small Flock,
No other Title than the charming Swain,
(For so wou'd every Shepherdess have call'd thee)
I wou'd have rather been thy humble Wife,
Than Queen to Henry.
Suff.
If I shou'd stay here.
Till I told o're the Wealth I wou'd have given,
For such a happiness, we ne're shou'd part.
Qu.
Oh! must we part! Heaven made us for each other,
And then did set us two, of all the World,
Farthest asunder; a Wife first did part us,
But now whole Kingdoms, and whole Worlds must part us.
These Miseries I might have well expected;
My Love was born under Captivity,
I was thy Prisoner, e're my heart was so:
Chains lay at th'entrance of the gate of Love,
And pail Dispair forbad me entring in;
Yet such sweet Prospects drew my heart along,
It entred in, and now is lost for ever.
Suff.
Say not for ever; Do not cruelly
Put out the eyes of our Prophetick hopes,
Which like so many Angel-guides, will lead
Our Souls to pleasant Prospects of delight,
Where we may gaze till Fate is tir'd with frowning,
And Time with holding two so bent to meet,
Shall loose his hold, and let us flie together.
Till then farewel.
Qu.
Take with thee my poor heart.
Suff.
A Jewel lock'd into the wofull'st Cabinet
That ever did contain so great a Treasure.
Just like a splitted Bark, so sunder we.
This way sink I to ruine.
Qu.
This way I.—
Exeunt several ways.
King.
Oh! thou good man! And hast thou thus been us'd?
And is this all of thee that's left to me?
Oh! to how little, and how poor a pittance
Are all my Comforts in this life now brought!
Enter Warwick.
War.
Oh! Sir, Reports are spread among the People,
The good Duke Humphry treacherously is murder'd,
By Suffolk's and the Cardinal Beauford's means.
Suff.
By mine?
War.
By yours.
Suff.
I did expect as much.
War.
The Commons, like a Hive of angry Bees,
That want their Leader, scatter up and down,
And care not whom they sting in their revenge.
I have endeavour'd to allay their rage,
Until they are satisfied about his death.
King.
Ah! my Lord he is dead, 'tis true! too true!
58
I fear foul play was plaid him for his Life.
Oh Heaven! to whom Judgment alone belongs,
Forgive me if I injure any one
With false suspitions.
War.
Sir, as certainly,
As I believe that Heaven was his Maker,
I believe Treachery was his destroyer.
Suff.
Do you know it, that so dreadfully you swear it?
War.
I swear that I believe it.
Suff.
What's your reason?
War.
I see already above a thousand proofs,
That he was basely strangled.
Suff.
Strangled!
War.
Strangled.
His Face is black and swell'd with settled Blood,
Which shews the passage to the Heart was stopt,
Whether the Blood in natural deaths descends,
To aid the labouring Heart in his last conflict;
And failing, freezes with the cold of Death,
And ne're returns, but leaves the face all pale.
His eyes stand gastly from his Head, and almost
Come out to meet us to complain of strangling.
His gaping nostrils are stretch'd out with striving,
His hands are spread abroad, as one that grasp'd
And tugg'd for Life, but was by strength o're-master'd.
His well proportion'd Beard, is rugged made
Like Summer's Corn, by furious tempest lodg'd.
See a blew Ring encompasses his Neck.
Oh! Murder here has danc'd her fairy round.
If the Duke was not strangled, ne're was man.
Suff.
Why, who shou'd do it, my Lord? none but my self
And Cardinal Beauford, had him in protection.
War.
Who finds the Heifer dead, and bleeding fresh,
And sees a Butcher with his Ax stand by,
May easily suspect who made the Slaughter.
Qu.
The Cardinal, and you, my Lord, are Murderers!
For shame, my Lord of Warwick, rule your arrogance.
War.
Pray, Madam, let me with due reverence tell you,
Each word you speak for him, slaunders your Honour.
Suff.
Blunt-witted Lord, thy evil manners say,
Thy Mother took into her blameful Bed
Some rough untutour'd Churl; and grafted there
On Nevil's noble race a rugged Clown.
War.
Did not my Sovereign's presence check my fury,
I'de make thee kneel for pardon for this speech,
59
And after this low homage, I wou'd kill thee,
Thou treacherous murderer of sleeping men.
Suff.
Thou shalt be waking when I shed thy blood;
If er'e I meet thee from this royal presence.
War.
Away, or I will drag thee!—though I scorn thee,
I'le fight with thee, to appease Duke Humphry's Ghost.
King.
Forbear my Lords, for shame! stay, I command you.
A Noise, Enter Salisbury.
Sal.
Great Sir, the Commons humbly implore by me,
The Duke of Suffolk may be put to death,
Or Banish'd instantly; for else they threaten,
They'l tear him hence by violence and Torture him.
Free from bold contradiction to your liking,
But out of Loyalty they drive him from you.
They say, If you desir'd to sleep, and charg'd
No one on pain of Death shou'd dare to wake you;
Yet if they saw a Serpent in your Bosom,
They with the hazard of their lives wou'd wake you,
And drive him from you whether you wou'd or no.
They say the Duke of Suffolk is that Serpent,
By whose envenom'd sting your Uncle perish'd;
A Prince a thousand times of Suffolk's value,
From him they also fear your Majestie's Death.
Suff.
They durst not send this message to their King,
My noble Lord Embassador from Weavers.
King.
My Lord of Salisbury, Tell e'm from me,
I thank e'm for their Loyal care of me;
That I have been awake long e're they rouz'd me,
And seen the dangerous Serpent I have cherish'd
To my great danger, and my Friends destruction.
For oh! the slimy paths the Serpent crawl'd
To sting my Friend to Death, shine in my eyes.
Suff.
Sir, will you judg me e're you know my innocence?
King.
Go tell e'm, By that Heavenly Majesty,
Whose most unworthy Deputy I am,
I vow most solemnly, the English Air
Shall not receive three days infection more
From this most wicked man; for if it does
The fourth shall end his wickedness and him.
Exit Salis.
Suff.
Sir, this is hard, to doom me e're I'me tried.
Qu.
Oh! let me plead, Sir, for this injur'd Lord.
King.
Oh fye, forbear! forbear! your pleading for him
Will add but very little to your Honour,
60
Censure on you, and heavier Doom on him.
Had I but said it, nothing shou'd ha chang'd me;
But having sworn it, you may easier
Remove the Kingdom than stay that man in it.
Then let him hear his Sentence once again:
If after three days space he shall be found
On any Ground that I am Ruler of,
The World shall not be Ransom for his Life.
Exit.
Qu.
Oh wretched! wretched me! Oh! I cou'd turn
My Breath and Spirits all, all into Curses,
Curse all thy Enemies, and all the World.
I prethee joyn with me, and let us Curse e'm.
Suff.
A Plague upon e'm! Wherefore shou'd I curse e'm?
Were Curses killing as the groans of Mandrakes.
I'de stay to curse e'm were the Palace burning,
And every word I said were half on't fire,
And I, my Curses ended, shou'd be Ashes.
For what's the difference 'tween being Ashes,
Or Water, as I soon shall be with Sorrow?
Qu.
I must be take my self now to my Tears,
The last poor refuge of a wretched Woman.
Suff.
Must I see this? And can I not revenge it?
Like one of the fallen Spirits banish'd Heaven.
I stand upon the shining Precipice,
And look with grief on all the Joys I'me leaving;
Then down with Terror on my desperate fall,
Then grin with rage because I cannot help my self;
And amidst all these Passions, I'me more tortur'd.
In Heaven, than I shall be when fallen to Hell.
Qu.
My griefs no flesh can bear, no soul can guess.
Oh! that the moment when thou took'st me Prisoner,
Thy Sword had seperated my Soul and Body,
Then had I been at ease; but now thy Banishment
Divides e'm, and I live to feel the torment.
Suff.
I'le stay with you, what ever shall befal me.
Qu.
What shou'd befal but Death to both of us?
The strong convulsions of my griefs have tir'd,
Wasted, and weakned so my vanquish't Spirits,
That I am fainting now into a calm.
Suff.
And in this calm the current of my Sorrows,
Shall bear my drowning Spirits to thy Bosom,
And lay it there as on a Bank of Lillies,
Where I will Die as in a pleasing slumber.
Qu.
This must not be, we must not stay together,
No we must part, or staying thou must Die.
61
Of a long parting, than by Death to lose thee.
Whilst we are living we may meet again.
Suff.
We may, we shall, the King is not Immortal,
Or if he were, his Anger is not so.
But both will have an end, so will our Sorrows.
The longest life has still an utmost point:
No Creature is infinite.
Qu.
Except my Love.
Suff.
In hopes then once to meet again,—Farewel!
Qu.
Oh! sad heart-breaking word!—Where e're thou wandrest
Send to me oft.
Suff.
What joy shall I have else?
All Places will be desolate, and I
Shall live no longer than I hear you live.
Qu.
My Fit returns again! unhappy we!
Why are we two so nearly joyn'd in Love,
And yet by Fortune kept so wide asunder,
First by thy Marriage, and now by thy Banishment?
My Love was thrown as soon as it was Born
On cold Dispair, hearing thou hadst a Wife.
Hadst thou had none, and only been a Shepherd,
And known no other wealth than a small Flock,
No other Title than the charming Swain,
(For so wou'd every Shepherdess have call'd thee)
I wou'd have rather been thy humble Wife,
Than Queen to Henry.
Suff.
If I shou'd stay here.
Till I told o're the Wealth I wou'd have given,
For such a happiness, we ne're shou'd part.
Qu.
Oh! must we part! Heaven made us for each other,
And then did set us two, of all the World,
Farthest asunder; a Wife first did part us,
But now whole Kingdoms, and whole Worlds must part us.
These Miseries I might have well expected;
My Love was born under Captivity,
I was thy Prisoner, e're my heart was so:
Chains lay at th'entrance of the gate of Love,
And pail Dispair forbad me entring in;
Yet such sweet Prospects drew my heart along,
It entred in, and now is lost for ever.
Suff.
Say not for ever; Do not cruelly
Put out the eyes of our Prophetick hopes,
Which like so many Angel-guides, will lead
Our Souls to pleasant Prospects of delight,
Where we may gaze till Fate is tir'd with frowning,
62
Shall loose his hold, and let us flie together.
Till then farewel.
Qu.
Take with thee my poor heart.
Suff.
A Jewel lock'd into the wofull'st Cabinet
That ever did contain so great a Treasure.
Just like a splitted Bark, so sunder we.
This way sink I to ruine.
Qu.
This way I.—
Exeunt several ways.
| Henry the Sixth, The First part | |