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Ere you can take due orders for a priest:
Say you confent and cenfure well the deed,
And I'll provide his executioner,

I tender fo the fafety of my Liege.

Suf. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing.
Q. Mar. And fo fay I.

York. And I, and now we three have " 'fpoken` it,
It skills not greatly who impugns our doom.

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Poft. Great Lords, from Ireland am I come amain, To fignifie that rebels there are up,

And put the Englishmen unto the fword:

Send fuccours, Lords, and ftop the rage betime,
Before the wound do grow incurable;

For being green, there is great hope of help.
Car. A breach that craves a quick expedient stop!
What counsel give you in this weighty cause?
York. That Somerset be fent a Regent thither:
'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ❜d:
Witness the fortune he hath had in France.
Som. If York, with all his far-fetch'd policy,
Had been the Regent there instead of me,
He never would have staid in France fo long.
York. No, not to lofe it all, as thou haft done:
I rather would have loft my life betimes,
Than bring a burthen of dishonour home,
By staying there fo long, 'till all were loft.
Shew me one fcar character'd on thy skin:
Mens flesh preferv'd fo whole, 7 'doth feldom win.
Q. Mar. Nay then, this fpark will prove a raging fire,
If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with:
No more, good York; fweet Somerfet, be ftill.
Thy fortune, York, hadft thou been Regent there,
Might happily have prov'd far worse than his.

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York.

York. What, worse than nought? nay, then a fhame take.
Som. And in the number, thee that wifheft shame! [all!
Car. 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 fome,
And try your hap against the Irifhmen?
York. I will, my Lord, fo please his Majefty.
Suf. Why, our authority is his confent,
And what we do establish he confirms;
Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand.
York. I am content: provide me foldiers, Lords,
Whilft I take order for mine own affairs.

Suf. A charge, Lord York, that I will fee perform'd.
But now return we to the falfe Duke Humphry.
Car. No more of him; for I will deal with him,
That henceforth he fhall trouble us no more:
And fo break off: the day is almost spent :
Lord Suffolk, you and I muft talk of that event.
York. My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days
At Bristol I expect my foldiers;

For there I'll ship them all for Ireland.

Suf. I'll fee it truly done, my Lord of York. [Exeunt.

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York. Now, York, or never, fteel thy fearful thoughts, And change mifdoubt to refolution:

Be that thou hop'ft to be, or what thou art

Refign 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!

Fafter than fpring-time fhow'rs, comes thought on thought, And not a thought but thinks on dignity.

My brain, more bufie than the lab'ring fpider,

Weaves tedious fnares to trap mine enemies.

Well,

Well, Nobles, well; 'tis politickly done,
To fend me packing with an hoft of men:
I fear me you but warm the starved Snake,
Who cherish'd in your breafts, will fting your hearts.
''Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me;
I take it kindly: yet be well affur'd,

You put sharp weapons in a mad-man's hands.
Whilft I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
I will ftir up in England fome black storm,
Shall blow ten thousand fouls to heav'n or hell.
And this fell tempeft shall not cease to rage,
Until the golden circuit on my head,
Like to the glorious fun's tranfparent beams,
Do calm the fury of this mad-brain'd flaw.
And for a minifter of my intent,

I have feduc'd a headstrong Kentish man,
John Cade of Afhford,

To make commotion, as full well he can,
Under the title of John Mortimer.

In Ireland have I feen this stubborn Cade
Oppofe himfelf against a troop of kerns,

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And fight fo long, 'till that his thighs with darts
Were almost like a fharp-quill'd porcupine:

And in the end being refcu'd, I have seen
Him caper upright like a wild Morisco,
Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells.
Full often like a fhag-hair'd crafty kern,
Hath he converfed with the enemy,
And undiscover'd come to me again,
And giv'n me notice of their villainies.
This devil here fhall be my fubftitute;
For that John Mortimer which is now dead,
In face, in gate, in fpeech he doth resemble.
By this I fhall 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

8 fought

Will

Will make him fay 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 ftrength,
And reap the harvest which that rafcal fow'd:
For Humphry being dead, as he fhall be,
And Henry put a-part, the next for me.

[Exit.

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Enter two or three running over the ftage, from the murther of Duke Humphry.

1.RUN to my Lord of Suffolk; let him know

We have dispatch'd the Duke, as he commanded. 2. Oh that it were to do! what have we done? Didst ever hear a man fo penitent?

Enter Suffolk.

1. Here comes my Lord.

Suf. Now, Sirs, have you dispatch'd

This thing?

1. Ay, my good 'Lord, 'tis done, he's dead.` Suf. Why, that's well faid. Go get you to my house,

I will reward you for this vent'rous deed':

The King and all the Peers are here at hand.

Have you laid fair the bed? are all things well,

According as I gave directions?

1. Yes, my good Lord.

Suf. Away, be gone.

[Exeunt Murtherers.

Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Cardinal, Somerset,

with Attendants.

K. Henry. Go call our Uncle to our presence ftrait:

9 Lord, he's dead.

Say

Say we intend to try his Grace to-day,

If he be guilty, as 'tis published.

Suf. I'll call him presently, my noble Lord.

[Exit. K. Henry, Lords, take your places; and I pray you all, Proceed no ftraiter 'gainft our uncle Glofter, Than from true evidence of good esteem

He be approv'd in practice culpable.

Q. Mar. God forbid any malice fhould prevail, That faultlefs may condemn a Nobleman!

Pray God he may acquit him of fufpicion!

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[me much.

K. Henry. I thank thee: 'well, thefe words content

Enter Suffolk.

How now? why look ft thou pale? why trembleft thou?
Where is our Uncle? what's the matter, Suffolk?
Suf. Dead in his bed, my Lord, Glofter is dead.
Q. Mar. Marry, God förefend!

Car. God's fecret judgment: I did dream to-night, The Duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. [King fwoons. Q. Mar. How fares my Lord? help, Lords, the King is dead.

Som. Rear up his body, wring him by the nose.

Q. Mar. Run, go, help, help! oh Henry, ope thine eyes.
Suf. He doth revive again; Madam, be patient.
K. Henry. O heav'nly God!

Q. Mar. How fares my gracious Lord?

Suf. Comfort, my Sovereign, gracious Henry, comfort! K. Henry. What, doth my Lord of Suffolk comfort me? Came he right now to fing 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 chafe away the firft-conceived found?
Hide not thy poifon with fuch fugar'd words,
Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I fay;
Their touch affrights me as a ferpent's fting.

I Nell, ... old edit. Theob, emend.

Thou

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