1632Yorke. My Lord of Suffolke, within foureteene dayes

1633At Bristow I expect my Souldiers,

1634For there Ile shippe them all for Ireland.

1635Suff. Ile see it truly done, my Lord of Yorke. Exeunt.

1637Yorke. Now Yorke, or neuer, steele thy fearfull thoughts,

1638And change misdoubt to resolution;

1639Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art;

1640Resigne to death, it is not worth th' enioying:

1641Let pale-fac't feare keepe with the meane-borne man,

1642And finde no harbor in a Royall heart.

1643Faster thẽ Spring-time showres, comes thoght on thoght,

1644And not a thought, but thinkes on Dignitie.

1645My Brayne, more busie then the laboring Spider,

1646Weaues tedious Snares to trap mine Enemies.

1647Well Nobles, well: 'tis politikely done,

1648To send me packing with an Hoast of men:

1649I feare me, you but warme the starued Snake,

1650Who cherisht in your breasts, will sting your hearts.

1651'Twas men I lackt, and you will giue them me;

1652I take it kindly: yet be well assur'd,

1653You put sharpe Weapons in a mad-mans hands.

1654Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mightie Band,

1655I will stirre vp in England some black Storme,

1656Shall blowe ten thousand Soules to Heauen, or Hell:

1657And this fell Tempest shall not cease to rage,

1658Vntill the Golden Circuit on my Head,

1659Like to the glorious Sunnes transparant Beames,

1660Doe calme the furie of this mad-bred Flawe.

1661And for a minister of my intent,

1662I haue seduc'd a head-strong Kentishman,

1663Iohn Cade of Ashford,

1664To make Commotion, as full well he can,

1665Vnder the Title of Iohn Mortimer.

1666In Ireland haue I seene this stubborne Cade

1667Oppose himselfe against a Troupe of Kernes,

1668And fought so long, till that his thighes with Darts

1669Were almost like a sharpe-quill'd Porpentine:

1670And in the end being rescued, I haue seene

1671Him capre vpright, like a wilde Morisco,

1672Shaking the bloody Darts, as he his Bells.

1673Full often, like a shag-hayr'd craftie Kerne,

1674Hath he conuersed with the Enemie,

1675And vndiscouer'd, come to me againe,

1676And giuen me notice of their Villanies.

1677This Deuill here shall be my substitute;

1678For that Iohn Mortimer, which now is dead,

1679In face, in gate, in speech he doth resemble.

1680By this, I shall perceiue the Commons minde,

1681How they affect the House and Clayme of Yorke.

1682Say he be taken, rackt, and tortured;

1683I know, no paine they can inflict vpon him,

1684Will make him say, I mou'd him to those Armes.

1685Say that he thriue, as 'tis great like he will,

1686Why then from Ireland come I with my strength,

1687And reape the Haruest which that Rascall sow'd.

1688For Humfrey; being dead, as he shall be,

1689And Henry put apart: the next for me. Exit.

16921. Runne to my Lord of Suffolke: let him know

1693We haue dispatcht the Duke, as he commanded.

16942. Oh, that it were to doe: what haue we done?

1695Didst euer heare a man so penitent? Enter Suffolke.

16961. Here comes my Lord.

1697Suff. Now Sirs, haue you dispatcht this thing?

16981. I, my good Lord, hee's dead.

1699Suff. Why that's well said. Goe, get you to my House,

1700I will reward you for this venturous deed:

1701The King and all the Peeres are here at hand.

1702Haue you layd faire the Bed? Is all things well,

1703According as I gaue directions?

17041. 'Tis, my good Lord.

1705Suff. Away, be gone. Exeunt.

1709King. Goe call our Vnckle to our presence straight:

1710Say, we intend to try his Grace to day,

1711If he be guiltie, as 'tis published.

1712Suff. Ile call him presently, my Noble Lord. Exit.

1713King. Lords take your places: and I pray you all

1714Proceed no straiter 'gainst our Vnckle Gloster,

1715Then from true euidence, of good esteeme,

1716He be approu'd in practise culpable.

1717Queene. God forbid any Malice should preuayle,

1718That faultlesse may condemne a Noble man:

1719Pray God he may acquit him of suspition.

1720King. I thanke thee Nell, these wordes content mee

1721much.

1723How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou?

1724Where is our Vnckle? what's the matter, Suffolke?

1725Suff. Dead in his Bed, my Lord: Gloster is dead.

1726Queene. Marry God forfend.

1727Card. Gods secret Iudgement: I did dreame to Night,

1728The Duke was dumbe, and could not speake a word.

1730Qu. How fares my Lord? Helpe Lords, the King is

1731dead.

1732Som. Rere vp his Body, wring him by the Nose.

1733Qu. Runne, goe, helpe, helpe: Oh Henry ope thine eyes.

1734Suff. He doth reuiue againe, Madame be patient.

1735King. Oh Heauenly God.

1736Qu. How fares my gracious Lord?

1737Suff. Comfort my Soueraigne, gracious Henry com-

1738fort.

1739King. What, doth my Lord of Suffolke comfort me?

1740Came he right now to sing a Rauens Note,

1741Whose dismall tune bereft my Vitall powres:

1742And thinkes he, that the chirping of a Wren,

1743By crying comfort from a hollow breast,

1744Can chase away the first-conceiued sound?

1745Hide not thy poyson with such sugred words,

1746Lay not thy hands on me: forbeare I say,

1747Their touch affrights me as a Serpents sting.

1748Thou balefull Messenger, out of my sight:

1749Vpon thy eye-balls, murderous Tyrannie

1750Sits in grim Maiestie, to fright the World.

1751Looke not vpon me, for thine eyes are wounding;

1752Yet doe not goe away: come Basiliske,

1753And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight:

1754For in the shade of death, I shall finde ioy;

1755In life, but double death, now Gloster's dead.

1756Queene. Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolke thus?

1757Although the Duke was enemie to him,

1758Yet he most Christian-like laments his death:

1759And for my selfe, Foe as he was to me,

1760Might liquid teares, or heart-offending groanes,

1761Or blood-consuming sighes recall his Life;

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