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  • Title: Henry VI, Part 2 (Quarto 1, 1594)

  • Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Henry VI, Part 2 (Quarto 1, 1594)

    Houses, of Yorke and Lancaster.
    Good father staie you with the rude multitude, till I returne.
    1836.1Salb. I will sonne. Exet Salbury.
    VVarwicke drawes the curtaines and showes Duke
    1849.1Humphrey in his bed.
    King. Ah vnkle Gloster, heauen receiue thy soule.
    1855Farewell poore Henries ioy, now thou art gone.
    VVar. Now by his soule that tooke our shape vpon him,
    To free vs from his fathers dreadfull curse,
    1860I am resolu'd that violent hands were laid,
    Vpon the life of this thrise famous Duke.
    Suffolk. A dreadfull oth sworne with a solemne toong,
    What instance giues Lord Warwicke for these words?
    1865VVar. Oft haue I seene a timely parted ghost,
    Of ashie semblance, pale and bloodlesse,
    But loe the blood is setled in his face,
    More better coloured then when he liu'd,
    His well proportioned beard made rough and sterne,
    His fingers spred abroad as one that graspt for life,
    Yet was by strength surprisde, the least of these are probable,
    It cannot chuse but he was murthered.
    Queene. Suffolke and the Cardinall had him in charge,
    1885And they I trust sir, are no murtherers.
    VVar. I, but twas well knowne they were not his friends,
    And tis well seene he found some enemies.
    1890Card. But haue you no greater proofes then these?
    VVar. Who sees a hefer dead and bleeding fresh,
    And sees hard-by a butcher with an axe,
    But will suspect twas he that made the slaughter?
    1895Who findes the partridge in the puttocks neast,
    But will imagine how the bird came there,
    Although the kyte soare with vnbloodie beake?
    Euen so suspitious is this Tragidie.
    1900Queene. Are you the kyte Bewford, where's your talants?
    Is Suffolke the butcher, where's his knife?
    Suffolke. I weare no knife to slaughter sleeping men,
    But heres a vengefull sword rusted with case,
    That shall be scoured in his rankorous heart,
    That slanders me with murthers crimson badge,