Thou never didst them wrong,nor no man wrong;And as the butcher takes away the calf,And binds the wretch,and beats it when it strays,Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house,Even so,remorseless,have they borne him hence;And as the dam runs lowing up and down,Looking the way her harmless young one went,And can do nought but wail her darling's loss,Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case With sad unhelpful tears,and with dimm'd eyes Look after him,and cannot do him good,So mighty are his vowed enemies.His fortunes I will weep,and 'twixt each groan Say 'Who's a traitor?Gloucester he is none.'Exit QUEEN.Free lords,cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams:Henry my lord is cold in great affairs,Too full of foolish pity;and Gloucester's show Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile With sorrow snares relenting passengers;Or as the snake,roll'd in a flow'ring bank,With shining checker'd slough,doth sting a child That for the beauty thinks it excellent.Believe me,lords,were none more wise than I-And yet herein I judge mine own wit good-This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world To rid us from the fear we have of him.CARDINAL.That he should die is worthy policy;But yet we want a colour for his death.'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law.SUFFOLK.But,in my mind,that were no policy:The King will labour still to save his life;The commons haply rise to save his life;And yet we have but trivial argument,More than mistrust,that shows him worthy death.YORK.So that,by this,you would not have him die.SUFFOLK.Ah,York,no man alive so fain as I!YORK.'Tis York that hath more reason for his death.But,my Lord Cardinal,and you,my Lord of Suffolk,Say as you think,and speak it from your souls:Were't not all one an empty eagle were set To guard the chicken from a hungry kite As place Duke Humphrey for the King's Protector?QUEEN.So the poor chicken should be sure of death.SUFFOLK.Madam,'tis true;and were't not madness then To make the fox surveyor of the fold?Who being accus'd a crafty murderer,His guilt should be but idly posted over,Because his purpose is not executed.No;let him die,in that he is a fox,By nature prov'd an enemy to the flock,Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood,As Humphrey,prov'd by reasons,to my liege.And do not stand on quillets how to slay him;Be it by gins,by snares,by subtlety,Sleeping or waking,'tis no matter how,So he be dead;for that is good deceit Which mates him first that first intends deceit.QUEEN.Thrice-noble Suffolk,'tis resolutely spoke.SUFFOLK.Not resolute,except so much were done,For things are often spoke and seldom meant;But that my heart accordeth with my tongue,Seeing the deed is meritorious,And to preserve my sovereign from his foe,Say but the word,and I will be his priest.CARDINAL.But I would have him dead,my Lord of Suffolk,Ere you can take due orders for a priest;Say you consent and censure well the deed,And I'll provide his executioner-I tender so the safety of my liege.SUFFOLK.Here is my hand the deed is worthy doing.QUEEN.And so say I.YORK.And I.And now we three have spoke it,It skills not greatly who impugns our doom.
Enter a POST
POST.Great lords,from Ireland am I come amain To signify that rebels there are up And put the Englishmen unto the sword.Send succours,lords,and stop the rage betime,Before the wound do grow uncurable;For,being green,there is great hope of help.CARDINAL.A breach that craves a quick expedient stop!What counsel give you in this weighty cause?YORK.That Somerset be sent as Regent thither;'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd,Witness the fortune he hath had in France.SOMERSET.If York,with all his far-fet policy,Had been the Regent there instead of me,He never would have stay'd in France so long.YORK.No,not to lose it all as thou hast done.I rather would have lost my life betimes Than bring a burden of dishonour home By staying there so long till all were lost.Show me one scar character'd on thy skin:Men's flesh preserv'd so whole do seldom win.QUEEN.Nay then,this spark will prove a raging fire,If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with;No more,good York;sweet Somerset,be still.Thy fortune,York,hadst thou been Regent there,Might happily have prov'd far worse than his.YORK.What,worse than nought?Nay,then a shame take all!SOMERSET.And in the number,thee that wishest shame!CARDINAL.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 some,And try your hap against the Irishmen?YORK.I will,my lord,so please his Majesty.