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 MARGARET 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 MARGARET 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 succors, 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 burthen of dishonour home By staying there so long till all were lost.
Show me one scar character'd on thy skin:
Men's flesh preserved so whole do seldom win. QUEEN MARGARET 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 proved 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.
The 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. SUFFOLK Why, our authority is his consent, And what we do establish he confirms:
Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand. YORK I am content: provide me soldiers, lords, Whiles I take order for mine own affairs. SUFFOLK A charge, Lord York, that I will see perform'd.
But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey. CARDINAL No more of him; for I will deal with him That henceforth he shall trouble us no more.
And so break off; the day is almost spent:
Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event. YORK My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days At Bristol I expect my soldiers;For there I'll ship them all for Ireland. SUFFOLK I'll see it truly done, my Lord of York.
Exeunt all but YORK YORK Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts, And change misdoubt to resolution:
Be that thou hopest to be, or what thou art Resign to death; it is not worth the enjoying:
Let pale-faced fear keep with the mean-born man, And find no harbour in a royal heart.
Faster than spring-time showers comes thought on thought, And not a thought but thinks on dignity.
My brain more busy than the labouring spider Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done, To send me packing with an host of men:
I fear me you but warm the starved snake, Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your hearts.
'Twas men I lack'd and you will give them me:
I take it kindly; and yet be well assured You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.
Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, I will stir up in England some black storm Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell;And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage Until the golden circuit on my head, Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.
And, for a minister of my intent, I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman, John Cade of Ashford, To make commotion, as full well he can, Under the title of John Mortimer.
In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade Oppose himself against a troop of kerns, And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine;And, in the end being rescued, I have seen Him caper upright like a wild Morisco, Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells.
Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kern, Hath he conversed with the enemy, And undiscover'd come to me again And given me notice of their villanies.
This devil here shall be my substitute;
For that John Mortimer, which now is dead, In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble:
By this I shall 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 Will make him say I moved him to those arms.
Say that he thrive, as 'tis great like he will, Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd;For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, And Henry put apart, the next for me.
Exit SCENE II. Bury St. Edmund's. A room of state. Enter certain Murderers, hastily First Murderer Run to my Lord of Suffolk; let him know We have dispatch'd the duke, as he commanded. Second Murderer O that it were to do! What have we done?
Didst ever hear a man so penitent?
Enter SUFFOLK First Murder Here comes my lord. SUFFOLK Now, sirs, have you dispatch'd this thing? First Murderer Ay, my good lord, he's dead. SUFFOLK Why, that's well said. Go, get you to my house;I will reward you for this venturous deed.
The king and all the peers are here at hand.
Have you laid fair the bed? Is all things well, According as I gave directions? First Murderer 'Tis, my good lord. SUFFOLK Away! be gone.