Q. Mar. O let me entreat thee, cease! Give
me thy hand,

That I may dew it with my mournful tears:
Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,
To wash away my woeful monuments.
O could this kiss be printed in thy hand,
[Kisses his hand.
That thou might'st think upon these by the seal,
Through whom a thousand sighs are breathed
for thee!

So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief:
'Tis but surmised whilst thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
I will repeal thee, or, be well assured,
Adventure to be banished myself:
And banishéd I am, if but from thee.
Go, speak not to me; even now be gone.—
O go not yet!-Even thus two friends condemned
Embrace and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves,
Loather a hundred times to part than die.
Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee!
Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished;
Once by the King, and three times thrice by
thee.

'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence⚫
A wilderness is populous enough,
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company:
For where thou art there is the world itself,
With every several pleasure in the world:
And where thou art not, desolation.

I can no more. Live thou to joy thy life:
Myself no joy in nought but that thou liv'st.

Enter VAUX.

Q. Mar. Whither goes Vaux so fast? what news I pr'y thee?

Vaux. To signify unto his majesty That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death: For suddenly a grievous sickness took him, That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the air, Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth. Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost Were by his side; sometime he calls the King, And whispers to his pillow, as to him, The secrets of his overchargéd soul: And I am sent to tell his majesty That even now he cries aloud for him.

Q. Mar. Go tell this heavy message to the King. [Exit VAUX.

Ah me, what is this world! what news are these!

But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,
Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure?
Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
And with the southern clouds contend in tears:
Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my
sorrows?

Now get thee hence. The King thou know'st is

coming:

If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.

Suf. If I depart from thee I cannot live: And in thy sight to die, what were it else But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? Here could I breathe my soul into the air, As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe Dying with mother's dugs between his lips: Where from thy sight I should be raging mad, And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth: So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul, Or I should breathe it so into thy body, And then it lived in sweet Elysium.

To die by thee were but to die in jest:

From thee to die were torture more than death. O let me stay, befal what may befal.

Q. Mar. Away! though parting be a fretful córrosive,

It is applied to a deathful wound.

To France, sweet Suffolk. Let me hear from thee:
For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe,
I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.
Suf. I go.

Q. Mar. And take my heart with thee.
Suf. A jewel locked into the woeful'st cask
That ever did contain a thing of worth!
Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we:
This way fall I to death.

Q. Mar. This way for me. [Exeunt severally.

Enter KING HENRY, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and others. The CARDINAL in bed; Attendants with him.

K. Hen. How fares my lord? Speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.

Car. If thou be'st Death, I'll give thee England's treasure,

Enough to purchase such another island,
So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain.
K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life
When death's approach is seen so terrible!
War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to
thee.

Car. Bring me unto my trial when
you will.
Died he not in his bed? where should he die?
Can I make men live whe'r they will or no?-
O torture me no more! I will confess.-
Alive again? then shew me where he is :
I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.—
He hath no eyes; the dust hath blinded them.-

Comb down his hair: look, look! it stands upright Like limetwigs set to catch my wingéd soul!Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.

K. Hen. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens, Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch! O beat away the busy meddling fiend That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul, And from his bosom purge this black despair! War. See how the pangs of death do make him grin.

Sal. Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably. K. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!

Lord Cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.He dies and makes no sign: O God, forgive him! War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. K. Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.

Close up his eyes and draw the curtain elose; And let us all to meditation. [Exeunt.

SCENE I.-Kent. The sea-shore near Dover. Firing heard at sea. Then enter, from a boat, a Captain, a Master, a Master's-Mate, WALTER WHITMORE, and others; with them SUFFOLK and other Gentlemen, prisoners.

Cap. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day

Is crept into the bosom of the sea:

And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades That drag the tragic melancholy night;

Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings,

Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws

Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.
Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize:
For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs,
Here shall they make their ransom on the
sand,

Or with their blood stain this discoloured shore.-
Master, this prisoner freely give I thee;-
And thou that art his mate, make boot of this ;-

Cap. Be not so rash: take ransom; let him live. Suf. Look on my George: I am a gentleman: Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. Whit. And so am I: my name is Walter Whitmore.

How now! why start'st thou? what, doth death affright?

Suf. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound
is death.

A cunning man did calculate my birth,
And told me that by Water I should die.
Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded:
Thy name is Gaultier, being rightly sounded.

Whit. Gaultier or Walter, which it is I care not: Ne'er yet did base dishonour blur our name, But with our sword we wiped away the blot. Therefore when, merchant-like, I sell revenge, Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defaced, And I proclaimed a coward through the world!

[Lays hold on SUFFOLK.

Suf. Stay, Whitmore: for thy prisoner is a prince:

The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Poole.

Whit. The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags! Suf. Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke:

Jove sometime went disguised, and why not I?
Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be.
Suf. Obscure and lowly swain, King Henry's
blood,

The honourable blood of Lancaster,
Must not be shed by such a jaded groom.
Hast thou not kissed thy hand and held my stirrup:
Bareheaded plodded by my foot-cloth mule,
And thought thee happy when I shook my head?
How often hast thou waited at my cup,
Fed from my trencher, kneeled down at the board,
When I have feasted with Queen Margaret?
Remember it, and let it make thee crestfallen:
Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride.
How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood,
And duly waited for my coming forth?
This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf,
And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue.
Whit. Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn
swain?

Cap. First let my words stab him, as he hath

Ay, kennel, puddle, sink! whose filth and dirt
Troubles the silver spring where England drinks.
Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth,
For swallowing the treasure of the realm:
Thy lips, that kissed the queen, shall sweep the
ground;

And thou, that smil'dst at good Duke Humphrey's death,

Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain,
Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again:
And wedded be thou to the hags of hell,
For daring to affy a mighty lord
Unto the daughter of a worthless king,
Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem.
By devilish policy art thou grown great,
And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorged
With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart.
By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France:
The false revolting Normans thorough thee
Disdain to call us lord: and Picardy
Hath slain their governors, surprised our forts,
And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home.
The princely Warwick and the Nevils all,
Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain,
As hating thee, are rising up in arms:
And now the house of York, thrust from the crown
By shameful murder of a guiltless king
And lofty proud encroaching tyranny,
Burns with revenging fire; whose hopeful colours
Advance our half-faced sun, striving to shine;
Under the which is writ" Invitis nubibus."
The commons here in Kent are up in arms:
And, to conclude, reproach and beggary
Is crept into the palace of our King:
And all by thee.-Away! convey him hence.

Suf. O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges! Small things make base men proud: this villain here.

Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more
Than Bargulus, the strong Illyrian pirate.
Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob beehives.
It is impossible that I should die
By such a lowly vassal as thyself:

Thy words move rage and not remorse in me.

Suf. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough, Used to command, untaught to plead for favour. Far be it we should honour such as these With humble suit: no, rather let my head Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any, Save to the God of heaven and to my King; And sooner dance upon a bloody pole Than stand uncovered to the vulgar groom. True nobility is exempt from fear :—· More can I bear than you dare execute.

Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no more. Suf. Come, soldiers, shew what cruelty ye can, That this my death may never be forgot! Great men oft die by vile Bezonians : A Roman sworder and banditto slave Murdered sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand Stabbed Julius Cæsar; savage islanders, Pompey the great: and Suffolk dies by pirates. [Exit SUFFOLK, with WHITMORE and others. Cap. And as for these whose ransom we have set, It is our pleasure one of them depart:— Therefore come you with us, and let him go.

[Exeunt all but the first Gentleman.

Re-enter WHITMORE, with SUFFOLK's body. Whit. There let his head and lifeless body lie, Until the Queen his mistress bury it. [Exit.

1st Gent. O barbarous and bloody spectacle!

His body will I bear unto the King:

If he revenge it not, yet will his friends;

So will the Queen, that living held him dear. [Exit, with the body.

SCENE II.-Blackheath.

Enter GEORGE BEVIS and JOHN HOLLAND. Geo. Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a lath: they have been up these two days. John. They have the more need to sleep now, then.

Geo. I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.

John. So he had need, for 't is threadbare. Well I say it was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up.

Geo. O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handicraftsmen.

John. The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.

Geo. Nay more, the King's council are no good workmen.

John. True. And yet it is said, "labour in thy vocation:" which is as much to say as, “let the magistrates be labouring men :" and therefore should we be magistrates.

Geo. Thou hast hit it: for there's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.

John. I see them, I see them! There's Best's son, the tanner of Wingham;

Geo. He shall have the skins of our enemies to make dog's leather of.

John. And Dick the butcher;

Geo. Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity's throat cut like a calf's.

John. And Smith the weaver ;

Geo. Argo, their thread of life is spun. John. Come, come, let 's fall in with them.

Drum. Enter CADE, DICK the butcher, SMITH the weaver, and others in great number. Cade. We John Cade, so termed of our supposed father,

Dick. Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings. [Aside.

Cade. -for our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes,-Command silence.

Dick. Silence!

Cade. My father was a Mortimer,— Dick. He was an honest man and a good bricklayer.

[Aside.

Cade. My mother a Plantagenet,-
Dick. I knew her well, she was a midwife.

[Aside. Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies,Dick. She was indeed a pedlar's daughter, and sold many laces. [Aside.

Smith. But now of late, not able to travel with her furred pack, she washes bucks here at home. [Aside.

Cade. Therefore am I of an honourable house. Dick. Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable; and there was he born, under a hedge: for his father had never a house but the cage. [Aside. Cade. Valiant I am.

Smith. 'A must needs; for beggary is valiant. [Aside.

Cade. I am able to endure much. Dick. No question of that; for I have seen him whipped three market days together.

[Aside.

Cade. I fear neither sword nor fire. Smith. He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of proof. [Aside.

Dick. But methinks he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i' the hand for stealing of sheep. [Aside.

Cade. Be brave, then: for your captain is brave, and vows reformation. There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny; the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops; and I will make it felony to drink small