Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,
Well could I curse away a winter's night,
Though standing naked on a mountain top,
Where biting cold would never let grass grow,
And think it but a minute spent in sport.

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 breath'd for thee!2 So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;

'Tis but surmis'd whilst thou art standing by,
As one that surfeits thinking on a want.

I will repeal thee, or, be well assur'd,
Adventure to be banished myself:

And banished I am, if but from thee.

Go, speak not to me; even now be gone.

O, go not yet!-Even thus two friends condemn'd
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'ythee?

Vaux. To signify unto his majesty,

That cardinal Beaufort is at point of death :'

when others begin to rave, they immediately see in them what they could not find in themselves, the deformity and folly of useless rage. JOHNS. [2] That by the impression of my kiss for ever remaining on thy hand thou mightest think on those lips through which a thousand sighs will be breathed for thee. JOHNS.

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 overcharged 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, 3
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 dug between its 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 should'st thou either turn my flying soul,
Or I should breathe it so into thy body,
And then it liv'd 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, befall what may befall.

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

[3] She means, I believe, at a loss which any hour spent in contrivance and deliberation will enable her to supply. Or perhaps she may call the sickness of the Cardinal the loss of an hour, as it inay put some stop to her schemes. JOHNS.

[4] Perhaps Mr. Pope was indebted to this passage in his Eloisa to Abelard, where he makes that votarist of exquisite sensibility say:

"See my lips tremble, and my eve-balls roll,

"Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul."

STEEV

I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.

Suf. I go.

Q.Mar. And take my heart with thee.
Suf. A jewel, lock'd 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.

SCENE III.

London.

Cardinal BEAUFORT's Bed-chamber

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 show 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 lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul !—
Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary

JOHNS.

[5] Iris was the messenger of Juno. (6)During these doynges, Henry Beaufford, byshop of Winchester, and called the riche Cardynall, departed out of this world-This man was -haut in stomach and hygh in countenance, ryche above measure of all men, and to fewe liberal; disdaynful to his kynne, and dreadful to his lovers. His covetous insaciable and hope of long lyfe made hym bothe to forget God, his prynce, and hymselfe, in his latter dayes; for Doctor John Baker, his pryvie counsailer and his chapellayn, wrote, that lying on his death bed, he said these words: Why should I dye, having so muche riches? If the whole realme would save my lyfe, I am able either by pollicie to get it, or by riches to buy it. Fye will not death be hyred, nor will money do no. thynge? When my nephew of Bedford died, I thought myselfe half up the whele, but when I saw myne other nephew of Gloucester disceased, then I thought my selfe able to be equal with kinges, and so thought to increase my treasure in hope to have worne a trypple croune. But I se nowe the world fayleth me, and so I am deceyved; praying you all to pray for me." Hall's Chronicle.

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; 6-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 close; And let us all to meditation.7

[Exeunt.

X

ACT IV.

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.

Captain.

8

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;

9

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.

[6] When a dying person is incapable of speech, it is usual (in the church of Rome) previous to the administration of the sacraments, to obtain some sign that he is desirous of having them administered. The passage may have an allusion to this practice.

C.

[7] This is one of the scenes which have been applauded by the critics, and which will continue to be admired when prejudice shall cease, and bigotry give way to impartial examination. These are beauties that rise out of nature and of truth; the superficial reader cannot miss them, the profound can imagine nothing beyond them. JOHNS.

[8] The epithet, blabbing, applied to the day by a man about to commitmurder, is exquisitely beautiful. Guilt is afraid of light, considers darkness as a natural shelter, and makes night the confidante of those actions which cannot be trusted to the tell-tale day. JOHNS.

[9] The wings of the jades that drag night appears an unnatural image, till it is remembered that the chariot of the night is supposed by Sh. kspeare to be drawn by dragons. JOHNS.

14

VOL. V.

Therefore, bring forth the soldiers of our prize;
For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs,
Here shall they make their ransome on the sand,
Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore.-
Master, this prisoner freely give I thee ;-

And thou that art his mate, make boot of this ;The other, [Pointing to SUFFOLK,] Walter Whitmore, is thy share.

1 Gent. What is my ransome, master? let me know. Mast. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. Mate. And so much shall you give, or off goes your's. Cap. What, think you much to pay two thousand

crowns,

And bear the name and port of gentlemen ?-
Cut both the villains' throats ;-for die you shall;
The lives of those which we have lost in fight,
Cannot be counterpois'd with a petty sum.

1 Gent. I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life. 2 Gent. And so will I, and write home for it straight. Whit. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die; [To SUF. And so should these, if I might have my will.

Cap. Be not so rash; take ransome, 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-Gualtier, being rightly sounded.

Whit. Gualtier, or Waller, which it is, I care not;
Ne'er yet did base dishonour blur our name,
But with our sword we wip'd away the blot;
Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge,
Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defac❜d,
And I proclaim'd 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 disguis'd, and why not I?

Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be.