Though ftanding naked on a mountain top
Where biting Cold would never let grafs grow,
And think it but a minute spent in fport,

Q. Mar. Oh, let me entreat thee ceafe, 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 woful monuments.

2

Oh, could this kifs be printed in thy hand,

[Kiffing his band,

That thou might'ft think upon these by the feal,
Through whom a thousand fighs are breath'd for thee,
-So-Get thee gone, that I may know my grief;
'Tis but furmis'd, whilst thou art ftanding by,
As one that furfeits, thinking on a Want,
-I will repeal thee, or, be well affur'd,
Adventure to be banished myself;

And banished I am, if but from thee,
-Go, fpeak not to me; even now be gone-
Oh, go not yet-Ev'n thus two friends condemn'd
Embrace and kifs, and take ten thousand leaves,
Loather a hundred times to part than die.
-Yet now farewel, and farewel 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 heav'nly company.
For where thou art, there is the world itself,
With ev'ry fev'ral pleasure in the world,
And where thou art not, Defolation.

I can no more-Live thou to joy thy life;
Myfelf no joy in aught but that thou liv'ft.

That thou might't think upon
thefe by the feal,
Through which a thousand fighs,
c.] That by the impreffion of
ay kifs for ever remaining on

thy hand thou mighteft think on thafe lips through which a thou fand fighs will be breathed for thee.

SCENE

SCENE IX..

Enter Vaux.

Q. Mar. Whither goes Vaux fo faft? what news, I pr'y thee?

Vaux. To fignify unto his Majefty,

That Cardinal Beauford is at point of death,
For fuddenly a grievous fickness took him,
That makes him gafp, and ftare, and catch the air,
Blafpheming God, and curfing men on earth,
Sometimes he talks, as if Duke Humphry's ghost
Were by his fide; fometimes, he calls the King,
And whifpers to his pillow, as to him,
The fecrets of his over-charged foul;
And I am fent to tell his Majefty,
That even now he cries aloud for him.

Q. Mar. Go tell this heavy meffage to the King.

[Exit Vaux.
Ay me! what is this world? what news are thefse?
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor lofs,
Omitting Suffolk's exile, my foul's treasure?
Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
And with the fouthern clouds contend in tears?
Theirs for the earth's increase; mine for my forrows.
-Now, get thee hence.-The King, thou know'ft, is
coming;

If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.
Suf. If I depart from thee, I cannot live;
And in thy fight to die, what were it elfe,
But like a pleafant lumber in thy lap?
Here could I breathe my foul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle babe
Dying with mother's dug between its lips.
Where, from thy fight, I fhould be raging mad,

at an hour's poor los.] She means, I believe, at a lofs which any bour spent in contrivance and deliberation will enable her to

fupply. Or perhaps the may
call the fickn fs of the cardinal
the lofs or an hour, as it may
put fome ftop to her schemes.
F 4

And

And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes,
To have thee with thy lips to ftop my mouth;
So shouldst thou either turn my flying foul,
Or I fhould breathe it fo into thy body,
And then it liv'd in fweet Elyfium.

To die by thee were but to die in jeft,

From thee to die were torture more than death.
-Oh! let me ftay, befal what may befal.

Q. Mar. Away. Though parting be a fretful cor-
rofive,

It is applied to a deathful wound.

To France, fweet Suffolk. Let me hear from thee,
For wherefoe'er thou art in this world's globe,

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

Suf. I go.

Q. Mar, And take my heart with thee.
Suf. A jewel lock'd into the woful'st casket
That ever did contain a thing of worth.

Even as a splitted bark, fo funder we;

This way fall I to death.

Q. Mar. This way for me.

SCENE

[Exeunt feverally.

X.

The Cardinal's Bedchamber.

Enter King Henry, Salisbury, and Warwick, to the
Cardinal in Bed,

K. Henry. HOW fares my Lord? fpeak, Beauford,
How to Sovereign.

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

Enough to purchase fuch another Island,
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.
K. Henry. Ah, what a fign it is of evil life,
Where death's approach is feen so terrible!
War, Beauford, it is thy Sovereign fpeaks to thee.

I'll bave an Iris] Iris was the meffenger of June.

Car.

Car. Bring me unto my Trial when you will. Dy'd he not in his bed? where should he die? Can I make men live whether they will or no? -Oh, torture me no more, I will confefs -Alive again? then fhew me where he is, I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him. -He hath no eyes, the duft hath blinded them. -Comb down his hair; look! look! it ftands upright, Like lime twigs fet to catch my winged foul. -Give me fome drink, and bid th' apothecary Bring the ftrong poifon that I bought of him. K. Henry. O thou eternal Mover of the heav'ns, Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch; Oh, beat away the bufy, medling, fiend, That lays ftrong fiege unto this wretch's foul, And from his bofom purge this black despair. War. See, how the pangs of death do make him grin! Sal. Disturb him not; let him pafs peaceably." K. Henry. Peace to his foul, if God's good pleasure be! -Lord Cardinal, if thou think'ft on heaven's blifs,' Hold up thy hand, make fignal of thy hope. -He dies, and makes no fign!-O God, forgive him. War. So bad a death argues a monftrous life.

3

K. Henry. Forbear to judge, for we are finners all. Clofe up his eyes, and draw the curtain close, And let us all to meditation.

[Exeunt.*

-]tinue to be admired when prejudice fhall ceale, and bigotry give way to impartial examina tion. These are beauties that rife out of nature and of truth; the fuperficial reader cannot mifs them, the profound can image nothing beyond them.

tumus effe quod hic eft. This is one of the fcenes which have been applauded by the criticks, and which will con

ACT

SCENE I.

ACT IV.

The Coast of Kent.

Alarm. Fight at fea. Ordnance goes off. Enter Captain Whitmore, and other Pirates, with Suffolk, and other Prifoners.

CAPTAIN.

HE gaudy, blabbing, and remorfeful day
Is crept into the bofom of the fea;

TH

And now loud howling wolves aroufe the jades,
That drag the tragick melancholy night,

4

Who with their drowsy, flow, and flagging wings
Clip dead men's graves; and from their mifty jaws
Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.
Therefore bring forth the foldiers of our prize;
For whilft our Pinnace anchors in the Downs,
Here fhall they make their ransom on the sand;
Or with their blood ftain this difcolour'd shore.
-Mafter, this prifoner freely give I thec;
And thou, that art his mate, make boot of this;
The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy fhare.

[Pointing to Suffolk. 1 Gent. What is my ranfom, mafter, let me know. Maft. A thousand crowns, or elfe lay down your head. Mate. And fo much fhall you give, or off goes yours. Whit. What, think you much to pay two thousand