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And torture him with grievous lingering death.

They say, by him the good Duke Humphrey died;

They say, in him they fear your highness' death;

And mere instinct of love and loyalty,

Free from a stubborn opposite intent,

As being thought to contradict your liking,

Makes them thus forward in his banishment.

They say, in care of your most royal person,

That if your highness should intend to sleep

And charge that no man should disturb your rest

In pain of your dislike or pain of death,

Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict,

Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue,

That slily glided towards your majesty,

It were but necessary you were wak'd,

Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber,

The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal;

And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,

That they will guard you, whether you will or no,

From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is,

With whose envenomed and fatal sting,

Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,

They say, is shamefully bereft of life.

COMMONS.

[Within.] An answer from the king, my Lord of Salisbury!

SUFFOLK.

'T is like the commons, rude unpolish'd hinds,

Could send such message to their sovereign;

But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd,

To show how quaint an orator you are.

But all the honour Salisbury hath won

Is that he was the lord ambassador

Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king.

COMMONS.

[Within.] An answer from the king, or we will all break in!

KING.

Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me,

I thank them for their tender loving care,

And had I not been cited so by them,

Yet did I purpose as they do entreat,

For, sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy

Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means;

And therefore, by His majesty I swear,

Whose far unworthy deputy I am,

He shall not breathe infection in this air

But three days longer, on the pain of death.

[Exit Salisbury.]

QUEEN.

O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk!

KING.

Ungentle queen, to call him gentle Suffolk!

No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him,

Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath.

Had I but said, I would have kept my word,

But when I swear, it is irrevocable.—

If, after three days' space, thou here be'st found

On any ground that I am ruler of,

The world shall not be ransom for thy life.—

Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me;

I have great matters to impart to thee.

[Exeunt all but Queen and Suffolk.]

QUEEN.

Mischance and sorrow go along with you!

Heart's discontent and sour affliction

Be playfellows to keep you company!

There's two of you; the devil make a third!

And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps!

SUFFOLK.

Cease, gentle queen, these execrations,

And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.

QUEEN.

Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch,

Has thou not spirit to curse thine enemy?

SUFFOLK.

A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse them?

Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,

I would invent as bitter-searching terms,

As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear,

Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth,

With full as many signs of deadly hate,

As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave.

My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words;

Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint;

Mine hair be fix'd an end, as one distract;

Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban;

And even now my burthen'd heart would break,

Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!

Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste!

Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress-trees!

Their chiefest prospect murthering basilisks!

Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings!

Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss,

And boding screech-owls make the consort full!

All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell—

QUEEN.

Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou torment'st thyself;

And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass,

Or like an overcharged gun, recoil

And turns the force of them upon thyself.

SUFFOLK.

You bade me ban, and will you