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 performed.

But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey.

CARDINAL BEAUFORT

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 hop‘st to be, or what thou art

Resign to death; it is not worth th’enjoying.

Let pale-faced fear keep with the mean-born man

And find no harbour in a royal heart.

Faster than springtime 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, cherished in your breasts, will sting your hearts.

’Twas men I lacked, and you will give them me.

I take it kindly. Yet be well assured

You put sharp weapons in a madman’s hands.

Whiles I in Ireland nurse 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-quilled porcupine;

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-haired crafty kern

Hath he conversed with the enemy

And, undiscovered, come to me again

And given me notice of their villainies.

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, racked, and torturèd—

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 coistrel sowed.

For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,

And Henry put apart, the next for me. Exit

3.2 ⌈The curtains are drawn apart, revealing Duke Humphrey of Gloucester in his bed with two men lying on his breast, smothering him in his bed⌉

FIRST MURDERER (to the Second Murderer)

Run to my lord of Suffolk—let him know

We have dispatched 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 the Duke of Suffolk

FIRST MURDERER Here comes my lord.

SUFFOLK

Now, sirs, have you dispatched 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

Then draw the curtains close; away, be gone!

Exeunt ⌈the Murderers, drawing the curtains as

they leave⌉

Sound trumpets, then enter King Henry and Queen

Margaret, Cardinal Beaufort, the Duke of Somerset,

and attendants

KING HENRY ⌈to Suffolk⌉

Go call our uncle to our presence straight.

Say we intend to try his grace today

If he be guilty, as ’tis published.

SUFFOLK

I’ll call him presently, my noble lord.

Exit

KING HENRY

Lords, take your places; and, I pray you all,

Proceed no straiter ’gainst our uncle Gloucester

Than from true evidence, of good esteem,

He be approved in practice culpable.

QUEEN MARGARET

God forbid any malice should prevail

That faultless may condemn a noble man!

Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion!