THE FIRST PART OF THE CONTENTION - (2 HENRY VI)

THE FIRST PART OF THE CONTENTION (2 HENRY VI) WHEN Shakespeare’s history plays were gathered together in the 1623 Folio, seven years after he died, they were printed in the order of their historical events, each with a title naming the king in whose reign those events occurred. No one supposes that this is the order in which Shakespeare wrote them; and the Folio titles are demonstrably not, in all cases, those by which the plays were originally known. The three concerned with the reign of Henry VI are listed in the Folio, simply and unappealingly, as the First, Second, and Third Parts of King Henry the Sixth, and these are the names by which they have continued to be known. Versions of the Second and Third had appeared long before the Folio, in 1594 and 1595; their head titles read The First Part of the Contention of the two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster with the Death of the Good Duke Humphrey and The True Tragedy of Richard, Duke of York, and the Good King Henry the Sixth. These are, presumably, full versions of the plays’ original titles, and we revert to them in preference to the Folio’s historical listing. A variety of internal evidence suggests that the Folio’s Part One was composed after The First Part of the Contention and Richard, Duke of York, so we depart from the Folio order, though a reader wishing to read the plays in their narrative sequence will read Henry VI, Part One before the other two plays. The dates of all three are uncertain, but Part One is alluded to in 1592, when it was probably new. The First Part of the Contention probably belongs to 1590-1. The play draws extensively on English chronicle history for its portrayal of the troubled state of England under Henry VI (1421-71). It dramatizes the touchingly weak King’s powerlessness against the machinations of his nobles, especially Richard, Duke of York, himself ambitious for the throne. Richard engineers the Kentish rebellion, led by Jack Cade, which provides some of the play’s liveliest episodes; and at the play’s end Richard seems poised to take the throne. Historical events of ten years (11445-55) are dramatized with comparative fidelity within a coherent structure that offers a wide variety of theatrical entertainment. Though the play employs old-fashioned conventions of language (particularly the recurrent classical references) and of dramaturgy (such as the horrors of severed heads), its bold characterization, its fundamentally serious but often ironically comic presentation of moral and political issues, the powerful rhetoric of its verse, and the vivid immediacy of its prose have proved highly effective in its rare modern revivals. THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

Of the King’s Party KING HENRY VI QUEEN MARGARET William de la Pole, Marquis, later Duke, of SUFFOLK, the Queen’s lover Duke Humphrey of GLOUCESTER, the Lord Protector, the King’s uncle Dame Eleanor Cobham, the DUCHESS of Gloucester CARDINAL BEAUFORT, Bishop of Winchester, Gloucester’s uncle and the King’s great-uncle Duke of BUCKINGHAM Duke of SOMERSET Old Lord CLIFFORD YOUNG CLIFFORD, his son Of the Duke of York’s Party Earl of SALISBURY Earl of WARWICK, his son The petitions and the combat Two or three PETITIONERS Thomas HORNER, an armourer PETER Thump, his man Three NEIGHBOURS, who drink to Horner Three PRENTICES, who drink to Peter The conjuration Margery Jordan, a WITCH Roger BOLINGBROKE, a conjurer ASNATH, a spirit The false miracle Simon SIMPCOX SIMPCOX’S WIFE The MAYOR of Saint Albans Aldermen of Saint Albans A BEADLE of Saint Albans Townsmen of Saint Albans Eleanor’s penance Gloucester’s SERVANTS Two SHERIFFS of London Sir John STANLEY HERALD The murder of Gloucester Two MURDERERS COMMONS The murder of Suffolk CAPTAIN of a ship MASTER of that ship The Master’s MATE Walter WHITMORE Two GENTLEMEN The Cade Rebellion Jack CADE, a Kentishman suborned by the Duke of York Three or four CITIZENS of London Alexander IDEN, an esquire of Kent, who kills Cade Others VAUX, a messenger APOST MESSENGERS A SOLDIER Attendants, guards, servants, soldiers, falconers

The First Part of the Contention of the Two Famous Houses of York and Lancaster

Atto 1, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish of trumpets, then hautboys. Enter, at one door, King Henry and Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, the Duke of Somerset, the Duke of Buckingham, Cardinal Beaufort,and others. Enter, at the other door, the Duke of York, and the Marquis of Suffolk, and Queen Margaret, and the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick
SUFFOLK	(kneeling before King Henry) As by your high imperial majesty I had in charge at my depart for France, As Procurator to your excellence, To marry Princess Margaret for your grace, So, in the famous ancient city Tours, In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil, The Dukes of Orléans, Calaber, Bretagne, and Alençon, Seven earls, twelve barons, and twenty reverend bishops, I have performed my task and was espoused, And humbly now upon my bended knee, In sight of England and her lordly peers, Deliver up my title in the Queen To your most gracious hands, that are the substance Of that great shadow I did represent— The happiest gift that ever marquis gave, The fairest queen that ever king received.
KING HENRY	Suffolk, arise. Welcome, Queen Margaret. I can express no kinder sign of love Than this kind kiss. He kisses her O Lord that lends me life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness! For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
QUEEN MARGARET	Th’excess of love I bear unto your grace Forbids me to be lavish of my tongue Lest I should speak more than beseems a woman. Let this suffice: my bliss is in your liking, And naught can make poor Margaret miserable Unless the frown of mighty England’s King.
KING HENRY	Her sight did ravish, but her grace in speech, Her words yclad with wisdom’s majesty, Makes me from wond’ring fall to weeping joys, Such is the fullness of my heart’s content. Lords, with one cheerful voice, welcome my love.
LORDS	(kneeling) Long live Queen Margaret, England’s happiness.
QUEEN MARGARET	We thank you all.
(didascalia)	Flourish. They all rise
SUFFOLK	(to Gloucester) My Lord Protector, so it please your grace, Here are the articles of contracted peace Between our sovereign and the French King Charles, For eighteen months concluded by consent.
GLOUCESTER	(reads) Imprimis: it is agreed between the French King Charles and William de la Pole, Marquis of Suffolk, ambassador for Henry, King of England, that the said Henry shall espouse the Lady Margaret, daughter unto René, King of Naples, Sicilia, and Jerusalem, and crown her Queen of England, ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing. Item: it is further agreed between them that the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be released and delivered to the King her fa—
(didascalia)	Gloucester lets the paper fall
KING HENRY	Uncle, how now?
GLOUCESTER	Pardon me, gracious lord. Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart And dimmed mine eyes that I can read no further.
KING HENRY	(to Cardinal Beaufort) Uncle of Winchester, I pray read on.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(reads) Item: it is further agreed between them that the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be released and delivered to the King her father, and she sent over of the King of England’s own proper cost and charges, without dowry.
KING HENRY	They please us well. (To Suffolk) Lord Marquis, kneel down. Suffolk kneels We here create thee first Duke of Suffolk, And gird thee with the sword. Suffolk rises Cousin of York, We here discharge your grace from being regent I’th’ parts of France till term of eighteen months Be full expired. Thanks uncle Winchester, Gloucester, York, and Buckingham, Somerset, Salisbury, and Warwick. We thank you all for this great favour done In entertainment to my princely Queen. Come, let us in, and with all speed provide To see her coronation be performed.
(didascalia)	Exeunt King Henry, Queen Margaret, and
(didascalia)	Suffolk. Gloucester stays all the rest
GLOUCESTER	Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief, Your grief, the common grief of all the land. What—did my brother Henry spend his youth, His valour, coin, and people in the wars? Did he so often lodge in open field In winter’s cold and summer’s parching heat To conquer France, his true inheritance? And did my brother Bedford toil his wits To keep by policy what Henry got? Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick, Received deep scars in France and Normandy? Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself, With all the learned Council of the realm, Studied so long, sat in the Council House Early and late, debating to and fro, How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe, And had his highness in his infancy Crowned in Paris in despite of foes? And shall these labours and these honours die? Shall Henry’s conquest, Bedford’s vigilance, Your deeds of war, and all our counsel die? O peers of England, shameful is this league, Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame, Blotting your names from books of memory, Razing the characters of your renown, Defacing monuments of conquered France, Undoing all, as all had never been!
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Nephew, what means this passionate discourse, This peroration with such circumstance? For France, ’tis ours; and we will keep it still.
GLOUCESTER	Ay, uncle, we will keep it if we can— But now it is impossible we should. Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast, Hath given the duchy of Anjou and Maine Unto the poor King René, whose large style Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.
SALISBURY	Now by the death of Him that died for all, These counties were the keys of Normandy— But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?
WARWICK	For grief that they are past recovery. For were there hope to conquer them again My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears. Anjou and Maine? Myself did win them both! Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer— And are the cities that I got with wounds Delivered up again with peaceful words? Mort Dieu!
YORK	For Suffolk’s duke, may he be suffocate, That dims the honour of this warlike isle! France should have torn and rent my very heart Before I would have yielded to this league. I never read but England’s kings have had Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives— And our King Henry gives away his own, To match with her that brings no vantages.
GLOUCESTER	A proper jest, and never heard before, That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth For costs and charges in transporting her! She should have stayed in France and starved in France Before—
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	My lord of Gloucester, now ye grow too hot! It was the pleasure of my lord the King.
GLOUCESTER	My lord of Winchester, I know your mind. ’Tis not my speeches that you do mislike, But ‘tis my presence that doth trouble ye. Rancour will out. Proud prelate, in thy face I see thy fury. If I longer stay We shall begin our ancient bickerings— But I’ll be gone, and give thee leave to speak. Lordings, farewell, and say when I am gone, I prophesied France will be lost ere long. Exit
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	So, there goes our Protector in a rage. ’Tis known to you he is mine enemy; Nay more, an enemy unto you all, And no great friend, I fear me, to the King. Consider, lords, he is the next of blood And heir apparent to the English crown. Had Henry got an empire by his marriage, And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west, There’s reason he should be displeased at it. Look to it, lords—let not his smoothing words Bewitch your hearts. Be wise and circumspect. What though the common people favour him, Calling him ‘Humphrey, the good Duke of Gloucester‘, Clapping their hands and crying with loud voice ’‘Jesu maintain your royal excellence !’ With ’God preserve the good Duke Humphrey !’ I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss, He will be found a dangerous Protector.
BUCKINGHAM	Why should he then protect our sovereign, He being of age to govern of himself? Cousin of Somerset, join you with me, And all together, with the Duke of Suffolk, We’ll quickly hoist Duke Humphrey from his seat.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	This weighty business will not brook delay— I’ll to the Duke of Suffolk presently. Exit
SOMERSET	Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey’s pride And greatness of his place be grief to us, Yet let us watch the haughty Cardinal; His insolence is more intolerable Than all the princes in the land beside. If Gloucester be displaced, he’ll be Protector.
BUCKINGHAM	Or thou or I, Somerset, will be Protector, Despite Duke Humphrey or the Cardinal.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Buckingham and Somerset
SALISBURY	Pride went before, ambition follows him. While these do labour for their own preferment, Behoves it us to labour for the realm. I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Gloucester Did bear him like a noble gentleman. Oft have I seen the haughty Cardinal, More like a soldier than a man o’th’ church, As stout and proud as he were lord of all, Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself Unlike the ruler of a commonweal. Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age, Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy housekeeping Hath won thee greatest favour of the commons, Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey. And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, In bringing them to civil discipline, Thy late exploits done in the heart of France, When thou wert Regent for our sovereign, Have made thee feared and honoured of the people. The reverence of mine age and Neville’s name Is of no little force if I command. Join we together for the public good, In what we can to bridle and suppress The pride of Suffolk and the Cardinal With Somerset’s and Buckingham’s ambition; And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey’s deeds While they do tend the profit of the land.
WARWICK	So God help Warwick, as he loves the land, And common profit of his country!
YORK	And so says York, (aside) for he hath greatest cause.
SALISBURY	Then let’s away, and look unto the main.
WARWICK	Unto the main? O, father, Maine is lost ! That Maine which by main force Warwick did win, And would have kept so long as breath did last! Main chance, father, you meant—but I meant Maine, Which I will win from France or else be slain.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Warwick and Salisbury, leaving only York
YORK	Anjou and Maine are given to the French, Paris is lost, the state of Normandy Stands on a tickle point now they are gone; Suffolk concluded on the articles, The peers agreed, and Henry was well pleased To change two dukedoms for a duke’s fair daughter. I cannot blame them all—what is’t to them? ’Tis thine they give away and not their own! Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage, And purchase friends, and give to courtesans, Still revelling like lords till all be gone, Whileas the seely owner of the goods Weeps over them, and wrings his hapless hands, And shakes his head, and, trembling, stands aloof, While all is shared and all is borne away, Ready to starve and dare not touch his own. So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue, While his own lands are bargained for and sold. Methinks the realms of England, France, and Ireland Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood As did the fatal brand Althaea burnt Unto the prince’s heart of Calydon. Anjou and Maine both given unto the French ! Cold news for me—for I had hope of France, Even as I have of fertile England’s soil. A day will come when York shall claim his own, And therefore I will take the Nevilles’ parts, And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey, And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown, For that’s the golden mark I seek to hit. Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right, Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist, Nor wear the diadem upon his head Whose church-like humours fits not for a crown. Then, York, be still a while till time do serve. Watch thou, and wake when others be asleep, To pry into the secrets of the state— Till Henry, surfeit in the joys of love With his new bride and England’s dear-bought queen, And Humphrey with the peers be fall’n at jars. Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed, And in my standard bear the arms of York, To grapple with the house of Lancaster; And force perforce I’ll make him yield the crown, Whose bookish rule hath pulled fair England down.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 1, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester and his wife Eleanor, the Duchess
DUCHESS	Why droops my lord, like over-ripened corn Hanging the head at Ceres’ plenteous load? Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows, As frowning at the favours of the world ? Why are thine eyes fixed to the sullen earth, Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? What seest thou there? King Henry’s diadem, Enchased with all the honours of the world? If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face Until thy head be circled with the same. Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold. What, is’t too short? I’ll lengthen it with mine; And having both together heaved it up, We’ll both together lift our heads to heaven And never more abase our sight so low As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.
GLOUCESTER	O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord, Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts! And may that hour when I imagine ill Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, Be my last breathing in this mortal world! ! My troublous dream this night doth make me sad.
DUCHESS	What dreamed my lord? Tell me and I’ll requite it With sweet rehearsal of my morning’s dream.
GLOUCESTER	Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court, Was broke in twain—by whom I have forgot, But, as I think, it was by th’ Cardinal— And on the pieces of the broken wand Were placed the heads of Edmund, Duke of Somerset, And William de la Pole, first Duke of Suffolk. This was my dream—what it doth bode, God knows.
DUCHESS	Tut, this was nothing but an argument That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester’s grove Shall lose his head for his presumption. But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke: Methought I sat in seat of majesty In the cathedral church of Westminster, And in that chair where kings and queens are crowned, Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneeled to me, And on my head did set the diadem.
GLOUCESTER	Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright. Presumptuous dame! Ill-nurtured Eleanor! Art thou not second woman in the realm, And the Protector’s wife beloved of him ? Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command Above the reach or compass of thy thought? And wilt thou still be hammering treachery To tumble down thy husband and thyself From top of honour to disgrace’s feet? Away from me, and let me hear no more!
DUCHESS	What, what, my lord? Are you so choleric With Eleanor for telling but her dream? Next time I’ll keep my dreams unto myself And not be checked.
GLOUCESTER	Nay, be not angry; I am pleased again. Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	My Lord Protector, ’tis his highness’ pleasure You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans, Whereas the King and Queen do mean to hawk.
GLOUCESTER	I go. Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us ?
DUCHESS	Yes, my good lord, I’ll follow presently.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Gloucester and the Messenger
DUCHESS	Follow I must; I cannot go before While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind. Were I am an, a duke, and next of blood, I would remove these tedious stumbling blocks And smooth my way upon their headless necks. And, being a woman, I will not be slack To play my part in fortune’s pageant. (Calling within) Where are you there? Sir John! Nay, fear not man. We are alone. Here’s none but thee and I.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Hume
HUME	Jesus preserve your royal majesty.
DUCHESS	What sayst thou? ‘Majesty’ ? I am but ‘grace’.
HUME	But by the grace of God and Hume’s advice Your grace’s title shall be multiplied.
DUCHESS	What sayst thou, man? Hast thou as yet conferred With Margery Jordan, the cunning witch of Eye, With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjuror? And will they undertake to do me good?
HUME	This they have promisèd: to show your highness A spirit raised from depth of underground That shall make answer to such questions As by your Grace shall be propounded him.
DUCHESS	It is enough. I’ll think upon the questions. When from Saint Albans we do make return, We’ll see these things effected to the full. Here, Hume (giving him money), take this reward. Make merry, man, With thy confederates in this weighty cause.
(didascalia)	Exit
HUME	Hume must make merry with the Duchess’ gold; Marry, and shall. But how now, Sir John Hume? Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum ; The business asketh silent secrecy. Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch. Gold cannot come amiss were she a devil. Yet have I gold flies from another coast— I dare not say from the rich Cardinal And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk, Yet I do find it so; for, to be plain, They, knowing Dame Eleanor’s aspiring humour, Have hired me to undermine the Duchess, And buzz these conjurations in her brain. They say ‘A crafty knave does need no broker’, Yet am I Suffolk and the Cardinal’s broker. Hume, if you take not heed you shall go near To call them both a pair of crafty knaves. Well, so it stands; and thus, I fear, at last Hume’s knavery will be the Duchess’ wrack, And her attainture will be Humphrey’s fall. Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all.
(didascalia)	Exit

Atto 1, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Peter, the armourer’s man, with two or three other Petitioners
FIRST PETITIONER	My masters, let’s stand close. My Lord Protector will come this way by and by and then we may deliver our supplications in the quill.
SECOND PETITIONER	Marry, the Lord protect him, for he’s a good man, Jesu bless him.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Suffolk and Queen Margaret
(didascalia)	FIRST PETITIONER Here a comes, methinks, and the Queen with him. I’ll be the first, sure.
SECOND PETITIONER	He goes to meet Suffolk and the Queen
SECOND PETITIONER	Come back, foot—this is the Duke of Suffolk and not my Lord Protector.
SUFFOLK	(to the First Petitioner) How now, fellow—wouldst anything with me?
FIRST PETITIONER	I pray, my lord, pardon me—I took ye for my Lord Protector.
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET seeing his supplication, she reads ‘Tomy Lord Protector’—are your supplications to his lordship ? Let me see them.
(didascalia)	She takes First Petitioner’s supplication
FIRST PETITIONER	What is thine?
FIRST PETITIONER	Mine is, an’t please your grace, against John Goodman, my lord Cardinal’s man, for keeping my house and lands and wife and all from me.
(didascalia)	SUFFOLK Thy wife too ? That’s some wrong indeed. To the Second Petitioners What’s yours?
FIRST PETITIONER	He takes the supplication What’s here? (Reads) ‘Against the Duke of Suffolk for
(didascalia)	enclosing the commons of Melford’ ! To the Second
(didascalia)	Petitioner How now, Sir Knave?
SECOND PETITIONER	Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township.
(didascalia)	PETER offering his petition Against my master, Thomas Horner, for saying that the Duke of York was rightful heir to the crown.
QUEEN MARGARET	What sayst thou? Did the Duke of York say he was rightful heir to the crown?
PETER	That my master was ? No, forsooth, my master said that he was and that the King was an usurer.
QUEEN MARGARET	An usurper thou wouldst say.
PETER	Ay, forsooth—an usurper.
SUFFOLK	(calling within) Who is there?
(didascalia)	Enter a servant
SUFFOLK	Take this fellow in and send for his master with a pursuivant presently. (To Peter) We’ll hear more of your matter before the King. Exit the servant with Peter
QUEEN MARGARET	(to the Petitioners) And as for you that love to be protected Under the wings of our Protector’s grace, Begin your suits anew and sue to him.
(didascalia)	She tears the supplication
QUEEN MARGARET	Away, base cullions! Suffolk, let them go.
ALL PETITIONERS	Come, let’s be gone. Exeunt Petitioners
QUEEN MARGARET	My lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise? Is this the fashions in the court of England ? Is this the government of Britain’s isle, And this the royalty of Albion’s king? What, shall King Henry be a pupil still Under the surly Gloucester’s governance? Am I a queen in title and in style, And must be made a subject to a duke? I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours Thou rann‘st a-tilt in honour of my love And stol’st away the ladies’ hearts of France, I thought King Henry had resembled thee In courage, courtship, and proportion. But all his mind is bent to holiness, To number Ave-Maries on his beads. His champions are the prophets and apostles, His weapons holy saws of sacred writ, His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves Are brazen images of canonized saints. I would the college of the cardinals Would choose him Pope, and carry him to Rome, And set the triple crown upon his head— That were a state fit for his holiness.
SUFFOLK	Madam, be patient—as I was cause Your highness came to England, so will I In England work your grace’s full content.
QUEEN MARGARET	Beside the haught Protector have we Beaufort The imperious churchman, Somerset, Buckingham, And grumbling York; and not the least of these But can do more in England than the King.
SUFFOLK	And he of these that can do most of all Cannot do more in England than the Nevilles: Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers.
QUEEN MARGARET	Not all these lords do vex me half so much As that proud dame, the Lord Protector’s wife. She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies More like an empress than Duke Humphrey’s wife. Strangers in court do take her for the queen. She bears a duke’s revenues on her back, And in her heart she scorns our poverty. Shall I not live to be avenged on her? Contemptuous base-born callet as she is, She vaunted ‘mongst her minions t’other day The very train of her worst-wearing gown Was better worth than all my father’s lands, Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter.
SUFFOLK	Madam, myself have limed a bush for her, And placed a choir of such enticing birds That she will light to listen to their lays, And never mount to trouble you again. So let her rest; and, madam, list to me, For I am bold to counsel you in this: Although we fancy not the Cardinal, Yet must we join with him and with the lords Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace. As for the Duke of York, this late complaint Will make but little for his benefit. So one by one we’ll weed them all at last, And you yourself shall steer the happy helm.
(didascalia)	Sound a sennet. Enter King Henry with the Duke
SUFFOLK	of York and the Duke of Somerset on either side of him whispering with him. Also enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, Dame Eleanor the Duchess of Gloucester, the Duke of Buckingham, the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, and Cardinal
(didascalia)	Beaufort Bishop of Winchesteri
KING HENRY	For my part, noble lords, I care not which: Or Somerset or York, all’s one to me.
YORK	If York have ill demeaned himself in France Then let him be denied the regentship.
SOMERSET	If Somerset be unworthy of the place, Let York be regent—I will yield to him.
WARWICK	Whether your grace be worthy, yea or no, Dispute not that: York is the worthier.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak.
WARWICK	The Cardinal’s not my better in the field.
BUCKINGHAM	All in this presence are thy betters, Warwick.
WARWICK	Warwick may live to be the best of all.
SALISBURY	Peace, son; (to Buckingham) and show some reason, Buckingham, Why Somerset should be preferred in this.
QUEEN MARGARET	Because the King, forsooth, will have it so.
GLOUCESTER	Madam, the King is old enough himself To give his censure. These are no women’s matters.
QUEEN MARGARET	If he be old enough, what needs your grace To be Protector of his excellence?
GLOUCESTER	Madam, I am Protector of the realm, And at his pleasure will resign my place.
SUFFOLK	Resign it then, and leave thine insolence. Since thou wert king—as who is king but thou?— The commonwealth hath daily run to wrack, The Dauphin hath prevailed beyond the seas, And all the peers and nobles of the realm Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to Gloucester) The commons hast thou racked, the clergy’s bags Are lank and lean with thy extortions.
SOMERSET	(to Gloucester) Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife’s attire Have cost a mass of public treasury.
BUCKINGHAM	(to Gloucester) Thy cruelty in execution Upon offenders hath exceeded law And left thee to the mercy of the law.
QUEEN MARGARET	(to Gloucester) Thy sale of offices and towns in France— If they were known, as the suspect is great— Would make thee quickly hop without thy head.
(didascalia)	Exit Gloucester
QUEEN MARGARET	Queen Margaret lets fall her fan (To the Duchess) Give me my fan—what, minion, can ye not? She gives the Duchess a box on the ear I cry you mercy, madam! Was it you ?
DUCHESS	Was’t I? Yea, I it was, proud Frenchwoman! Could I come near your beauty with my nails, I’d set my ten commandments in your face.
KING HENRY	Sweet aunt, be quiet—’twas against her will.
DUCHESS	Against her will? Good King, look to’t in time! She’ll pamper thee and dandle thee like a baby. Though in this place most master wear no breeches, She shall not strike Dame Eleanor unrevenged ! Exit
BUCKINGHAM	(aside to Cardinal Beaufort) Lord Cardinal, I will follow Eleanor And listen after Humphrey how he proceeds. She’s tickled now, her fury needs no spurs— She’ll gallop far enough to her destruction. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester
GLOUCESTER	Now, lords, my choler being overblown With walking once about the quadrangle, I come to talk of commonwealth affairs. As for your spiteful false objections, Prove them, and I lie open to the law. But God in mercy so deal with my soul As I in duty love my King and country. But to the matter that we have in hand— I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man To be your regent in the realm of France.
SUFFOLK	Before we make election, give me leave To show some reason of no little force That York is most unmeet of any man.
YORK	I’ll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet: First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride; Next, if I be appointed for the place, My lord of Somerset will keep me here Without discharge, money, or furniture, Till France be won into the Dauphin’s hands. Last time I danced attendance on his will Till Paris was besieged, famished, and lost.
WARWICK	That can I witness, and a fouler fact Did never traitor in the land commit.
SUFFOLK	Peace, headstrong Warwick.
WARWICK	Image of pride, why should I hold my peace?
(didascalia)	Enter, guarded, Horner the armourer and Peter his man
SUFFOLK	Because here is a man accused of treason— Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself!
YORK	Doth anyone accuse York for a traitor?
KING HENRY	What mean’st thou, Suffolk? Tell me, what are these?
SUFFOLK	Please it your majesty, this is the man He indicates Peter That doth accuse his master (indicating Horner) of high treason. His words were these: that Richard Duke of York Was rightful heir unto the English crown, And that your majesty was an usurper.
KING HENRY	(to Horner) Say, man, were these thy words?
HORNER	An’t shall please your majesty, I never said nor thought any such matter. God is my witness, I am falsely accused by the villain.
(didascalia)	PETER raising his hands By these ten bones, my lords, he did speak them to me in the garret one night as we were scouring my lord of York’s armour.
YORK	Base dunghill villain and mechanical, I’ll have thy head for this thy traitor’s speech ! (To King Henry) I do beseech your royal majesty, Let him have all the rigour of the law.
HORNER	Alas, my lord, hang me if ever I spake the words. My accuser is my prentice, and when I did correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow upon his knees he would be even with me. I have good witness of this, therefore, I beseech your majesty, do not cast away an honest man for a villain’s accusation.
KING HENRY	(to Gloucester) Uncle, what shall we say to this in law?
GLOUCESTER	This doom, my lord, if I may judge by case: Let Somerset be regent o’er the French, Because in York this breeds suspicion. (Indicating Horner and Peter) And let these have a day appointed them For single combat in convenient place, For he (indicating Horner) hath witness of his servant’s malice. This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey’s doom.
KING HENRY	Then be it so. (To Somerset) My lord of Somerset, We make you regent o‘er the realm of France There to defend our rights ’gainst foreign foes.
SOMERSET	I humbly thank your royal majesty.
HORNER	And I accept the combat willingly.
(didascalia)	PETER to Gloucester Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for God’s sake, pity my case! The spite of man prevaileth against me. O Lord, have mercy upon me—I shall never be able to fight a blow ! O Lord, my heart !
GLOUCESTER	Sirrah, or you must fight or else be hanged.
KING HENRY	Away with them to prison, and the day Of combat be the last of the next month. Come, Somerset, we’ll see thee sent away.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Margery Jordan, a witch; Sir John Hume and John Southwell, two priests; and Roger Bolingbroke, a conjuror
(didascalia)	Hume Come, my masters, the Duchess, I tell you, expects performance of your promises.
BOLINGBROKE	Master Hume, we are therefore provided. Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms?
HUME	Ay, what else? Fear you not her courage.
BOLINGBROKE	I have heard her reported to be a woman of an invincible spirit. But it shall be convenient, Master Hume, that you be by her, aloft, while we be busy below. And so, I pray you, go in God’s name and leave us. Exit Hume Mother Jordan, be you prostrate and grovel on the earth. She lies down upon her face.
(didascalia)	Enter Eleanor, the Duchess of Gloucester, aloft
BOLINGBROKE	John Southwell, read you and let us to our work.
DUCHESS	Well said, my masters, and welcome all. To this gear the sooner the better.
(didascalia)	Enter Hume aloft
BOLINGBROKE	Patience, good lady—wizards know their times. Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, The time of night when Troy was set on fire, The time when screech-owls cry and bandogs howl, And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves— That time best fits the work we have in hand. Madam, sit you, and fear not. Whom we raise We will make fast within a hallowed verge. Here do the ceremonies belonging, and make the circle. Southwell reads ‘Coniuro te’, &c. It thunders and lightens terribly, then the spirit Asnath riseth
ASNATH	Adsum.
WITCH	Asnath, By the eternal God whose name and power Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask, For till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from hence.
ASNATH	Ask what thou wilt, that I had said and done.
BOLINGBROKE	(reads) ‘First, of the King: what shall of him become ?’
ASNATH	The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose, But him outlive, and die a violent death.
(didascalia)	As the spirit speaks, Southwell writes the answer
BOLINGBROKE	(reads) ‘Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk.’
ASNATH	By water shall he die, and take his end.
BOLINGBROKE	(reads) ‘What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?’
ASNATH	Let him shun castles. Safer shall he be Upon the sandy plains than where castles mounted stand. Have done—for more I hardly can endure.
BOLINGBROKE	Descend to darkness and the burning lake! False fiend, avoid!
(didascalia)	Thunder and lightning. The spirit sinks down again
(didascalia)	Enter, breaking in, the Dukes of York and
BOLINGBROKE	Buckingham with their guard, among them Sir Humphrey Stafford
YORK	Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash.
(didascalia)	Bolingbroke, Southwell, and Jordan are taken
YORK	prisoner. Buckingham takes the writings from
(didascalia)	Bolingbroke and Southwell
YORK	(To Jordan) Beldam, I think we watched you at an inch. (To the Duchess) What, madam, are you there? The King and common weal Are deep indebted for this piece of pains. My lord Protector will, I doubt it not, See you well guerdoned for these good deserts.
DUCHESS	Not half so bad as thine to England’s king, Injurious Duke, that threatest where’s no cause.
BUCKINGHAM	True, madam, none at all—
(didascalia)	He raises the writings
BUCKINGHAM	what call you this? (To his men) Away with them. Let them be clapped up close And kept asunder. (To the Duchess) You, madam, shall with us. Stafford, take her to thee.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Stafford and others to the Duchess
(didascalia)	and Hume above
BUCKINGHAM	We’ll see your trinkets here all forthcoming. All away!
(didascalia)	Exeunt below Jordan, Southwell, and
(didascalia)	Bolingbroke, guarded, and, above, Hume and
(didascalia)	the Duchess guarded by Stafford and others.
(didascalia)	York and Buckingham remain
YORK	Lord Buckingham, methinks you watched her well. A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon. Now pray, my lord, let’s see the devil’s writ.
(didascalia)	Buckingham gives him the writings
YORK	What have we here? He reads the writings Why, this is just Aio Aeacidam, Romanos vincere posse. These oracles are hardily attained And hardly understood. Come, come, my lord, The King is now in progress towards Saint Albans; With him the husband of this lovely lady. Thither goes these news as fast as horse can carry them— A sorry breakfast for my lord Protector.
BUCKINGHAM	Your grace shall give me leave, my lord of York, To be the post in hope of his reward.
YORK	(returning the writings to Buckingham)
(didascalia)	At your pleasure, my good lord. Exit Buckingham (Calling within) Who’s within there, ho!
(didascalia)	Enter a servingman
YORK	Invite my lords of Salisbury and Warwick To sup with me tomorrow night. Away.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 2, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret with her hawk on her fist, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, Cardinal Beaufort, and the Duke of Suffolk, with falconers hollering
QUEEN MARGARET	Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook I saw not better sport these seven years’ day; Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high, And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.
KING HENRY	(to Gloucester) But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest! To see how God in all his creatures works! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.
SUFFOLK	No marvel, an it like your majesty, My Lord Protector’s hawks do tower so well; They know their master loves to be aloft, And bears his thoughts above his falcon’s pitch.
GLOUCESTER	My lord, ‘tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	I thought as much; he would be above the clouds.
GLOUCESTER	Ay, my lord Cardinal, how think you by that? Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven?
KING HENRY	The treasury of everlasting joy.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to Gloucester) Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart, Pernicious Protector, dangerous peer, That smooth’st it so with King and common weal!
GLOUCESTER	What, Cardinal? Is your priesthood grown peremptory ? Tantaene animis caelestibus irae? Churchmen so hot? Good uncle, hide such malice With some holiness—can you do it?
SUFFOLK	No malice, sir, no more than well becomes So good a quarrel and so bad a peer.
GLOUCESTER	As who, my lord ?
SUFFOLK	Why, as you, my lord— An’t like your lordly Lord’s Protectorship.
GLOUCESTER	Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.
QUEEN MARGARET	And thy ambition, Gloucester.
KING HENRY	I prithee peace, Good Queen, and whet not on these furious peers—For blessèd are the peacemakers on earth.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Let me be blessed for the peace I make Against this proud Protector with my sword.
(didascalia)	Gloucester and Cardinal Beaufort speak privately to one another
GLOUCESTER	Faith, holy uncle, would’t were come to that.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Marry, when thou dar’st.
GLOUCESTER	Dare? I tell thee, priest, Plantagenets could never brook the dare!
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	I am Plantagenet as well as thou, And son to John of Gaunt.
GLOUCESTER	In bastardy.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	I scorn thy words.
GLOUCESTER	Make up no factious numbers for the matter, In thine own person answer thy abuse.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Ay, where thou dar‘st not peep; an if thou dar’st, This evening on the east side of the grove.
KING HENRY	How now, my lords?
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(aloud) Believe me, cousin Gloucester, Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, We had had more sport. (Aside to Gloucester) Come with thy two-hand sword.
GLOUCESTER	(aloud) True, uncle. (Aside to Cardinal Beaufort) Are ye advised? The east side of the grove.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(aside to Gloucester) I am with you.
KING HENRY	Why, how now, uncle Gloucester?
GLOUCESTER	Talking of hawking, nothing else, my lord. (Aside to the Cardinal) Now, by God’s mother, priest, I’ll shave your crown for this, Or all my fence shall fail.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(aside to Gloucester) Medice, teipsum— Protector, see to’t well; protect yourself.
KING HENRY	The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords. How irksome is this music to my heart ! When such strings jar, what hope of harmony? I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife.
(didascalia)	Enter one crying ‘a miracle’
GLOUCESTER	What means this noise? Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?
ONE	A miracle, a miracle!
SUFFOLK	Come to the King—tell him what miracle.
ONE	(to King Henry) Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban’s shrine
(didascalia)	Within this half-hour hath received his sight—
ONE	A man that ne’er saw in his life before.
KING HENRY	Now God be praised, that to believing souls Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair!
(didascalia)	Enter the Mayor and aldermen of Saint Albans, with music, bearing the man, Simpcox, between two in a chair. Enter Simpcox’s Wife and other townsmeni with them
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Here comes the townsmen on procession To present your highness with the man.
(didascalia)	The townsmen kneel
KING HENRY	Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, Although by sight his sin be multiplied.
GLOUCESTER	(to the townsmen) Stand by, my masters, bring him near the King. His highness’ pleasure is to talk with him.
(didascalia)	They rise and bear Simpcox before the King
KING HENRY	(to Simpcox) Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance, That we for thee may glorify the Lord. What, hast thou been long blind and now restored?
SIMPCOX	Born blind, an’t please your grace.
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	Ay, indeed, was he.
SUFFOLK	What woman is this?
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	His wife, an’t like your worship.
GLOUCESTER	Hadst thou been his mother Thou couldst have better told.
KING HENRY	(to Simpcox) Where wert thou born?
SIMPCOX	At Berwick, in the north, an’t like your grace.
KING HENRY	Poor soul, God’s goodness hath been great to thee. Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, But still remember what the Lord hath done.
QUEEN MARGARET	(to Simpcox) Tell me, good fellow, cam’st thou here by chance, Or of devotion to this holy shrine?
SIMPCOX	God knows, of pure devotion, being called A hundred times and oftener, in my sleep, By good Saint Alban, who said, ‘Simon, come; Come offer at my shrine and I will help thee.’
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	Most true, forsooth, and many time and oft Myself have heard a voice to call him so.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to Simpcox) What, art thou lame ?
SIMPCOX	Ay, God almighty help me.
SUFFOLK	How cam’st thou so?
SIMPCOX	A fall off of a tree.
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	(to Suffolk) A plum tree, master.
GLOUCESTER	How long hast thou been blind?
SIMPCOX	O, born so, master.
GLOUCESTER	What, and wouldst climb a tree? SIMPCOX But that in all my life, when I was a youth.
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	(to Gloucester) Too true—and bought his climbing very dear.
GLOUCESTER	(to Simpcox) Mass, thou loved’st plums well that wouldst venture so.
SIMPCOX	Alas, good master, my wife desired some damsons, And made me climb with danger of my life.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER aside
SIMPCOX	A subtle knave, but yet it shall not serve. (To Simpcox) Let me see thine eyes: wink now, now open them. In my opinion yet thou seest not well.
SIMPCOX	Yes, master, clear as day, I thank God and Saint Alban.
GLOUCESTER	Sayst thou me so? (Pointing) What colour is this cloak of?
SIMPCOX	Red, master; red as blood.
GLOUCESTER	Why, that’s well said. (Pointing) And his cloak?
SIMPCOX	Why, that’s green.
GLOUCESTER	(pointing) And what colour’s His hose?
SIMPCOX	Yellow, master; yellow as gold.
GLOUCESTER	And what colour’s my gown?
SIMPCOX	Black, sir; coal-black, as jet.
KING HENRY	Why, then, thou know’st what colour jet is of?
UFFOLK	And yet I think jet did he never see.
GLOUCESTER	But cloaks and gowns before this day, a many.
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	Never before this day in all his life.
GLOUCESTER	Tell me, sirrah, what’s my name?
SIMPCOX	Alas, master, I know not.
GLOUCESTER	(pointing) What’s his name?
SIMPCOX	I know not.
GLOUCESTER	(pointing) Nor his?
SIMPCOX	No, truly, sir.
GLOUCESTER	(pointing) Nor his name?
SIMPCOX	No indeed, master.
GLOUCESTER	What’s thine own name?
SIMPCOX	Simon Simpcox, an it please you, master.
GLOUCESTER	Then, Simon, sit thou there the lying’st knave In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind Thou mightst as well have known our names as thus To name the several colours we do wear. Sight may distinguish colours, but suddenly To nominate them all—it is impossible. Saint Alban here hath done a miracle. Would you not think his cunning to be great That could restore this cripple to his legs again?
SIMPCOX	O master, that you could!
GLOUCESTER	(to the Mayor and aldermen) My masters of Saint Albans, have you not Beadles in your town, and things called whips?
MAYOR	We have, my lord, an if it please your grace.
GLOUCESTER	Then send for one presently.
MAYOR	(to a townsman) Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight. Exit one
GLOUCESTER	Bring me a stool. A stool is brought (To Simpcox) Now, sirrah, if you mean To save yourself from whipping, leap me o’er This stool and run away.
SIMPCOX	Alas, master, I am not able even to stand alone. You go about to torture me in vain.
(didascalia)	Enter a Beadle with whips
GLOUCESTER	Well, sirrah, we must have you find your legs. (To the Beadle) Whip him till he leap over that same stool.
BEADLE	I will, my lord. (To Simpcox) Come on, sirrah, off with your doublet quickly.
SIMPCOX	Alas, master, what shall I do ? I am not able to stand.
(didascalia)	After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps over the stool and runs away. Some of the townsmen follow and cry, ‘A miracle ! A miracle !’
KING HENRY	O God, seest thou this and bear’st so long?
QUEEN MARGARET	It made me laugh to see the villain run!
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER to the Beadlel
QUEEN MARGARET	Follow the knave, and take this drab away.
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	Alas, sir, we did it for pure need.
(didascalia)	Exit the Beadle with the Wife
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER to the Mayor
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	Let them be whipped through every market-town 160 Till they come to Berwick, from whence they came.
(didascalia)	Exeunt the Mayor and any remaining townsmen
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Duke Humphrey has done a miracle today.
SUFFOLK	True: made the lame to leap and fly away.
GLOUCESTER	But you have done more miracles than I— You made, in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Buckingham
KING HENRY	What tidings with our cousin Buckingham?
BUCKINGHAM	Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold. A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent, Under the countenance and confederacy Of Lady Eleanor, the Protector’s wife, The ringleader and head of all this rout, Have practised dangerously against your state, Dealing with witches and with conjurors, Whom we have apprehended in the fact, Raising up wicked spirits from under ground, Demanding of King Henry’s life and death And other of your highness’ Privy Council. And here’s the answer the devil did make to them. Buckingham gives King Henry the writings
(didascalia)	KING HENRY (reads)
BUCKINGHAM	‘First of the King: what shall of him become? The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose, But him outlive and die a violent death.’ God’s will be done in all. Well, to the rest. (Reads) ‘Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk? By water shall he die, and take his end.’
SUFFOLK	[aside] By water must the Duke of Suffolk die? It must be so, or else the devil doth lie.
KING HENRY	(reads) ‘What shall betide the Duke of Somerset? Let him shun castles. Safer shall he be Upon the sandy plains than where castles mounted stand.’
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to Gloucester) And so, my Lord Protector, by this means Your lady is forthcoming yet at London. (Aside to Gloucester) This news, I think, hath turned your weapon’s edge. ᾽“Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour.
GLOUCESTER	Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my heart. Sorrow and grief have vanquished all my powers, And, vanquished as I am, I yield to thee Or to the meanest groom.
KING HENRY	O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones, Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby!
QUEEN MARGARET	Gloucester, see here the tainture of thy nest, And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best.
GLOUCESTER	Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal, How I have loved my King and common weal; And for my wife, I know not how it stands. Sorry I am to hear what I have heard. Noble she is, but if she have forgot Honour and virtue and conversed with such As, like to pitch, defile nobility, I banish her my bed and company, And give her as a prey to law and shame That hath dishonoured Gloucester’s honest name.
KING HENRY	Well, for this night we will repose us here; Tomorrow toward London back again, To look into this business thoroughly, And call these foul offenders to their answers, And poise the cause in justice’ equal scales, Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails. Flourish. Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of York and the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick
YORK	Now, my good lords of Salisbury and Warwick, Our simple supper ended, give me leave In this close walk to satisfy myself In craving your opinion of my title, Which is infallible, to England’s crown.
SALISBURY	My lord, I long to hear it out at full.
WARWICK	Sweet York, begin, and if thy claim be good, The Nevilles are thy subjects to command.
YORK	Then thus: Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons: The first, Edward the Black Prince, Prince of Wales; The second, William of Hatfield; and the third, Lionel Duke of Clarence; next to whom Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster; The fifth was Edmund Langley, Duke of York; The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester; William of Windsor was the seventh and last. Edward the Black Prince died before his father And left behind him Richard, his only son, Who, after Edward the Third’s death, reigned as king Till Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster, The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, Crowned by the name of Henry the Fourth, Seized on the realm, deposed the rightful king, Sent his poor queen to France from whence she came, And him to Pomfret; where, as well you know, Harmless Richard was murdered traitorously.
WARWICK	(to Salisbury) Father, the Duke of York hath told the truth; Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown.
YORK	Which now they hold by force and not by right; For Richard, the first son’s heir, being dead, The issue of the next son should have reigned.
SALISBURY	But William of Hatfield died without an heir.
YORK	The third son, Duke of Clarence, from whose line I claim the crown, had issue Phillipe, a daughter, Who married Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March; Edmund had issue, Roger, Earl of March; Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne and Eleanor.
SALISBURY	This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke, As I have read, laid claim unto the crown, And, but for Owain Glyndwr, had been king, Who kept him in captivity till he died. But to the rest.
YORK	His eldest sister, Anne, My mother, being heir unto the crown, Married Richard, Earl of Cambridge, who was son To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third’s fifth son. By her I claim the kingdom: she was heir To Roger, Earl of March, who was the son Of Edmund Mortimer, who married Phillipe, Sole daughter unto Lionel, Duke of Clarence. So if the issue of the elder son Succeed before the younger, I am king.
WARWICK	What plain proceedings is more plain than this? Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, The fourth son; York claims it from the third: Till Lionel’s issue fails, John’s should not reign. It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock. Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together, And in this private plot be we the first That shall salute our rightful sovereign With honour of his birthright to the crown.
SALISBURY	and WARWICK (kneeling) Long live our sovereign Richard, England’s king!
YORK	We thank you, lords;
(didascalia)	Salisbury and Warwick rise
YORK	but I am not your king Till I be crowned, and that my sword be stained With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster— And that’s not suddenly to be performed, But with advice and silent secrecy. Do you, as I do, in these dangerous days, Wink at the Duke of Suffolk’s insolence, At Beaufort’s pride, at Somerset’s ambition, At Buckingham, and all the crew of them, Till they have snared the shepherd of the flock, That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey. ᾽Tis that they seek, and they, in seeking that, Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy.
SALISBURY	My lord, break off—we know your mind at full.
WARWICK	My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick Shall one day make the Duke of York a king.
YORK	And Neville, this I do assure myself— Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick The greatest man in England but the King. Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets. Enter King Henry and state, with guard, to banish the Duchess: King Henry and Queen Margaret, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, the Duke of Suffolk [and the Duke of Buckingham, Cardinal [Beaufort], and, led with officers, Dame Eleanor Cobham the Duchess, Margery Jordan the witch, John Southwell and Sir John Hume the two priests, and Roger Bolingbroke the conjuror; then enter to them] the Duke of York and the Earls of Salisbury rand Warwick
KING HENRY	(to the Duchess) Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester’s wife. She comes forward In sight of God and us your guilt is great; Receive the sentence of the law for sins Such as by God’s book are adjudged to death. (To the Witch, Southwell, Hume, and Bolingbroke) You four, from hence to prison back again; From thence, unto the place of execution. The witch in Smithfield shall be burned to ashes, And you three shall be strangled on the gallows.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Witch, Southwell, Hume, and Bolingbroke, guarded
KING HENRY	(To the Duchess) You, madam, for you are more nobly born, Despoiled of your honour in your life, Shall, after three days’ open penance done, Live in your country here in banishment With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man.
DUCHESS	Welcome is banishment; welcome were my death.
GLOUCESTER	Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath judged thee; I cannot justify whom the law condemns.
(didascalia)	Exit the Duchess, guarded
GLOUCESTER	Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age Will bring thy head with sorrow to the grave. (To King Henry) I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go. Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease.
KING HENRY	Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester. Ere thou go, Give up thy staff. Henry will to himself Protector be; and God shall be my hope, My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet. And go in peace, Humphrey, no less beloved Than when thou wert Protector to thy King.
QUEEN MARGARET	I see no reason why a king of years Should be to be protected like a child. God and King Henry govern England’s helm! Give up your staff, sir, and the King his realm.
GLOUCESTER	My staff? Here, noble Henry, is my staff. As willingly do I the same resign As erst thy father Henry made it mine; And even as willing at thy feet I leave it As others would ambitiously receive it. He lays the staff at King Henry’s feet Farewell, good King. When I am dead and gone, May honourable peace attend thy throne. Exit
QUEEN MARGARET	Why, now is Henry King and Margaret Queen, And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce himself, That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once— His lady banished and a limb lopped off. She picks up the staff This staff of honour raught, there let it stand Where it best fits to be, in Henry’s hand. She gives the staff to King Henry
SUFFOLK	Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays; Thus Eleanor’s pride dies in her youngest days.
YORK	Lords, let him go. Please it your majesty, This is the day appointed for the combat, And ready are the appellant and defendant— The armourer and his man—to enter the lists, So please your highness to behold the fight.
QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, good my lord, for purposely therefor Left I the court to see this quarrel tried.
KING HENRY	A God’s name, see the lists and all things fit; Here let them end it, and God defend the right.
YORK	I never saw a fellow worse bestead, Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, The servant of this armourer, my lords.
(didascalia)	Enter at one door Horner the armourer and his
YORK	Neighbours, drinking to him so much that he is drunken; and he enters with a drummer before him
(didascalia)	and carrying his staff with a sandbag fastened to
YORK	it. Enter at the other door Peter his man, also with a drummer and a staff with sandbag, and Prentices drinking to him
FIRST NEIGHBOUR	(offering drink to Horner) Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of sack, and fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough.
SECOND NEIGHBOUR	(offering drink to Horner) And here, neighbour, here’s a cup of charneco.
(didascalia)	THIRD NEIGHBOUR (offering drink to Horner) Here’s a pot of good double beer, neighbour, drink and be merry, and fear not your man. HORNER accepting the offers of drink Let it come, i’faith I’ll pledge you all, and a fig for Peter.
FIRST PRENTICE	(offering drink to Peter) Here, Peter, I drink to thee, and be not afeard.
SECOND PRENTICE	(offering drink to Peter) Here, Peter, here’s a pint of claret wine for thee.
THIRD PRENTICE	(offering drink to Peter) And here’s a quart for me, and be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master. Fight for credit of the prentices!
(didascalia)	PETER refusing the offers of drink I thank you all. Drink and pray for me, I pray you, for I think I have taken my last draught in this world. Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee my apron; and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer; and here, Tom, take all the money that I have. OLord bless me, I pray God, for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learned so much fence already.
SALISBURY	Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. (To Peter) Sirrah, what’s thy name?
PETER	Peter, forsooth.
SALISBURY	Peter? What more?
PETER	Thump.
SALISBURY	Thump! Then see that thou thump thy master well.
HORNER	Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man’s instigation, to prove him a knave and myself an honest man; and touching the Duke of York, I will take my death I never meant him any ill, nor the King, nor the Queen; and therefore, Peter, have at thee with a downright blow.
YORK	Dispatch; this knave’s tongue begins to double.
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets an alarum to the combatants. They fight and Peter hits Horner on the head and strikes him down
HORNER	Hold, Peter, hold—I confess, I confess treason. He dies
YORK	(to an attendant, pointing to Horner) Take away his weapon. (To Peter) Fellow, thank God and the good wine in thy master’s wame.
PETER	[kneeling] O God, have I overcome mine enemy in this presence? O, Peter, thou hast prevailed in right.
KING HENRY	(to attendants, pointing to Horner) Go, take hence that traitor from our sight, For by his death we do perceive his guilt. And God in justice hath revealed to us The truth and innocence of this poor fellow, Which he had thought to have murdered wrongfully. (To Peter) Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.
(didascalia)	Sound a flourish. Exeunt, some carrying Horner’s body

Atto 2, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester and his men in mourning cloaks
GLOUCESTER	Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud; And after summer evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold; So cares and joys abound as seasons fleet. Sirs, what’s o’clock?
SERVANT	Ten, my lord.
GLOUCESTER	Ten is the hour that was appointed me To watch the coming of my punished Duchess; Uneath may she endure the flinty streets, To tread them with her tender-feeling feet. Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook The abject people gazing on thy face With envious looks, laughing at thy shame, That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets. But soft, I think she comes; and I’ll prepare My tear-stained eyes to see her miseries.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duchess, Dame Eleanor Cobham, barefoot,
GLOUCESTER	with a white sheet about her, written verses pinned on her back, and carrying a wax candle in her hand; she is accompanied by the [two Sheriffs] of London, and Sir John Stanley, and officers with bills and halberds
SERVANT	(to Gloucester) So please your grace, we’ll take her from the sheriffs.
GLOUCESTER	No, stir not for your lives, let her pass by.
DUCHESS	Come you, my lord, to see my open shame? Now thou dost penance too. Look how they gaze, See how the giddy multitude do point And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee. Ah, Gloucester, hide thee from their hateful looks, And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame, And ban thine enemies—both mine and thine.
GLOUCESTER	Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.
DUCHESS	Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself; For whilst I think I am thy married wife, And thou a prince, Protector of this land, Methinks I should not thus be led along, Mailed up in shame, with papers on my back, And followed with a rabble that rejoice To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans. The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet, And when I start, the envious people laugh, And bid me be advised how I tread. Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke? Trowest thou that e’er I’ll look upon the world, Or count them happy that enjoys the sun? No, dark shall be my light, and night my day; To think upon my pomp shall be my hell. Sometime I’ll say I am Duke Humphrey’s wife, And he a prince and ruler of the land; Yet so he ruled, and such a prince he was, As he stood by whilst I, his forlorn Duchess, Was made a wonder and a pointing stock To every idle rascal follower. But be thou mild and blush not at my shame, Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death Hang over thee, as sure it shortly will. For Suffolk, he that can do all in all With her that hateth thee and hates us all, And York, and impious Beaufort that false priest, Have all limed bushes to betray thy wings, And fly thou how thou canst, they’ll tangle thee. But fear not thou until thy foot be snared, Nor never seek prevention of thy foes.
GLOUCESTER	Ah, Nell, forbear; thou aimest all awry. I must offend before I be attainted, And had I twenty times so many foes, And each of them had twenty times their power, All these could not procure me any scathe So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless. Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach? Why, yet thy scandal were not wiped away, But I in danger for the breach of law. Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell. I pray thee sort thy heart to patience. These few days’ wonder will be quickly worn.
(didascalia)	Enter a Herald
HERALD	I summon your grace to his majesty’s parliament holden at Bury the first of this next month.
GLOUCESTER	And my consent ne’er asked herein before? This is close dealing. Well, I will be there. Exit Herald My Nell, I take my leave; and, Master Sheriff, Let not her penance exceed the King’s commission.
(didascalia)	FIRST SHERIFF
GLOUCESTER	An’t please your grace, here my commission stays, And Sir John Stanley is appointed now To take her with him to the Isle of Man.
GLOUCESTER	Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here?
STANLEY	So am I given in charge, may’t please your grace.
GLOUCESTER	Entreat her not the worse in that I pray You use her well. The world may laugh again, And I may live to do you kindness if You do it her. And so, Sir John, farewell. 85
(didascalia)	Gloucester begins to leave
DUCHESS	What, gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell?
GLOUCESTER	Witness my tears—I cannot stay to speak.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Gloucester and his men
DUCHESS	Art thou gone too? All comfort go with thee, For none abides with me. My joy is death— Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard, Because I wished this world’s eternity. Stanley, I prithee go and take me hence. I care not whither, for I beg no favour, Only convey me where thou art commanded.
STANLEY	Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man, There to be used according to your state.
DUCHESS	That’s bad enough, for I am but reproach; And shall I then be used reproachfully?
STANLEY	Like to a duchess and Duke Humphrey’s lady, According to that state you shall be used.
DUCHESS	Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare, Although thou hast been conduct of my shame.
(didascalia)	FIRST SHERIFF
DUCHESS	It is my office, and, madam, pardon me.
DUCHESS	Ay, ay, farewell—thy office is discharged.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Sheriffs
DUCHESS	Come, Stanley, shall we go?
STANLEY	Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet, And go we to attire you for our journey.
DUCHESS	My shame will not be shifted with my sheet— No, it will hang upon my richest robes And show itself, attire me how I can. Go, lead the way, I long to see my prison. Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Sound a sennet. Enter to the parliament: enter two heralds before, then the Dukes of Buckingham and Suffolk, and then the Duke of York and Cardinal Beaufort, and then King Henry and Queen Margaret, and then the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, With attendants
KING HENRY	I muse my lord of Gloucester is not come. “Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, Whate’er occasion keeps him from us now.
QUEEN MARGARET	Can you not see, or will ye not observe, The strangeness of his altered countenance? With what a majesty he bears himself? How insolent of late he is become? How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself? We know the time since he was mild and affable, And if we did but glance a far-off look, Immediately he was upon his knee, That all the court admired him for submission. But meet him now, and be it in the morn When everyone will give the time of day, He knits his brow, and shows an angry eye, And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee, Disdaining duty that to us belongs. Small curs are not regarded when they grin, But great men tremble when the lion roars— And Humphrey is no little man in England. First, note that he is near you in descent, And, should you fall, he is the next will mount. Meseemeth then it is no policy, Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears And his advantage following your decease, That he should come about your royal person, Or be admitted to your highness’ Council. By flattery hath he won the commons’ hearts, And when he please to make commotion, “Tis to be feared they all will follow him. Now ‘tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; Suffer them now, and they’ll o’ergrow the garden, And choke the herbs for want of husbandry. The reverent care I bear unto my lord Made me collect these dangers in the Duke. If it be fond, call it a woman’s fear; Which fear, if better reasons can supplant, I will subscribe and say I wronged the Duke. My lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York, Reprove my allegation if you can, Or else conclude my words effectual.
SUFFOLK	Well hath your highness seen into this Duke, And had I first been put to speak my mind, I think I should have told your grace’s tale. The Duchess by his subornation, Upon my life, began her devilish practices; Or if he were not privy to those faults, Yet by reputing of his high descent, As next the King he was successive heir, And such high vaunts of his nobility, Did instigate the bedlam brainsick Duchess By wicked means to frame our sovereign’s fall. Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep, And in his simple show he harbours treason. The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb. (To King Henry) No, no, my sovereign, Gloucester is a man Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to King Henry) Did he not, contrary to form of law, Devise strange deaths for small offences done?
YORK	(to King Henry) And did he not, in his Protectorship, Levy great sums of money through the realm For soldiers’ pay in France, and never sent it, By means whereof the towns each day revolted?
BUCKINGHAM	(to King Henry) Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown, Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey.
KING HENRY	My lords, at once: the care you have of us To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot Is worthy praise, but shall I speak my conscience? Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent From meaning treason to our royal person As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove. The Duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given To dream on evil or to work my downfall.
QUEEN MARGARET	Ah, what’s more dangerous than this fond affiance? Seems he a dove? His feathers are but borrowed, For he’s disposed as the hateful raven. Is he a lamb? His skin is surely lent him, For he’s inclined as is the ravenous wolf. Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit? Take heed, my lord, the welfare of us all Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Somerset
(didascalia)	SOMERSET kneeling before King Henry
QUEEN MARGARET	All health unto my gracious sovereign.
KING HENRY	Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news from France?
SOMERSET	That all your interest in those territories Is utterly bereft you—all is lost.
KING HENRY	Cold news, Lord Somerset; but God’s will be done.
(didascalia)	Somerset rises
YORK	(aside) Cold news for me, for I had hope of France, As firmly as I hope for fertile England. Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud, And caterpillars eat my leaves away. 90 But I will remedy this gear ere long, Or sell my title for a glorious grave.
(didascalia)	Enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER kneeling before King Henry
YORK	All happiness unto my lord the King. Pardon, my liege, that I have stayed so long.
SUFFOLK	Nay, Gloucester, know that thou art come too soon 95 Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art. I do arrest thee of high treason here.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER rising
SUFFOLK	Well, Suffolk’s Duke, thou shalt not see me blush, Nor change my countenance for this arrest. A heart unspotted is not easily daunted. The purest spring is not so free from mud As I am clear from treason to my sovereign. Who can accuse me? Wherein am I guilty?
YORK	“Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of France, And, being Protector, stayed the soldiers’ pay, By means whereof his highness hath lost France.
GLOUCESTER	Is it but thought so? What are they that think it? I never robbed the soldiers of their pay, Nor ever had one penny bribe from France. So help me God, as I have watched the night, Ay, night by night, in studying good for England, That doit that e’er I wrested from the King, Or any groat I hoarded to my use, Be brought against me at my trial day I No: many a pound of mine own proper store, Because I would not tax the needy commons, Have I dispursèd to the garrisons, And never asked for restitution.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	It serves you well, my lord, to say so much.
GLOUCESTER	I say no more than truth, so help me God.
YORK	In your Protectorship you did devise Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of, That England was defamed by tyranny.
GLOUCESTER	Why, ’tis well known that whiles I was Protector Pity was all the fault that was in me, For I should melt at an offender’s tears, And lowly words were ransom for their fault. Unless it were a bloody murderer, Or foul felonious thief that fleeced poor passengers, I never gave them condign punishment. Murder, indeed—that bloody sin—I tortured Above the felon or what trespass else.
SUFFOLK	My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answered, But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself. I do arrest you in his highness’ name, And here commit you to my good lord Cardinal To keep until your further time of trial.
KING HENRY	My lord of Gloucester, ’tis my special hope That you will clear yourself from all suspense. My conscience tells me you are innocent.
GLOUCESTER	Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous. Virtue is choked with foul ambition, And charity chased hence by rancour’s hand. Foul subornation is predominant, And equity exiled your highness’ land. I know their complot is to have my life, And if my death might make this island happy And prove the period of their tyranny, I would expend it with all willingness. But mine is made the prologue to their play, For thousands more that yet suspect no peril Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. Beaufort’s red sparkling eyes blab his heart’s malice, And Suffolk’s cloudy brow his stormy hate; Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue The envious load that lies upon his heart; And dogged York that reaches at the moon, Whose overweening arm I have plucked back, By false accuse doth level at my life. (To Queen Margaret) And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, Causeless have laid disgraces on my head, And with your best endeavour have stirred up My liefest liege to be mine enemy. Ay, all of you have laid your heads together— Myself had notice of your conventicles— And all to make away my guiltless life. I shall not want false witness to condemn me, Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt. The ancient proverb will be well effected: ‘A staff is quickly found to beat a dog’.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to King Henry) My liege, his railing is intolerable. If those that care to keep your royal person From treason’s secret knife and traitor’s rage Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at, And the offender granted scope of speech, ‘Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.
SUFFOLK	(to King Henry) Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here With ignominious words, though clerkly couched, As if she had suborned some to swear False allegations to o’erthrow his state?
QUEEN MARGARET	But I can give the loser leave to chide.
GLOUCESTER	Far truer spoke than meant. I lose indeed; Beshrew the winners, for they played me false! And well such losers may have leave to speak.
BUCKINGHAM	(to King Henry) He’ll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day. Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to some of his attendants) Sirs, take away the Duke and guard him sure.
GLOUCESTER	Ah, thus King Henry throws away his crutch Before his legs be firm to bear his body. Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first. Ah, that my fear were false; ah, that it were! For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear.
(didascalia)	Exit Gloucester, guarded by the Cardinal’s men
KING HENRY	My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best Do or undo, as if ourself were here.
QUEEN MARGARET	What, will your highness leave the Parliament?
KING HENRY	Ay, Margaret, my heart is drowned with grief, Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes, My body round engirt with misery; For what’s more miserable than discontent? Ah, uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see The map of honour, truth, and loyalty; And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come That e‘er I proved thee false, or feared thy faith. What louring star now envies thy estate, That these great lords and Margaret our Queen Do seek subversion of thy harmless life? Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong. And as the butcher takes away the calf, And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strains, Bearing it to the bloody slaughterhouse, Even so remorseless have they borne him hence; And as the dam runs lowing up and down, Looking the way her harmless young one went, And can do naught but wail her darling’s loss; Even so myself bewails good Gloucester’s case With sad unhelpful tears, and with dimmed eyes Look after him, and cannot do him good, So mighty are his vowèd enemies. His fortunes I will weep, and ’twixt each groan, Say ‘Who’s a traitor? Gloucester, he is none’.
(didascalia)	Exit with Salisbury and Warwick
QUEEN MARGARET	Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun’s hot beams. Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, Too full of foolish pity; and Gloucester’s show Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile With sorrow snares relenting passengers, Or as the snake rolled in a flow’ring bank With shining chequered slough doth sting a child That for the beauty thinks it excellent. Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I— And yet herein I judge mine own wit good— This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world To rid us from the fear we have of him.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	That he should die is worthy policy; But yet we want a colour for his death. ’Tis meet he be condemned by course of law.
SUFFOLK	But, in my mind, that were no policy. The King will labour still to save his life, The commons haply rise to save his life; And yet we have but trivial argument More than mistrust that shows him worthy death.
YORK	So that, by this, you would not have him die?
SUFFOLK	Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I.
YORK	(aside) ’Tis York that hath more reason for his death. (Aloud) But my lord Cardinal, and you my lord of Suffolk, Say as you think, and speak it from your souls. Were’t not all one an empty eagle were set To guard the chicken from a hungry kite, As place Duke Humphrey for the King’s Protector?
QUEEN MARGARET	So the poor chicken should be sure of death.
SUFFOLK	Madam, ‘tis true; and were’t not madness then To make the fox surveyor of the fold, Who being accused a crafty murderer, His guilt should be but idly posted over Because his purpose is not executed? No—let him die in that he is a fox, By nature proved an enemy to the flock, Before his chaps be stained with crimson blood, As Humphrey, proved by reasons, to my liege. And do not stand on quillets how to slay him; Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety, Sleeping or waking, ‘tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good conceit Which mates him first that first intends deceit.
QUEEN MARGARET	Thrice-noble Suffolk, ’tis resolutely spoke.
SUFFOLK	Not resolute, except so much were done; For things are often spoke and seldom meant; But that my heart accordeth with my tongue, Seeing the deed is meritorious, And to preserve my sovereign from his foe, Say but the word and I will be his priest.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	But I would have him dead, my lord of Suffolk, Ere you can take due orders for a priest. Say you consent and censure well the deed, And I’ll provide his executioner; I tender so the safety of my liege.
SUFFOLK	Here is my hand; the deed is worthy doing.
QUEEN MARGARET	And SO say I.
YORK	And I. And now we three have spoke it, It skills not greatly who impugns our doom.
(didascalia)	Enter a Post
POST	Great lord, from Ireland am I come amain To signify that rebels there are up And put the Englishmen unto the sword. Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime, Before the wound do grow uncurable; For, being green, there is great hope of help.
(didascalia)	Exit
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	A breach that craves a quick expedient stop! What counsel give you in this weighty cause?
YORK	That Somerset be sent as regent thither. ’Tis meet that lucky ruler be employed— Witness the fortune he hath had in France.
SOMERSET	If York, with all his far-fet policy, Had been the regent there instead of me, He never would have stayed in France so long.
YORK	No, not to lose it all as thou hast done. I rather would have lost my life betimes Than bring a burden of dishonour home By staying there so long till all were lost. Show me one scar charactered on thy skin. Men’s flesh preserved so whole do seldom win.
QUEEN MARGARET	Nay, then, this spark will prove a raging fire If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with. No more, good York; sweet Somerset, be still. Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there, Might happily have proved far worse than his.
YORK	What, worse than naught? Nay, then a shame take all!
SOMERSET	And, in the number, thee that wishest shame.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	My lord of York, try what your fortune is. Th’uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms And temper clay with blood of Englishmen. To Ireland will you lead a band of men Collected choicely, from each county some, And try your hap against the Irishmen?
YORK	I will, my lord, so please his majesty.
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.
(didascalia)	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
(didascalia)	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?
(didascalia)	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!
(didascalia)	Exeunt the Murderers, drawing the curtains as
(didascalia)	they leave
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets, then enter King Henry and Queen
SUFFOLK	Margaret, Cardinal Beaufort, the Duke of Somerset, and attendants
(didascalia)	KING HENRY to Suffolk
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.
(didascalia)	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!
KING HENRY	I thank thee, Meg. These words content me much.
(didascalia)	Enter Suffolk
KING HENRY	How now? Why look’st thou pale? Why tremblest thou? Where is our uncle? What’s the matter, Suffolk?
SUFFOLK	Dead in his bed, my lord—Gloucester is dead.
QUEEN MARGARET	Marry, God forfend!
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	God’s secret judgement. I did dream tonight The Duke was dumb and could not speak a word. King Henry falls to the ground
QUEEN MARGARET	How fares my lord? Help, lords—the King is dead!
SOMERSET	Rear up his body; wring him by the nose.
QUEEN MARGARET	Run, go, help, help! O Henry, ope thine eyes!
SUFFOLK	He doth revive again. Madam, be patient.
KING HENRY	O heavenly God!
QUEEN MARGARET	How fares my gracious lord?
SUFFOLK	Comfort, my sovereign; gracious Henry, comfort.
KING HENRY	What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me? Came he right now to sing a raven’s note Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers; And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breast Can chase away the first-conceived sound? Hide not thy poison with such sugared words.
(didascalia)	He begins to rise. Suffolk offers to assist him
KING HENRY	Lay not thy hands on me—forbear, I say! Their touch affrights me as a serpent’s sting. Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight! Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny Sits in grim majesty to fright the world. Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding— Yet do not go away. Come, basilisk, And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight. For in the shade of death I shall find joy; In life, but double death, now Gloucester’s dead.
QUEEN MARGARET	Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus? Although the Duke was enemy to him, Yet he most Christian-like laments his death. And for myself, foe as he was to me, Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans, Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life, I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs, And all to have the noble Duke alive. What know I how the world may deem of me? For it is known we were but hollow friends, It may be judged I made the Duke away. So shall my name with slander’s tongue be wounded And princes’ courts be filled with my reproach. This get I by his death. Ay me, unhappy, To be a queen, and crowned with infamy.
KING HENRY	Ah, woe is me for Gloucester, wretched man!
QUEEN MARGARET	Be woe for me, more wretched than he is. What, dost thou turn away and hide thy face? I am no loathsome leper—look on me! What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf? Be poisonous too and kill thy forlorn queen. Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester’s tomb? Why, then Queen Margaret was ne‘er thy joy. Erect his statue and worship it, 80 And make my image but an alehouse sign. Was I for this nigh wrecked upon the sea, And twice by awkward winds from England’s bank Drove back again unto my native clime? What boded this, but well forewarning winds Did seem to say, ‘Seek not a scorpion’s nest, Nor set no footing on this unkind shore’. What did I then, but cursed the gentle gusts And he that loosed them forth their brazen caves, And bid them blow towards England’s blessed shore, Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock. Yet Aeolus would not be a murderer, But left that hateful office unto thee. The pretty vaulting sea refused to drown me, Knowing that thou wouldst have me drowned on shore With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness. The splitting rocks cow’red in the sinking sands, And would not dash me with their ragged sides, Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, Might in thy palace perish Margaret. As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, When from thy shore the tempest beat us back, I stood upon the hatches in the storm, And when the dusky sky began to rob My earnest-gaping sight of thy land’s view, I took a costly jewel from my neck— A heart it was, bound in with diamonds— And threw it towards thy land. The sea received it, And so I wished thy body might my heart. And even with this I lost fair England’s view, And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart, And called them blind and dusky spectacles For losing ken of Albion’s wished coast. How often have I tempted Suffolk’s tongue— The agent of thy foul inconstancy— To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did, When he to madding Dido would unfold His father’s acts, commenced in burning Troy! Am I not witched like her? Or thou not false like him? Ay me, I can no more. Die, Margaret, For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long. Noise within. Enter the Earls of Warwick and Salisbury with many commons
WARWICK	(to King Henry) It is reported, mighty sovereign, That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is murdered By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort’s means. The commons, like an angry hive of bees That want their leader, scatter up and down And care not who they sting in his revenge. Myself have calmed their spleenful mutiny, Until they hear the order of his death.
KING HENRY	That he is dead, good Warwick, ’tis too true. But how he died God knows, not Henry.
(didascalia)	Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,
KING HENRY	And comment then upon his sudden death.
WARWICK	That shall I do, my liege.—Stay, Salisbury, With the rude multitude till I return.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Warwick at one door, Salisbury and
(didascalia)	commons at another
KING HENRY	O thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts, My thoughts that labour to persuade my soul Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey’s life. If my suspect be false, forgive me God, For judgement only doth belong to thee. Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain Upon his face an ocean of salt tears, To tell my love unto his dumb, deaf trunk, And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling. But all in vain are these mean obsequies,
(didascalia)	Enter Warwick who draws apart the curtains and
(didascalia)	shows Gloucester dead in his bed. Bed put forth
KING HENRY	And to survey his dead and earthy image, What were it but to make my sorrow greater?
WARWICK	Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body.
KING HENRY	That is to see how deep my grave is made: For with his soul fled all my worldly solace, For seeing him I see my life in death.
WARWICK	As surely as my soul intends to live With that dread King that took our state upon Him To free us from his Father’s wrathful curse, I do believe that violent hands were laid Upon the life of this thrice-famed Duke.
SUFFOLK	A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue! What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow?
WARWICK	See how the blood is settled in his face. Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance ‘gainst the enemy; Which, with the heart, there cools, and ne’er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again. But see, his face is black and full of blood; His eyeballs further out than when he lived, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man; His hair upreared; his nostrils stretched with struggling; His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasped And tugged for life and was by strength subdued. Look on the sheets. His hair, you see, is sticking; His well-proportioned beard made rough and rugged, Like to the summer’s corn by tempest lodged. It cannot be but he was murdered here. The least of all these signs were probable.
SUFFOLK	Why, Warwick, who should do the Duke to death? Myself and Beaufort had him in protection, And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers.
WARWICK	But both of you were vowed Duke Humphrey’s foes, (To Cardinal Beaufort) And you, forsooth, had the good Duke to keep. ’Tis like you would not feast him like a friend; And ’tis well seen he found an enemy.
QUEEN MARGARET	Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen As guilty of Duke Humphrey’s timeless death?
WARWICK	Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh, And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect ’twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in the puttock’s nest But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak? Even so suspicious is this tragedy.
QUEEN MARGARET	Are you the butcher, Suffolk? Where’s your knife? Is Beaufort termed a kite? Where are his talons?
SUFFOLK	I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men. But here’s a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart That slanders me with murder’s crimson badge. Say, if thou dar’st, proud Lord of Warwickshire, That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey’s death.
(didascalia)	Exit Cardinal Beaufort assisted by Somerset
WARWICK	What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him?
QUEEN MARGARET	He dares not calm his contumelious spirit, Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.
WARWICK	Madam, be still, with reverence may I say, For every word you speak in his behalf Is slander to your royal dignity.
SUFFOLK	Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour! If ever lady wronged her lord so much, Thy mother took into her blameful bed Some stern untutored churl, and noble stock Was graffed with crabtree slip, whose fruit thou art, And never of the Nevilles’ noble race.
WARWICK	But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my sovereign’s presence makes me mild, I would, false murd‘rous coward, on thy knee Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech, And say it was thy mother that thou meant’st— That thou thyself wast born in bastardy! And after all this fearful homage done, Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell, Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men!
SUFFOLK	Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood, If from this presence thou dar’st go with me.
WARWICK	Away, even now, or I will drag thee hence. Unworthy though thou art, I’ll cope with thee, And do some service to Duke Humphrey’s ghost.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Suffolk and Warwick
KING HENRY	What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted? Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
COMMONS	(within) Down with Suffolk! Down with Suffolk!
QUEEN MARGARET	What noise is this?
(didascalia)	Enter Suffolk and Warwick with their weapons drawn
KING HENRY	Why, how now, lords? Your wrathful weapons drawn Here in our presence? Dare you be so bold? Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?
SUFFOLK	The trait’rous Warwick with the men of Bury Set all upon me, mighty sovereign!
COMMONS	(within) Down with Suffolk! Down with Suffolk!
(didascalia)	Enter from the commons the Earl of Salisbury
SALISBURY	(to the commons, within) Sirs, stand apart. The King shall know your mind. (To King Henry) Dread lord, the commons send you word by me Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death, Or banished fair England’s territories, They will by violence tear him from your palace And torture him with grievous ling‘ring 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 waked, Lest, being suffered 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, whe’er 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	’Tis like the commons, rude unpolished hinds, Could send such message to their sovereign. But you, my lord, were glad to be employed, 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 HENRY	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.
(didascalia)	Exit Salisbury
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET kneeling
KING HENRY	O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk.
KING HENRY	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. (To Suffolk) If after three days’ space thou here beest 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt King Henry and Warwick with
(didascalia)	attendants who draw the curtains as they
(didascalia)	leave. Queen Margaret and Suffolk remain
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET rising
KING HENRY	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 MARGARET	Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch! Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies?
SUFFOLK	A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse them? Could curses kill, as doth the mandrake’s groan, I would invent as bitter searching terms, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-faced envy in her loathsome cave. My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words; Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; My hair be fixed on end, as one distraught; Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban. And, even now, my burdened 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 murd’ring 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 MARGARET	Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment‘st thyself, And these dread curses, like the sun ’gainst glass, Or like an overcharged gun, recoil And turn the force of them upon thyself.
SUFFOLK	You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave? Now by this ground that I am banished 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.
QUEEN MARGARET	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.
(didascalia)	She kisses his palm
QUEEN MARGARET	O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand That thou mightst think upon these lips 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 whiles 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 banished 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.
SUFFOLK	Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banishèd— Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee. ’Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence, 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 naught but that thou liv’st.
(didascalia)	Enter Vaux
QUEEN MARGARET	Whither goes Vaux so fast? What news, I prithee?
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 over-charged soul; And I am sent to tell his majesty That even now he cries aloud for him.
QUEEN MARGARET	Go tell this heavy message to the King. Exit Vaux Ay 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 sorrow’s? Now get thee hence. The King, thou know’st, is coming. 390 If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.
SUFFOLK	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 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—
(didascalia)	He kisseth her
SUFFOLK	And then it lived in sweet Elysium. By thee to die were but to die in jest; From thee to die were torture more than death. O, let me stay, befall what may befall!
QUEEN MARGARET	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 I’ll have an Iris that shall find thee out.
SUFFOLK	I go.
QUEEN MARGARET	And take my heart with thee.
(didascalia)	She kisseth him
SUFFOLK	A jewel, locked into the woefull’st cask That ever did contain a thing of worth. Even as a splitted barque, so sunder we—This way fall I to death.
QUEEN MARGARET	This way for me.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 3, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Henry and the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick. Then the curtains be drawn revealing Cardinal Beaufort in his bed raving and staring as if he were mad
KING HENRY	(to Cardinal Beaufort) How fares my lord? Speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	If thou beest death, I’ll give thee England’s treasure Enough to purchase such another island, So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain.
KING HENRY	Ah, what a sign it is of evil life Where death’s approach is seen so terrible.
WARWICK	Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Bring me unto my trial when you will. Died he not in his bed ? Where should he die? Can I make men live whe’er 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 Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
KING HENRY	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.
WARWICK	See how the pangs of death do make him grin.
SALISBURY	Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably.
KING HENRY	Peace to his soul, if God’s good pleasure be. Lord Card‘nal, if thou think’st on heaven’s bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. Cardinal Beaufort dies He dies and makes no sign. O God, forgive him.
WARWICK	So bad a death argues a monstrous life.
KING HENRY	Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close, And let us all to meditation.
(didascalia)	Exeunt, drawing the curtains. The bed is
(didascalia)	removed

Atto 4, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarums within, and the chambers be discharged like as it were a fight at sea. And then enter the Captain of the ship, the Master, the Master’s Mate, Walter Whitmore, and others. With them, as their prisoners, the Duke of Suffolk, disguised, and two Gentlemen
CAPTAIN	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, (pointing to the First Gentleman) this prisoner freely give I thee, (To the Mate) And thou, that art his mate, make boot of this. He points to the Second Gentleman (To Walter Whitmore) The other (pointing to Suffolk), Walter Whitmore, is thy share.
FIRST GENTLEMAN	(to the Master) What is my ransom, Master, let me know.
MASTER	A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.
MATE	(to the Second Gentleman) And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.
CAPTAIN	(to both the Gentlemen) What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns, And bear the name and port of gentlemen?
(didascalia)	WHITMORE
(didascalia)	Cut both the villains’ throats! To Suffolk For die you
CAPTAIN	shall. The lives of those which we have lost in fight
(didascalia)
CAPTAIN	Be counterpoised with such a petty sum.
FIRST GENTLEMAN	(to the Master) I’ll give it, sir, and therefore spare my life.
SECOND GENTLEMAN	(to the Mate) And so will,I, and write home for it straight.
WHITMORE	(to Suffolk) I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore to revenge it, shalt thou die— And so should these, if I might have my will.
CAPTAIN	Be not so rash; take ransom; let him live.
SUFFOLK	Look on my George—I am a gentleman. Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.
WHITMORE	And so am I; my name is Walter Whitmore. Suffolk starteth How now—why starts thou? What doth thee affright?
SUFFOLK	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.
WHITMORE	Gualtier or Walter—which it is I care not. Never 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.
SUFFOLK	Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince, The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.
WHITMORE	The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags?
SUFFOLK	Ay, but these rags are no part of the Duke. Jove sometime went disguised, and why not I?
CAPTAIN	But Jove was never slain as thou shalt be.
SUFFOLK	Obscure and lousy swain, King Henry’s blood, The honourable blood of Lancaster, Must not be shed by such a jady groom. Hast thou not kissed thy hand and held my stirrup? Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mute 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 crestfall’n, 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.
WHITMORE	Speak, Captain—shall I stab the forlorn swain?
CAPTAIN	First let my words stab him as he hath me.
SUFFOLK	Base slave, thy words are blunt and so art thou.
CAPTAIN	Convey him hence and, on our longboat’s side, Strike off his head.
SUFFOLK	Thou dar’st not for thy own.
CAPTAIN	Pole—
(didascalia)	SUFFOLK Pole?
CAPTAIN	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 smiledst 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 Nevilles 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. (To Whitmore) Away, convey him hence.
SUFFOLK	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.
(didascalia)	CAPTAIN
SUFFOLK	But my deeds, Suffolk, soon shall stay thy rage.
SUFFOLK	I go of message from the Queen to France— I charge thee, waft me safely cross the Channel!
CAPTAIN	Walter—
WHITMORE	Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.
SUFFOLK	Paene gelidus timor occupat artus— It is thee I fear.
WHITMORE	Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee. What, are ye daunted now? Now will ye stoop?
FIRST GENTLEMAN	(to Suffolk) My gracious lord, entreat him—speak him fair.
SUFFOLK	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.
CAPTAIN	Hale him away, and let him talk no more.
SUFFOLK	Come, ‘soldiers’, show what cruelty ye can, That this my death may never be forgot. Great men oft die by vile Besonians; A Roman sworder and banditto slave Murdered sweet Tully ; Brutus’ bastard hand Stabbed Julius Caesar; savage islanders Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates.
(didascalia)	Exit Whitmore with Suffolk
CAPTAIN	And as for these whose ransom we have set, It is our pleasure one of them depart. (To the Second Gentleman) Therefore, come you with us and (to his men, pointing to the First Gentleman) let him go.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but the First Gentleman
(didascalia)	Enter Whitmore with Suffolk’s head and body
WHITMORE	There let his head and lifeless body lie, Until the Queen his mistress bury it. Exit
FIRST GENTLEMAN	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.
(didascalia)	Exit with Suffolk’s head and body

Atto 4, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter two Rebels with long staves
FIRST REBEL	Come and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; they have been up these two days.
SECOND REBEL	They have the more need to sleep now then.
FIRST REBEL	I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.
SECOND REBEL	So he had need, for ‘tis threadbare. Well, I say it was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up.
FIRST REBEL	O, miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handicraftsmen.
SECOND REBEL	The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.
FIRST REBEL	Nay more, the King’s Council are no good workmen.
SECOND REBEL	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.
FIRST REBEL	Thou hast hit it; for there’s no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.
SECOND REBEL	I see them! I see them! There’s Best’s son, the tanner of Wingham—
FIRST REBEL	He shall have the skins of our enemies to make dog’s leather of. SECOND REBEL And Dick the butcher—
FIRST REBEL	Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity’s throat cut like a calf.
SECOND REBEL	And Smith the weaver—
FIRST REBEL	Argo, their thread of life is spun.
SECOND REBEL	Come, come, let’s fall in with them.
(didascalia)	Enter Jack Cade, Dick the Butcher, Smith the
(didascalia)	Weaver, a sawyer, and a drummer, with infinite
(didascalia)	numbers, fall with long staves
CADE	We, John Cade, so termed of our supposed father—BUTCHER (to his fellows) Or rather of stealing a cade of herrings.
CADE	For our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes—command silence!
BUTCHER	Silence!
CADE	My father was a Mortimer—
BUTCHER	(to his fellows) He was an honest man and a good bricklayer.
CADE	My mother a Plantagenet—
BUTCHER	(to his fellows) I knew her well, she was a midwife. CADE My wife descended of the Lacys—
BUTCHER	(to his fellows) She was indeed a pedlar’s daughter and sold many laces.
WEAVER	(to his fellows) But now of late, not able to travel with her furred pack, she washes bucks here at home. CADE Therefore am I of an honourable house.
BUTCHER	(to his fellows) 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.
CADE	Valiant I am—
WEAVER	(to his fellows) A must needs, for beggary is valiant.
CADE	I am able to endure much—
BUTCHER	(to his fellows) No question of that, for I have seen him whipped three market days together.
CADE	I fear neither sword nor fire.
WEAVER	(to his fellows) He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of proof.
BUTCHER	(to his fellows) But methinks he should stand in fear of fire, being burned i’th’ hand for stealing of sheep.
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 beer. All the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. And when I am king, as king I will be—
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	God save your majesty!
CADE	I thank you good people!—there shall be no money. All shall eat and drink on my score, and I will apparel them all in one livery that they may agree like brothers, and worship me their lord.
BUTCHER	The first thing we do let’s kill all the lawyers.
CADE	Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? That parchment, being scribbled o‘er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings, but I say ‘tis the bee’s wax. For I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since. How now? Who’s there? Enter some bringing forth the Clerk of Chatham
WEAVER	The Clerk of Chatham—he can write and read and cast account.
CADE	O, monstrous!
WEAVER	We took him setting of boys’ copies.
CADE	Here’s a villain.
WEAVER	He’s a book in his pocket with red letters in’t. CADE Nay, then he is a conjuror!
BUTCHER	Nay, he can make obligations and write court hand.
CADE	I am sorry for’t. The man is a proper man, of mine honour. Unless I find him guilty, he shall not die. Come hither, sirrah, I must examine thee. What is thy name?
CLERK	Emmanuel.
BUTCHER	They use to write that on the top of letters—‘twill go hard with you.
CADE	Let me alone. (To the Clerk) Dost thou use to write thy name? Or hast thou a mark to thyself like an honest plain-dealing man?
CLERK	Sir, I thank God I have been so well brought up that I can write my name.
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	He hath confessed—away with him He’s a villain and a traitor.
CADE	Away with him, I say, hang him with his pen and inkhorn about his neck. Exit one with the Clerk Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	Where’s our general? no CADE Here I am, thou particular fellow.
MESSENGER	Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by with the King’s forces.
CADE	Stand, villain, stand—or I’ll fell thee down. He shall be encountered with a man as good as himself. He is but a knight, is a?
MESSENGER	No.
CADE	To equal him I will make myself a knight presently. He kneels and knights himself Rise up, Sir John Mortimer. He rises Now have at him! Enter Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother, with a drummer and soldiers
STAFFORD	(to Cade’s followers) Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, Marked for the gallows, lay your weapons down; Home to your cottages, forsake this groom. The King is merciful, if you revolt.
STAFFORD’S BROTHER	(to Cade’s followers) But angry, wrathful, and inclined to blood, If you go forward. Therefore, yield or die.
CADE	(to his followers) As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not. It is to you, good people, that I speak, Over whom, in time to come, I hope to reign— For I am rightful heir unto the crown.
STAFFORD	Villain, thy father was a plasterer And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not?
CADE	And Adam was a gardener.
STAFFORD’S BROTHER	And what of that?
CADE	Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, Married the Duke of Clarence’ daughter, did he not?
STAFFORD	Ay, sir.
CADE	By her he had two children at one birth.
STAFFORD’S BROTHER	That’s false.
CADE	Ay, there’s the question—but I say ’tis true. The elder of them, being put to nurse, Was by a beggar-woman stol’n away, And, ignorant of his birth and parentage, Became a bricklayer when he came to age. His son am I—deny it an you can.
BUTCHER	Nay, ’tis too true—therefore he shall be king.
WEAVER	Sir, he made a chimney in my father’s house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify. Therefore deny it not.
STAFFORD	(to Cade’s followers) And will you credit this base drudge’s words That speaks he knows not what?
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	Ay, marry, will we—therefore get ye gone.
STAFFORD’S BROTHER	Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this.
CADE	(aside) He lies, for I invented it myself. (Aloud) Go to, sirrah—tell the King from me that for his father’s sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose time boys went to span-counter for French crowns, I am content he shall reign; but I’ll be Protector over him.
BUTCHER	And, furthermore, we’ll have the Lord Saye’s head for selling the dukedom of Maine.
CADE	And good reason, for thereby is England maimed, and fain to go with a staff, but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow-kings, I tell you that that Lord Saye hath gelded the commonwealth, and made it an eunuch, and, more than that, he can speak French, and therefore he is a traitor!
STAFFORD	O gross and miserable ignorance !
CADE	Nay, answer if you can: the Frenchmen are our enemies; go to, then, I ask but this—can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good counsellor or no?
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	No, no—and therefore we’ll have his head!
STAFFORD’S BROTHER	(to Stafford) Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail, Assail them with the army of the King.
STAFFORD	Herald, away, and throughout every town Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade; That those which fly before the battle ends May, even in their wives’ and children’s sight, Be hanged up for example at their doors. And you that be the King’s friends, follow me!
(didascalia)	Exeunt The Staffords and their soldiers
CADE	And you that love the commons, follow me! Now show yourselves men—’tis for liberty. We will not leave one lord, one gentleman— Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon, For they are thrifty honest men, and such As would, but that they dare not, take our parts.
BUTCHER	They are all in order, and march toward us.
CADE	But then are we in order when we are
(didascalia)	Most out of order. Come, march forward! Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarums to the fight; excursions, wherein both the Staffords are slain. Enter Jack Cade, Dick the Butcher, and the rest
CADE	Where’s Dick, the butcher of Ashford?
BUTCHER	Here, sir.
CADE	They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou behaved’st thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughterhouse. Therefore, thus will I reward thee—the Lent shall be as long again as it is. Thou shalt have licence to kill for a hundred, lacking one.
BUTCHER	I desire no more.
(didascalia)	CADE And to speak truth, thou deserv’st no less. He apparels himself in the Staffords’ armour This monument of the victory will I bear, and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse heels till I do come to London, where we will have the Mayor’s sword borne before us.
BUTCHER	If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the jails and let out the prisoners.
CADE	Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let’s march towards London.
(didascalia)	Exeunt, dragging the Staffords’ bodies

Atto 4, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Henry reading a supplication, Queen Margaret carrying Suffolk’s head, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Saye, with others
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET aside
(didascalia)	Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind, And makes it fearful and degenerate; Think, therefore, on revenge, and cease to weep. But who can cease to weep and look on this? Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast, But where’s the body that I should embrace?
BUCKINGHAM	(to King Henry) What answer makes your grace to the rebels’ supplication?
KING HENRY	I’ll send some holy bishop to entreat, For God forbid so many simple souls Should perish by the sword. And I myself, Rather than bloody war shall cut them short, Will parley with Jack Cade their general. But stay, I’ll read it over once again. He reads
QUEEN MARGARET	(to Suffolk’s head) Ah, barbarous villains! Hath this lovely face Ruled like a wandering planet over me, And could it not enforce them to relent, That were unworthy to behold the same?
KING HENRY	Lord Saye, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head.
SAYE	Ay, but I hope your highness shall have his.
KING HENRY	(to Queen Margaret) How now, madam? Still lamenting and mourning Suffolk’s death? I fear me, love, if that I had been dead, Thou wouldest not have mourned so much for me.
(didascalia)	No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee. Enter a Messenger, Fin haste
KING HENRY	How now? What news? Why com’st thou in such haste?
MESSENGER	The rebels are in Southwark—fly, my lord! Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer, Descended from the Duke of Clarence’ house, And calls your grace usurper, openly, And vows to crown himself in Westminster. His army is a ragged multitude Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless. Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother’s death Hath given them heart and courage to proceed. All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, They call false caterpillars and intend their death.
KING HENRY	O, graceless men; they know not what they do.
BUCKINGHAM	My gracious lord, retire to Kenilworth Until a power be raised to put them down.
QUEEN MARGARET	Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now alive These Kentish rebels would be soon appeased!
KING HENRY	Lord Saye, the trait’rous rabble hateth thee— Therefore away with us to Kenilworth.
SAYE	So might your grace’s person be in danger. The sight of me is odious in their eyes, And therefore in this city will I stay And live alone as secret as I may.
(didascalia)	Enter another Messenger
SECOND MESSENGER	(to King Henry) Jack Cade hath almost gotten London Bridge; The citizens fly and forsake their houses; The rascal people, thirsting after prey, Join with the traitor; and they jointly swear To spoil the city and your royal court.
BUCKINGHAM	(to King Henry) Then linger not, my lord; away, take horse!
KING HENRY	Come, Margaret. God, our hope, will succour us.
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET aside
KING HENRY	My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceased.
KING HENRY	(to Saye) Farewell, my lord. Trust not the Kentish rebels.
BUCKINGHAM	(to Saye) Trust nobody, for fear you be betrayed.
SAYE	The trust I have is in mine innocence, And therefore am I bold and resolute.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Saye at one door, the rest at another

Atto 4, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Lord Scales upon the Tower, walking. Enter three or four Citizens below
SCALES	How now? Is Jack Cade slain?
FIRST CITIZEN	No, my lord Scales, nor likely to be slain, for he and his men have won the bridge, killing all those that did withstand them. The Lord Mayor craveth aid of your honour from the Tower to defend the city from the rebels.
SCALES	Such aid as I can spare you shall command, But I am troubled here with them myself. The rebels have essayed to win the Tower. Get you to Smithfield, there to gather head, And thither will I send you Matthew Gough. Fight for your king, your country, and your lives! And so, farewell, for I must hence again.
(didascalia)	Exeunt, Scales above, the Citizens below

Atto 4, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Jack Cade, the Weaver, the Butcher, and the rest. Cade strikes his sword on London Stone
CADE	Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And, here sitting upon London Stone, I charge and command that, of the city’s cost, the Pissing Conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of our reign. And now henceforward it shall be treason for any that calls me otherwise than Lord Mortimer.
(didascalia)	Enter a Soldier, running
SOLDIER	Jack Cade, Jack Cade!
CADE	Zounds, knock him down there! They kill him
(didascalia)	BUTCHER If this fellow be wise, he’ll never call ye Jack Cade more; I think he hath a very fair warning. He takes a paper from the soldier’s body and reads it My lord, there’s an army gathered together in Smithfield.
CADE	Come then, let’s go fight with them—but first, go on and set London Bridge afire, and, if you can, burn down the Tower too. Come, let’s away. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarums. Excursions, wherein Matthew Gough is slain, and all the rest of his men with him. Then enter Jack Cade with his company, among them the Butcher, the Weaver, and John, a rebel
CADE	So, sirs, now go some and pull down the Savoy; others to th’ Inns of Court—down with them all.
BUTCHER	I have a suit unto your lordship.
CADE	Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that word.
BUTCHER	Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth.
JOHN	(aside to his fellows) Mass, ‘twill be sore law then, for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and ’tis not whole yet.
WEAVER	(aside to John) Nay, John, it will be stinking law, for his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese.
CADE	I have thought upon it—it shall be so. Away! Burn all the records of the realm. My mouth shall be the Parliament of England.
JOHN	(aside to his fellows) Then we are like to have biting statutes unless his teeth be pulled out.
CADE	And henceforward all things shall be in common. Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	My lord, a prize, a prize! Here’s the Lord Saye which sold the towns in France. He that made us pay one-and-twenty fifteens and one shilling to the pound the last subsidy.
(didascalia)	Enter a rebel with the Lord Saye
CADE	Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times. (To Saye) Ah, thou say, thou serge—nay, thou buckram lord! Now art thou within point-blank of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou answer to my majesty for giving up of Normandy unto Mounsieur Basimecu, the Dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these presence, even the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art. Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school; and, whereas before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used and, contrary to the King his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb and such abominable words as no Christian ear can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed justices of peace to call poor men before them about matters they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou hast put them in prison, and, because they could not read, thou hast hanged them when indeed only for that cause they have been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride on a foot-cloth, dost thou not?
SAYE	What of that?
CADE	Marry, thou ought’st not to let thy horse wear a cloak when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets.
BUTCHER	And work in their shirts, too; as myself, for example, that am a butcher.
SAYE	You men of Kent.
BUTCHER	What say you of Kent?
SAYE	Nothing but this—’tis bona terra, mala gens.
CADE	Bonum terrum—zounds, what’s that?
BUTCHER	He speaks French.
(didascalia)	first REBEL No, ’tis Dutch.
(didascalia)	SECOND REBEL No, ’tis Out-talian, I know it well enough.
SAYE	Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will. Kent, in the commentaries Caesar writ, Is termed the civil’st place of all this isle; Sweet is the country, because full of riches; The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy; Which makes me hope you are not void of pity. I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy; Yet to recover them would lose my life. Justice with favour have I always done, Prayers and tears have moved me—gifts could never. When have I aught exacted at your hands, But to maintain the King, the realm, and you? Large gifts have I bestowed on learned clerks Because my book preferred me to the King, And seeing ignorance is the curse of God, Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven. Unless you be possessed with devilish spirits, You cannot but forbear to murder me. This tongue hath parleyed unto foreign kings For your behoof—
CADE	Tut, when struck’st thou one blow in the field?
SAYE	Great men have reaching hands. Oft have I struck Those that I never saw, and struck them dead.
REBEL	O monstrous coward! What, to come behind folks?
SAYE	These cheeks are pale for watching for your good—
CADE	Give him a box o‘th’ ear, and that will make ’em red again.
(didascalia)	One of the rebels strikes Saye
SAYE	Long sitting to determine poor men’s causes Hath made me full of sickness and diseases.
CADE	Ye shall have a hempen caudle, then, and the health o’th’ hatchet.
BUTCHER	(to Saye) Why dost thou quiver, man?
SAYE	The palsy, and not fear, provokes me.
CADE	Nay, he nods at us as who should say ‘I’ll be even with you’. I’ll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole or no. Take him away, and behead him.
SAYE	Tell me wherein have I offended most ? Have I affected wealth or honour? Speak. Are my chests filled up with extorted gold? Is my apparel sumptuous to behold? Whom have I injured, that ye seek my death? These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding, This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts. O let me live!
CADE	(aside) I feel remorse in myself with his words, but I’ll bridle it. He shall die an it be but for pleading so well for his life. (Aloud) Away with him—he has a familiar under his tongue; he speaks not a God’s name. Go, take him away, I say, to the Standard in Cheapside, and strike off his head presently; and then go to Mile End Green—break into his son-in-law’s house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them both upon two poles hither.
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	It shall be done!
SAYE	Ah, countrymen, if, when you make your prayers, God should be so obdurate as yourselves, How would it fare with your departed souls ? And therefore yet relent and save my life
CADE	Away with him, and do as I command ye!
(didascalia)	Exeunt the Butcher and one or two with the Lord Saye
CADE	The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head on his shoulders unless he pay me tribute. There shall not a maid be married but she shall pay to me her maidenhead, ere they have it. Married men shall hold of me in capite. And we charge and command that their wives be as free as heart can wish or tongue can tell.
(didascalia)	Enter a Rebel
REBEL	O captain, London Bridge is afire!
CADE	Run to Billingsgate and fetch pitch and flax and quench it.
(didascalia)	Enter the Butcher and a Sergeant
SERGEANT	Justice, justice, I pray you, sir, let me have justice of this fellow here.
CADE	Why, what has he done?
SERGEANT	Alas, sir, he has ravished my wife.
BUTCHER	(to Cade) Why, my lord, he would have ’rested me and I went and entered my action in his wife’s proper house.
CADE	Dick, follow thy suit in her common place. (To the Sergeant) You whoreson villain, you are a sergeant—you’ll take any man by the throat for twelve pence, and ’rest a man when he’s at dinner, and have him to prison ere the meat be out of his mouth. (To the Butcher) Go, Dick, take him hence: cut out his tongue for cogging, hough him for running, and, to conclude, brain him with his own mace.
(didascalia)	Exit the Butcher with the Sergeant
REBEL	My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside and take up commodities upon our bills?
CADE	Marry, presently. He that will lustily stand to it shall go with me and take up these commodities following—item, a gown, a kirtle, a petticoat, and a smock.
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	O brave!
(didascalia)	Enter two with the Lord Saye’s head and Sir James Cromer’s upon two poles
CADE	But is not this braver? Let them kiss one another, for they loved well when they were alive.
(didascalia)	The two heads are made to kiss
CADE	Now part them again, lest they consult about the giving up of some more towns in France. Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night. For with these borne before us instead of maces will we ride through the streets, and at every corner have them kiss. Away!
(didascalia)	Exeunt two with the heads. The others begin to follow
CADE	Up Fish Street! Down Saint Magnus’ Corner! Kill and knock down! Throw them into Thames!
(didascalia)	Sound a parley
CADE	What noise is this? Dare any be so bold to sound retreat or parley when I command them kill?
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Buckingham and old Lord Clifford
BUCKINGHAM	Ay, here they be that dare and will disturb thee! Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the King Unto the commons, whom thou hast misled, And here pronounce free pardon to them all That will forsake thee and go home in peace.
CLIFFORD	What say ye, countrymen, will ye relent And yield to mercy whilst ‘tis offered you, Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths? Who loves the King and will embrace his pardon, Fling up his cap and say ‘God save his majesty’. Who hateth him and honours not his father, Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake, Shake he his weapon at us, and pass by.
(didascalia)	They fling up their caps and forsake Cade
ALL CADE’S	FoLLOwERS God save the King! God save the King!
CADE	What, Buckingham and Clifford, are ye so brave? (To the rabble) And you, base peasants, do ye believe him? Will you needs be hanged with your pardons about your necks? Hath my sword, therefore, broke through London gates that you should leave me at the White Hart in Southwark? I thought ye would never have given out these arms till you had recovered your ancient freedom. But you are all recreants and dastards, and delight to live in slavery to the nobility. Let them break your backs with burdens, take your houses over your heads, ravish your wives and daughters before your faces. For me, I will make shift for one, and so God’s curse light upon you all.
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	We’ll follow Cade! We’ll follow Cade! They run to Cade again
CLIFFORD	Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth That thus you do exclaim you’ll go with him? Will he conduct you through the heart of France And make the meanest of you earls and dukes? Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to, Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil— Unless by robbing of your friends and us. Were’t not a shame that whilst you live at jar The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, Should make a start o‘er seas and vanquish you? Methinks already in this civil broil I see them lording it in London streets, Crying ‘Villiago!’ unto all they meet. Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman’s mercy. To France! To France! And get what you have lost! Spare England, for it is your native coast. Henry hath money; you are strong and manly; God on our side, doubt not of victory.
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	A Clifford! A Clifford! We’ll follow the King and Clifford! They forsake Cade
CADE	(aside) Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them to an hundred mischiefs, and makes them leave me desolate. I see them lay their heads together to surprise me. My sword make way for me, for here is no staying. (Aloud) In despite of the devils and hell, have through the very middest of you! And heavens and honour be witness that no want of resolution in me, but only my followers’ base and ignominious treasons, makes me betake me to my heels. He runs through them with his staff, and flies away
BUCKINGHAM	What, is he fled? Go, some, and follow him, And he that brings his head unto the King Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward.
(didascalia)	Exeunt some of them after Cade
BUCKINGHAM	(To the remaining rebels) Follow me, soldiers, we’ll devise a mean To reconcile you all unto the King. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 8

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, and the Duke of Somerset on the terrace
KING HENRY	Was ever King that joyed an earthly throne And could command no more content than I? No sooner was I crept out of my cradle But I was made a king at nine months old. Was never subject longed to be a king As I do long and wish to be a subject.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Buckingham and Lord Clifford on the terrace
BUCKINGHAM	(to King Henry) Health and glad tidings to your majesty.
KING HENRY	Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade surprised? Or is he but retired to make him strong?
(didascalia)	Enter, below, multitudes with halters about their necks
CLIFFORD	He is fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield, And humbly thus with halters on their necks Expect your highness’ doom of life or death.
KING HENRY	Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates To entertain my vows of thanks and praise. (To the multitudes below) Soldiers, this day have you redeemed your lives, And showed how well you love your prince and country. Continue still in this so good a mind, And Henry, though he be infortunate, Assure yourselves will never be unkind. And so, with thanks and pardon to you all, I do dismiss you to your several countries.
(didascalia)	ALL CADE’S FORMER FOLLOWERS God save the King! Gold save the King! Exeunt multitudes below
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger on the terrace
MESSENGER	(to King Henry) Please it your grace to be advertised The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland, And with a puissant and a mighty power Of galloglasses and stout Irish kerns Is marching hitherward in proud array, And still proclaimeth, as he comes along, His arms are only to remove from thee The Duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor.
KING HENRY	Thus stands my state, ’twixt Cade and York distressed, Like to a ship that, having scaped a tempest, Is straightway calmed and boarded with a pirate. But now is Cade driven back, his men dispersed, And now is York in arms to second him. I pray thee, Buckingham, go and meet him, And ask him what’s the reason of these arms. Tell him I’ll send Duke Edmund to the Tower; And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither, Until his army be dismissed from him.
SOMERSET	My lord, I’ll yield myself to prison willingly, Or unto death, to do my country good.
KING HENRY	(to Buckingham) In any case, be not too rough in terms, For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language.
BUCKINGHAM	I will, my lord, and doubt not so to deal As all things shall redound unto your good.
KING HENRY	Come, wife, let’s in and learn to govern better; For yet may England curse my wretched reign.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 9

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Jack Cade
CADE	Fie on ambitions; fie on myself that have a sword and yet am ready to famish. These five days have I hid me in these woods and durst not peep out, for all the country is laid for me. But now am I so hungry that if I might have a lease of my life for a thousand years, I could stay no longer. Wherefore o‘er a brick wall have I climbed into this garden to see if I can eat grass or pick a sallet another while, which is not amiss to cool a man’s stomach this hot weather. And I think this word ‘sallet’ was born to do me good; for many a time, but for a sallet, my brain-pan had been cleft with a brown bill; and many a time, when I have been dry, and bravely marching, it hath served me instead of a quart pot to drink in; and now the word ‘sallet’ must serve me to feed on.
(didascalia)	He lies down picking of herbs and eating them. Enter Sir Alexander Iden and five of his men
IDEN	Lord, who would live turmoilèd in the court And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? This small inheritance my father left me Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy. I seek not to wax great by others’ waning, Or gather wealth I care not with what envy; Sufficeth that I have maintains my state, And sends the poor well pleased from my gate.
(didascalia)	Cade rises to his knees
CADE	(aside) Zounds, here’s the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray for entering his fee-simple without leave. (To Iden) A villain, thou wilt betray me and get a thousand crowns of the king by carrying my head to him; but I’ll make thee eat iron like an ostrich and swallow my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part.
IDEN	Why, rude companion, whatsoe’er thou be, I know thee not. Why then should I betray thee? Is’t not enough to break into my garden, And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms?
CADE	Brave thee? Ay, by the best blood that ever was broached—and beard thee too! Look on me well—I have eat no meat these five days, yet come thou and thy five men, an if I do not leave you all as dead as a doornail I pray God I may never eat grass more.
IDEN	Nay, it shall ne’er be said while England stands That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, Took odds to combat a poor famished man. Oppose thy steadfast gazing eyes to mine— See if thou canst outface me with thy looks. Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser— Thy hand is but a finger to my fist, Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon. My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast, And if mine arm be heaved in the air, Thy grave is digged already in the earth. As for words, whose greatness answers words, Let this my sword report what speech forbears. (To his men) Stand you all aside.
CADE	By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I heard. (To his sword) Steel, if thou turn the edge or cut not out the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I beseech God on my knees thou mayst be turned to hobnails.
(didascalia)	Cade stands. Here they fight, and Cade falls down
CADE	O, I am slain! Famine and no other hath slain me! Let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have lost, and I’d defy them all. Wither, garden, and be henceforth a burying place to all that do dwell in this house, because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled.
IDEN	Is’t Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor? Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed And hang thee o‘er my tomb when I am dead. Ne’er shall this blood be wiped from thy point But thou shalt wear it as a herald’s coat To emblaze the honour that thy master got.
CADE	Iden, farewell, and be proud of thy victory. Tell Kent from me she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the world to be cowards. For I, that never feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour. He dies
IDEN	How much thou wrong’st me, heaven be my judge. Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bore thee!
(didascalia)	And stabbing him again as I thrust thy body in with
IDEN	my sword, So wish I I might thrust thy soul to hell. Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave, And there cut off thy most ungracious head, Which I will bear in triumph to the King, Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon.
(didascalia)	Exeunt with the body

Atto 5, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of York and his army of Irish with a drummer and soldiers bearing colours
YORK	From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right, And pluck the crown from feeble Henry’s head. Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and bright, To entertain great England’s lawful king. Ah, sancta maiestas! Who would not buy thee dear? Let them obey that knows not how to rule; This hand was made to handle naught but gold. I cannot give due action to my words, Except a sword or sceptre balance it. A sceptre shall it have, have I as word, On which I’ll toss the fleur-de-lis of France.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Buckingham
YORK	(Aside) Whom have we here? Buckingham to disturb me? The King hath sent him sure—I must dissemble.
BUCKINGHAM	York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well.
YORK	Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting. Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure?
BUCKINGHAM	A messenger from Henry, our dread liege, To know the reason of these arms in peace; Or why thou, being a subject as I am, Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn, Should raise so great a power without his leave, Or dare to bring thy force so near the court?
YORK	(aside) Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. O, I could hew up rocks and fight with flint, I am so angry at these abject terms; And now, like Ajax Telamonius, On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury. I am far better born than is the King, More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts; But I must make fair weather yet a while, Till Henry be more weak and I more strong. (Aloud) Buckingham, I prithee pardon me, That I have given no answer all this while; My mind was troubled with deep melancholy. The cause why I have brought this army hither Is to remove proud Somerset from the King, Seditious to his grace and to the state.
BUCKINGHAM	That is too much presumption on thy part; But if thy arms be to no other end, The King hath yielded unto thy demand: The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower.
YORK	Upon thine honour, is he prisoner?
BUCKINGHAM	Upon mine honour, he is prisoner.
YORK	Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my powers. Soldiers, I thank you all; disperse yourselves; Meet me tomorrow in Saint George’s field. You shall have pay and everything you wish.
(didascalia)	Exeunt soldiers
YORK	(To Buckingham) And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, Command my eldest son—nay, all my sons— As pledges of my fealty and love. I’ll send them all as willing as I live. Lands, goods, horse, armour, anything I have Is his to use, so Somerset may die.
BUCKINGHAM	York, I commend this kind submission. We twain will go into his highness’ tent.
(didascalia)	Enter King Henry and attendants
KING HENRY	Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us, That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm?
YORK	In all submission and humility York doth present himself unto your highness.
KING HENRY	Then what intends these forces thou dost bring?
YORK	To heave the traitor Somerset from hence, And fight against that monstrous rebel Cade, Who since I heard to be discomfited.
(didascalia)	Enter Iden with Cade’s head
IDEN	If one so rude and of so mean condition May pass into the presence of a king,
(didascalia)	Kneeling Lo, I present your grace a traitor’s head,
IDEN	The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew.
KING HENRY	The head of Cade? Great God, how just art thou! O let me view his visage, being dead, That living wrought me such exceeding trouble. Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew him?
(didascalia)	IDEN rising
KING HENRY	Iwis, an’t like your majesty.
KING HENRY	How art thou called? And what is thy degree?
IDEN	Alexander Iden, that’s my name; A poor esquire of Kent that loves his king.
BUCKINGHAM	(to King Henry) So please it you, my lord, ’twere not amiss He were created knight for his good service.
KING HENRY	Iden, kneel down. Iden kneels and King Henry knights him Rise up a knight. Iden rises We give thee for reward a thousand marks, And will that thou henceforth attend on us.
IDEN	May Iden live to merit such a bounty, And never live but true unto his liege.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Queen Margaret and the Duke of Somerset
KING HENRY	See, Buckingham, Somerset comes wi’th’ Queen. Go bid her hide him quickly from the Duke.
QUEEN MARGARET	For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head, But boldly stand and front him to his face.
YORK	How now? Is Somerset at liberty? Then, York, unloose thy long imprisoned thoughts, And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. Shall I endure the sight of Somerset? False King, why hast thou broken faith with me, Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse? ‘King’ did I call thee? No, thou art not king; Not fit to govern and rule multitudes, Which dar’st not—no, nor canst not—rule a traitor. That head of thine doth not become a crown; Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer’s staff, And not to grace an aweful princely sceptre. That gold must round engird these brows of mine, Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles’ spear, Is able with the change to kill and cure. Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up, And with the same to act controlling laws. Give place! By heaven, thou shalt rule no more O’er him whom heaven created for thy ruler.
SOMERSET	O monstrous traitor! I arrest thee, York, Of capital treason ’gainst the King and crown. Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace.
YORK	(to an attendant) Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail. Exit attendant I know, ere they will have me go to ward, They’ll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement.
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET to Buckingham
YORK	Call hither Clifford; bid him come amain, To say if that the bastard boys of York Shall be the surety for their traitor father.
(didascalia)	Exit Buckingham
YORK	O blood-bespotted Neapolitan, Outcast of Naples, England’s bloody scourge! The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, Shall be their father’s bail, and bane to those That for my surety will refuse the boys.
(didascalia)	Enter at one door York’s sons Edward and crookback Richard with a drummer and soldiers
YORK	See where they come. I’ll warrant they’ll make it good.
(didascalia)	Enter at the other door Clifford and his son, with a drummer and soldiers
QUEEN MARGARET	And here comes Clifford to deny their bail.
CLIFFORD	(kneeling before King Henry) Health and all happiness to my lord the King. He rises
YORK	I thank thee, Clifford. Say, what news with thee? Nay, do not fright us with an angry look— We are thy sovereign, Clifford; kneel again. For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee.
CLIFFORD	This is my king, York; I do not mistake. But thou mistakes me much to think I do. (To King Henry) To Bedlam with him! Is the man grown mad?
KING HENRY	Ay, Clifford, a bedlam and ambitious humour Makes him oppose himself against his king.
CLIFFORD	He is a traitor; let him to the Tower, And chop away that factious pate of his.
QUEEN MARGARET	He is arrested, but will not obey. His sons, he says, shall give their words for him.
YORK	(to Edward and Richard) Will you not, sons?
EDWARD	Ay, noble father, if our words will serve.
RICHARD	And if words will not, then our weapons shall.
CLIFFORD	Why, what a brood of traitors have we here!
YORK	Look in a glass, and call thy image so. I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor. Call hither to the stake my two brave bears, That with the very shaking of their chains, They may astonish these fell-lurking curs. (To an attendant) Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me.
(didascalia)	Exit attendant
(didascalia)	Enter the Earls of Warwick and Salisbury with a drummer and soldiers
CLIFFORD	Are these thy bears? We’ll bait thy bears to death, And manacle the bearherd in their chains, If thou dar’st bring them to the baiting place.
RICHARD	Oft have I seen a hot o’erweening cur Run back and bite, because he was withheld; Who, being suffered with the bear’s fell paw, Hath clapped his tail between his legs and cried; And such a piece of service will you do, If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick.
CLIFFORD	Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump, As crooked in thy manners as thy shape!
YORK	Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon.
CLIFFORD	Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves.
KING HENRY	Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow? Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair, Thou mad misleader of thy brainsick son! What, wilt thou on thy deathbed play the ruffian, And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles? O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty? If it be banished from the frosty head, Where shall it find a harbour in the earth? Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war, And shame thine honourable age with blood? Why, art thou old and want’st experience? Or wherefore dost abuse it if thou hast it? For shame in duty bend thy knee to me, That bows unto the grave with mickle age.
SALISBURY	My lord, I have considered with myself The title of this most renowned Duke, And in my conscience do repute his grace The rightful heir to England’s royal seat.
KING HENRY	Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me?
SALISBURY	I have.
KING HENRY	Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath?
SALISBURY	It is great sin to swear unto a sin, But greater sin to keep a sinful oath. Who can be bound by any solemn vow To do a murd’rous deed, to rob a man, To force a spotless virgin’s chastity, To reave the orphan of his patrimony, To wring the widow from her customed right, And have no other reason for this wrong But that he was bound by a solemn oath?
QUEEN MARGARET	A subtle traitor needs no sophister.
KING HENRY	(to an attendant) Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself.
(didascalia)	Exit attendant
YORK	(to King Henry) Call Buckingham and all the friends thou hast, I am resolved for death or dignity.
CLIFFORD	The first, I warrant thee, if dreams prove true.
WARWICK	You were best to go to bed and dream again, To keep you from the tempest of the field.
CLIFFORD	I am resolved to bear a greater storm Than any thou canst conjure up today— And that I’ll write upon thy burgonet Might I but know thee by thy household badge.
WARWICK	Now by my father’s badge, old Neville’s crest, The rampant bear chained to the ragged staff, This day I’ll wear aloft my burgonet, As on a mountain top the cedar shows That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm, Even to affright thee with the view thereof.
CLIFFORD	And from thy burgonet I’ll rend thy bear, And tread it under foot with all contempt, Despite the bearherd that protects the bear.
YOUNG CLIFFORD	And so to arms, victorious father, To quell the rebels and their complices.
RICHARD	Fie, charity, for shame! Speak not in spite— For you shall sup with Jesu Christ tonight.
YOUNG CLIFFORD	Foul stigmatic, that’s more than thou canst tell.
RICHARD	If not in heaven, you’ll surely sup in hell.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally
(didascalia)	5.2 An alehouse sign: a castle. Alarums to the battle. Then enter the Duke of Somerset and Richard fighting. Richard kills Somerset under the sign
RICHARD	So lie thou there— For underneath an alehouse’ paltry sign, The Castle in Saint Albans, Somerset Hath made the wizard famous in his death. Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathfull still— Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill.
(didascalia)	Exit with Somerset’s body. The sign is removed
(didascalia)	5.3 Alarum again. Enter the Earl of Warwick
WARWICK	Clifford of Cumberland, ’tis Warwick calls! An if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum, And dead men’s cries do fill the empty air, Clifford I say, come forth and fight with me! Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms!
CLIFFORD	(Within) Warwick, stand still; and stir not till I come.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of York
WARWICK	How now, my noble lord? What, all afoot?
YORK	The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed. But match to match I have encountered him, And made a prey for carrion kites and crows Even of the bonny beast he loved so well.
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Clifford
WARWICK	(to Clifford) Of one or both of us the time is come.
YORK	Hold, Warwick—seek thee out some other chase, For I myself must hunt this deer to death.
WARWICK	Then nobly, York; ‘tis for a crown thou fight’st. (To Clifford) As I intend, Clifford, to thrive today, It grieves my soul to leave thee unassailed. Exit
YORK	Clifford, since we are singled here alone, Be this the day of doom to one of us. For know my heart hath sworn immortal hate To thee and all the house of Lancaster.
CLIFFORD	And here I stand and pitch my foot to thine, Vowing not to stir till thou or I be slain. For never shall my heart be safe at rest Till I have spoiled the hateful house of York.
(didascalia)	Alarums. They fight. York kills Clifford
YORK	Now, Lancaster, sit sure—thy sinews shrink. Come, fearful Henry, grovelling on thy face— Yield up thy crown unto the prince of York. Exit
(didascalia)	Alarums, then enter Young Clifford
YOUNG CLIFFORD	Shame and confusion, all is on the rout! Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds Where it should guard. O, war, thou son of hell, Whom angry heavens do make their minister, Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly! He that is truly dedicate to war Hath no self-love; nor he that loves himself Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, The name of valour. He sees his father’s body O, let the vile world end, And the premised flames of the last day Knit earth and heaven together. Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, Particularities and petty sounds To cease! Wast thou ordained, dear father, To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve The silver livery of advised age, And in thy reverence and thy chair-days, thus To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight My heart is turned to stone, and while ’tis mine It shall be stony. York not our old men spares; No more will I their babes. Tears virginal Shall be to me even as the dew to fire, And beauty that the tyrant oft reclaims Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. Henceforth I will not have to do with pity. Meet I an infant of the house of York, Into as many gobbets will I cut it As wild Medea young Absyrtus did. In cruelty will I seek out my fame. Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford’s house, He takes his father’s body up on his back As did Aeneas old Anchises bear, So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders. But then Aeneas bare a living load, Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.
(didascalia)	Exit with the body
(didascalia)	5.4 Alarums
(didascalia)	again. Then enter three or four bearing the Duke of Buckingham wounded to his tent. Alarums still. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, and others
QUEEN MARGARET	Away, my lord! You are slow. For shame, away!
KING HENRY	Can we outrun the heavens? Good Margaret, stay.
QUEEN MARGARET	What are you made of? You’ll nor fight nor fly. Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence, To give the enemy way, and to secure us By what we can, which can no more but fly.
(didascalia)	Alarum afar off
QUEEN MARGARET	If you be ta’en, we then should see the bottom Of all our fortunes; but if we haply scape— As well we may if not through your neglect— We shall to London get where you are loved, And where this breach now in our fortunes made May readily be stopped.
(didascalia)	Enter Young Clifford
YOUNG CLIFFORD	(to King Henry) But that my heart’s on future mischief set, I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly; But fly you must; uncurable discomfit Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts. Away for your relief, and we will live To see their day and them our fortune give. Away, my lord, away! Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Retreat. Enter the Duke of York, his sons Edward and Richard, and soldiers, including a drummer and some bearing colours
YORK	(to Edward and Richard) How now, boys! Fortunate this fight hath been, I hope, to us and ours for England’s good And our great honour, that so long we lost Whilst faint-heart Henry did usurp our rights. Of Salisbury, who can report of him? That winter lion who in rage forgets Aged contusions and all brush of time, And, like a gallant in the brow of youth, Repairs him with occasion. This happy day Is not itself, nor have we won one foot If Salisbury be lost.
RICHARD	My noble father, Three times today I holp him to his horse; Three times bestrid him; thrice I led him off, Persuaded him from any further act; But still where danger was, still there I met him, And like rich hangings in a homely house, So was his will in his old feeble body.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick
EDWARD	(to York) See, noble father, where they both do come— The only props unto the house of York!
SALISBURY	Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought today; By th’ mass, so did we all. I thank you, Richard. God knows how long it is I have to live, And it hath pleased him that three times today You have defended me from imminent death. Well, lords, we have not got that which we have— ’Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites of such repairing nature.
YORK	I know our safety is to follow them, For, as I hear, the King is fled to London, To call a present court of Parliament. Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth. What says Lord Warwick, shall we after them?
WARWICK	After them? Nay, before them if we can! Now by my hand, lords, ’twas a glorious day! Saint Albans battle won by famous York Shall be eternized in all age to come.
(didascalia)	Sound drums and trumpets, and to London all,
WARWICK	And more such days as these to us befall!
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt
ADDITIONAL PASSAGES	A. We adopt the 1594 Quarto version of the Queen’s initial speech, 1.1.24—9; the Folio version, which follows, is probably the author’s original draft.
QUEEN MARGARET	Great King of England, and my gracious lord, The mutual conference that my mind hath had— By day, by night; waking, and in my dreams; In courtly company, or at my beads— With you, mine alder liefest sovereign, Makes me the bolder to salute my king With ruder terms, such as my wit affords And overjoy of heart doth minister. B. For 1.4.39―40.2 the Quarto substitutes the following; it may report a revision made in rehearsal to cover the Spirit’s descent. The Spirit sinks down again
BOLINGBROKE	Then down, I say, unto the damned pool Where Pluto in his fiery wagon sits Riding, amidst the singed and parched smokes, The road of Ditis by the River Styx. There howl and burn for ever in those flames. Rise, Jordan, rise, and stay thy charming spells— Zounds, we are betrayed! C. The entire debate on Duke Humphrey’s death in 3. 1 is handled differently by the Quarto from the Folio. We retain the Folio version of the debate, but the Quarto version may represent authorial revision. The following Q lines, roughly corresponding to 3.1.310―30.1, are of particular interest because they supply Buckingham with speeches for this latter part of the scene. [YORK] Let me have some bands of chosen soldiers, And York shall try his fortune ‘gainst those kerns.
QUEEN MARGARET	York, thou shalt. My lord of Buckingham, Let it be your charge to muster up such soldiers As shall suffice him in these needful wars.
BUCKINGHAM	Madam, I will, and levy such a band As soon shall overcome those Irish rebels. But, York, where shall those soldiers stay for thee?
YORK	At Bristol I will expect them ten days hence.
BUCKINCHAM	Then thither shall they come, and so farewell.
(didascalia)	Exit
YORK	Adieu, my lord of Buckingham.
QUEEN MARGARET	Suffolk, remember what you have to do— And you, Lord Cardinat—concerning Duke Humphrey. ‘Twere good that you did see to it in time. Come, let us go, that it may be performed.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but York
QUEEN MARGARET	D. We adopt the Quarto version of the confrontation between Clifford and York at 5.3.20—30; the Folio version, an edited text of which follows, is probably the author’s original draft.
CLIFFORD	What seest thou in me, York? Why dost thou pause?
YORK	With thy brave bearing should I be in love, But that thou art so fast mine enemy.
CLIFFORD	Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem, But that ’tis shown ignobly and in treason.
YORK	So let it help me now against thy sword, As I in justice and true right express it.
CLIFFORD	My soul and body on the action, both.
YORK	A dreadful lay. Address thee instantly.
CLIFFORD	La fin couronne les oeuvres. Alarms. They fight. York kills Clifford
YORK	Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still. Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will. Exit
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	(3 HENRY VI)
THE	play printed in the 1623 Folio as The Third Part of Henry the Sixth, with the Death of the Duke of York was described on the title-page of its first, unauthoritative publication in 1595 as The True Tragedy of Richard, Duke of York, and the Death of Good King Henry the Sixth, with the whole Contention between the two houses Lancaster and York. It is clearly a continuation of The First Part of the Contention, taking up the story where that play had ended, with the aspirations of Richard, Duke of York to the English throne, and was probably composed immediately afterwards. The final scenes of The First Part of the Contention briefly introduce two of York’s sons, Edward (the eldest) and Richard (already described as a ‘foul, indigested lump, | As crooked in … manners as [in] shape’). They, along with their brothers Edmund, Earl of Rutland, and George (later Duke of Clarence), figure more prominently in Richard Duke of York. The first scenes show York apparently fulfilling his ambition, as Henry VI weakly cedes his rights to the throne after his death; but Queen Margaret leads an army against York, and, when he is captured, personally taunts him with news of the murder of his youngest son, stabs York to death, and commands that his head be ‘set on York gates’. (This powerful scene includes the line ‘O tiger’s heart wrapped in a woman’s hide’, paraphrased by Robert Greene before September 1592, which establishes the upward limit of the play’s date.) Though Richard of York dies early in the action, the remainder of the play centres on his sons’ efforts (aided by Warwick’s politic schemings) to avenge his death and to establish the dominance of Yorkists over Lancastrians. The balance of power shifts frequently, and the brothers’ alliance crumbles, but finally Queen Margaret, with her French allies, is defeated and captured, and Richard of York’s surviving sons avenge their father’s death by killing her son, Edward, before her eyes. Richard of Gloucester starts to clear his way to the throne by murdering ‘Good King Henry’ in the Tower, and the play ends with the new King Edward IV exulting in his ‘country’s peace and brothers’ loves’ while Richard makes clear to the audience that Edward’s self-confidence is ill-founded. Though the play is loud and strife-ridden with war, power politics, and personal ambition, a concern with humane values emerges in the subtle and touching continuing portrayal of the quietist Henry VI, a saintly fool who meditates on the superiority of humble contentment to regal misery in an emblematic scene (2.5) that epitomizes the tragedy of civil strife. Richard Duke of York, like The First Part of the Contention, draws extensively on English chronicle history. Historically, the period of the action covers about sixteen years (1455 to 1471), but events are telescoped and rearranged; for instance, the opening scenes move rapidly from the Battle of St Albans (1445) to York’s death (1460); the future Richard III was only three years old, and living abroad, at the time of this opening battle in which he takes an active part; and Richard’s murder of Henry owes more to legend than to fact.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY Of the King’s Party
PRINCE	EDWARD, their son Duke of S0MERSET Duke of EXETER Earl of NORTHUMBERLAND Earl of WESTMORLAND Lord CLIFFORD Lord Stafford
SOMERVILLE	Henry, young Earl of Richmond A SOLDIER who has killed his father A HUNTSMAN who guards King Edward The Divided House of Neville Earl of WARWICK, first of York’s party, later of Lancaster’s Marquis of MONTAGUE, his brother, of York’s party Earl of OXFORD, their brother-in-law, of Lancaster’s party Lord HASTINGS, their brother-in-law, of York’s party Of the Duke of York’s Party Richard Plantagenet, Duke of YORK EDWARD, Earl of March, his son, later Duke of York and
LADY	GRAY, a widow, later Edward’s wife and queen Earl RIVERS, her brother GEORGE, Edward’s brother, later Duke OF CLARENCE RICHARD, Edward’s brother, later Duke OF GLOUCESTER Earl of RUTLAND, Edward’s brother Rutland’s TUTOR, a chaplain
SIR JOHN	Mortimer, York’s uncle Sir Hugh Mortimer, his brother Duke of NORFOLK Sir William Stanley Earl of Pembroke Sir John MONTGOMERY A NOBLEMAN Two GAMEKEEPERS Three WATCHMEN, who guard King Edward’s tent
LIEUTENANT	of the Tower The French
LADY	BONA, his sister-in-law Lord Bourbon, the French High Admiral Others A SOLDIER who has killed his son Mayor of Coventry
MAYOR	of York Aldermen of York Soldiers, messengers, and attendants

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish of trumpets, then hautboys. Enter, at one door, King Henry and Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, the Duke of Somerset, the Duke of Buckingham, Cardinal Beaufort,and others. Enter, at the other door, the Duke of York, and the Marquis of Suffolk, and Queen Margaret, and the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick
SUFFOLK	(kneeling before King Henry) As by your high imperial majesty I had in charge at my depart for France, As Procurator to your excellence, To marry Princess Margaret for your grace, So, in the famous ancient city Tours, In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil, The Dukes of Orléans, Calaber, Bretagne, and Alençon, Seven earls, twelve barons, and twenty reverend bishops, I have performed my task and was espoused, And humbly now upon my bended knee, In sight of England and her lordly peers, Deliver up my title in the Queen To your most gracious hands, that are the substance Of that great shadow I did represent— The happiest gift that ever marquis gave, The fairest queen that ever king received.
KING HENRY	Suffolk, arise. Welcome, Queen Margaret. I can express no kinder sign of love Than this kind kiss. He kisses her O Lord that lends me life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness! For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
QUEEN MARGARET	Th’excess of love I bear unto your grace Forbids me to be lavish of my tongue Lest I should speak more than beseems a woman. Let this suffice: my bliss is in your liking, And naught can make poor Margaret miserable Unless the frown of mighty England’s King.
KING HENRY	Her sight did ravish, but her grace in speech, Her words yclad with wisdom’s majesty, Makes me from wond’ring fall to weeping joys, Such is the fullness of my heart’s content. Lords, with one cheerful voice, welcome my love.
LORDS	(kneeling) Long live Queen Margaret, England’s happiness.
QUEEN MARGARET	We thank you all.
(didascalia)	Flourish. They all rise
SUFFOLK	(to Gloucester) My Lord Protector, so it please your grace, Here are the articles of contracted peace Between our sovereign and the French King Charles, For eighteen months concluded by consent.
GLOUCESTER	(reads) Imprimis: it is agreed between the French King Charles and William de la Pole, Marquis of Suffolk, ambassador for Henry, King of England, that the said Henry shall espouse the Lady Margaret, daughter unto René, King of Naples, Sicilia, and Jerusalem, and crown her Queen of England, ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing. Item: it is further agreed between them that the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be released and delivered to the King her fa—
(didascalia)	Gloucester lets the paper fall
KING HENRY	Uncle, how now?
GLOUCESTER	Pardon me, gracious lord. Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart And dimmed mine eyes that I can read no further.
KING HENRY	(to Cardinal Beaufort) Uncle of Winchester, I pray read on.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(reads) Item: it is further agreed between them that the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be released and delivered to the King her father, and she sent over of the King of England’s own proper cost and charges, without dowry.
KING HENRY	They please us well. (To Suffolk) Lord Marquis, kneel down. Suffolk kneels We here create thee first Duke of Suffolk, And gird thee with the sword. Suffolk rises Cousin of York, We here discharge your grace from being regent I’th’ parts of France till term of eighteen months Be full expired. Thanks uncle Winchester, Gloucester, York, and Buckingham, Somerset, Salisbury, and Warwick. We thank you all for this great favour done In entertainment to my princely Queen. Come, let us in, and with all speed provide To see her coronation be performed.
(didascalia)	Exeunt King Henry, Queen Margaret, and
(didascalia)	Suffolk. Gloucester stays all the rest
GLOUCESTER	Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief, Your grief, the common grief of all the land. What—did my brother Henry spend his youth, His valour, coin, and people in the wars? Did he so often lodge in open field In winter’s cold and summer’s parching heat To conquer France, his true inheritance? And did my brother Bedford toil his wits To keep by policy what Henry got? Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick, Received deep scars in France and Normandy? Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself, With all the learned Council of the realm, Studied so long, sat in the Council House Early and late, debating to and fro, How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe, And had his highness in his infancy Crowned in Paris in despite of foes? And shall these labours and these honours die? Shall Henry’s conquest, Bedford’s vigilance, Your deeds of war, and all our counsel die? O peers of England, shameful is this league, Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame, Blotting your names from books of memory, Razing the characters of your renown, Defacing monuments of conquered France, Undoing all, as all had never been!
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Nephew, what means this passionate discourse, This peroration with such circumstance? For France, ’tis ours; and we will keep it still.
GLOUCESTER	Ay, uncle, we will keep it if we can— But now it is impossible we should. Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast, Hath given the duchy of Anjou and Maine Unto the poor King René, whose large style Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.
SALISBURY	Now by the death of Him that died for all, These counties were the keys of Normandy— But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?
WARWICK	For grief that they are past recovery. For were there hope to conquer them again My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears. Anjou and Maine? Myself did win them both! Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer— And are the cities that I got with wounds Delivered up again with peaceful words? Mort Dieu!
YORK	For Suffolk’s duke, may he be suffocate, That dims the honour of this warlike isle! France should have torn and rent my very heart Before I would have yielded to this league. I never read but England’s kings have had Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives— And our King Henry gives away his own, To match with her that brings no vantages.
GLOUCESTER	A proper jest, and never heard before, That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth For costs and charges in transporting her! She should have stayed in France and starved in France Before—
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	My lord of Gloucester, now ye grow too hot! It was the pleasure of my lord the King.
GLOUCESTER	My lord of Winchester, I know your mind. ’Tis not my speeches that you do mislike, But ‘tis my presence that doth trouble ye. Rancour will out. Proud prelate, in thy face I see thy fury. If I longer stay We shall begin our ancient bickerings— But I’ll be gone, and give thee leave to speak. Lordings, farewell, and say when I am gone, I prophesied France will be lost ere long. Exit
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	So, there goes our Protector in a rage. ’Tis known to you he is mine enemy; Nay more, an enemy unto you all, And no great friend, I fear me, to the King. Consider, lords, he is the next of blood And heir apparent to the English crown. Had Henry got an empire by his marriage, And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west, There’s reason he should be displeased at it. Look to it, lords—let not his smoothing words Bewitch your hearts. Be wise and circumspect. What though the common people favour him, Calling him ‘Humphrey, the good Duke of Gloucester‘, Clapping their hands and crying with loud voice ’‘Jesu maintain your royal excellence !’ With ’God preserve the good Duke Humphrey !’ I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss, He will be found a dangerous Protector.
BUCKINGHAM	Why should he then protect our sovereign, He being of age to govern of himself? Cousin of Somerset, join you with me, And all together, with the Duke of Suffolk, We’ll quickly hoist Duke Humphrey from his seat.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	This weighty business will not brook delay— I’ll to the Duke of Suffolk presently. Exit
SOMERSET	Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey’s pride And greatness of his place be grief to us, Yet let us watch the haughty Cardinal; His insolence is more intolerable Than all the princes in the land beside. If Gloucester be displaced, he’ll be Protector.
BUCKINGHAM	Or thou or I, Somerset, will be Protector, Despite Duke Humphrey or the Cardinal.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Buckingham and Somerset
SALISBURY	Pride went before, ambition follows him. While these do labour for their own preferment, Behoves it us to labour for the realm. I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Gloucester Did bear him like a noble gentleman. Oft have I seen the haughty Cardinal, More like a soldier than a man o’th’ church, As stout and proud as he were lord of all, Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself Unlike the ruler of a commonweal. Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age, Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy housekeeping Hath won thee greatest favour of the commons, Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey. And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, In bringing them to civil discipline, Thy late exploits done in the heart of France, When thou wert Regent for our sovereign, Have made thee feared and honoured of the people. The reverence of mine age and Neville’s name Is of no little force if I command. Join we together for the public good, In what we can to bridle and suppress The pride of Suffolk and the Cardinal With Somerset’s and Buckingham’s ambition; And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey’s deeds While they do tend the profit of the land.
WARWICK	So God help Warwick, as he loves the land, And common profit of his country!
YORK	And so says York, (aside) for he hath greatest cause.
SALISBURY	Then let’s away, and look unto the main.
WARWICK	Unto the main? O, father, Maine is lost ! That Maine which by main force Warwick did win, And would have kept so long as breath did last! Main chance, father, you meant—but I meant Maine, Which I will win from France or else be slain.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Warwick and Salisbury, leaving only York
YORK	Anjou and Maine are given to the French, Paris is lost, the state of Normandy Stands on a tickle point now they are gone; Suffolk concluded on the articles, The peers agreed, and Henry was well pleased To change two dukedoms for a duke’s fair daughter. I cannot blame them all—what is’t to them? ’Tis thine they give away and not their own! Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage, And purchase friends, and give to courtesans, Still revelling like lords till all be gone, Whileas the seely owner of the goods Weeps over them, and wrings his hapless hands, And shakes his head, and, trembling, stands aloof, While all is shared and all is borne away, Ready to starve and dare not touch his own. So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue, While his own lands are bargained for and sold. Methinks the realms of England, France, and Ireland Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood As did the fatal brand Althaea burnt Unto the prince’s heart of Calydon. Anjou and Maine both given unto the French ! Cold news for me—for I had hope of France, Even as I have of fertile England’s soil. A day will come when York shall claim his own, And therefore I will take the Nevilles’ parts, And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey, And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown, For that’s the golden mark I seek to hit. Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right, Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist, Nor wear the diadem upon his head Whose church-like humours fits not for a crown. Then, York, be still a while till time do serve. Watch thou, and wake when others be asleep, To pry into the secrets of the state— Till Henry, surfeit in the joys of love With his new bride and England’s dear-bought queen, And Humphrey with the peers be fall’n at jars. Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed, And in my standard bear the arms of York, To grapple with the house of Lancaster; And force perforce I’ll make him yield the crown, Whose bookish rule hath pulled fair England down.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe, poi oboi. Entrano, da una porta, re Enrico e Humphrey duca di Gloucester, il duca di Somerset, il duca di Buckingham, il cardinale Beaufort,e altri. Entrano, dall’altra porta, il duca di York, e il marchese di Suffolk, e Margherita, e i conti di Salisbury e Warwick
SUFFOLK	(inginocchiandosi davanti a re Enrico) Come per ordine della vostra alta maestà imperiale ebbi incarico al mio partire per la Francia, quale procuratore di vostra eccellenza, di sposare la principessa Margherita per vostra grazia, così, nell’antica e famosa città di Tours, alla presenza dei re di Francia e di Sicilia, dei duchi d’Orléans, di Calabria, di Bretagna e d’Alençon, di sette conti, dodici baroni e venti reverendi vescovi, ho compiuto il mio ufficio e fui sposato, e ora umilmente, sul ginocchio piegato, al cospetto d’Inghilterra e dei suoi nobili pari, rimetto il mio titolo sulla regina nelle vostre graziosissime mani, che sono la sostanza di quella grande ombra ch’io rappresentai— il più felice dono che marchese mai porgesse, la più bella regina che re mai ricevesse.
RE ENRICO	Suffolk, alzatevi. Benvenuta, Margherita. Non so mostrare segno d’amore più gentile di questo gentile bacio. La bacia O Signore che mi presti la vita, prestami un cuore ricolmo di gratitudine! Poiché in questo bel volto tu m’hai donato un mondo di terrene benedizioni all’anima mia, se armonia d’amore unirà i nostri pensieri.
REGINA MARGHERITA	L’eccesso d’amore ch’io porto a vostra grazia mi vieta d’esser prodiga di lingua, ché non dica più di quanto a donna s’addice. Basti questo: la mia gioia sta nel vostro gradimento, e nulla può render misera la povera Margherita se non il cipiglio del possente re d’Inghilterra.
RE ENRICO	La sua vista rapiva, ma la grazia del suo dire, le sue parole ammantate della maestà del senno, mi fanno passare dallo stupore a gioie di lacrime, tanta è la pienezza del contento del mio cuore. Signori, con una sola lieta voce, salutate il mio amore.
SIGNORI	(inginocchiandosi) Lunga vita a Margherita, felicità d’Inghilterra.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Vi ringraziamo tutti.
(didascalia)	Squillo. Tutti si alzano
SUFFOLK	(a Gloucester) Mio lord Protettore, se piace a vostra grazia, ecco gli articoli della pace conclusa fra il nostro sovrano e Carlo, re di Francia, per diciotto mesi stipulata di comune consenso.
GLOUCESTER	(legge) Imprimis: è convenuto fra Carlo, re di Francia, e William de la Pole, marchese di Suffolk, ambasciatore di Enrico, re d’Inghilterra, che il detto Enrico sposerà la signora Margherita, figlia di Renato, re di Napoli, di Sicilia e di Gerusalemme, e la incoronerà regina d’Inghilterra prima del trenta di maggio prossimo venturo. Item: è inoltre convenuto fra loro che il ducato d’Angiò e la contea del Maine saranno ceduti e consegnati al re suo pa—
(didascalia)	Gloucester lascia cadere il foglio
RE ENRICO	Zio, che avviene?
GLOUCESTER	Perdonatemi, grazioso signore. Un súbito malore m’ha colpito al cuore e m’ha offuscato gli occhi, sì ch’io non posso leggere oltre.
RE ENRICO	(al cardinale Beaufort) Zio di Winchester, vi prego, leggete voi.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	(legge) Item: è inoltre convenuto fra loro che il ducato d’Angiò e la contea del Maine saranno ceduti e consegnati al re suo padre, ed ella sarà mandata oltremare a spese e a carico del re d’Inghilterra medesimo, senza dote.
RE ENRICO	Ne siamo ben soddisfatti. (A Suffolk) Lord marchese, inginocchiatevi. Suffolk s’inginocchia Qui ti creiamo primo duca di Suffolk, e ti cingiamo con la spada. Suffolk si alza Cugino di York, qui sciogliamo vostra grazia dall’ufficio di reggente nelle terre di Francia, finché il termine di diciotto mesi non sia interamente scaduto. Grazie, zio Winchester, Gloucester, York e Buckingham, Somerset, Salisbury e Warwick. Vi ringraziamo tutti di questo gran favore reso nell’accoglienza della mia regale regina. Venite, entriamo, e con ogni prestezza disponiamo che la sua incoronazione sia celebrata.
(didascalia)	Escono re Enrico, Margherita e
(didascalia)	Suffolk. Gloucester trattiene tutti gli altri
GLOUCESTER	Valorosi pari d’Inghilterra, colonne dello stato, a voi il duca Humphrey deve scaricare il suo dolore, il vostro dolore, il comune dolore di tutta la terra. Che? Mio fratello Enrico spese la sua giovinezza, il suo valore, l’oro e i suoi uomini nelle guerre? Tante volte s’accampò in campo aperto nel freddo dell’inverno e nell’arso calore dell’estate per conquistare la Francia, sua vera eredità? E mio fratello Bedford affaticò il suo ingegno per tenere con l’accortezza ciò che Enrico prese? E voi stessi, Somerset, Buckingham, valoroso York, Salisbury e vittorioso Warwick, riceveste profonde ferite in Francia e in Normandia? O mio zio Beaufort ed io medesimo, con tutto il dotto Consiglio del regno, studiammo così lungamente, sedemmo nella Casa del Consiglio di primo mattino e a tarda sera, discutendo in ogni senso, come tenere in soggezione la Francia e i Francesi, e facemmo sì che sua altezza, nella sua infanzia, fosse incoronato a Parigi a dispetto dei nemici? E dovranno morire queste fatiche e questi onori? Morranno la conquista d’Enrico, la vigilanza di Bedford, le vostre gesta di guerra e tutto il nostro consiglio? O pari d’Inghilterra, vergognosa è questa lega, fatale questo matrimonio, che cancella la vostra fama, che cassa i vostri nomi dai libri della memoria, che rade i caratteri del vostro rinome, che deturpa i monumenti della Francia conquistata, che disfà tutto, come se tutto mai fosse stato!
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Nipote, che vuol dire questo appassionato discorso, questa perorazione con tanto apparato? Quanto alla Francia, è nostra; e la terremo ancora.
GLOUCESTER	Sì, zio, la terremo se potremo— ma ora è impossibile che ciò sia. Suffolk, il duca appena fatto che fa da padrone, ha dato il ducato d’Angiò e il Maine al povero re Renato, il cui gran titolo non s’accorda con la magrezza della sua borsa.
SALISBURY	Ora, per la morte di Colui che morì per tutti, queste contee erano le chiavi della Normandia— ma perché piange Warwick, il mio valoroso figlio?
WARWICK	Per il dolore che non si possono più riavere. Ché, se vi fosse speranza di riconquistarle, la mia spada verserebbe caldo sangue, i miei occhi non lacrime. Angiò e Maine? Io stesso li conquistai entrambi! Quelle province queste mie braccia conquistarono— e le città che ottenni con le ferite son rese di nuovo con parole di pace? Mort Dieu!
YORK	Quanto al duca di Suffolk, ch’egli sia soffocato, lui che offusca l’onore di quest’isola guerriera! La Francia m’avrebbe lacerato e squarciato il cuore prima ch’io avessi ceduto a questa lega. Non ho mai letto se non che i re d’Inghilterra ebbero grandi somme d’oro e doti con le loro spose— e il nostro re Enrico dona ciò ch’è suo, per unirsi a colei che non porta vantaggi.
GLOUCESTER	Bella beffa, e mai udita prima, che Suffolk pretenda un intero quindicesimo per spese e oneri del trasportarla! Ella doveva restare in Francia e patir la fame in Francia prima—
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Mio signore di Gloucester, ora vi scaldate troppo! Fu il piacere del mio signore il re.
GLOUCESTER	Mio signore di Winchester, conosco il vostro animo. Non sono i miei discorsi che vi dispiacciono, ma è la mia presenza che vi turba. Il rancore vien fuori. Prelato superbo, nel tuo volto vedo il tuo furore. Se resto più a lungo ricominceremo le nostre antiche baruffe— ma me ne andrò, e ti lascerò libero di parlare. Signori, addio, e dite, quando sarò partito, ch’io profetai: la Francia sarà perduta fra non molto. Esce
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Ecco, se ne va il nostro Protettore in collera. Vi è noto ch’egli è mio nemico; anzi di più, nemico di voi tutti, e non grande amico, temo, del re. Considerate, signori, egli è il più prossimo di sangue ed erede presuntivo della corona d’Inghilterra. Se Enrico avesse ottenuto un impero col suo matrimonio, e tutti i ricchi regni d’occidente, v’è ragione ch’egli ne fosse malcontento. Badateci, signori—non lasciate che le sue parole lusinghiere v’incantino i cuori. Siate saggi e circospetti. Che importa se il popolo comune lo favorisce, chiamandolo ‘Humphrey, il buon duca di Gloucester‘, battendo le mani e gridando ad alta voce ’‘Gesù sostenga la vostra regale eccellenza !’ con ’Dio conservi il buon duca Humphrey !’ Temo, signori, che per tutta questa lusinghiera vernice, egli si troverà un Protettore pericoloso.
BUCKINGHAM	Perché dunque dovrebbe proteggere il nostro sovrano, essendo egli in età di governare da sé? Cugino di Somerset, unitevi a me, e tutti insieme, col duca di Suffolk, presto solleveremo il duca Humphrey dal suo seggio.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Questo grave affare non tollera indugio— andrò subito dal duca di Suffolk. Esce
SOMERSET	Cugino di Buckingham, sebbene la superbia di Humphrey e la grandezza del suo ufficio ci siano di dolore, pur vigiliamo sull’altero Cardinale; la sua insolenza è più intollerabile di quella di tutti gli altri principi del paese. Se Gloucester sarà rimosso, egli sarà Protettore.
BUCKINGHAM	O tu o io, Somerset, saremo Protettore, a dispetto del duca Humphrey o del Cardinale.
(didascalia)	Escono Buckingham e Somerset
SALISBURY	La superbia andò innanzi, l’ambizione le vien dietro. Mentre costoro s’adoprano per il proprio avanzamento, conviene a noi adoprarci per il regno. Mai vidi che Humphrey, duca di Gloucester, non si portasse come nobile gentiluomo. Spesso ho veduto l’altero Cardinale, più simile a un soldato che a un uomo di chiesa, tanto baldo e superbo come fosse signore di tutto, bestemmiare come un ribaldo, e comportarsi diversamente da chi governa uno stato. Warwick, figlio mio, conforto della mia vecchiaia, le tue gesta, la tua schiettezza e la tua liberalità t’han guadagnato il maggior favore del popolo, eccettuato nessuno se non il buon duca Humphrey. E, fratello York, le tue imprese in Irlanda, nel ridurli a civile disciplina, le tue recenti prove compiute nel cuore di Francia, quando eri Reggente per il nostro sovrano, t’han fatto temere e onorare dal popolo. La riverenza dei miei anni e il nome dei Neville non ha poca forza, se io comando. Uniamoci insieme per il bene pubblico, in quanto possiamo, a frenare e sopprimere la superbia di Suffolk e del Cardinale con l’ambizione di Somerset e di Buckingham; e, come possiamo, favorire le opere del duca Humphrey finché tendano al profitto del paese.
WARWICK	Così Dio aiuti Warwick, com’egli ama questa terra e il comune profitto del suo paese!
YORK	E così dice York, (a parte) ché ne ha la maggior ragione.
SALISBURY	Andiamo dunque, e badiamo al principale.
WARWICK	Al principale? Oh, padre, il Maine è perduto ! Quel Maine che con forza maggiore Warwick conquistò, e avrebbe tenuto fin che il fiato durasse! La sorte principale, padre, voi intendevate—ma io intendevo il Maine, che riprenderò alla Francia, o sarò ucciso.
(didascalia)	Escono Warwick e Salisbury, lasciando solo York
YORK	Angiò e Maine sono dati ai Francesi, Parigi è perduta, lo stato di Normandia sta su un punto instabile ora che son perduti; Suffolk concluse gli articoli, i pari acconsentirono, ed Enrico fu ben contento di cambiare due ducati per la bella figlia d’un duca. Non posso biasimarli tutti—che importa loro? È il tuo che donano, e non il loro! I pirati posson far vil mercato del loro saccheggio, e comprarsi amici, e donare a cortigiane, gozzovigliando come signori finché tutto sia andato, mentre il povero padrone dei beni piange su di essi, e torce le mani infelici, e scuote il capo, e, tremando, se ne sta in disparte, mentre tutto è spartito e tutto è portato via, pronto a morir di fame e non osa toccare ciò ch’è suo. Così York deve sedere e rodersi e mordersi la lingua, mentre le sue proprie terre son contrattate e vendute. Mi pare che i regni d’Inghilterra, di Francia e d’Irlanda stiano alla mia carne e al mio sangue in quella proporzione in cui stette il tizzone fatale che Altea arse al cuore del principe di Calidone. Angiò e Maine entrambi dati ai Francesi ! Fredda novella per me—ché avevo speranza di Francia, come l’ho del fertile suolo d’Inghilterra. Verrà un giorno in cui York rivendicherà ciò ch’è suo, e perciò prenderò le parti dei Neville, e farò mostra d’amore al superbo duca Humphrey, e, quando scorgerò il vantaggio, rivendicherò la corona, ché quello è il segno d’oro ch’io cerco di colpire. Né il superbo Lancaster usurperà il mio diritto, né terrà lo scettro nel suo pugno fanciullesco, né porterà il diadema sul capo lui, i cui umori da chierico non convengono a una corona. Dunque, York, sta’ quieto un poco, finché il tempo non serva. Veglia tu, e sta’ desto quando gli altri dormono, per spiare i segreti dello stato— finché Enrico, sazio nelle gioie dell’amore con la nuova sposa e la regina d’Inghilterra pagata a caro prezzo, e Humphrey coi pari, sian venuti a discordia. Allora leverò in alto la rosa bianca come latte, del cui dolce odore l’aria sarà profumata, e nel mio stendardo porterò le armi di York, per venire alle prese con la casa di Lancaster; e per forza a forza gli farò cedere la corona, lui, il cui governo da libri ha abbattuto la bella Inghilterra.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester and his wife Eleanor, the Duchess
DUCHESS	Why droops my lord, like over-ripened corn Hanging the head at Ceres’ plenteous load? Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows, As frowning at the favours of the world ? Why are thine eyes fixed to the sullen earth, Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? What seest thou there? King Henry’s diadem, Enchased with all the honours of the world? If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face Until thy head be circled with the same. Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold. What, is’t too short? I’ll lengthen it with mine; And having both together heaved it up, We’ll both together lift our heads to heaven And never more abase our sight so low As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.
GLOUCESTER	O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord, Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts! And may that hour when I imagine ill Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, Be my last breathing in this mortal world! ! My troublous dream this night doth make me sad.
DUCHESS	What dreamed my lord? Tell me and I’ll requite it With sweet rehearsal of my morning’s dream.
GLOUCESTER	Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court, Was broke in twain—by whom I have forgot, But, as I think, it was by th’ Cardinal— And on the pieces of the broken wand Were placed the heads of Edmund, Duke of Somerset, And William de la Pole, first Duke of Suffolk. This was my dream—what it doth bode, God knows.
DUCHESS	Tut, this was nothing but an argument That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester’s grove Shall lose his head for his presumption. But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke: Methought I sat in seat of majesty In the cathedral church of Westminster, And in that chair where kings and queens are crowned, Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneeled to me, And on my head did set the diadem.
GLOUCESTER	Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright. Presumptuous dame! Ill-nurtured Eleanor! Art thou not second woman in the realm, And the Protector’s wife beloved of him ? Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command Above the reach or compass of thy thought? And wilt thou still be hammering treachery To tumble down thy husband and thyself From top of honour to disgrace’s feet? Away from me, and let me hear no more!
DUCHESS	What, what, my lord? Are you so choleric With Eleanor for telling but her dream? Next time I’ll keep my dreams unto myself And not be checked.
GLOUCESTER	Nay, be not angry; I am pleased again. Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	My Lord Protector, ’tis his highness’ pleasure You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans, Whereas the King and Queen do mean to hawk.
GLOUCESTER	I go. Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us ?
DUCHESS	Yes, my good lord, I’ll follow presently.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Gloucester and the Messenger
DUCHESS	Follow I must; I cannot go before While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind. Were I am an, a duke, and next of blood, I would remove these tedious stumbling blocks And smooth my way upon their headless necks. And, being a woman, I will not be slack To play my part in fortune’s pageant. (Calling within) Where are you there? Sir John! Nay, fear not man. We are alone. Here’s none but thee and I.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Hume
HUME	Jesus preserve your royal majesty.
DUCHESS	What sayst thou? ‘Majesty’ ? I am but ‘grace’.
HUME	But by the grace of God and Hume’s advice Your grace’s title shall be multiplied.
DUCHESS	What sayst thou, man? Hast thou as yet conferred With Margery Jordan, the cunning witch of Eye, With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjuror? And will they undertake to do me good?
HUME	This they have promisèd: to show your highness A spirit raised from depth of underground That shall make answer to such questions As by your Grace shall be propounded him.
DUCHESS	It is enough. I’ll think upon the questions. When from Saint Albans we do make return, We’ll see these things effected to the full. Here, Hume (giving him money), take this reward. Make merry, man, With thy confederates in this weighty cause.
(didascalia)	Exit
HUME	Hume must make merry with the Duchess’ gold; Marry, and shall. But how now, Sir John Hume? Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum ; The business asketh silent secrecy. Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch. Gold cannot come amiss were she a devil. Yet have I gold flies from another coast— I dare not say from the rich Cardinal And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk, Yet I do find it so; for, to be plain, They, knowing Dame Eleanor’s aspiring humour, Have hired me to undermine the Duchess, And buzz these conjurations in her brain. They say ‘A crafty knave does need no broker’, Yet am I Suffolk and the Cardinal’s broker. Hume, if you take not heed you shall go near To call them both a pair of crafty knaves. Well, so it stands; and thus, I fear, at last Hume’s knavery will be the Duchess’ wrack, And her attainture will be Humphrey’s fall. Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all.
(didascalia)	Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il duca Humphrey di Gloucester e sua moglie Eleonora, la Duchessa
DUCHESSA	Perché s’affloscia il mio signore, come grano troppo maturo che china il capo sotto il ricco carico di Cerere? Perché il grande duca Humphrey corruga le ciglia, come accigliandosi ai favori del mondo ? Perché i tuoi occhi son fissi alla terra scura, contemplando ciò che sembra offuscarti la vista? Che vedi là? Il diadema di re Enrico, incastonato con tutti gli onori del mondo? Se è così, guarda ancora, e striscia col volto a terra finché il tuo capo ne sia cerchiato. Stendi la mano, afferra quel glorioso oro. Che? È troppo corta? La allungherò con la mia; e, sollevatolo insieme tutti e due, alzeremo insieme il capo al cielo e mai più abbasseremo lo sguardo tanto in basso da concedere un solo sguardo al suolo.
GLOUCESTER	O Nell, dolce Nell, se tu ami il tuo signore, bandisci il tarlo dei pensieri ambiziosi! E sia quell’ora in cui io mediti il male contro il mio re e nipote, il virtuoso Enrico, l’ultimo mio respiro in questo mondo mortale! ! Il mio sogno turbato di questa notte mi fa triste.
DUCHESSA	Che sognò il mio signore? Dimmelo, e te lo ricambierò col dolce racconto del mio sogno del mattino.
GLOUCESTER	Mi parve che questo bastone, insegna del mio ufficio a corte, fosse rotto in due—da chi, l’ho dimenticato, ma, come credo, fu dal Cardinale— e sui pezzi della verga rotta erano poste le teste d’Edmondo, duca di Somerset, e di William de la Pole, primo duca di Suffolk. Questo fu il mio sogno—che cosa presagisca, Dio lo sa.
DUCHESSA	Bah, questo non fu altro che un segno che chi rompe un ramo del bosco di Gloucester perderà il capo per la sua presunzione. Ma ascolta me, mio Humphrey, mio dolce duca: mi parve di sedere nel seggio della maestà nella chiesa cattedrale di Westminster, e in quella sede dove i re e le regine sono incoronati, dove Enrico e madama Margherita s’inginocchiarono a me, e sul mio capo posero il diadema.
GLOUCESTER	No, Eleonora, allora devo rimproverarti aperto. Donna presuntuosa! Mal educata Eleonora! Non sei tu la seconda donna del regno, e la moglie del Protettore, da lui amata ? Non hai a comando i piaceri del mondo oltre la portata e il giro del tuo pensiero? E vorrai ancora fucinare tradimenti per far ruzzolare tuo marito e te stessa dalla cima dell’onore ai piedi del disonore? Via da me, e ch’io non senta altro!
DUCHESSA	Come, come, mio signore? Siete tanto collerico con Eleonora solo perché ha detto il suo sogno? La prossima volta terrò i miei sogni per me e non sarò ripresa.
GLOUCESTER	No, non ti adirare; son di nuovo contento. Entra un messaggero
MESSAGGERO	Mio lord Protettore, è piacere di sua altezza che vi apprestiate a cavalcare verso Saint Albans, dove il re e la regina intendono cacciare col falcone.
GLOUCESTER	Vado. Vieni, Nell, cavalcherai con noi ?
DUCHESSA	Sì, mio buon signore, vi seguirò subito.
(didascalia)	Escono Gloucester e il messaggero
DUCHESSA	Seguire devo; non posso andare innanzi mentre Gloucester porta quest’animo basso e umile. Fossi io un uomo, un duca, e il più prossimo di sangue, rimuoverei questi tediosi ostacoli e appianerei la mia via sui loro colli senza capo. E, pur essendo donna, non sarò lenta a recitare la mia parte nella mostra della fortuna. (Chiamando verso l’interno) Dove siete voi là? Sir John! No, non temere, uomo. Siamo soli. Qui non c’è nessuno se non te e me.
(didascalia)	Entra Sir John Hume
HUME	Gesù conservi la vostra regale maestà.
DUCHESSA	Che dici tu? ‘Maestà’ ? Io non sono che ‘grazia’.
HUME	Ma per la grazia di Dio e il consiglio di Hume il titolo di vostra grazia sarà moltiplicato.
DUCHESSA	Che dici, uomo? Hai già conferito con Margery Jordan, l’astuta strega di Eye, con Roger Bolingbroke, il negromante? E s’impegneranno a farmi del bene?
HUME	Questo hanno promesso: mostrare a vostra altezza uno spirito evocato dal fondo del sottoterra che darà risposta a quelle domande che da vostra Grazia gli saranno proposte.
DUCHESSA	Basta così. Penserò alle domande. Quando da Saint Albans faremo ritorno, vedremo queste cose compiute appieno. Ecco, Hume (dandogli del denaro), prendi questa mercede. Fai festa, uomo, coi tuoi complici in questa grave impresa.
(didascalia)	Esce
HUME	Hume deve far festa con l’oro della Duchessa; per la Vergine, e lo farà. Ma come va, Sir John Hume? Sigilla le labbra, e non dar parola che zitto ; l’affare chiede tacito segreto. Madama Eleonora dà oro per far venire la strega. L’oro non può venir male, fosse ella un diavolo. Pure ho oro che vola da un’altra costa— non oso dire dal ricco Cardinale e dal grande e appena fatto duca di Suffolk, pure lo trovo così; ché, a dirla schietta, essi, conoscendo l’ambizioso umore di madama Eleonora, m’han pagato per minare la Duchessa, e ronzarle nel cervello queste evocazioni. Dicono ‘Un furbo furfante non ha bisogno di mezzano’, pure io sono il mezzano di Suffolk e del Cardinale. Hume, se non badi, andrai vicino a chiamarli entrambi una coppia di furbi furfanti. Bene, così sta; e così, temo, alla fine la furfanteria di Hume sarà la rovina della Duchessa, e la sua condanna sarà la caduta di Humphrey. Vada come vuole, avrò oro per tutto.
(didascalia)	Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Peter, the armourer’s man, with two or three other Petitioners
FIRST PETITIONER	My masters, let’s stand close. My Lord Protector will come this way by and by and then we may deliver our supplications in the quill.
SECOND PETITIONER	Marry, the Lord protect him, for he’s a good man, Jesu bless him.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Suffolk and Queen Margaret
(didascalia)	FIRST PETITIONER Here a comes, methinks, and the Queen with him. I’ll be the first, sure.
SECOND PETITIONER	He goes to meet Suffolk and the Queen
SECOND PETITIONER	Come back, foot—this is the Duke of Suffolk and not my Lord Protector.
SUFFOLK	(to the First Petitioner) How now, fellow—wouldst anything with me?
FIRST PETITIONER	I pray, my lord, pardon me—I took ye for my Lord Protector.
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET seeing his supplication, she reads ‘Tomy Lord Protector’—are your supplications to his lordship ? Let me see them.
(didascalia)	She takes First Petitioner’s supplication
FIRST PETITIONER	What is thine?
FIRST PETITIONER	Mine is, an’t please your grace, against John Goodman, my lord Cardinal’s man, for keeping my house and lands and wife and all from me.
(didascalia)	SUFFOLK Thy wife too ? That’s some wrong indeed. To the Second Petitioners What’s yours?
FIRST PETITIONER	He takes the supplication What’s here? (Reads) ‘Against the Duke of Suffolk for
(didascalia)	enclosing the commons of Melford’ ! To the Second
(didascalia)	Petitioner How now, Sir Knave?
SECOND PETITIONER	Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township.
(didascalia)	PETER offering his petition Against my master, Thomas Horner, for saying that the Duke of York was rightful heir to the crown.
QUEEN MARGARET	What sayst thou? Did the Duke of York say he was rightful heir to the crown?
PETER	That my master was ? No, forsooth, my master said that he was and that the King was an usurer.
QUEEN MARGARET	An usurper thou wouldst say.
PETER	Ay, forsooth—an usurper.
SUFFOLK	(calling within) Who is there?
(didascalia)	Enter a servant
SUFFOLK	Take this fellow in and send for his master with a pursuivant presently. (To Peter) We’ll hear more of your matter before the King. Exit the servant with Peter
QUEEN MARGARET	(to the Petitioners) And as for you that love to be protected Under the wings of our Protector’s grace, Begin your suits anew and sue to him.
(didascalia)	She tears the supplication
QUEEN MARGARET	Away, base cullions! Suffolk, let them go.
ALL PETITIONERS	Come, let’s be gone. Exeunt Petitioners
QUEEN MARGARET	My lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise? Is this the fashions in the court of England ? Is this the government of Britain’s isle, And this the royalty of Albion’s king? What, shall King Henry be a pupil still Under the surly Gloucester’s governance? Am I a queen in title and in style, And must be made a subject to a duke? I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours Thou rann‘st a-tilt in honour of my love And stol’st away the ladies’ hearts of France, I thought King Henry had resembled thee In courage, courtship, and proportion. But all his mind is bent to holiness, To number Ave-Maries on his beads. His champions are the prophets and apostles, His weapons holy saws of sacred writ, His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves Are brazen images of canonized saints. I would the college of the cardinals Would choose him Pope, and carry him to Rome, And set the triple crown upon his head— That were a state fit for his holiness.
SUFFOLK	Madam, be patient—as I was cause Your highness came to England, so will I In England work your grace’s full content.
QUEEN MARGARET	Beside the haught Protector have we Beaufort The imperious churchman, Somerset, Buckingham, And grumbling York; and not the least of these But can do more in England than the King.
SUFFOLK	And he of these that can do most of all Cannot do more in England than the Nevilles: Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers.
QUEEN MARGARET	Not all these lords do vex me half so much As that proud dame, the Lord Protector’s wife. She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies More like an empress than Duke Humphrey’s wife. Strangers in court do take her for the queen. She bears a duke’s revenues on her back, And in her heart she scorns our poverty. Shall I not live to be avenged on her? Contemptuous base-born callet as she is, She vaunted ‘mongst her minions t’other day The very train of her worst-wearing gown Was better worth than all my father’s lands, Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter.
SUFFOLK	Madam, myself have limed a bush for her, And placed a choir of such enticing birds That she will light to listen to their lays, And never mount to trouble you again. So let her rest; and, madam, list to me, For I am bold to counsel you in this: Although we fancy not the Cardinal, Yet must we join with him and with the lords Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace. As for the Duke of York, this late complaint Will make but little for his benefit. So one by one we’ll weed them all at last, And you yourself shall steer the happy helm.
(didascalia)	Sound a sennet. Enter King Henry with the Duke
SUFFOLK	of York and the Duke of Somerset on either side of him whispering with him. Also enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, Dame Eleanor the Duchess of Gloucester, the Duke of Buckingham, the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, and Cardinal
(didascalia)	Beaufort Bishop of Winchesteri
KING HENRY	For my part, noble lords, I care not which: Or Somerset or York, all’s one to me.
YORK	If York have ill demeaned himself in France Then let him be denied the regentship.
SOMERSET	If Somerset be unworthy of the place, Let York be regent—I will yield to him.
WARWICK	Whether your grace be worthy, yea or no, Dispute not that: York is the worthier.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak.
WARWICK	The Cardinal’s not my better in the field.
BUCKINGHAM	All in this presence are thy betters, Warwick.
WARWICK	Warwick may live to be the best of all.
SALISBURY	Peace, son; (to Buckingham) and show some reason, Buckingham, Why Somerset should be preferred in this.
QUEEN MARGARET	Because the King, forsooth, will have it so.
GLOUCESTER	Madam, the King is old enough himself To give his censure. These are no women’s matters.
QUEEN MARGARET	If he be old enough, what needs your grace To be Protector of his excellence?
GLOUCESTER	Madam, I am Protector of the realm, And at his pleasure will resign my place.
SUFFOLK	Resign it then, and leave thine insolence. Since thou wert king—as who is king but thou?— The commonwealth hath daily run to wrack, The Dauphin hath prevailed beyond the seas, And all the peers and nobles of the realm Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to Gloucester) The commons hast thou racked, the clergy’s bags Are lank and lean with thy extortions.
SOMERSET	(to Gloucester) Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife’s attire Have cost a mass of public treasury.
BUCKINGHAM	(to Gloucester) Thy cruelty in execution Upon offenders hath exceeded law And left thee to the mercy of the law.
QUEEN MARGARET	(to Gloucester) Thy sale of offices and towns in France— If they were known, as the suspect is great— Would make thee quickly hop without thy head.
(didascalia)	Exit Gloucester
QUEEN MARGARET	Queen Margaret lets fall her fan (To the Duchess) Give me my fan—what, minion, can ye not? She gives the Duchess a box on the ear I cry you mercy, madam! Was it you ?
DUCHESS	Was’t I? Yea, I it was, proud Frenchwoman! Could I come near your beauty with my nails, I’d set my ten commandments in your face.
KING HENRY	Sweet aunt, be quiet—’twas against her will.
DUCHESS	Against her will? Good King, look to’t in time! She’ll pamper thee and dandle thee like a baby. Though in this place most master wear no breeches, She shall not strike Dame Eleanor unrevenged ! Exit
BUCKINGHAM	(aside to Cardinal Beaufort) Lord Cardinal, I will follow Eleanor And listen after Humphrey how he proceeds. She’s tickled now, her fury needs no spurs— She’ll gallop far enough to her destruction. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester
GLOUCESTER	Now, lords, my choler being overblown With walking once about the quadrangle, I come to talk of commonwealth affairs. As for your spiteful false objections, Prove them, and I lie open to the law. But God in mercy so deal with my soul As I in duty love my King and country. But to the matter that we have in hand— I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man To be your regent in the realm of France.
SUFFOLK	Before we make election, give me leave To show some reason of no little force That York is most unmeet of any man.
YORK	I’ll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet: First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride; Next, if I be appointed for the place, My lord of Somerset will keep me here Without discharge, money, or furniture, Till France be won into the Dauphin’s hands. Last time I danced attendance on his will Till Paris was besieged, famished, and lost.
WARWICK	That can I witness, and a fouler fact Did never traitor in the land commit.
SUFFOLK	Peace, headstrong Warwick.
WARWICK	Image of pride, why should I hold my peace?
(didascalia)	Enter, guarded, Horner the armourer and Peter his man
SUFFOLK	Because here is a man accused of treason— Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself!
YORK	Doth anyone accuse York for a traitor?
KING HENRY	What mean’st thou, Suffolk? Tell me, what are these?
SUFFOLK	Please it your majesty, this is the man He indicates Peter That doth accuse his master (indicating Horner) of high treason. His words were these: that Richard Duke of York Was rightful heir unto the English crown, And that your majesty was an usurper.
KING HENRY	(to Horner) Say, man, were these thy words?
HORNER	An’t shall please your majesty, I never said nor thought any such matter. God is my witness, I am falsely accused by the villain.
(didascalia)	PETER raising his hands By these ten bones, my lords, he did speak them to me in the garret one night as we were scouring my lord of York’s armour.
YORK	Base dunghill villain and mechanical, I’ll have thy head for this thy traitor’s speech ! (To King Henry) I do beseech your royal majesty, Let him have all the rigour of the law.
HORNER	Alas, my lord, hang me if ever I spake the words. My accuser is my prentice, and when I did correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow upon his knees he would be even with me. I have good witness of this, therefore, I beseech your majesty, do not cast away an honest man for a villain’s accusation.
KING HENRY	(to Gloucester) Uncle, what shall we say to this in law?
GLOUCESTER	This doom, my lord, if I may judge by case: Let Somerset be regent o’er the French, Because in York this breeds suspicion. (Indicating Horner and Peter) And let these have a day appointed them For single combat in convenient place, For he (indicating Horner) hath witness of his servant’s malice. This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey’s doom.
KING HENRY	Then be it so. (To Somerset) My lord of Somerset, We make you regent o‘er the realm of France There to defend our rights ’gainst foreign foes.
SOMERSET	I humbly thank your royal majesty.
HORNER	And I accept the combat willingly.
(didascalia)	PETER to Gloucester Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for God’s sake, pity my case! The spite of man prevaileth against me. O Lord, have mercy upon me—I shall never be able to fight a blow ! O Lord, my heart !
GLOUCESTER	Sirrah, or you must fight or else be hanged.
KING HENRY	Away with them to prison, and the day Of combat be the last of the next month. Come, Somerset, we’ll see thee sent away.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Peter, il garzone dell’armaiolo, con due o tre altri Postulanti
PRIMO POSTULANTE	Padroni miei, stiamo appartati. Il mio lord Protettore passerà da questa parte fra poco, e allora potremo consegnare le nostre suppliche tutte insieme.
SECONDO POSTULANTE	Per la Vergine, il Signore lo protegga, ché è un buon uomo, Gesù lo benedica.
(didascalia)	Entrano il duca di Suffolk e Margherita
(didascalia)	PRIMO POSTULANTE Ecco che viene, mi pare, e la regina con lui. Sarò il primo, di sicuro.
SECONDO POSTULANTE	Va incontro a Suffolk e alla regina
SECONDO POSTULANTE	Torna indietro, stolto—questi è il duca di Suffolk e non il mio lord Protettore.
SUFFOLK	(al primo postulante) Ebbene, amico—vuoi qualcosa da me?
PRIMO POSTULANTE	Vi prego, mio signore, perdonatemi—vi presi per il mio lord Protettore.
(didascalia)	REGINA MARGHERITA vedendo la sua supplica, legge ‘Almio lord Protettore’—sono le vostre suppliche a sua signoria ? Fatemele vedere.
(didascalia)	Prende la supplica del primo postulante
PRIMO POSTULANTE	Qual è la tua?
PRIMO POSTULANTE	La mia è, se piace a vostra grazia, contro John Goodman, l’uomo del mio lord Cardinale, per tenermi lontani la mia casa e le terre e la moglie e tutto.
(didascalia)	SUFFOLK Anche tua moglie ? Questo è davvero un torto. Ai Secondi Postulanti Qual è la vostra?
PRIMO POSTULANTE	Prende la supplica Che c’è qui? (Legge) ‘Contro il duca di Suffolk per
(didascalia)	aver recintato i beni comuni di Melford’ ! Al Secondo
(didascalia)	Postulante Ebbene, ser Furfante?
SECONDO POSTULANTE	Ahimè, signore, non sono che un povero postulante di tutta la nostra comunità.
(didascalia)	PETER porgendo la sua petizione Contro il mio padrone, Thomas Horner, per aver detto che il duca di York era legittimo erede della corona.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Che dici tu? Il duca di York disse d’essere legittimo erede della corona?
PETER	Che il mio padrone lo fosse ? No, in verità, il mio padrone disse che lo era lui e che il re era un usuraio.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Un usurpatore volevi dire.
PETER	Sì, in verità—un usurpatore.
SUFFOLK	(chiamando verso l’interno) Chi è là?
(didascalia)	Entra un servo
SUFFOLK	Portate dentro costui e mandate subito un messo per il suo padrone. (A Peter) Sentiremo di più della tua causa davanti al re. Esce il servo con Peter
REGINA MARGHERITA	(ai postulanti) E quanto a voi che amate esser protetti sotto le ali della grazia del nostro Protettore, ricominciate da capo le vostre istanze e rivolgetevi a lui.
(didascalia)	Straccia la supplica
REGINA MARGHERITA	Via, vili canaglie! Suffolk, lasciali andare.
TUTTI I POSTULANTI	Venite, andiamocene. Escono i postulanti
REGINA MARGHERITA	Mio signore di Suffolk, dite, è questa la foggia? Sono questi i costumi della corte d’Inghilterra ? È questo il governo dell’isola di Britannia, e questa la regalità del re d’Albione? Che? Re Enrico sarà ancora un pupillo sotto il governo del burbero Gloucester? Sono io regina di titolo e di nome, e devo esser fatta suddita d’un duca? Ti dico, Pole, quando nella città di Tours tu corresti in giostra in onore del mio amore e rubasti i cuori delle dame di Francia, io pensai che re Enrico ti somigliasse in coraggio, in cortesia e in portamento. Ma tutta la sua mente è volta alla santità, a contare Ave Marie sui suoi rosari. I suoi campioni sono i profeti e gli apostoli, le sue armi le sante sentenze della sacra scrittura, il suo studio è il suo campo di giostra, e i suoi amori sono immagini di bronzo di santi canonizzati. Vorrei che il collegio dei cardinali lo eleggesse Papa, e lo portasse a Roma, e gli ponesse la triplice corona sul capo— quello sarebbe uno stato degno della sua santità.
SUFFOLK	Madama, siate paziente—come io fui causa che vostra altezza venisse in Inghilterra, così in Inghilterra procurerò il pieno contento di vostra grazia.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Oltre l’altezzoso Protettore abbiamo Beaufort, l’imperioso uomo di chiesa, Somerset, Buckingham, e il brontolone York; e non v’è il minimo di questi che non possa più in Inghilterra del re.
SUFFOLK	E quello di costoro che può più di tutti non può in Inghilterra più dei Neville: Salisbury e Warwick non sono pari da poco.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Tutti questi signori non m’irritano la metà di quella superba donna, la moglie del lord Protettore. Ella spazza la corte con schiere di dame, più da imperatrice che da moglie del duca Humphrey. Gli stranieri a corte la prendono per la regina. Porta sul dorso le rendite d’un ducato, e in cuore disprezza la nostra povertà. Non vivrò io per vendicarmi di lei? Sprezzante sgualdrina di bassa nascita com’è, si vantò l’altro giorno fra i suoi favoriti che il solo strascico della sua veste più dimessa valeva più di tutte le terre di mio padre, finché Suffolk diede due ducati per sua figlia.
SUFFOLK	Madama, io stesso le ho impaniato un cespuglio, e postovi un coro di tali uccelli allettanti che ella si poserà ad ascoltarne i canti, e mai più s’alzerà a turbarvi. Dunque lasciatela stare; e, madama, ascoltatemi, ché son ardito di consigliarvi in questo: sebbene non ci piaccia il Cardinale, pur dobbiamo unirci a lui e ai signori finché non avremo tratto in disgrazia il duca Humphrey. Quanto al duca di York, quest’ultima querela gioverà ben poco al suo vantaggio. Così a uno a uno li sarchieremo tutti alla fine, e voi stessa reggerete il felice timone.
(didascalia)	Suona una fanfara. Entra re Enrico col duca
SUFFOLK	di York e il duca di Somerset ai due lati di lui, parlandogli all’orecchio. Entrano anche il duca Humphrey di Gloucester, madama Eleonora la duchessa di Gloucester, il duca di Buckingham, i conti di Salisbury e Warwick, e il cardinale
(didascalia)	Beaufort vescovo di Winchesteri
RE ENRICO	Per la mia parte, nobili signori, non m’importa quale: o Somerset o York, per me è tutt’uno.
YORK	Se York si è mal condotto in Francia, gli sia negata la reggenza.
SOMERSET	Se Somerset è indegno del posto, sia York reggente—io gli cederò.
WARWICK	Se vostra grazia sia degna, sì o no, non si discuta: York è il più degno.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Ambizioso Warwick, lascia parlare i tuoi maggiori.
WARWICK	Il Cardinale non è mio maggiore sul campo.
BUCKINGHAM	Tutti in questa presenza sono tuoi maggiori, Warwick.
WARWICK	Warwick può vivere per essere il migliore di tutti.
SALISBURY	Pace, figlio; (a Buckingham) e mostrate qualche ragione, Buckingham, perché Somerset debba esser preferito in questo.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Perché il re, in verità, così vuole.
GLOUCESTER	Madama, il re è abbastanza grande da sé per dare il suo giudizio. Questi non son affari da donne.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Se è abbastanza grande, che bisogno ha vostra grazia d’esser Protettore di sua eccellenza?
GLOUCESTER	Madama, io sono Protettore del regno, e a suo piacere rassegnerò il mio posto.
SUFFOLK	Rassegnalo dunque, e lascia la tua insolenza. Da che tu fosti re—ché chi è re se non tu?— lo stato è corso ogni giorno alla rovina, il Delfino ha prevalso oltre i mari, e tutti i pari e i nobili del regno sono stati come servi alla tua sovranità.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	(a Gloucester) Il popolo hai torchiato, le borse del clero son vuote e magre per le tue estorsioni.
SOMERSET	(a Gloucester) I tuoi sontuosi edifici e le vesti di tua moglie son costati una massa di pubblico tesoro.
BUCKINGHAM	(a Gloucester) La tua crudeltà nell’eseguire sopra i rei ha oltrepassato la legge e t’ha lasciato alla mercé della legge.
REGINA MARGHERITA	(a Gloucester) Il tuo vender cariche e città in Francia— se fossero note, com’è grande il sospetto— ti farebbe presto saltare senza la testa.
(didascalia)	Esce Gloucester
REGINA MARGHERITA	Margherita lascia cadere il ventaglio (Alla Duchessa) Dammi il ventaglio—come, sfrontata, non potete? Dà alla Duchessa uno schiaffo Vi chiedo perdono, madama! Eravate voi ?
DUCHESSA	Ero io? Sì, io ero, superba Francese! Potessi accostare le unghie alla vostra bellezza, v’inciderei sul volto i miei dieci comandamenti.
RE ENRICO	Dolce zia, calmatevi—fu contro la sua volontà.
DUCHESSA	Contro la sua volontà? Buon re, badateci a tempo! Ti vezzeggerà e ti cullerà come un bambino. Sebbene in questo luogo il padrone maggiore non porti calzoni, non colpirà madama Eleonora senza vendetta ! Esce
BUCKINGHAM	(a parte, al cardinale Beaufort) Lord Cardinale, seguirò Eleonora e spierò come Humphrey proceda. Ora è punta, il suo furore non ha bisogno di sproni— galopperà abbastanza lontano fino alla sua rovina. Esce
(didascalia)	Entra il duca Humphrey di Gloucester
GLOUCESTER	Ora, signori, sfogata la mia collera col fare un giro del cortile, vengo a parlar d’affari di stato. Quanto alle vostre maligne e false accuse, provatele, e io sono esposto alla legge. Ma Dio nella sua misericordia tratti l’anima mia com’io per dovere amo il mio re e il mio paese. Ma alla materia che abbiamo per le mani— dico, mio sovrano, che York è l’uomo più idoneo a essere vostro reggente nel regno di Francia.
SUFFOLK	Prima che si faccia la scelta, datemi licenza di mostrare qualche ragione di non poca forza che York è il meno idoneo d’ogni uomo.
YORK	Ti dirò, Suffolk, perché sono inidoneo: primo, perché non so lusingarti nella superbia; poi, se fossi destinato al posto, il mio signore di Somerset mi terrebbe qui senza congedo, denaro o equipaggiamento, finché la Francia non fosse guadagnata nelle mani del Delfino. L’ultima volta fui in anticamera alle sue voglie finché Parigi fu assediata, affamata e perduta.
WARWICK	Di questo posso far testimonianza, e più laido fatto mai traditore commise in questa terra.
SUFFOLK	Pace, testardo Warwick.
WARWICK	Immagine della superbia, perché dovrei tacere?
(didascalia)	Entrano, sotto guardia, Horner l’armaiolo e Peter suo garzone
SUFFOLK	Perché qui c’è un uomo accusato di tradimento— preghi Dio che il duca di York possa scusarsi!
YORK	Qualcuno accusa York d’esser traditore?
RE ENRICO	Che intendi, Suffolk? Dimmi, chi son questi?
SUFFOLK	Piaccia a vostra maestà, questo è l’uomo Indica Peter che accusa il suo padrone (indicando Horner) d’alto tradimento. Le sue parole furon queste: che Riccardo duca di York era legittimo erede della corona d’Inghilterra, e che vostra maestà era un usurpatore.
RE ENRICO	(a Horner) Di’, uomo, furon queste le tue parole?
HORNER	Se piace a vostra maestà, io mai dissi né pensai cosa simile. Dio m’è testimone, sono falsamente accusato da quel furfante.
(didascalia)	PETER alzando le mani Per queste dieci ossa, signori miei, me le disse in soffitta una notte mentre lustravamo l’armatura del mio signore di York.
YORK	Vile furfante da letamaio e manovale, avrò la tua testa per questo tuo discorso da traditore ! (A re Enrico) Supplico la vostra regale maestà, gli sia applicato tutto il rigore della legge.
HORNER	Ahimè, mio signore, impiccatemi se mai dissi quelle parole. Il mio accusatore è il mio apprendista, e quando l’altro giorno lo corressi per la sua colpa, giurò in ginocchio che si sarebbe pareggiato con me. Ne ho buoni testimoni, perciò supplico vostra maestà, non gettate via un uomo onesto per l’accusa d’un furfante.
RE ENRICO	(a Gloucester) Zio, che diremo di questo secondo la legge?
GLOUCESTER	Questa sentenza, mio signore, se posso giudicare secondo il caso: sia Somerset reggente sopra i Francesi, perché in York questo genera sospetto. (Indicando Horner e Peter) E a questi sia assegnato un giorno per singolare combattimento in luogo conveniente, ché egli (indicando Horner) ha testimoni della malizia del suo servo. Questa è la legge, e questa la sentenza del duca Humphrey.
RE ENRICO	Sia dunque così. (A Somerset) Mio signore di Somerset, vi facciamo reggente sopra il regno di Francia, là a difendere i nostri diritti contro i nemici stranieri.
SOMERSET	Ringrazio umilmente la vostra regale maestà.
HORNER	E io accetto volentieri il combattimento.
(didascalia)	PETER a Gloucester Ahimè, mio signore, non posso combattere; per amor di Dio, abbiate pietà del mio caso! La malignità degli uomini prevale contro di me. O Signore, abbi misericordia di me—non sarò mai capace di tirare un colpo ! O Signore, il mio cuore !
GLOUCESTER	Ehi tu, o devi combattere o essere impiccato.
RE ENRICO	Portateli via in prigione, e il giorno del combattimento sia l’ultimo del mese prossimo. Venite, Somerset, vedremo alla vostra partenza.
(didascalia)	Squillo. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Margery Jordan, a witch; Sir John Hume and John Southwell, two priests; and Roger Bolingbroke, a conjuror
(didascalia)	Hume Come, my masters, the Duchess, I tell you, expects performance of your promises.
BOLINGBROKE	Master Hume, we are therefore provided. Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms?
HUME	Ay, what else? Fear you not her courage.
BOLINGBROKE	I have heard her reported to be a woman of an invincible spirit. But it shall be convenient, Master Hume, that you be by her, aloft, while we be busy below. And so, I pray you, go in God’s name and leave us. Exit Hume Mother Jordan, be you prostrate and grovel on the earth. She lies down upon her face.
(didascalia)	Enter Eleanor, the Duchess of Gloucester, aloft
BOLINGBROKE	John Southwell, read you and let us to our work.
DUCHESS	Well said, my masters, and welcome all. To this gear the sooner the better.
(didascalia)	Enter Hume aloft
BOLINGBROKE	Patience, good lady—wizards know their times. Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, The time of night when Troy was set on fire, The time when screech-owls cry and bandogs howl, And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves— That time best fits the work we have in hand. Madam, sit you, and fear not. Whom we raise We will make fast within a hallowed verge. Here do the ceremonies belonging, and make the circle. Southwell reads ‘Coniuro te’, &c. It thunders and lightens terribly, then the spirit Asnath riseth
ASNATH	Adsum.
WITCH	Asnath, By the eternal God whose name and power Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask, For till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from hence.
ASNATH	Ask what thou wilt, that I had said and done.
BOLINGBROKE	(reads) ‘First, of the King: what shall of him become ?’
ASNATH	The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose, But him outlive, and die a violent death.
(didascalia)	As the spirit speaks, Southwell writes the answer
BOLINGBROKE	(reads) ‘Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk.’
ASNATH	By water shall he die, and take his end.
BOLINGBROKE	(reads) ‘What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?’
ASNATH	Let him shun castles. Safer shall he be Upon the sandy plains than where castles mounted stand. Have done—for more I hardly can endure.
BOLINGBROKE	Descend to darkness and the burning lake! False fiend, avoid!
(didascalia)	Thunder and lightning. The spirit sinks down again
(didascalia)	Enter, breaking in, the Dukes of York and
BOLINGBROKE	Buckingham with their guard, among them Sir Humphrey Stafford
YORK	Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash.
(didascalia)	Bolingbroke, Southwell, and Jordan are taken
YORK	prisoner. Buckingham takes the writings from
(didascalia)	Bolingbroke and Southwell
YORK	(To Jordan) Beldam, I think we watched you at an inch. (To the Duchess) What, madam, are you there? The King and common weal Are deep indebted for this piece of pains. My lord Protector will, I doubt it not, See you well guerdoned for these good deserts.
DUCHESS	Not half so bad as thine to England’s king, Injurious Duke, that threatest where’s no cause.
BUCKINGHAM	True, madam, none at all—
(didascalia)	He raises the writings
BUCKINGHAM	what call you this? (To his men) Away with them. Let them be clapped up close And kept asunder. (To the Duchess) You, madam, shall with us. Stafford, take her to thee.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Stafford and others to the Duchess
(didascalia)	and Hume above
BUCKINGHAM	We’ll see your trinkets here all forthcoming. All away!
(didascalia)	Exeunt below Jordan, Southwell, and
(didascalia)	Bolingbroke, guarded, and, above, Hume and
(didascalia)	the Duchess guarded by Stafford and others.
(didascalia)	York and Buckingham remain
YORK	Lord Buckingham, methinks you watched her well. A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon. Now pray, my lord, let’s see the devil’s writ.
(didascalia)	Buckingham gives him the writings
YORK	What have we here? He reads the writings Why, this is just Aio Aeacidam, Romanos vincere posse. These oracles are hardily attained And hardly understood. Come, come, my lord, The King is now in progress towards Saint Albans; With him the husband of this lovely lady. Thither goes these news as fast as horse can carry them— A sorry breakfast for my lord Protector.
BUCKINGHAM	Your grace shall give me leave, my lord of York, To be the post in hope of his reward.
YORK	(returning the writings to Buckingham)
(didascalia)	At your pleasure, my good lord. Exit Buckingham (Calling within) Who’s within there, ho!
(didascalia)	Enter a servingman
YORK	Invite my lords of Salisbury and Warwick To sup with me tomorrow night. Away.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Margery Jordan, una strega; Sir John Hume e John Southwell, due preti; e Roger Bolingbroke, un negromante
(didascalia)	Hume Venite, padroni miei, la Duchessa, vi dico, attende l’adempimento delle vostre promesse.
BOLINGBROKE	Mastro Hume, siamo perciò apparecchiati. Vorrà sua signoria vedere e udire i nostri esorcismi?
HUME	Sì, che altro? Non temete per il suo coraggio.
BOLINGBROKE	Ho udito dire ch’ella è donna d’invincibile spirito. Ma sarà conveniente, mastro Hume, che voi le stiate accanto, là in alto, mentre noi siamo all’opera qui sotto. E dunque, vi prego, andate in nome di Dio e lasciateci. Esce Hume Madre Jordan, prostrati e striscia sulla terra. Ella si stende col volto a terra.
(didascalia)	Entra Eleonora, la duchessa di Gloucester, in alto
BOLINGBROKE	John Southwell, leggi tu, e mettiamoci all’opera.
DUCHESSA	Ben detto, padroni miei, e benvenuti tutti. A quest’affare, quanto prima tanto meglio.
(didascalia)	Entra Hume in alto
BOLINGBROKE	Pazienza, buona signora—i maghi conoscono le loro ore. Profonda notte, oscura notte, il silenzio della notte, l’ora della notte in cui Troia fu messa a fuoco, l’ora in cui stridono le civette e ululano i mastini, e camminano gli spiriti, e i fantasmi spezzano le loro tombe— quell’ora s’addice meglio all’opera che abbiamo per le mani. Madama, sedete, e non temete. Chi evochiamo lo terremo saldo dentro un cerchio consacrato. Qui compiono le cerimonie del caso, e tracciano il cerchio. Southwell legge ‘Coniuro te’, ecc. Tuona e lampeggia terribilmente, poi sorge lo spirito Asnath
ASNATH	Adsum.
STREGA	Asnath, per l’eterno Dio al cui nome e potere tu tremi, rispondi a ciò ch’io chiederò, ché finché non parli, non passerai di qui.
ASNATH	Chiedi ciò che vuoi, ch’io l’avessi già detto e fatto.
BOLINGBROKE	(legge) ‘Primo, del re: che sarà di lui ?’
ASNATH	Vive ancora il duca che Enrico deporrà, ma gli sopravviverà, e morrà di morte violenta.
(didascalia)	Mentre lo spirito parla, Southwell scrive la risposta
BOLINGBROKE	(legge) ‘Dimmi qual sorte attende il duca di Suffolk.’
ASNATH	Per acqua morrà, e avrà la sua fine.
BOLINGBROKE	(legge) ‘Che avverrà al duca di Somerset?’
ASNATH	Eviti i castelli. Più sicuro sarà sulle piane sabbiose che dove i castelli s’ergono eretti. Basta—ché di più a pena posso sopportare.
BOLINGBROKE	Scendi nelle tenebre e nel lago ardente! Falso demonio, sgombra!
(didascalia)	Tuono e fulmini. Lo spirito s’affonda di nuovo
(didascalia)	Entrano, irrompendo, i duchi di York e
BOLINGBROKE	Buckingham con la loro guardia, fra cui Sir Humphrey Stafford
YORK	Mettete le mani su questi traditori e sulle loro cianfrusaglie.
(didascalia)	Bolingbroke, Southwell e la Jordan son fatti
YORK	prigionieri. Buckingham prende gli scritti da
(didascalia)	Bolingbroke e Southwell
YORK	(Alla Jordan) Vecchiaccia, credo v’abbiamo spiato da vicino. (Alla Duchessa) Come, madama, siete là? Il re e lo stato vi sono molto debitori di questa fatica. Il mio lord Protettore, non ne dubito, vi vedrà ben ricompensata di questi buoni meriti.
DUCHESSA	Non la metà così male dei tuoi verso il re d’Inghilterra, oltraggioso duca, che minacci dove non v’è ragione.
BUCKINGHAM	Vero, madama, nessuna del tutto—
(didascalia)	Solleva gli scritti
BUCKINGHAM	come chiamate questo? (Ai suoi uomini) Portateli via. Sian messi al chiuso, stretti, e tenuti separati. (Alla Duchessa) Voi, madama, verrete con noi. Stafford, prendila in custodia.
(didascalia)	Escono Stafford e altri verso la Duchessa
(didascalia)	e Hume, in alto
BUCKINGHAM	Vedremo che le vostre cianfrusaglie sian tutte prodotte. Tutti via!
(didascalia)	Escono in basso la Jordan, Southwell e
(didascalia)	Bolingbroke, sotto guardia, e, in alto, Hume e
(didascalia)	la Duchessa sotto la guardia di Stafford e altri.
(didascalia)	Restano York e Buckingham
YORK	Lord Buckingham, mi pare l’abbiate spiata bene. Un bel terreno, ben scelto per costruirvi sopra. Or di grazia, mio signore, vediamo lo scritto del diavolo.
(didascalia)	Buckingham gli dà gli scritti
YORK	Che abbiamo qui? Legge gli scritti Perbacco, questo è appunto Aio Aeacidam, Romanos vincere posse. Questi oracoli s’ottengono a stento e a stento s’intendono. Via, via, mio signore, il re è ora in viaggio verso Saint Albans; con lui il marito di questa amabile signora. Là vanno queste nuove, rapide come cavallo può portarle a lui— una triste colazione per il mio lord Protettore.
BUCKINGHAM	Vostra grazia mi darà licenza, mio signore di York, d’esser io il corriere, in speranza della sua ricompensa.
YORK	(restituendo gli scritti a Buckingham)
(didascalia)	A vostro piacere, mio buon signore. Esce Buckingham (Chiamando verso l’interno) Chi è là dentro, ehi!
(didascalia)	Entra un servitore
YORK	Invita i miei signori di Salisbury e Warwick a cenare con me domani notte. Va’.
(didascalia)	Escono da parti diverse

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret with her hawk on her fist, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, Cardinal Beaufort, and the Duke of Suffolk, with falconers hollering
QUEEN MARGARET	Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook I saw not better sport these seven years’ day; Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high, And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.
KING HENRY	(to Gloucester) But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest! To see how God in all his creatures works! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.
SUFFOLK	No marvel, an it like your majesty, My Lord Protector’s hawks do tower so well; They know their master loves to be aloft, And bears his thoughts above his falcon’s pitch.
GLOUCESTER	My lord, ‘tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	I thought as much; he would be above the clouds.
GLOUCESTER	Ay, my lord Cardinal, how think you by that? Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven?
KING HENRY	The treasury of everlasting joy.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to Gloucester) Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart, Pernicious Protector, dangerous peer, That smooth’st it so with King and common weal!
GLOUCESTER	What, Cardinal? Is your priesthood grown peremptory ? Tantaene animis caelestibus irae? Churchmen so hot? Good uncle, hide such malice With some holiness—can you do it?
SUFFOLK	No malice, sir, no more than well becomes So good a quarrel and so bad a peer.
GLOUCESTER	As who, my lord ?
SUFFOLK	Why, as you, my lord— An’t like your lordly Lord’s Protectorship.
GLOUCESTER	Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.
QUEEN MARGARET	And thy ambition, Gloucester.
KING HENRY	I prithee peace, Good Queen, and whet not on these furious peers—For blessèd are the peacemakers on earth.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Let me be blessed for the peace I make Against this proud Protector with my sword.
(didascalia)	Gloucester and Cardinal Beaufort speak privately to one another
GLOUCESTER	Faith, holy uncle, would’t were come to that.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Marry, when thou dar’st.
GLOUCESTER	Dare? I tell thee, priest, Plantagenets could never brook the dare!
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	I am Plantagenet as well as thou, And son to John of Gaunt.
GLOUCESTER	In bastardy.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	I scorn thy words.
GLOUCESTER	Make up no factious numbers for the matter, In thine own person answer thy abuse.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Ay, where thou dar‘st not peep; an if thou dar’st, This evening on the east side of the grove.
KING HENRY	How now, my lords?
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(aloud) Believe me, cousin Gloucester, Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, We had had more sport. (Aside to Gloucester) Come with thy two-hand sword.
GLOUCESTER	(aloud) True, uncle. (Aside to Cardinal Beaufort) Are ye advised? The east side of the grove.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(aside to Gloucester) I am with you.
KING HENRY	Why, how now, uncle Gloucester?
GLOUCESTER	Talking of hawking, nothing else, my lord. (Aside to the Cardinal) Now, by God’s mother, priest, I’ll shave your crown for this, Or all my fence shall fail.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(aside to Gloucester) Medice, teipsum— Protector, see to’t well; protect yourself.
KING HENRY	The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords. How irksome is this music to my heart ! When such strings jar, what hope of harmony? I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife.
(didascalia)	Enter one crying ‘a miracle’
GLOUCESTER	What means this noise? Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?
ONE	A miracle, a miracle!
SUFFOLK	Come to the King—tell him what miracle.
ONE	(to King Henry) Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban’s shrine
(didascalia)	Within this half-hour hath received his sight—
ONE	A man that ne’er saw in his life before.
KING HENRY	Now God be praised, that to believing souls Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair!
(didascalia)	Enter the Mayor and aldermen of Saint Albans, with music, bearing the man, Simpcox, between two in a chair. Enter Simpcox’s Wife and other townsmeni with them
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Here comes the townsmen on procession To present your highness with the man.
(didascalia)	The townsmen kneel
KING HENRY	Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, Although by sight his sin be multiplied.
GLOUCESTER	(to the townsmen) Stand by, my masters, bring him near the King. His highness’ pleasure is to talk with him.
(didascalia)	They rise and bear Simpcox before the King
KING HENRY	(to Simpcox) Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance, That we for thee may glorify the Lord. What, hast thou been long blind and now restored?
SIMPCOX	Born blind, an’t please your grace.
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	Ay, indeed, was he.
SUFFOLK	What woman is this?
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	His wife, an’t like your worship.
GLOUCESTER	Hadst thou been his mother Thou couldst have better told.
KING HENRY	(to Simpcox) Where wert thou born?
SIMPCOX	At Berwick, in the north, an’t like your grace.
KING HENRY	Poor soul, God’s goodness hath been great to thee. Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, But still remember what the Lord hath done.
QUEEN MARGARET	(to Simpcox) Tell me, good fellow, cam’st thou here by chance, Or of devotion to this holy shrine?
SIMPCOX	God knows, of pure devotion, being called A hundred times and oftener, in my sleep, By good Saint Alban, who said, ‘Simon, come; Come offer at my shrine and I will help thee.’
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	Most true, forsooth, and many time and oft Myself have heard a voice to call him so.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to Simpcox) What, art thou lame ?
SIMPCOX	Ay, God almighty help me.
SUFFOLK	How cam’st thou so?
SIMPCOX	A fall off of a tree.
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	(to Suffolk) A plum tree, master.
GLOUCESTER	How long hast thou been blind?
SIMPCOX	O, born so, master.
GLOUCESTER	What, and wouldst climb a tree? SIMPCOX But that in all my life, when I was a youth.
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	(to Gloucester) Too true—and bought his climbing very dear.
GLOUCESTER	(to Simpcox) Mass, thou loved’st plums well that wouldst venture so.
SIMPCOX	Alas, good master, my wife desired some damsons, And made me climb with danger of my life.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER aside
SIMPCOX	A subtle knave, but yet it shall not serve. (To Simpcox) Let me see thine eyes: wink now, now open them. In my opinion yet thou seest not well.
SIMPCOX	Yes, master, clear as day, I thank God and Saint Alban.
GLOUCESTER	Sayst thou me so? (Pointing) What colour is this cloak of?
SIMPCOX	Red, master; red as blood.
GLOUCESTER	Why, that’s well said. (Pointing) And his cloak?
SIMPCOX	Why, that’s green.
GLOUCESTER	(pointing) And what colour’s His hose?
SIMPCOX	Yellow, master; yellow as gold.
GLOUCESTER	And what colour’s my gown?
SIMPCOX	Black, sir; coal-black, as jet.
KING HENRY	Why, then, thou know’st what colour jet is of?
UFFOLK	And yet I think jet did he never see.
GLOUCESTER	But cloaks and gowns before this day, a many.
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	Never before this day in all his life.
GLOUCESTER	Tell me, sirrah, what’s my name?
SIMPCOX	Alas, master, I know not.
GLOUCESTER	(pointing) What’s his name?
SIMPCOX	I know not.
GLOUCESTER	(pointing) Nor his?
SIMPCOX	No, truly, sir.
GLOUCESTER	(pointing) Nor his name?
SIMPCOX	No indeed, master.
GLOUCESTER	What’s thine own name?
SIMPCOX	Simon Simpcox, an it please you, master.
GLOUCESTER	Then, Simon, sit thou there the lying’st knave In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind Thou mightst as well have known our names as thus To name the several colours we do wear. Sight may distinguish colours, but suddenly To nominate them all—it is impossible. Saint Alban here hath done a miracle. Would you not think his cunning to be great That could restore this cripple to his legs again?
SIMPCOX	O master, that you could!
GLOUCESTER	(to the Mayor and aldermen) My masters of Saint Albans, have you not Beadles in your town, and things called whips?
MAYOR	We have, my lord, an if it please your grace.
GLOUCESTER	Then send for one presently.
MAYOR	(to a townsman) Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight. Exit one
GLOUCESTER	Bring me a stool. A stool is brought (To Simpcox) Now, sirrah, if you mean To save yourself from whipping, leap me o’er This stool and run away.
SIMPCOX	Alas, master, I am not able even to stand alone. You go about to torture me in vain.
(didascalia)	Enter a Beadle with whips
GLOUCESTER	Well, sirrah, we must have you find your legs. (To the Beadle) Whip him till he leap over that same stool.
BEADLE	I will, my lord. (To Simpcox) Come on, sirrah, off with your doublet quickly.
SIMPCOX	Alas, master, what shall I do ? I am not able to stand.
(didascalia)	After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps over the stool and runs away. Some of the townsmen follow and cry, ‘A miracle ! A miracle !’
KING HENRY	O God, seest thou this and bear’st so long?
QUEEN MARGARET	It made me laugh to see the villain run!
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER to the Beadlel
QUEEN MARGARET	Follow the knave, and take this drab away.
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	Alas, sir, we did it for pure need.
(didascalia)	Exit the Beadle with the Wife
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER to the Mayor
SIMPCOX’S WIFE	Let them be whipped through every market-town 160 Till they come to Berwick, from whence they came.
(didascalia)	Exeunt the Mayor and any remaining townsmen
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Duke Humphrey has done a miracle today.
SUFFOLK	True: made the lame to leap and fly away.
GLOUCESTER	But you have done more miracles than I— You made, in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Buckingham
KING HENRY	What tidings with our cousin Buckingham?
BUCKINGHAM	Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold. A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent, Under the countenance and confederacy Of Lady Eleanor, the Protector’s wife, The ringleader and head of all this rout, Have practised dangerously against your state, Dealing with witches and with conjurors, Whom we have apprehended in the fact, Raising up wicked spirits from under ground, Demanding of King Henry’s life and death And other of your highness’ Privy Council. And here’s the answer the devil did make to them. Buckingham gives King Henry the writings
(didascalia)	KING HENRY (reads)
BUCKINGHAM	‘First of the King: what shall of him become? The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose, But him outlive and die a violent death.’ God’s will be done in all. Well, to the rest. (Reads) ‘Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk? By water shall he die, and take his end.’
SUFFOLK	[aside] By water must the Duke of Suffolk die? It must be so, or else the devil doth lie.
KING HENRY	(reads) ‘What shall betide the Duke of Somerset? Let him shun castles. Safer shall he be Upon the sandy plains than where castles mounted stand.’
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to Gloucester) And so, my Lord Protector, by this means Your lady is forthcoming yet at London. (Aside to Gloucester) This news, I think, hath turned your weapon’s edge. ᾽“Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour.
GLOUCESTER	Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my heart. Sorrow and grief have vanquished all my powers, And, vanquished as I am, I yield to thee Or to the meanest groom.
KING HENRY	O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones, Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby!
QUEEN MARGARET	Gloucester, see here the tainture of thy nest, And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best.
GLOUCESTER	Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal, How I have loved my King and common weal; And for my wife, I know not how it stands. Sorry I am to hear what I have heard. Noble she is, but if she have forgot Honour and virtue and conversed with such As, like to pitch, defile nobility, I banish her my bed and company, And give her as a prey to law and shame That hath dishonoured Gloucester’s honest name.
KING HENRY	Well, for this night we will repose us here; Tomorrow toward London back again, To look into this business thoroughly, And call these foul offenders to their answers, And poise the cause in justice’ equal scales, Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails. Flourish. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano re Enrico, Margherita col falcone sul pugno, il duca Humphrey di Gloucester, il cardinale Beaufort e il duca di Suffolk, con falconieri che gridano
REGINA MARGHERITA	Credetemi, signori, per la caccia al ruscello non vidi miglior spasso da sette anni in qua; pure, con vostra licenza, il vento era molto alto, e, dieci a uno, la vecchia Joan non sarebbe volata.
RE ENRICO	(a Gloucester) Ma che volo, mio signore, fece il vostro falcone, e a quale altezza salì sopra gli altri! Vedere come Dio opera in tutte le sue creature! Sì, l’uomo e gli uccelli son bramosi di salire in alto.
SUFFOLK	Nessuna meraviglia, se piace a vostra maestà, che i falconi del mio lord Protettore s’innalzino così bene; sanno che al loro padrone piace stare in alto, e porta i suoi pensieri più su del volo del suo falcone.
GLOUCESTER	Mio signore, è solo un animo basso e ignobile quello che non sale più alto di quanto un uccello si libri.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	L’immaginavo; egli vorrebbe stare sopra le nuvole.
GLOUCESTER	Sì, mio lord Cardinale, che ne pensate? Non sarebbe bene che vostra grazia potesse volare in cielo?
RE ENRICO	Il tesoro dell’eterna gioia.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	(a Gloucester) Il tuo cielo è sulla terra; i tuoi occhi e i tuoi pensieri battono su una corona, il tesoro del tuo cuore, pernicioso Protettore, pari pericoloso, che così lisci il re e lo stato!
GLOUCESTER	Come, Cardinale? Il vostro sacerdozio è divenuto perentorio ? Tantaene animis caelestibus irae? Uomini di chiesa così accesi? Buon zio, nascondete tal malizia con qualche santità—lo potete fare?
SUFFOLK	Nessuna malizia, signore, non più di quanto ben si convenga a una lite così buona e a un pari così cattivo.
GLOUCESTER	Come chi, mio signore ?
SUFFOLK	Ma come voi, mio signore— se piace alla vostra signorile Protettoria di Lord.
GLOUCESTER	Ebbene, Suffolk, l’Inghilterra conosce la tua insolenza.
REGINA MARGHERITA	E la tua ambizione, Gloucester.
RE ENRICO	Ti prego, pace, buona regina, e non aizzare questi pari furiosi—ché beati sono i pacifici sulla terra.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Ch’io sia benedetto per la pace che faccio contro questo superbo Protettore con la mia spada.
(didascalia)	Gloucester e il cardinale Beaufort si parlano in privato
GLOUCESTER	In fede, santo zio, volesse il cielo si venisse a questo.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Per la Vergine, quando oserai.
GLOUCESTER	Osare? Ti dico, prete, i Plantageneti non tollerarono mai la sfida!
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Io sono Plantageneto bene come te, e figlio di Giovanni di Gaunt.
GLOUCESTER	In bastardia.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Disprezzo le tue parole.
GLOUCESTER	Non raccogliere schiere di partigiani per la cosa, rispondi in persona tua del tuo insulto.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Sì, là dove non osi affacciarti; e se osi, questa sera sul lato orientale del bosco.
RE ENRICO	Ebbene, signori miei?
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	(ad alta voce) Credetemi, cugino Gloucester, se il vostro uomo non avesse levato la selvaggina così d’improvviso, avremmo avuto più spasso. (A parte, a Gloucester) Vieni con la tua spada a due mani.
GLOUCESTER	(ad alta voce) Vero, zio. (A parte, al cardinale Beaufort) Siete avvisato? Il lato orientale del bosco.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	(a parte, a Gloucester) Ci sto.
RE ENRICO	Ebbene, che c’è, zio Gloucester?
GLOUCESTER	Parliamo di caccia col falcone, nient’altro, mio signore. (A parte, al Cardinale) Ora, per la madre di Dio, prete, ti raderò la tonsura per questo, o tutta la mia scherma verrà meno.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	(a parte, a Gloucester) Medice, teipsum— Protettore, badateci bene; proteggete voi stesso.
RE ENRICO	I venti si alzano; e così i vostri animi, signori. Quanto è molesta al mio cuore questa musica ! Quando tali corde stridono, che speranza d’armonia? Vi prego, signori, lasciate ch’io componga questa contesa.
(didascalia)	Entra uno che grida ‘un miracolo’
GLOUCESTER	Che vuol dire questo rumore? Amico, che miracolo proclami?
UNO	Un miracolo, un miracolo!
SUFFOLK	Vieni dal re—digli che miracolo.
UNO	(a re Enrico) In verità, un cieco al santuario di Sant’Albano
(didascalia)	in questa mezz’ora ha ricevuto la vista—
UNO	Un uomo che mai vide prima in vita sua.
RE ENRICO	Ora sia lodato Dio, che alle anime credenti dà luce nelle tenebre, conforto nella disperazione!
(didascalia)	Entrano il sindaco e gli assessori di Saint Albans, con musica, portando l’uomo, Simpcox, fra due, su una sedia. Entrano la moglie di Simpcox e altri cittadini con loro
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Ecco che vengono i cittadini in processione a presentare l’uomo a vostra altezza.
(didascalia)	I cittadini s’inginocchiano
RE ENRICO	Grande è il suo conforto in questa valle terrena, sebbene per la vista il suo peccato si moltiplichi.
GLOUCESTER	(ai cittadini) Fatevi da parte, padroni miei, portatelo vicino al re. È piacere di sua altezza parlare con lui.
(didascalia)	Essi si alzano e portano Simpcox davanti al re
RE ENRICO	(a Simpcox) Buon uomo, raccontaci qui il fatto, ché noi per te possiamo glorificare il Signore. Come, sei stato cieco a lungo e ora risanato?
SIMPCOX	Nato cieco, se piace a vostra grazia.
MOGLIE DI SIMPCOX	Sì, davvero, lo era.
SUFFOLK	Che donna è questa?
MOGLIE DI SIMPCOX	Sua moglie, se piace a vossignoria.
GLOUCESTER	Se fossi stata sua madre avresti potuto dirlo meglio.
RE ENRICO	(a Simpcox) Dove nascesti?
SIMPCOX	A Berwick, nel nord, se piace a vostra grazia.
RE ENRICO	Povera anima, la bontà di Dio è stata grande verso te. Non passi mai giorno né notte senza santificarlo, ma ricorda sempre ciò che il Signore ha fatto.
REGINA MARGHERITA	(a Simpcox) Dimmi, buon uomo, venisti qui per caso, o per devozione a questo santo santuario?
SIMPCOX	Dio lo sa, per pura devozione, essendo chiamato cento volte e più spesso, nel mio sonno, dal buon sant’Albano, che disse: ‘Simone, vieni; vieni a offrire al mio santuario e io t’aiuterò.’
MOGLIE DI SIMPCOX	Verissimo, in verità, e molte volte e spesso io stessa ho udito una voce chiamarlo così.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	(a Simpcox) Come, sei storpio ?
SIMPCOX	Sì, Dio onnipotente m’aiuti.
SUFFOLK	Come divenisti tale?
SIMPCOX	Una caduta da un albero.
MOGLIE DI SIMPCOX	(a Suffolk) Un susino, padrone.
GLOUCESTER	Da quanto tempo sei cieco?
SIMPCOX	Oh, nato così, padrone.
GLOUCESTER	Come, e volevi arrampicarti su un albero? SIMPCOX Solo quella volta in tutta la mia vita, quand’ero giovane.
MOGLIE DI SIMPCOX	(a Gloucester) Troppo vero—e pagò molto caro il suo arrampicarsi.
GLOUCESTER	(a Simpcox) Per la messa, amavi bene le susine, per rischiare così.
SIMPCOX	Ahimè, buon padrone, mia moglie desiderava certe prugne, e mi fece salire a rischio della vita.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER a parte
SIMPCOX	Un furbo furfante, ma non gli servirà. (A Simpcox) Fa’ vedere i tuoi occhi: ora chiudili, ora aprili. A mio parere non vedi ancora bene.
SIMPCOX	Sì, padrone, chiaro come il giorno, ringrazio Dio e sant’Albano.
GLOUCESTER	Dici così? (Indicando) Di che colore è questo mantello?
SIMPCOX	Rosso, padrone; rosso come sangue.
GLOUCESTER	Ebbene, ben detto. (Indicando) E il suo mantello?
SIMPCOX	Ebbene, quello è verde.
GLOUCESTER	(indicando) E di che colore sono le sue calze?
SIMPCOX	Gialle, padrone; gialle come l’oro.
GLOUCESTER	E di che colore è la mia veste?
SIMPCOX	Nera, signore; nera come il carbone, come il giaietto.
RE ENRICO	Ebbene, dunque, tu sai di che colore è il giaietto?
UFFOLK	E pure credo che il giaietto non l’abbia mai visto.
GLOUCESTER	Ma mantelli e vesti, prima di questo giorno, molti.
MOGLIE DI SIMPCOX	Mai prima di questo giorno in tutta la sua vita.
GLOUCESTER	Dimmi, tu là, come mi chiamo?
SIMPCOX	Ahimè, padrone, non lo so.
GLOUCESTER	(indicando) Come si chiama lui?
SIMPCOX	Non lo so.
GLOUCESTER	(indicando) Né lui?
SIMPCOX	No, in verità, signore.
GLOUCESTER	(indicando) Né il nome di lui?
SIMPCOX	No davvero, padrone.
GLOUCESTER	Come ti chiami tu?
SIMPCOX	Simon Simpcox, se vi piace, padrone.
GLOUCESTER	Allora, Simone, siedi là, il più mentitore furfante della cristianità. Se tu fossi nato cieco avresti potuto bene conoscere i nostri nomi, come così nominare i vari colori che portiamo. La vista può distinguere i colori, ma d’un colpo nominarli tutti—è impossibile. Sant’Albano qui ha fatto un miracolo. Non pensereste che grande sia la sua abilità se potesse rendere a questo storpio le sue gambe?
SIMPCOX	Oh padrone, potessi voi!
GLOUCESTER	(al sindaco e agli assessori) Padroni miei di Saint Albans, non avete messi nella vostra città, e cose chiamate fruste?
SINDACO	Ne abbiamo, mio signore, se piace a vostra grazia.
GLOUCESTER	Mandatene a chiamare uno subito.
SINDACO	(a un cittadino) Tu là, va’ a chiamar qui il messo subito. Esce uno
GLOUCESTER	Portatemi uno sgabello. Viene portato uno sgabello (A Simpcox) Ora, tu là, se intendi salvarti dalla frusta, saltami oltre questo sgabello e scappa.
SIMPCOX	Ahimè, padrone, non son capace nemmeno di star in piedi da solo. Vi adoprate a torturarmi in vano.
(didascalia)	Entra un messo con le fruste
GLOUCESTER	Bene, tu là, bisogna che tu ritrovi le gambe. (Al messo) Frustalo finché non salti oltre quello stesso sgabello.
MESSO	Lo farò, mio signore. (A Simpcox) Andiamo, tu là, giù il farsetto, svelto.
SIMPCOX	Ahimè, padrone, che farò ? Non son capace di stare in piedi.
(didascalia)	Dopo che il messo l’ha colpito una volta, egli salta oltre lo sgabello e scappa. Alcuni dei cittadini lo seguono e gridano: ‘Un miracolo ! Un miracolo !’
RE ENRICO	O Dio, vedi tu questo e sopporti tanto?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Mi fece ridere vedere il furfante correre!
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER al messol
REGINA MARGHERITA	Segui il furfante, e porta via questa sgualdrina.
MOGLIE DI SIMPCOX	Ahimè, signore, l’abbiamo fatto per puro bisogno.
(didascalia)	Esce il messo con la moglie
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER al sindaco
MOGLIE DI SIMPCOX	Sian frustati per ogni borgo di mercato 160 finché giungano a Berwick, da dove vennero.
(didascalia)	Escono il sindaco e i cittadini rimasti
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Il duca Humphrey ha fatto un miracolo oggi.
SUFFOLK	Vero: ha fatto saltare e volar via lo storpio.
GLOUCESTER	Ma voi avete fatto più miracoli di me— voi faceste, in un giorno, mio signore, volar via città intere.
(didascalia)	Entra il duca di Buckingham
RE ENRICO	Che nuove col nostro cugino Buckingham?
BUCKINGHAM	Tali che il mio cuore trema a svelarle. Una banda di malvagi, di torte intenzioni, sotto il patrocinio e la complicità di lady Eleonora, la moglie del Protettore, capobanda e testa di tutta questa masnada, han macchinato pericolosamente contro il vostro stato, trattando con streghe e con negromanti, che abbiamo colti in flagrante, mentre evocavano spiriti maligni da sottoterra, chiedendo della vita e della morte di re Enrico e d’altri del Consiglio privato di vostra altezza. Ed ecco la risposta che il diavolo fece loro. Buckingham dà a re Enrico gli scritti
(didascalia)	RE ENRICO (legge)
BUCKINGHAM	‘Primo, del re: che sarà di lui? Vive ancora il duca che Enrico deporrà, ma gli sopravviverà e morrà di morte violenta.’ Sia fatta in tutto la volontà di Dio. Bene, al resto. (Legge) ‘Dimmi qual sorte attende il duca di Suffolk? Per acqua morrà, e avrà la sua fine.’
SUFFOLK	[a parte] Per acqua deve morire il duca di Suffolk? Deve esser così, o il diavolo mente.
RE ENRICO	(legge) ‘Che avverrà al duca di Somerset? Eviti i castelli. Più sicuro sarà sulle piane sabbiose che dove i castelli s’ergono eretti.’
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	(a Gloucester) E così, mio lord Protettore, per questa via la vostra signora sarà pur prodotta a Londra. (A parte, a Gloucester) Questa nuova, credo, ha smussato il filo della vostra arma. ᾽“È probabile, mio signore, che non manterrete la vostra ora.
GLOUCESTER	Ambizioso uomo di chiesa, cessa d’affliggere il mio cuore. Dolore e affanno han vinto tutte le mie forze, e, vinto come sono, cedo a te o al più umile stalliere.
RE ENRICO	O Dio, quali danni operano i malvagi, ammassando così confusione sulle proprie teste!
REGINA MARGHERITA	Gloucester, vedi qui la macchia del tuo nido, e badi tu d’esser senza colpa, sarà meglio per te.
GLOUCESTER	Madama, per me stesso, al cielo mi appello, di come ho amato il mio re e lo stato; e quanto a mia moglie, non so come stia la cosa. Dolente sono d’udire ciò che ho udito. Nobile ella è, ma se ha dimenticato l’onore e la virtù e ha praticato con tali che, come pece, insozzano la nobiltà, la bandisco dal mio letto e dalla mia compagnia, e la dò in preda alla legge e alla vergogna, lei che ha disonorato l’onesto nome di Gloucester.
RE ENRICO	Bene, per questa notte riposeremo qui; domani di nuovo verso Londra, per esaminare a fondo quest’affare, e chiamare questi turpi rei a rispondere, e pesare la causa sulle bilance eguali della giustizia, il cui braccio sta fermo, e la cui giusta causa prevale. Squillo. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of York and the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick
YORK	Now, my good lords of Salisbury and Warwick, Our simple supper ended, give me leave In this close walk to satisfy myself In craving your opinion of my title, Which is infallible, to England’s crown.
SALISBURY	My lord, I long to hear it out at full.
WARWICK	Sweet York, begin, and if thy claim be good, The Nevilles are thy subjects to command.
YORK	Then thus: Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons: The first, Edward the Black Prince, Prince of Wales; The second, William of Hatfield; and the third, Lionel Duke of Clarence; next to whom Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster; The fifth was Edmund Langley, Duke of York; The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester; William of Windsor was the seventh and last. Edward the Black Prince died before his father And left behind him Richard, his only son, Who, after Edward the Third’s death, reigned as king Till Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster, The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, Crowned by the name of Henry the Fourth, Seized on the realm, deposed the rightful king, Sent his poor queen to France from whence she came, And him to Pomfret; where, as well you know, Harmless Richard was murdered traitorously.
WARWICK	(to Salisbury) Father, the Duke of York hath told the truth; Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown.
YORK	Which now they hold by force and not by right; For Richard, the first son’s heir, being dead, The issue of the next son should have reigned.
SALISBURY	But William of Hatfield died without an heir.
YORK	The third son, Duke of Clarence, from whose line I claim the crown, had issue Phillipe, a daughter, Who married Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March; Edmund had issue, Roger, Earl of March; Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne and Eleanor.
SALISBURY	This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke, As I have read, laid claim unto the crown, And, but for Owain Glyndwr, had been king, Who kept him in captivity till he died. But to the rest.
YORK	His eldest sister, Anne, My mother, being heir unto the crown, Married Richard, Earl of Cambridge, who was son To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third’s fifth son. By her I claim the kingdom: she was heir To Roger, Earl of March, who was the son Of Edmund Mortimer, who married Phillipe, Sole daughter unto Lionel, Duke of Clarence. So if the issue of the elder son Succeed before the younger, I am king.
WARWICK	What plain proceedings is more plain than this? Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, The fourth son; York claims it from the third: Till Lionel’s issue fails, John’s should not reign. It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock. Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together, And in this private plot be we the first That shall salute our rightful sovereign With honour of his birthright to the crown.
SALISBURY	and WARWICK (kneeling) Long live our sovereign Richard, England’s king!
YORK	We thank you, lords;
(didascalia)	Salisbury and Warwick rise
YORK	but I am not your king Till I be crowned, and that my sword be stained With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster— And that’s not suddenly to be performed, But with advice and silent secrecy. Do you, as I do, in these dangerous days, Wink at the Duke of Suffolk’s insolence, At Beaufort’s pride, at Somerset’s ambition, At Buckingham, and all the crew of them, Till they have snared the shepherd of the flock, That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey. ᾽Tis that they seek, and they, in seeking that, Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy.
SALISBURY	My lord, break off—we know your mind at full.
WARWICK	My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick Shall one day make the Duke of York a king.
YORK	And Neville, this I do assure myself— Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick The greatest man in England but the King. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il duca di York e i conti di Salisbury e Warwick
YORK	Ora, miei buoni signori di Salisbury e Warwick, finita la nostra semplice cena, datemi licenza in questo chiuso viale di soddisfarmi chiedendo il vostro parere sul mio titolo, che è infallibile, alla corona d’Inghilterra.
SALISBURY	Mio signore, bramo udirlo per intero.
WARWICK	Dolce York, comincia, e se la tua pretesa è buona, i Neville sono tuoi sudditi al comando.
YORK	Allora così: Edoardo Terzo, signori miei, ebbe sette figli: il primo, Edoardo il Principe Nero, principe di Galles; il secondo, Guglielmo di Hatfield; e il terzo, Lionello duca di Clarence; dopo il quale venne Giovanni di Gaunt, duca di Lancaster; il quinto fu Edmondo Langley, duca di York; il sesto fu Tommaso di Woodstock, duca di Gloucester; Guglielmo di Windsor fu il settimo e l’ultimo. Edoardo il Principe Nero morì prima del padre e lasciò dietro di sé Riccardo, suo unico figlio, che, dopo la morte d’Edoardo Terzo, regnò come re finché Enrico Bolingbroke, duca di Lancaster, figlio maggiore ed erede di Giovanni di Gaunt, incoronato col nome di Enrico Quarto, s’impadronì del regno, depose il legittimo re, mandò la sua povera regina in Francia, da dove era venuta, e lui a Pomfret; dove, come ben sapete, l’innocuo Riccardo fu ucciso a tradimento.
WARWICK	(a Salisbury) Padre, il duca di York ha detto la verità; così la casa di Lancaster ottenne la corona.
YORK	Che ora tengono per forza e non per diritto; ché Riccardo, erede del primo figlio, essendo morto, la discendenza del figlio seguente doveva regnare.
SALISBURY	Ma Guglielmo di Hatfield morì senza erede.
YORK	Il terzo figlio, duca di Clarence, dalla cui linea rivendico la corona, ebbe per discendenza Filippa, una figlia, che sposò Edmondo Mortimer, conte di March; Edmondo ebbe per figlio Ruggero, conte di March; Ruggero ebbe per figli Edmondo, Anna ed Eleonora.
SALISBURY	Questo Edmondo, sotto il regno di Bolingbroke, come ho letto, avanzò pretesa alla corona, e, se non fosse stato per Owain Glyndwr, sarebbe stato re; il quale lo tenne in prigionia finché morì. Ma al resto.
YORK	La sua sorella maggiore, Anna, mia madre, essendo erede della corona, sposò Riccardo, conte di Cambridge, che era figlio d’Edmondo Langley, quinto figlio d’Edoardo Terzo. Per lei rivendico il regno: ella era erede di Ruggero, conte di March, che era il figlio d’Edmondo Mortimer, che sposò Filippa, unica figlia di Lionello, duca di Clarence. Così, se la discendenza del figlio maggiore succede prima di quella del minore, io sono re.
WARWICK	Quale chiara derivazione è più chiara di questa? Enrico rivendica la corona da Giovanni di Gaunt, il quarto figlio; York la rivendica dal terzo: finché la stirpe di Lionello non manchi, quella di Giovanni non deve regnare. Non manca ancora, ma fiorisce in te e nei tuoi figli, bei rampolli di tal ceppo. Dunque, padre Salisbury, inginocchiamoci insieme, e in questo luogo appartato siamo noi i primi a salutare il nostro legittimo sovrano con l’onore del suo diritto di nascita alla corona.
SALISBURY	e WARWICK (inginocchiandosi) Lunga vita al nostro sovrano Riccardo, re d’Inghilterra!
YORK	Vi ringraziamo, signori;
(didascalia)	Salisbury e Warwick si alzano
YORK	ma non sono vostro re finché non sia incoronato, e la mia spada non sia macchiata col sangue del cuore della casa di Lancaster— e questo non è da compiere d’un tratto, ma con avvedutezza e tacito segreto. Fate voi, come faccio io, in questi giorni pericolosi, chiudete un occhio sull’insolenza del duca di Suffolk, sulla superbia di Beaufort, sull’ambizione di Somerset, su Buckingham, e su tutta la loro brigata, finché non abbiano irretito il pastore del gregge, quel virtuoso principe, il buon duca Humphrey. ᾽È questo che cercano, ed essi, cercando questo, troveranno la loro morte, se York sa profetare.
SALISBURY	Mio signore, basta—conosciamo appieno il vostro animo.
WARWICK	Il mio cuore m’assicura che il conte di Warwick farà un giorno del duca di York un re.
YORK	E, Neville, di questo io m’assicuro— Riccardo vivrà per fare del conte di Warwick il più grande uomo d’Inghilterra dopo il re. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets. Enter King Henry and state, with guard, to banish the Duchess: King Henry and Queen Margaret, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, the Duke of Suffolk [and the Duke of Buckingham, Cardinal [Beaufort], and, led with officers, Dame Eleanor Cobham the Duchess, Margery Jordan the witch, John Southwell and Sir John Hume the two priests, and Roger Bolingbroke the conjuror; then enter to them] the Duke of York and the Earls of Salisbury rand Warwick
KING HENRY	(to the Duchess) Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester’s wife. She comes forward In sight of God and us your guilt is great; Receive the sentence of the law for sins Such as by God’s book are adjudged to death. (To the Witch, Southwell, Hume, and Bolingbroke) You four, from hence to prison back again; From thence, unto the place of execution. The witch in Smithfield shall be burned to ashes, And you three shall be strangled on the gallows.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Witch, Southwell, Hume, and Bolingbroke, guarded
KING HENRY	(To the Duchess) You, madam, for you are more nobly born, Despoiled of your honour in your life, Shall, after three days’ open penance done, Live in your country here in banishment With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man.
DUCHESS	Welcome is banishment; welcome were my death.
GLOUCESTER	Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath judged thee; I cannot justify whom the law condemns.
(didascalia)	Exit the Duchess, guarded
GLOUCESTER	Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age Will bring thy head with sorrow to the grave. (To King Henry) I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go. Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease.
KING HENRY	Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester. Ere thou go, Give up thy staff. Henry will to himself Protector be; and God shall be my hope, My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet. And go in peace, Humphrey, no less beloved Than when thou wert Protector to thy King.
QUEEN MARGARET	I see no reason why a king of years Should be to be protected like a child. God and King Henry govern England’s helm! Give up your staff, sir, and the King his realm.
GLOUCESTER	My staff? Here, noble Henry, is my staff. As willingly do I the same resign As erst thy father Henry made it mine; And even as willing at thy feet I leave it As others would ambitiously receive it. He lays the staff at King Henry’s feet Farewell, good King. When I am dead and gone, May honourable peace attend thy throne. Exit
QUEEN MARGARET	Why, now is Henry King and Margaret Queen, And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce himself, That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once— His lady banished and a limb lopped off. She picks up the staff This staff of honour raught, there let it stand Where it best fits to be, in Henry’s hand. She gives the staff to King Henry
SUFFOLK	Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays; Thus Eleanor’s pride dies in her youngest days.
YORK	Lords, let him go. Please it your majesty, This is the day appointed for the combat, And ready are the appellant and defendant— The armourer and his man—to enter the lists, So please your highness to behold the fight.
QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, good my lord, for purposely therefor Left I the court to see this quarrel tried.
KING HENRY	A God’s name, see the lists and all things fit; Here let them end it, and God defend the right.
YORK	I never saw a fellow worse bestead, Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, The servant of this armourer, my lords.
(didascalia)	Enter at one door Horner the armourer and his
YORK	Neighbours, drinking to him so much that he is drunken; and he enters with a drummer before him
(didascalia)	and carrying his staff with a sandbag fastened to
YORK	it. Enter at the other door Peter his man, also with a drummer and a staff with sandbag, and Prentices drinking to him
FIRST NEIGHBOUR	(offering drink to Horner) Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of sack, and fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough.
SECOND NEIGHBOUR	(offering drink to Horner) And here, neighbour, here’s a cup of charneco.
(didascalia)	THIRD NEIGHBOUR (offering drink to Horner) Here’s a pot of good double beer, neighbour, drink and be merry, and fear not your man. HORNER accepting the offers of drink Let it come, i’faith I’ll pledge you all, and a fig for Peter.
FIRST PRENTICE	(offering drink to Peter) Here, Peter, I drink to thee, and be not afeard.
SECOND PRENTICE	(offering drink to Peter) Here, Peter, here’s a pint of claret wine for thee.
THIRD PRENTICE	(offering drink to Peter) And here’s a quart for me, and be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master. Fight for credit of the prentices!
(didascalia)	PETER refusing the offers of drink I thank you all. Drink and pray for me, I pray you, for I think I have taken my last draught in this world. Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee my apron; and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer; and here, Tom, take all the money that I have. OLord bless me, I pray God, for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learned so much fence already.
SALISBURY	Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. (To Peter) Sirrah, what’s thy name?
PETER	Peter, forsooth.
SALISBURY	Peter? What more?
PETER	Thump.
SALISBURY	Thump! Then see that thou thump thy master well.
HORNER	Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man’s instigation, to prove him a knave and myself an honest man; and touching the Duke of York, I will take my death I never meant him any ill, nor the King, nor the Queen; and therefore, Peter, have at thee with a downright blow.
YORK	Dispatch; this knave’s tongue begins to double.
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets an alarum to the combatants. They fight and Peter hits Horner on the head and strikes him down
HORNER	Hold, Peter, hold—I confess, I confess treason. He dies
YORK	(to an attendant, pointing to Horner) Take away his weapon. (To Peter) Fellow, thank God and the good wine in thy master’s wame.
PETER	[kneeling] O God, have I overcome mine enemy in this presence? O, Peter, thou hast prevailed in right.
KING HENRY	(to attendants, pointing to Horner) Go, take hence that traitor from our sight, For by his death we do perceive his guilt. And God in justice hath revealed to us The truth and innocence of this poor fellow, Which he had thought to have murdered wrongfully. (To Peter) Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.
(didascalia)	Sound a flourish. Exeunt, some carrying Horner’s body

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Suonano le trombe. Entrano re Enrico e la corte, con la guardia, per bandire la Duchessa: re Enrico e Margherita, il duca Humphrey di Gloucester, il duca di Suffolk [e il duca di Buckingham, il cardinale [Beaufort], e, condotti da ufficiali, madama Eleonora Cobham la Duchessa, Margery Jordan la strega, John Southwell e Sir John Hume i due preti, e Roger Bolingbroke il negromante; poi entrano presso di loro] il duca di York e i conti di Salisbury rand Warwick
RE ENRICO	(alla Duchessa) Fatevi avanti, madama Eleonora Cobham, moglie di Gloucester. Ella si fa avanti Al cospetto di Dio e di noi la vostra colpa è grande; ricevete la sentenza della legge per peccati quali dal libro di Dio sono condannati a morte. (Alla strega, a Southwell, a Hume e a Bolingbroke) Voi quattro, di qui di nuovo in prigione; di là, al luogo dell’esecuzione. La strega a Smithfield sarà arsa in cenere, e voi tre sarete strangolati sulla forca.
(didascalia)	Escono la strega, Southwell, Hume e Bolingbroke, sotto guardia
RE ENRICO	(Alla Duchessa) Voi, madama, poiché siete di più nobile nascita, spogliata del vostro onore in vita, dovrete, compiuti tre giorni di pubblica penitenza, vivere qui nel vostro paese in bando con Sir John Stanley nell’isola di Man.
DUCHESSA	Benvenuto è il bando; benvenuta sarebbe la mia morte.
GLOUCESTER	Eleonora, la legge, tu vedi, t’ha giudicata; non posso giustificare chi la legge condanna.
(didascalia)	Esce la Duchessa, sotto guardia
GLOUCESTER	I miei occhi son pieni di lacrime, il mio cuore di dolore. Ah, Humphrey, questo disonore nella tua vecchiaia porterà con affanno il tuo capo alla tomba. (A re Enrico) Supplico vostra maestà, datemi licenza d’andare. Il dolore vuol conforto, e la mia età vuol quiete.
RE ENRICO	Fermati, Humphrey duca di Gloucester. Prima che tu vada, cedi il tuo bastone. Enrico sarà a se stesso Protettore; e Dio sarà la mia speranza, il mio sostegno, la mia guida, e lanterna ai miei piedi. E va’ in pace, Humphrey, non meno amato che quando eri Protettore del tuo re.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Non vedo ragione perché un re in età debba essere protetto come un bambino. Dio e re Enrico reggano il timone d’Inghilterra! Cedete il vostro bastone, signore, e al re il suo regno.
GLOUCESTER	Il mio bastone? Ecco, nobile Enrico, il mio bastone. Tanto volentieri lo rassegno quanto un tempo tuo padre Enrico me lo fece mio; e altrettanto volentieri ai tuoi piedi lo lascio quanto altri ambiziosamente lo riceverebbero. Depone il bastone ai piedi di re Enrico Addio, buon re. Quando sarò morto e sparito, onorata pace assista il tuo trono. Esce
REGINA MARGHERITA	Ebbene, ora Enrico è re e Margherita regina, e Humphrey duca di Gloucester è appena se stesso, che porta sì grave mutilazione; due strappi in una volta— la sua signora bandita e un membro reciso. Raccoglie il bastone Afferrato questo bastone d’onore, là esso stia dove meglio si conviene che sia, in mano d’Enrico. Dà il bastone a re Enrico
SUFFOLK	Così s’abbatte questo alto pino e china i suoi rami; così la superbia d’Eleonora muore nei suoi anni più verdi.
YORK	Signori, lasciatelo andare. Piaccia a vostra maestà, questo è il giorno fissato per il combattimento, e pronti sono l’accusatore e l’accusato— l’armaiolo e il suo garzone—a entrare nell’arena, se piace a vostra altezza vedere il duello.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Sì, mio buon signore, ché a posta per questo lasciai la corte, per veder provata questa lite.
RE ENRICO	In nome di Dio, si preparino l’arena e ogni cosa; qui la finiscano, e Dio difenda il diritto.
YORK	Mai vidi uomo peggio in arnese, o più timoroso di combattere, dell’accusatore, il servo di quest’armaiolo, signori miei.
(didascalia)	Entrano da una porta Horner l’armaiolo e i suoi
YORK	vicini, che bevono tanto alla sua salute ch’egli è ubriaco; ed egli entra con un tamburino davanti a sé
(didascalia)	e portando il suo bastone con un sacchetto di sabbia legato a
YORK	esso. Entra dall’altra porta Peter suo garzone, anch’egli con un tamburino e un bastone col sacchetto di sabbia, e apprendisti che bevono alla sua salute
PRIMO VICINO	(offrendo da bere a Horner) Ecco, vicino Horner, bevo alla tua salute in una coppa di sack, e non temere, vicino, te la caverai abbastanza bene.
SECONDO VICINO	(offrendo da bere a Horner) Ed ecco, vicino, ecco una coppa di charneco.
(didascalia)	TERZO VICINO (offrendo da bere a Horner) Ecco un boccale di buona birra doppia, vicino, bevi e sta’ allegro, e non temere il tuo garzone. HORNER accettando le offerte di bere Venga, in fede mia brinderò con tutti voi, e un fico secco per Peter.
PRIMO APPRENDISTA	(offrendo da bere a Peter) Ecco, Peter, bevo alla tua salute, e non aver paura.
SECONDO APPRENDISTA	(offrendo da bere a Peter) Ecco, Peter, ecco una pinta di vino chiaretto per te.
TERZO APPRENDISTA	(offrendo da bere a Peter) Ed ecco un quarto per me, e sta’ allegro, Peter, e non temere il tuo padrone. Combatti per l’onore degli apprendisti!
(didascalia)	PETER rifiutando le offerte di bere Vi ringrazio tutti. Bevete e pregate per me, vi prego, ché credo d’aver preso il mio ultimo sorso in questo mondo. Ecco, Robin, se muoio, ti dò il mio grembiule; e, Will, tu avrai il mio martello; ed ecco, Tom, prendi tutti i denari che ho. OSignore benedicimi, prego Dio, ché non son mai capace di misurarmi col mio padrone, ha già imparato tanta scherma.
SALISBURY	Via, lasciate il bere, e venite alle mani. (A Peter) Tu là, come ti chiami?
PETER	Peter, in verità.
SALISBURY	Peter? E poi?
PETER	Thump.
SALISBURY	Thump! Allora bada di batter bene il tuo padrone.
HORNER	Padroni, son venuto qui, per così dire, su istigazione del mio garzone, per provare che lui è un furfante e io un uomo onesto; e quanto al duca di York, prendo la mia morte a testimone che non gli volli mai alcun male, né al re, né alla regina; e perciò, Peter, a te con un colpo dritto.
YORK	Sbrigatevi; la lingua di questo furfante comincia a raddoppiare.
(didascalia)	Le trombe suonano l’allarme ai combattenti. Combattono e Peter colpisce Horner sulla testa e l’abbatte
HORNER	Fermo, Peter, fermo—confesso, confesso il tradimento. Muore
YORK	(a un attendente, indicando Horner) Portate via la sua arma. (A Peter) Amico, ringrazia Dio e il buon vino nella pancia del tuo padrone.
PETER	[inginocchiandosi] O Dio, ho vinto il mio nemico in questa presenza? Oh, Peter, hai prevalso nel diritto.
RE ENRICO	(agli attendenti, indicando Horner) Andate, togliete quel traditore dalla nostra vista, ché per la sua morte scorgiamo la sua colpa. E Dio nella sua giustizia ci ha rivelato la verità e l’innocenza di questo pover’uomo, che egli aveva pensato d’uccidere a torto. (A Peter) Vieni, amico, seguici per la tua ricompensa.
(didascalia)	Suona uno squillo. Escono, alcuni portando il corpo di Horner

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester and his men in mourning cloaks
GLOUCESTER	Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud; And after summer evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold; So cares and joys abound as seasons fleet. Sirs, what’s o’clock?
SERVANT	Ten, my lord.
GLOUCESTER	Ten is the hour that was appointed me To watch the coming of my punished Duchess; Uneath may she endure the flinty streets, To tread them with her tender-feeling feet. Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook The abject people gazing on thy face With envious looks, laughing at thy shame, That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets. But soft, I think she comes; and I’ll prepare My tear-stained eyes to see her miseries.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duchess, Dame Eleanor Cobham, barefoot,
GLOUCESTER	with a white sheet about her, written verses pinned on her back, and carrying a wax candle in her hand; she is accompanied by the [two Sheriffs] of London, and Sir John Stanley, and officers with bills and halberds
SERVANT	(to Gloucester) So please your grace, we’ll take her from the sheriffs.
GLOUCESTER	No, stir not for your lives, let her pass by.
DUCHESS	Come you, my lord, to see my open shame? Now thou dost penance too. Look how they gaze, See how the giddy multitude do point And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee. Ah, Gloucester, hide thee from their hateful looks, And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame, And ban thine enemies—both mine and thine.
GLOUCESTER	Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.
DUCHESS	Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself; For whilst I think I am thy married wife, And thou a prince, Protector of this land, Methinks I should not thus be led along, Mailed up in shame, with papers on my back, And followed with a rabble that rejoice To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans. The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet, And when I start, the envious people laugh, And bid me be advised how I tread. Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke? Trowest thou that e’er I’ll look upon the world, Or count them happy that enjoys the sun? No, dark shall be my light, and night my day; To think upon my pomp shall be my hell. Sometime I’ll say I am Duke Humphrey’s wife, And he a prince and ruler of the land; Yet so he ruled, and such a prince he was, As he stood by whilst I, his forlorn Duchess, Was made a wonder and a pointing stock To every idle rascal follower. But be thou mild and blush not at my shame, Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death Hang over thee, as sure it shortly will. For Suffolk, he that can do all in all With her that hateth thee and hates us all, And York, and impious Beaufort that false priest, Have all limed bushes to betray thy wings, And fly thou how thou canst, they’ll tangle thee. But fear not thou until thy foot be snared, Nor never seek prevention of thy foes.
GLOUCESTER	Ah, Nell, forbear; thou aimest all awry. I must offend before I be attainted, And had I twenty times so many foes, And each of them had twenty times their power, All these could not procure me any scathe So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless. Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach? Why, yet thy scandal were not wiped away, But I in danger for the breach of law. Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell. I pray thee sort thy heart to patience. These few days’ wonder will be quickly worn.
(didascalia)	Enter a Herald
HERALD	I summon your grace to his majesty’s parliament holden at Bury the first of this next month.
GLOUCESTER	And my consent ne’er asked herein before? This is close dealing. Well, I will be there. Exit Herald My Nell, I take my leave; and, Master Sheriff, Let not her penance exceed the King’s commission.
(didascalia)	FIRST SHERIFF
GLOUCESTER	An’t please your grace, here my commission stays, And Sir John Stanley is appointed now To take her with him to the Isle of Man.
GLOUCESTER	Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here?
STANLEY	So am I given in charge, may’t please your grace.
GLOUCESTER	Entreat her not the worse in that I pray You use her well. The world may laugh again, And I may live to do you kindness if You do it her. And so, Sir John, farewell. 85
(didascalia)	Gloucester begins to leave
DUCHESS	What, gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell?
GLOUCESTER	Witness my tears—I cannot stay to speak.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Gloucester and his men
DUCHESS	Art thou gone too? All comfort go with thee, For none abides with me. My joy is death— Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard, Because I wished this world’s eternity. Stanley, I prithee go and take me hence. I care not whither, for I beg no favour, Only convey me where thou art commanded.
STANLEY	Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man, There to be used according to your state.
DUCHESS	That’s bad enough, for I am but reproach; And shall I then be used reproachfully?
STANLEY	Like to a duchess and Duke Humphrey’s lady, According to that state you shall be used.
DUCHESS	Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare, Although thou hast been conduct of my shame.
(didascalia)	FIRST SHERIFF
DUCHESS	It is my office, and, madam, pardon me.
DUCHESS	Ay, ay, farewell—thy office is discharged.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Sheriffs
DUCHESS	Come, Stanley, shall we go?
STANLEY	Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet, And go we to attire you for our journey.
DUCHESS	My shame will not be shifted with my sheet— No, it will hang upon my richest robes And show itself, attire me how I can. Go, lead the way, I long to see my prison. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il duca Humphrey di Gloucester e i suoi uomini in mantelli da lutto
GLOUCESTER	Così a volte il giorno più splendente ha una nube; e all’estate sempre succede lo sterile inverno, col suo iroso freddo pungente; così affanni e gioie abbondano al fuggir delle stagioni. Signori, che ora è?
SERVO	Le dieci, mio signore.
GLOUCESTER	Le dieci è l’ora che mi fu fissata per attendere il venire della mia punita Duchessa; a fatica può ella sopportare le strade di selce, calpestandole coi suoi piedi delicati. Dolce Nell, male può il tuo nobile animo tollerare che l’abietta plebe fissi il tuo volto con sguardi invidiosi, ridendo della tua vergogna, quella che un tempo seguiva le ruote del tuo superbo carro quando cavalcavi in trionfo per le strade. Ma zitto, credo ch’ella venga; e preparerò i miei occhi rigati di lacrime a veder le sue miserie.
(didascalia)	Entra la Duchessa, madama Eleonora Cobham, a piedi nudi,
GLOUCESTER	con un lenzuolo bianco addosso, versi scritti appuntati sulla schiena, e portando una candela di cera in mano; è accompagnata dai [due sceriffi] di Londra, e da Sir John Stanley, e da ufficiali con ronconi e alabarde
SERVO	(a Gloucester) Se piace a vostra grazia, la togliamo agli sceriffi.
GLOUCESTER	No, non vi muovete, per le vostre vite, lasciatela passare.
DUCHESSA	Venite, mio signore, a vedere la mia aperta vergogna? Ora anche tu fai penitenza. Guarda come fissano, vedi come la volubile moltitudine punta il dito e scuote il capo, e getta gli occhi su di te. Ah, Gloucester, nasconditi dai loro odiosi sguardi, e, chiuso nel tuo stanzino, piangi la mia vergogna, e maledici i tuoi nemici—i miei e i tuoi.
GLOUCESTER	Sii paziente, gentile Nell; dimentica questo dolore.
DUCHESSA	Ah, Gloucester, insegnami a dimenticare me stessa; ché mentre penso d’essere la tua sposa, e tu un principe, Protettore di questa terra, mi pare che non dovrei esser così condotta in giro, avvolta nella vergogna, con carte sulla schiena, e seguita da una plebaglia che si rallegra di vedere le mie lacrime e udire i miei gemiti profondi. La selce spietata mi taglia i teneri piedi, e quando sussulto, l’invidiosa gente ride, e mi dice di badare a come cammino. Ah, Humphrey, posso portare questo giogo di vergogna? Credi tu ch’io mai guarderò il mondo, o dirò felici coloro che godono il sole? No, tenebra sarà la mia luce, e la notte il mio giorno; pensare alla mia pompa sarà il mio inferno. Talvolta dirò che sono la moglie del duca Humphrey, e lui un principe e reggitore del paese; pure così egli reggeva, e tal principe era, che stette a guardare mentre io, sua desolata Duchessa, ero fatta spettacolo e bersaglio d’ogni dito per ogni ozioso mascalzone al seguito. Ma tu sii mite e non arrossire della mia vergogna, né muoverti per nulla, finché l’ascia della morte non penda su te, come certo presto farà. Ché Suffolk, colui che tutto può in tutto presso colei che t’odia e odia noi tutti, e York, e l’empio Beaufort, quel falso prete, han tutti impaniato cespugli per tradire le tue ali, e vola come vuoi, ti irretiranno. Ma tu non temere finché il tuo piede non sia preso, né cercar mai di prevenire i tuoi nemici.
GLOUCESTER	Ah, Nell, basta; tu miri tutta di traverso. Devo offendere prima d’esser condannato, e avessi venti volte tanti nemici, e ciascuno d’essi venti volte il suo potere, tutti costoro non potrebbero procurarmi alcun danno finché sono leale, fedele e senza delitto. Vorresti ch’io ti salvassi da quest’obbrobrio? Ebbene, il tuo scandalo non ne sarebbe cancellato, ma io sarei in pericolo per la violazione della legge. Il tuo maggior aiuto è la quiete, gentile Nell. Ti prego, disponi il tuo cuore alla pazienza. Questa meraviglia di pochi giorni sarà presto consumata.
(didascalia)	Entra un araldo
ARALDO	Convoco vostra grazia al parlamento di sua maestà, tenuto a Bury il primo del mese prossimo.
GLOUCESTER	E il mio consenso non fu mai chiesto prima in questo? Questo è agire di nascosto. Bene, vi sarò. Esce l’araldo Mia Nell, prendo congedo; e, signor sceriffo, non oltrepassi la sua penitenza il mandato del re.
(didascalia)	PRIMO SCERIFFO
GLOUCESTER	Se piace a vostra grazia, qui il mio mandato si ferma, e Sir John Stanley è ora incaricato di condurla con sé nell’isola di Man.
GLOUCESTER	Dovete voi, Sir John, aver cura della mia signora?
STANLEY	Così m’è dato in carico, se piace a vostra grazia.
GLOUCESTER	Non trattatela peggio perché io prego che la trattiate bene. Il mondo può tornare a ridere, e io posso vivere per farvi cortesia se voi la farete a lei. E così, Sir John, addio. 85
(didascalia)	Gloucester comincia ad andarsene
DUCHESSA	Come, andate, mio signore, e non mi dite addio?
GLOUCESTER	Testimoni le mie lacrime—non posso fermarmi a parlare.
(didascalia)	Escono Gloucester e i suoi uomini
DUCHESSA	Sei andato anche tu? Ogni conforto vada con te, ché nessuno resta con me. La mia gioia è la morte— la morte, al cui nome spesso ebbi paura, perché desideravo l’eternità di questo mondo. Stanley, ti prego, va’ e portami via di qui. Non m’importa dove, ché non chiedo favore, solo conducimi dove t’è comandato.
STANLEY	Ebbene, madama, è nell’isola di Man, là per esser trattata secondo il vostro stato.
DUCHESSA	Ciò è abbastanza brutto, ché non sono che obbrobrio; e sarò dunque trattata obbrobriosamente?
STANLEY	Come una duchessa e signora del duca Humphrey, secondo quello stato sarete trattata.
DUCHESSA	Sceriffo, addio, e ti vada meglio che a me, sebbene tu sia stato la scorta della mia vergogna.
(didascalia)	PRIMO SCERIFFO
DUCHESSA	È il mio ufficio, e, madama, perdonatemi.
DUCHESSA	Sì, sì, addio—il tuo ufficio è compiuto.
(didascalia)	Escono gli sceriffi
DUCHESSA	Venite, Stanley, andiamo?
STANLEY	Madama, compiuta la vostra penitenza, gettate via questo lenzuolo, e andiamo a vestirvi per il nostro viaggio.
DUCHESSA	La mia vergogna non si muterà col lenzuolo— no, penderà sulle mie più ricche vesti e si mostrerà, per quanto io mi adorni. Va’, apri la via, bramo vedere la mia prigione. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Sound a sennet. Enter to the parliament: enter two heralds before, then the Dukes of Buckingham and Suffolk, and then the Duke of York and Cardinal Beaufort, and then King Henry and Queen Margaret, and then the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick, With attendants
KING HENRY	I muse my lord of Gloucester is not come. “Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, Whate’er occasion keeps him from us now.
QUEEN MARGARET	Can you not see, or will ye not observe, The strangeness of his altered countenance? With what a majesty he bears himself? How insolent of late he is become? How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself? We know the time since he was mild and affable, And if we did but glance a far-off look, Immediately he was upon his knee, That all the court admired him for submission. But meet him now, and be it in the morn When everyone will give the time of day, He knits his brow, and shows an angry eye, And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee, Disdaining duty that to us belongs. Small curs are not regarded when they grin, But great men tremble when the lion roars— And Humphrey is no little man in England. First, note that he is near you in descent, And, should you fall, he is the next will mount. Meseemeth then it is no policy, Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears And his advantage following your decease, That he should come about your royal person, Or be admitted to your highness’ Council. By flattery hath he won the commons’ hearts, And when he please to make commotion, “Tis to be feared they all will follow him. Now ‘tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; Suffer them now, and they’ll o’ergrow the garden, And choke the herbs for want of husbandry. The reverent care I bear unto my lord Made me collect these dangers in the Duke. If it be fond, call it a woman’s fear; Which fear, if better reasons can supplant, I will subscribe and say I wronged the Duke. My lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York, Reprove my allegation if you can, Or else conclude my words effectual.
SUFFOLK	Well hath your highness seen into this Duke, And had I first been put to speak my mind, I think I should have told your grace’s tale. The Duchess by his subornation, Upon my life, began her devilish practices; Or if he were not privy to those faults, Yet by reputing of his high descent, As next the King he was successive heir, And such high vaunts of his nobility, Did instigate the bedlam brainsick Duchess By wicked means to frame our sovereign’s fall. Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep, And in his simple show he harbours treason. The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb. (To King Henry) No, no, my sovereign, Gloucester is a man Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to King Henry) Did he not, contrary to form of law, Devise strange deaths for small offences done?
YORK	(to King Henry) And did he not, in his Protectorship, Levy great sums of money through the realm For soldiers’ pay in France, and never sent it, By means whereof the towns each day revolted?
BUCKINGHAM	(to King Henry) Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown, Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey.
KING HENRY	My lords, at once: the care you have of us To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot Is worthy praise, but shall I speak my conscience? Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent From meaning treason to our royal person As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove. The Duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given To dream on evil or to work my downfall.
QUEEN MARGARET	Ah, what’s more dangerous than this fond affiance? Seems he a dove? His feathers are but borrowed, For he’s disposed as the hateful raven. Is he a lamb? His skin is surely lent him, For he’s inclined as is the ravenous wolf. Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit? Take heed, my lord, the welfare of us all Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Somerset
(didascalia)	SOMERSET kneeling before King Henry
QUEEN MARGARET	All health unto my gracious sovereign.
KING HENRY	Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news from France?
SOMERSET	That all your interest in those territories Is utterly bereft you—all is lost.
KING HENRY	Cold news, Lord Somerset; but God’s will be done.
(didascalia)	Somerset rises
YORK	(aside) Cold news for me, for I had hope of France, As firmly as I hope for fertile England. Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud, And caterpillars eat my leaves away. 90 But I will remedy this gear ere long, Or sell my title for a glorious grave.
(didascalia)	Enter Duke Humphrey of Gloucester
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER kneeling before King Henry
YORK	All happiness unto my lord the King. Pardon, my liege, that I have stayed so long.
SUFFOLK	Nay, Gloucester, know that thou art come too soon 95 Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art. I do arrest thee of high treason here.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER rising
SUFFOLK	Well, Suffolk’s Duke, thou shalt not see me blush, Nor change my countenance for this arrest. A heart unspotted is not easily daunted. The purest spring is not so free from mud As I am clear from treason to my sovereign. Who can accuse me? Wherein am I guilty?
YORK	“Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of France, And, being Protector, stayed the soldiers’ pay, By means whereof his highness hath lost France.
GLOUCESTER	Is it but thought so? What are they that think it? I never robbed the soldiers of their pay, Nor ever had one penny bribe from France. So help me God, as I have watched the night, Ay, night by night, in studying good for England, That doit that e’er I wrested from the King, Or any groat I hoarded to my use, Be brought against me at my trial day I No: many a pound of mine own proper store, Because I would not tax the needy commons, Have I dispursèd to the garrisons, And never asked for restitution.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	It serves you well, my lord, to say so much.
GLOUCESTER	I say no more than truth, so help me God.
YORK	In your Protectorship you did devise Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of, That England was defamed by tyranny.
GLOUCESTER	Why, ’tis well known that whiles I was Protector Pity was all the fault that was in me, For I should melt at an offender’s tears, And lowly words were ransom for their fault. Unless it were a bloody murderer, Or foul felonious thief that fleeced poor passengers, I never gave them condign punishment. Murder, indeed—that bloody sin—I tortured Above the felon or what trespass else.
SUFFOLK	My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answered, But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself. I do arrest you in his highness’ name, And here commit you to my good lord Cardinal To keep until your further time of trial.
KING HENRY	My lord of Gloucester, ’tis my special hope That you will clear yourself from all suspense. My conscience tells me you are innocent.
GLOUCESTER	Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous. Virtue is choked with foul ambition, And charity chased hence by rancour’s hand. Foul subornation is predominant, And equity exiled your highness’ land. I know their complot is to have my life, And if my death might make this island happy And prove the period of their tyranny, I would expend it with all willingness. But mine is made the prologue to their play, For thousands more that yet suspect no peril Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. Beaufort’s red sparkling eyes blab his heart’s malice, And Suffolk’s cloudy brow his stormy hate; Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue The envious load that lies upon his heart; And dogged York that reaches at the moon, Whose overweening arm I have plucked back, By false accuse doth level at my life. (To Queen Margaret) And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, Causeless have laid disgraces on my head, And with your best endeavour have stirred up My liefest liege to be mine enemy. Ay, all of you have laid your heads together— Myself had notice of your conventicles— And all to make away my guiltless life. I shall not want false witness to condemn me, Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt. The ancient proverb will be well effected: ‘A staff is quickly found to beat a dog’.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to King Henry) My liege, his railing is intolerable. If those that care to keep your royal person From treason’s secret knife and traitor’s rage Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at, And the offender granted scope of speech, ‘Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.
SUFFOLK	(to King Henry) Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here With ignominious words, though clerkly couched, As if she had suborned some to swear False allegations to o’erthrow his state?
QUEEN MARGARET	But I can give the loser leave to chide.
GLOUCESTER	Far truer spoke than meant. I lose indeed; Beshrew the winners, for they played me false! And well such losers may have leave to speak.
BUCKINGHAM	(to King Henry) He’ll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day. Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	(to some of his attendants) Sirs, take away the Duke and guard him sure.
GLOUCESTER	Ah, thus King Henry throws away his crutch Before his legs be firm to bear his body. Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first. Ah, that my fear were false; ah, that it were! For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear.
(didascalia)	Exit Gloucester, guarded by the Cardinal’s men
KING HENRY	My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best Do or undo, as if ourself were here.
QUEEN MARGARET	What, will your highness leave the Parliament?
KING HENRY	Ay, Margaret, my heart is drowned with grief, Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes, My body round engirt with misery; For what’s more miserable than discontent? Ah, uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see The map of honour, truth, and loyalty; And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come That e‘er I proved thee false, or feared thy faith. What louring star now envies thy estate, That these great lords and Margaret our Queen Do seek subversion of thy harmless life? Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong. And as the butcher takes away the calf, And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strains, Bearing it to the bloody slaughterhouse, Even so remorseless have they borne him hence; And as the dam runs lowing up and down, Looking the way her harmless young one went, And can do naught but wail her darling’s loss; Even so myself bewails good Gloucester’s case With sad unhelpful tears, and with dimmed eyes Look after him, and cannot do him good, So mighty are his vowèd enemies. His fortunes I will weep, and ’twixt each groan, Say ‘Who’s a traitor? Gloucester, he is none’.
(didascalia)	Exit with Salisbury and Warwick
QUEEN MARGARET	Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun’s hot beams. Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, Too full of foolish pity; and Gloucester’s show Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile With sorrow snares relenting passengers, Or as the snake rolled in a flow’ring bank With shining chequered slough doth sting a child That for the beauty thinks it excellent. Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I— And yet herein I judge mine own wit good— This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world To rid us from the fear we have of him.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	That he should die is worthy policy; But yet we want a colour for his death. ’Tis meet he be condemned by course of law.
SUFFOLK	But, in my mind, that were no policy. The King will labour still to save his life, The commons haply rise to save his life; And yet we have but trivial argument More than mistrust that shows him worthy death.
YORK	So that, by this, you would not have him die?
SUFFOLK	Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I.
YORK	(aside) ’Tis York that hath more reason for his death. (Aloud) But my lord Cardinal, and you my lord of Suffolk, Say as you think, and speak it from your souls. Were’t not all one an empty eagle were set To guard the chicken from a hungry kite, As place Duke Humphrey for the King’s Protector?
QUEEN MARGARET	So the poor chicken should be sure of death.
SUFFOLK	Madam, ‘tis true; and were’t not madness then To make the fox surveyor of the fold, Who being accused a crafty murderer, His guilt should be but idly posted over Because his purpose is not executed? No—let him die in that he is a fox, By nature proved an enemy to the flock, Before his chaps be stained with crimson blood, As Humphrey, proved by reasons, to my liege. And do not stand on quillets how to slay him; Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety, Sleeping or waking, ‘tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good conceit Which mates him first that first intends deceit.
QUEEN MARGARET	Thrice-noble Suffolk, ’tis resolutely spoke.
SUFFOLK	Not resolute, except so much were done; For things are often spoke and seldom meant; But that my heart accordeth with my tongue, Seeing the deed is meritorious, And to preserve my sovereign from his foe, Say but the word and I will be his priest.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	But I would have him dead, my lord of Suffolk, Ere you can take due orders for a priest. Say you consent and censure well the deed, And I’ll provide his executioner; I tender so the safety of my liege.
SUFFOLK	Here is my hand; the deed is worthy doing.
QUEEN MARGARET	And SO say I.
YORK	And I. And now we three have spoke it, It skills not greatly who impugns our doom.
(didascalia)	Enter a Post
POST	Great lord, from Ireland am I come amain To signify that rebels there are up And put the Englishmen unto the sword. Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime, Before the wound do grow uncurable; For, being green, there is great hope of help.
(didascalia)	Exit
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	A breach that craves a quick expedient stop! What counsel give you in this weighty cause?
YORK	That Somerset be sent as regent thither. ’Tis meet that lucky ruler be employed— Witness the fortune he hath had in France.
SOMERSET	If York, with all his far-fet policy, Had been the regent there instead of me, He never would have stayed in France so long.
YORK	No, not to lose it all as thou hast done. I rather would have lost my life betimes Than bring a burden of dishonour home By staying there so long till all were lost. Show me one scar charactered on thy skin. Men’s flesh preserved so whole do seldom win.
QUEEN MARGARET	Nay, then, this spark will prove a raging fire If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with. No more, good York; sweet Somerset, be still. Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there, Might happily have proved far worse than his.
YORK	What, worse than naught? Nay, then a shame take all!
SOMERSET	And, in the number, thee that wishest shame.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	My lord of York, try what your fortune is. Th’uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms And temper clay with blood of Englishmen. To Ireland will you lead a band of men Collected choicely, from each county some, And try your hap against the Irishmen?
YORK	I will, my lord, so please his majesty.
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.
(didascalia)	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
(didascalia)	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?
(didascalia)	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!
(didascalia)	Exeunt the Murderers, drawing the curtains as
(didascalia)	they leave
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets, then enter King Henry and Queen
SUFFOLK	Margaret, Cardinal Beaufort, the Duke of Somerset, and attendants
(didascalia)	KING HENRY to Suffolk
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.
(didascalia)	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!
KING HENRY	I thank thee, Meg. These words content me much.
(didascalia)	Enter Suffolk
KING HENRY	How now? Why look’st thou pale? Why tremblest thou? Where is our uncle? What’s the matter, Suffolk?
SUFFOLK	Dead in his bed, my lord—Gloucester is dead.
QUEEN MARGARET	Marry, God forfend!
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	God’s secret judgement. I did dream tonight The Duke was dumb and could not speak a word. King Henry falls to the ground
QUEEN MARGARET	How fares my lord? Help, lords—the King is dead!
SOMERSET	Rear up his body; wring him by the nose.
QUEEN MARGARET	Run, go, help, help! O Henry, ope thine eyes!
SUFFOLK	He doth revive again. Madam, be patient.
KING HENRY	O heavenly God!
QUEEN MARGARET	How fares my gracious lord?
SUFFOLK	Comfort, my sovereign; gracious Henry, comfort.
KING HENRY	What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me? Came he right now to sing a raven’s note Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers; And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breast Can chase away the first-conceived sound? Hide not thy poison with such sugared words.
(didascalia)	He begins to rise. Suffolk offers to assist him
KING HENRY	Lay not thy hands on me—forbear, I say! Their touch affrights me as a serpent’s sting. Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight! Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny Sits in grim majesty to fright the world. Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding— Yet do not go away. Come, basilisk, And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight. For in the shade of death I shall find joy; In life, but double death, now Gloucester’s dead.
QUEEN MARGARET	Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus? Although the Duke was enemy to him, Yet he most Christian-like laments his death. And for myself, foe as he was to me, Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans, Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life, I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs, And all to have the noble Duke alive. What know I how the world may deem of me? For it is known we were but hollow friends, It may be judged I made the Duke away. So shall my name with slander’s tongue be wounded And princes’ courts be filled with my reproach. This get I by his death. Ay me, unhappy, To be a queen, and crowned with infamy.
KING HENRY	Ah, woe is me for Gloucester, wretched man!
QUEEN MARGARET	Be woe for me, more wretched than he is. What, dost thou turn away and hide thy face? I am no loathsome leper—look on me! What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf? Be poisonous too and kill thy forlorn queen. Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester’s tomb? Why, then Queen Margaret was ne‘er thy joy. Erect his statue and worship it, 80 And make my image but an alehouse sign. Was I for this nigh wrecked upon the sea, And twice by awkward winds from England’s bank Drove back again unto my native clime? What boded this, but well forewarning winds Did seem to say, ‘Seek not a scorpion’s nest, Nor set no footing on this unkind shore’. What did I then, but cursed the gentle gusts And he that loosed them forth their brazen caves, And bid them blow towards England’s blessed shore, Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock. Yet Aeolus would not be a murderer, But left that hateful office unto thee. The pretty vaulting sea refused to drown me, Knowing that thou wouldst have me drowned on shore With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness. The splitting rocks cow’red in the sinking sands, And would not dash me with their ragged sides, Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, Might in thy palace perish Margaret. As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, When from thy shore the tempest beat us back, I stood upon the hatches in the storm, And when the dusky sky began to rob My earnest-gaping sight of thy land’s view, I took a costly jewel from my neck— A heart it was, bound in with diamonds— And threw it towards thy land. The sea received it, And so I wished thy body might my heart. And even with this I lost fair England’s view, And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart, And called them blind and dusky spectacles For losing ken of Albion’s wished coast. How often have I tempted Suffolk’s tongue— The agent of thy foul inconstancy— To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did, When he to madding Dido would unfold His father’s acts, commenced in burning Troy! Am I not witched like her? Or thou not false like him? Ay me, I can no more. Die, Margaret, For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long. Noise within. Enter the Earls of Warwick and Salisbury with many commons
WARWICK	(to King Henry) It is reported, mighty sovereign, That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is murdered By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort’s means. The commons, like an angry hive of bees That want their leader, scatter up and down And care not who they sting in his revenge. Myself have calmed their spleenful mutiny, Until they hear the order of his death.
KING HENRY	That he is dead, good Warwick, ’tis too true. But how he died God knows, not Henry.
(didascalia)	Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,
KING HENRY	And comment then upon his sudden death.
WARWICK	That shall I do, my liege.—Stay, Salisbury, With the rude multitude till I return.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Warwick at one door, Salisbury and
(didascalia)	commons at another
KING HENRY	O thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts, My thoughts that labour to persuade my soul Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey’s life. If my suspect be false, forgive me God, For judgement only doth belong to thee. Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain Upon his face an ocean of salt tears, To tell my love unto his dumb, deaf trunk, And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling. But all in vain are these mean obsequies,
(didascalia)	Enter Warwick who draws apart the curtains and
(didascalia)	shows Gloucester dead in his bed. Bed put forth
KING HENRY	And to survey his dead and earthy image, What were it but to make my sorrow greater?
WARWICK	Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body.
KING HENRY	That is to see how deep my grave is made: For with his soul fled all my worldly solace, For seeing him I see my life in death.
WARWICK	As surely as my soul intends to live With that dread King that took our state upon Him To free us from his Father’s wrathful curse, I do believe that violent hands were laid Upon the life of this thrice-famed Duke.
SUFFOLK	A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue! What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow?
WARWICK	See how the blood is settled in his face. Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance ‘gainst the enemy; Which, with the heart, there cools, and ne’er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again. But see, his face is black and full of blood; His eyeballs further out than when he lived, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man; His hair upreared; his nostrils stretched with struggling; His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasped And tugged for life and was by strength subdued. Look on the sheets. His hair, you see, is sticking; His well-proportioned beard made rough and rugged, Like to the summer’s corn by tempest lodged. It cannot be but he was murdered here. The least of all these signs were probable.
SUFFOLK	Why, Warwick, who should do the Duke to death? Myself and Beaufort had him in protection, And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers.
WARWICK	But both of you were vowed Duke Humphrey’s foes, (To Cardinal Beaufort) And you, forsooth, had the good Duke to keep. ’Tis like you would not feast him like a friend; And ’tis well seen he found an enemy.
QUEEN MARGARET	Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen As guilty of Duke Humphrey’s timeless death?
WARWICK	Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh, And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect ’twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in the puttock’s nest But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak? Even so suspicious is this tragedy.
QUEEN MARGARET	Are you the butcher, Suffolk? Where’s your knife? Is Beaufort termed a kite? Where are his talons?
SUFFOLK	I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men. But here’s a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart That slanders me with murder’s crimson badge. Say, if thou dar’st, proud Lord of Warwickshire, That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey’s death.
(didascalia)	Exit Cardinal Beaufort assisted by Somerset
WARWICK	What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him?
QUEEN MARGARET	He dares not calm his contumelious spirit, Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.
WARWICK	Madam, be still, with reverence may I say, For every word you speak in his behalf Is slander to your royal dignity.
SUFFOLK	Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour! If ever lady wronged her lord so much, Thy mother took into her blameful bed Some stern untutored churl, and noble stock Was graffed with crabtree slip, whose fruit thou art, And never of the Nevilles’ noble race.
WARWICK	But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my sovereign’s presence makes me mild, I would, false murd‘rous coward, on thy knee Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech, And say it was thy mother that thou meant’st— That thou thyself wast born in bastardy! And after all this fearful homage done, Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell, Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men!
SUFFOLK	Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood, If from this presence thou dar’st go with me.
WARWICK	Away, even now, or I will drag thee hence. Unworthy though thou art, I’ll cope with thee, And do some service to Duke Humphrey’s ghost.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Suffolk and Warwick
KING HENRY	What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted? Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
COMMONS	(within) Down with Suffolk! Down with Suffolk!
QUEEN MARGARET	What noise is this?
(didascalia)	Enter Suffolk and Warwick with their weapons drawn
KING HENRY	Why, how now, lords? Your wrathful weapons drawn Here in our presence? Dare you be so bold? Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?
SUFFOLK	The trait’rous Warwick with the men of Bury Set all upon me, mighty sovereign!
COMMONS	(within) Down with Suffolk! Down with Suffolk!
(didascalia)	Enter from the commons the Earl of Salisbury
SALISBURY	(to the commons, within) Sirs, stand apart. The King shall know your mind. (To King Henry) Dread lord, the commons send you word by me Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death, Or banished fair England’s territories, They will by violence tear him from your palace And torture him with grievous ling‘ring 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 waked, Lest, being suffered 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, whe’er 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	’Tis like the commons, rude unpolished hinds, Could send such message to their sovereign. But you, my lord, were glad to be employed, 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 HENRY	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.
(didascalia)	Exit Salisbury
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET kneeling
KING HENRY	O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk.
KING HENRY	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. (To Suffolk) If after three days’ space thou here beest 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt King Henry and Warwick with
(didascalia)	attendants who draw the curtains as they
(didascalia)	leave. Queen Margaret and Suffolk remain
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET rising
KING HENRY	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 MARGARET	Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch! Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies?
SUFFOLK	A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse them? Could curses kill, as doth the mandrake’s groan, I would invent as bitter searching terms, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-faced envy in her loathsome cave. My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words; Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; My hair be fixed on end, as one distraught; Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban. And, even now, my burdened 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 murd’ring 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 MARGARET	Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment‘st thyself, And these dread curses, like the sun ’gainst glass, Or like an overcharged gun, recoil And turn the force of them upon thyself.
SUFFOLK	You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave? Now by this ground that I am banished 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.
QUEEN MARGARET	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.
(didascalia)	She kisses his palm
QUEEN MARGARET	O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand That thou mightst think upon these lips 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 whiles 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 banished 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.
SUFFOLK	Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banishèd— Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee. ’Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence, 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 naught but that thou liv’st.
(didascalia)	Enter Vaux
QUEEN MARGARET	Whither goes Vaux so fast? What news, I prithee?
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 over-charged soul; And I am sent to tell his majesty That even now he cries aloud for him.
QUEEN MARGARET	Go tell this heavy message to the King. Exit Vaux Ay 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 sorrow’s? Now get thee hence. The King, thou know’st, is coming. 390 If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.
SUFFOLK	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 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—
(didascalia)	He kisseth her
SUFFOLK	And then it lived in sweet Elysium. By thee to die were but to die in jest; From thee to die were torture more than death. O, let me stay, befall what may befall!
QUEEN MARGARET	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 I’ll have an Iris that shall find thee out.
SUFFOLK	I go.
QUEEN MARGARET	And take my heart with thee.
(didascalia)	She kisseth him
SUFFOLK	A jewel, locked into the woefull’st cask That ever did contain a thing of worth. Even as a splitted barque, so sunder we—This way fall I to death.
QUEEN MARGARET	This way for me.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Suona una fanfara. Entrano al parlamento: entrano due araldi davanti, poi i duchi di Buckingham e di Suffolk, e poi il duca di York e il cardinale Beaufort, e poi re Enrico e Margherita, e poi i conti di Salisbury e Warwick, con attendenti
RE ENRICO	Mi stupisco che il mio signore di Gloucester non sia venuto. “Non è sua usanza essere l’ultimo, qualunque occasione lo tenga ora lontano da noi.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Non potete vedere, o non volete osservare, la stranezza del suo volto mutato? Con quale maestà si porta? Quanto insolente è divenuto di recente? Quanto superbo, quanto perentorio, e dissimile da sé? Ricordiamo il tempo in cui era mite e affabile, e se solo gettavamo uno sguardo da lontano, subito egli era in ginocchio, tanto che tutta la corte l’ammirava per sommissione. Ma incontratelo ora, e sia pure di mattina quando ognuno dà il buon giorno, egli corruga la fronte, e mostra occhio irato, e passa con ginocchio rigido e non piegato, sdegnando l’omaggio che a noi si deve. I cagnolini non son degnati quando ringhiano, ma i grandi tremano quando il leone rugge— e Humphrey non è piccol uomo in Inghilterra. Primo, notate ch’egli v’è vicino di discendenza, e, se voi cadeste, è il prossimo a salire. Mi pare dunque che non sia prudenza, considerando quale animo rancoroso egli porta e il suo vantaggio dopo il vostro decesso, ch’egli s’aggiri intorno alla vostra regale persona, o sia ammesso al Consiglio di vostra altezza. Con la lusinga ha vinto i cuori del popolo, e quando gli piaccia far tumulto, “c’è da temere che tutti lo seguiranno. Ora è primavera, e le erbacce hanno radici superficiali; tollerarle ora, ed esse sopraffaranno il giardino, e soffocheranno le erbe per mancanza di cura. La riverente cura che porto al mio signore m’ha fatto raccogliere questi pericoli nel Duca. Se è sciocco, chiamatelo timore di donna; il qual timore, se migliori ragioni sanno soppiantare, sottoscriverò e dirò che ho fatto torto al Duca. Mio signore di Suffolk, Buckingham e York, confutate la mia accusa se potete, o concludete che le mie parole hanno valore.
SUFFOLK	Bene ha vostra altezza penetrato in questo Duca, e se a me fosse toccato prima dire il mio animo, credo avrei raccontato il racconto di vostra grazia. La Duchessa per sua istigazione, sulla mia vita, cominciò le sue diaboliche pratiche; o, se non fu partecipe di quelle colpe, pur vantando la sua alta discendenza, come subito dopo il re egli era erede in successione, e con tali alti vanti della sua nobiltà, istigò la forsennata Duchessa dal cervello malato a ordire con mezzi scellerati la caduta del nostro sovrano. Liscia corre l’acqua dove il ruscello è profondo, e nella sua semplice apparenza egli cova tradimento. La volpe non abbaia quando vuol rubare l’agnello. (A re Enrico) No, no, mio sovrano, Gloucester è un uomo non ancora scandagliato, e pieno di profondo inganno.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	(a re Enrico) Non escogitò egli, contro la forma della legge, strane morti per piccole offese commesse?
YORK	(a re Enrico) E non riscosse egli, nella sua Protettoria, grandi somme di denaro per tutto il regno per la paga dei soldati in Francia, e non le mandò mai, per cui le città ogni giorno si ribellavano?
BUCKINGHAM	(a re Enrico) Bah, queste son colpe piccole a fronte di colpe ignote, che il tempo porterà alla luce nel liscio duca Humphrey.
RE ENRICO	Signori miei, in breve: la cura che avete di noi nel falciare le spine che offenderebbero il nostro piede è degna di lode, ma dirò la mia coscienza? Il nostro parente Gloucester è tanto innocente dal meditare tradimento alla nostra regale persona quanto l’agnello di latte o l’innocua colomba. Il Duca è virtuoso, mite, e troppo ben disposto per sognare il male o macchinare la mia rovina.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Ah, che c’è di più pericoloso di questa sciocca fiducia? Sembra una colomba? Le sue piume son solo prestate, ché egli è disposto come l’odioso corvo. È un agnello? La sua pelle gli è certo imprestata, ché egli è inclinato come il lupo rapace. Chi non sa rubare una forma, se medita inganno? Badate, mio signore, il bene di noi tutti pende dal troncare quell’uomo fraudolento.
(didascalia)	Entra il duca di Somerset
(didascalia)	SOMERSET inginocchiandosi davanti a re Enrico
REGINA MARGHERITA	Ogni salute al mio grazioso sovrano.
RE ENRICO	Benvenuto, lord Somerset. Che nuove dalla Francia?
SOMERSET	Che ogni vostro diritto in quei territori v’è del tutto tolto—tutto è perduto.
RE ENRICO	Fredda novella, lord Somerset; ma sia fatta la volontà di Dio.
(didascalia)	Somerset si alza
YORK	(a parte) Fredda novella per me, ché avevo speranza di Francia, così fermamente come spero nella fertile Inghilterra. Così i miei fiori sono arsi nel germoglio, e i bruchi mi divorano le foglie. 90 Ma rimedierò a quest’affare fra non molto, o venderò il mio titolo per una gloriosa tomba.
(didascalia)	Entra il duca Humphrey di Gloucester
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER inginocchiandosi davanti a re Enrico
YORK	Ogni felicità al mio signore il re. Perdono, mio sire, se ho tardato tanto.
SUFFOLK	No, Gloucester, sappi che sei venuto troppo presto 95 se non sei più leale di quel che sei. Qui ti arresto per alto tradimento.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER alzandosi
SUFFOLK	Bene, duca di Suffolk, non mi vedrai arrossire, né mutar volto per questo arresto. Un cuore senza macchia non si sgomenta facilmente. La più pura fonte non è così libera di fango come io son netto di tradimento al mio sovrano. Chi può accusarmi? In che sono colpevole?
YORK	“Si pensa, mio signore, che prendeste doni dalla Francia, e, essendo Protettore, trattenneste la paga dei soldati, per cui sua altezza ha perduto la Francia.
GLOUCESTER	È solo pensato? Chi son quelli che lo pensano? Mai derubai i soldati della loro paga, né mai ebbi un penny di dono dalla Francia. M’aiuti Dio, come ho vegliato la notte, sì, notte dopo notte, studiando il bene d’Inghilterra, quel soldo che mai strappai al re, o qualunque grosso ammassai a mio uso, sia prodotto contro di me nel giorno del mio giudizio I No: molte libbre della mia propria riserva, perché non volevo tassare il povero popolo, ho sborsato alle guarnigioni, e mai chiesi restituzione.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Vi torna bene, mio signore, dire tanto.
GLOUCESTER	Non dico più della verità, m’aiuti Dio.
YORK	Nella vostra Protettoria escogitaste strane torture per i rei, mai udite, tanto che l’Inghilterra fu infamata di tirannia.
GLOUCESTER	Ebbene, è ben noto che mentre ero Protettore la pietà era tutta la colpa che era in me, ché mi struggevo alle lacrime d’un reo, e parole umili erano riscatto della loro colpa. Se non fosse un sanguinario assassino, o turpe ladro fellone che spogliava i poveri viandanti, mai diedi loro condegna pena. L’omicidio, davvero—quel sanguinoso peccato—lo torturai più del fellone o di qualunque altro delitto.
SUFFOLK	Mio signore, queste colpe son leggere, presto risposte, ma più gravi delitti son posti a vostro carico dei quali non potete facilmente purgarvi. Vi arresto in nome di sua altezza, e qui vi affido al mio buon lord Cardinale che vi custodisca fino al vostro futuro tempo di giudizio.
RE ENRICO	Mio signore di Gloucester, è mia speciale speranza che vi discolperete d’ogni sospetto. La mia coscienza mi dice che siete innocente.
GLOUCESTER	Ah, grazioso signore, questi giorni son pericolosi. La virtù è soffocata dalla turpe ambizione, e la carità cacciata di qui dalla mano del rancore. La turpe istigazione predomina, e l’equità è esiliata dalla terra di vostra altezza. So che il loro complotto è d’avere la mia vita, e se la mia morte potesse render felice quest’isola e segnare il termine della loro tirannia, la spenderei con ogni buona voglia. Ma la mia è fatta il prologo del loro dramma, ché migliaia d’altri che ancora non sospettano pericolo non basteranno a concludere la loro ordita tragedia. Gli occhi rossi e scintillanti di Beaufort spifferano la malizia del suo cuore, e la fronte nuvolosa di Suffolk il suo odio tempestoso; l’acuto Buckingham scarica con la lingua l’invidioso peso che gli grava sul cuore; e l’ostinato York, che tende alla luna, il cui braccio presuntuoso ho tirato indietro, con falsa accusa mira alla mia vita. (A Margherita) E voi, mia sovrana signora, con gli altri, senza causa avete posto disgrazie sul mio capo, e con ogni vostro sforzo avete aizzato il mio carissimo sire a essermi nemico. Sì, tutti voi avete messo le teste insieme— io stesso ebbi notizia dei vostri conventicoli— e tutto per togliere la mia innocente vita. Non mi mancheranno falsi testimoni per condannarmi, né copia di tradimenti per accrescere la mia colpa. L’antico proverbio sarà ben compiuto: ‘Un bastone si trova presto per battere un cane’.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	(a re Enrico) Mio sire, il suo inveire è intollerabile. Se coloro che si curano di custodire la vostra regale persona dal coltello segreto del tradimento e dalla rabbia del traditore sono così rimbrottati, sgridati e strapazzati, e al reo è concesso libero sfogo di parola, si raffredderanno nello zelo verso vostra grazia.
SUFFOLK	(a re Enrico) Non ha egli rinfacciato alla nostra sovrana signora qui parole ignominiose, sebbene dottamente velate, come s’ella avesse istigato taluni a giurare false accuse per abbattere il suo stato?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Ma io posso concedere a chi perde licenza di brontolare.
GLOUCESTER	Detto più vero di quanto s’intendeva. Perdo davvero; maledetti i vincitori, ché mi giocarono falso! E ben tali perdenti possono aver licenza di parlare.
BUCKINGHAM	(a re Enrico) Storcerà il senso, e ci terrà qui tutto il giorno. Lord Cardinale, è vostro prigioniero.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	(a taluni dei suoi attendenti) Signori, portate via il Duca e custoditelo bene.
GLOUCESTER	Ah, così re Enrico getta via la sua gruccia prima che le sue gambe sian ferme a portare il suo corpo. Così il pastore è scacciato dal tuo fianco, e i lupi ringhiano su chi ti roderà primo. Ah, fosse falso il mio timore; ah, lo fosse! Ché, buon re Enrico, la tua rovina io temo.
(didascalia)	Esce Gloucester, sotto la guardia degli uomini del Cardinale
RE ENRICO	Signori miei, ciò che alle vostre saggezze paia meglio fate o disfate, come se noi stessi fossimo qui.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Come, vostra altezza lascerà il Parlamento?
RE ENRICO	Sì, Margherita, il mio cuore è annegato di dolore, il cui flutto comincia a scorrere nei miei occhi, il mio corpo tutto cinto di miseria; ché che c’è di più misero del malcontento? Ah, zio Humphrey, nel tuo volto vedo la mappa dell’onore, della verità e della lealtà; e pure, buon Humphrey, l’ora è ancora a venire in cui io ti trovassi falso, o temessi la tua fede. Qual astro minaccioso ora invidia il tuo stato, sì che questi grandi signori e Margherita nostra regina cercano la rovina della tua innocua vita? Tu non facesti mai torto a loro, né torto ad alcun uomo. E come il macellaio porta via il vitello, e lega il meschino, e lo batte quando si dibatte, portandolo al sanguinoso macello, così senza rimorso l’han portato via; e come la madre corre muggendo qua e là, guardando la via per cui andò il suo innocuo piccolo, e nulla può fare che piangere la perdita del suo caro; così io stesso piango il caso del buon Gloucester con tristi e inutili lacrime, e con occhi offuscati lo seguo, e non posso fargli bene, tanto son potenti i suoi nemici giurati. Piangerò le sue sorti, e fra ogni gemito dirò ‘Chi è traditore? Gloucester, egli non lo è’.
(didascalia)	Esce con Salisbury e Warwick
REGINA MARGHERITA	Nobili signori, la fredda neve si scioglie ai caldi raggi del sole. Enrico mio signore è freddo nei grandi affari, troppo pieno di sciocca pietà; e l’apparenza di Gloucester l’inganna come il lagrimoso coccodrillo col dolore irretisce i viandanti impietositi, o come la serpe attorta su una sponda fiorita con la spoglia lucente e screziata punge un bambino che per la bellezza la crede eccellente. Credetemi, signori, non fosse nessuno più saggio di me— e pure in questo giudico buono il mio ingegno— questo Gloucester sarebbe presto sgombrato dal mondo per sgombrarci dal timore che abbiamo di lui.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Che egli muoia è degna prudenza; ma pure ci manca un pretesto per la sua morte. Conviene che sia condannato per corso di legge.
SUFFOLK	Ma, a mio parere, non sarebbe prudenza. Il re s’adoprerà sempre a salvargli la vita, il popolo forse si solleverà a salvargli la vita; e pure non abbiamo che argomenti da nulla, oltre il sospetto, che lo mostrino degno di morte.
YORK	Sì che, per questo, non vorreste che morisse?
SUFFOLK	Ah, York, nessun uomo vivo lo vuole quanto io.
YORK	(a parte) È York che ha più ragione per la sua morte. (Ad alta voce) Ma mio lord Cardinale, e voi mio signore di Suffolk, dite come pensate, e parlate dall’anima. Non sarebbe tutt’uno porre un’aquila digiuna a guardare il pulcino da un nibbio affamato, che porre il duca Humphrey a Protettore del re?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Così il povero pulcino sarebbe certo della morte.
SUFFOLK	Madama, è vero; e non sarebbe follia allora far la volpe custode dell’ovile, la quale, essendo accusata d’astuto assassinio, vedrebbe la sua colpa oziosamente passata sopra perché il suo proposito non è eseguito? No—muoia in quanto è volpe, per natura provata nemica del gregge, prima che le sue mascelle sian macchiate di sangue vermiglio, come Humphrey, provato con ragioni, al mio sire. E non state a cavillare sul come ucciderlo; sia con trappole, con lacci, con sottigliezza, dormendo o vegliando, non importa come, purché sia morto; ché è buono accorgimento quello che dà scacco primo a chi primo medita inganno.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Tre volte nobile Suffolk, è detto risolutamente.
SUFFOLK	Non risoluto, se non fosse compiuto altrettanto; ché le cose son spesso dette e raro intese; ma poiché il mio cuore s’accorda con la mia lingua, vedendo che l’atto è meritorio, e serve a preservare il mio sovrano dal suo nemico, dite solo la parola e io gli sarò prete.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Ma io lo vorrei morto, mio signore di Suffolk, prima che voi possiate prendere i debiti ordini da prete. Dite che consentite e approvate bene l’atto, e io provvederò il suo carnefice; tanto mi sta a cuore la sicurezza del mio sire.
SUFFOLK	Ecco la mia mano; l’atto è degno d’esser fatto.
REGINA MARGHERITA	E COSÌ dico io.
YORK	E io. E ora che noi tre l’abbiamo detto, importa poco chi impugni la nostra sentenza.
(didascalia)	Entra un corriere
CORRIERE	Gran signore, dall’Irlanda vengo in gran fretta a significare che là i ribelli sono in armi e passano gl’Inglesi a fil di spada. Mandate soccorsi, signori, e fermate la furia a tempo, prima che la piaga divenga incurabile; ché, essendo fresca, v’è grande speranza di rimedio.
(didascalia)	Esce
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Una breccia che chiede pronto e spedito riparo! Che consiglio date in questa grave causa?
YORK	Che Somerset sia mandato là come reggente. Conviene impiegare quel fortunato reggitore— testimone la fortuna che ha avuto in Francia.
SOMERSET	Se York, con tutta la sua ricercata accortezza, fosse stato là reggente in luogo mio, non sarebbe mai rimasto in Francia così a lungo.
YORK	No, non per perderla tutta come hai fatto tu. Avrei perduto piuttosto la vita a tempo che portare a casa un carico di disonore restando là così a lungo finché tutto fosse perduto. Mostrami una cicatrice segnata sulla tua pelle. Carne d’uomo conservata così intatta raro vince.
REGINA MARGHERITA	No, allora questa scintilla diverrà fuoco furioso se vento ed esca son portati a nutrirlo. Basta, buon York; dolce Somerset, sta’ quieto. La tua sorte, York, fossi tu stato là reggente, si sarebbe forse dimostrata assai peggiore della sua.
YORK	Come, peggio del nulla? No, allora la vergogna prenda tutti!
SOMERSET	E, nel numero, te che auguri vergogna.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Mio signore di York, provate qual sia la vostra fortuna. I rozzi fanti d’Irlanda sono in armi e impastano l’argilla col sangue degl’Inglesi. Condurrete in Irlanda una schiera d’uomini raccolti a scelta, alcuni da ogni contea, e tenterete la vostra sorte contro gl’Irlandesi?
YORK	Lo farò, mio signore, se piace a sua maestà.
SUFFOLK	Ebbene, la nostra autorità è il suo consenso, e ciò che stabiliamo egli conferma. Dunque, nobile York, prendi tu quest’impresa in mano.
YORK	Son contento. Provvedetemi soldati, signori, mentre io metto ordine ai miei propri affari.
SUFFOLK	Un incarico, lord York, che vedrò eseguito. Ma ora torniamo al falso duca Humphrey.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Basta di lui—ché io lo tratterò in modo che d’ora innanzi non ci turbi più. E dunque, sciogliamoci; il giorno è quasi speso. Lord Suffolk, voi e io dobbiamo parlare di quell’evento.
YORK	Mio signore di Suffolk, entro quattordici giorni a Bristol attendo i miei soldati; ché là li imbarcherò tutti per l’Irlanda.
SUFFOLK	Farò che sia fatto puntualmente, mio signore di York.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne York
YORK	Ora, York, o mai, tempra i tuoi pensieri timorosi, e muta il dubbio in risoluzione. Sii ciò che speri d’essere, o ciò che sei cedi alla morte; non val la pena di goderlo. Il pallido timore stia con l’uomo di bassa nascita e non trovi ricetto in un cuore regale. Più rapido dei rovesci di primavera viene pensiero su pensiero, e non un pensiero che non pensi alla dignità. Il mio cervello, più affaccendato del ragno operoso, tesse tediose reti per intrappolare i miei nemici. Bene, nobili, bene: è fatto con accortezza mandarmi via con un esercito d’uomini. Temo che non facciate che scaldare la serpe affamata, la quale, covata nei vostri petti, vi pungerà il cuore. Erano uomini che mi mancavano, e voi me li darete. L’accetto di buon grado. Pur siate ben certi che mettete armi aguzze in mano a un pazzo. Mentre in Irlanda nutro una potente schiera, susciterò in Inghilterra qualche nera tempesta che soffierà diecimila anime al cielo o all’inferno, e questa fiera tempesta non cesserà d’infuriare finché il cerchio d’oro sul mio capo, come i trasparenti raggi del glorioso sole, non calmi la furia di questa raffica nata dalla follia. E per ministro del mio disegno, ho sedotto un testardo uomo del Kent, John Cade d’Ashford, a far tumulto, come ben sa fare, sotto il titolo di John Mortimer. In Irlanda ho visto questo ostinato Cade opporsi a una truppa di fanti, e combattere tanto a lungo che le sue cosce, di dardi, erano quasi come un porcospino dagli aculei aguzzi; e alla fine, essendo soccorso, l’ho visto saltare in piedi come un selvaggio moresco, scuotendo i dardi sanguinosi come quello i suoi campanelli. Ben spesso, come un astuto fante dai capelli irsuti, ha conversato col nemico e, non scoperto, è tornato a me e m’ha dato notizia delle loro scelleratezze. Questo diavolo qui sarà il mio sostituto, ché quel John Mortimer, che ora è morto, nel volto, nell’andatura, nel parlare, egli somiglia. Per questo scorgerò l’animo del popolo, come favoriscano la casa e la pretesa di York. Poniamo che sia preso, messo alla ruota e torturato— non so pena che possano infliggergli che lo faccia dire che io lo spinsi a quelle armi. Poniamo che prosperi, com’è molto probabile— allora dall’Irlanda vengo io con la mia forza e mieto la messe che quel manigoldo seminò. Ché, essendo Humphrey morto, come sarà, ed Enrico messo da parte, il prossimo è per me. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	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?
(didascalia)	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!
(didascalia)	Exeunt the Murderers, drawing the curtains as
(didascalia)	they leave
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets, then enter King Henry and Queen
SUFFOLK	Margaret, Cardinal Beaufort, the Duke of Somerset, and attendants
(didascalia)	KING HENRY to Suffolk
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.
(didascalia)	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!
KING HENRY	I thank thee, Meg. These words content me much.
(didascalia)	Enter Suffolk
KING HENRY	How now? Why look’st thou pale? Why tremblest thou? Where is our uncle? What’s the matter, Suffolk?
SUFFOLK	Dead in his bed, my lord—Gloucester is dead.
QUEEN MARGARET	Marry, God forfend!
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	God’s secret judgement. I did dream tonight The Duke was dumb and could not speak a word. King Henry falls to the ground
QUEEN MARGARET	How fares my lord? Help, lords—the King is dead!
SOMERSET	Rear up his body; wring him by the nose.
QUEEN MARGARET	Run, go, help, help! O Henry, ope thine eyes!
SUFFOLK	He doth revive again. Madam, be patient.
KING HENRY	O heavenly God!
QUEEN MARGARET	How fares my gracious lord?
SUFFOLK	Comfort, my sovereign; gracious Henry, comfort.
KING HENRY	What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me? Came he right now to sing a raven’s note Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers; And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breast Can chase away the first-conceived sound? Hide not thy poison with such sugared words.
(didascalia)	He begins to rise. Suffolk offers to assist him
KING HENRY	Lay not thy hands on me—forbear, I say! Their touch affrights me as a serpent’s sting. Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight! Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny Sits in grim majesty to fright the world. Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding— Yet do not go away. Come, basilisk, And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight. For in the shade of death I shall find joy; In life, but double death, now Gloucester’s dead.
QUEEN MARGARET	Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus? Although the Duke was enemy to him, Yet he most Christian-like laments his death. And for myself, foe as he was to me, Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans, Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life, I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs, And all to have the noble Duke alive. What know I how the world may deem of me? For it is known we were but hollow friends, It may be judged I made the Duke away. So shall my name with slander’s tongue be wounded And princes’ courts be filled with my reproach. This get I by his death. Ay me, unhappy, To be a queen, and crowned with infamy.
KING HENRY	Ah, woe is me for Gloucester, wretched man!
QUEEN MARGARET	Be woe for me, more wretched than he is. What, dost thou turn away and hide thy face? I am no loathsome leper—look on me! What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf? Be poisonous too and kill thy forlorn queen. Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester’s tomb? Why, then Queen Margaret was ne‘er thy joy. Erect his statue and worship it, 80 And make my image but an alehouse sign. Was I for this nigh wrecked upon the sea, And twice by awkward winds from England’s bank Drove back again unto my native clime? What boded this, but well forewarning winds Did seem to say, ‘Seek not a scorpion’s nest, Nor set no footing on this unkind shore’. What did I then, but cursed the gentle gusts And he that loosed them forth their brazen caves, And bid them blow towards England’s blessed shore, Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock. Yet Aeolus would not be a murderer, But left that hateful office unto thee. The pretty vaulting sea refused to drown me, Knowing that thou wouldst have me drowned on shore With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness. The splitting rocks cow’red in the sinking sands, And would not dash me with their ragged sides, Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, Might in thy palace perish Margaret. As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, When from thy shore the tempest beat us back, I stood upon the hatches in the storm, And when the dusky sky began to rob My earnest-gaping sight of thy land’s view, I took a costly jewel from my neck— A heart it was, bound in with diamonds— And threw it towards thy land. The sea received it, And so I wished thy body might my heart. And even with this I lost fair England’s view, And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart, And called them blind and dusky spectacles For losing ken of Albion’s wished coast. How often have I tempted Suffolk’s tongue— The agent of thy foul inconstancy— To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did, When he to madding Dido would unfold His father’s acts, commenced in burning Troy! Am I not witched like her? Or thou not false like him? Ay me, I can no more. Die, Margaret, For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long. Noise within. Enter the Earls of Warwick and Salisbury with many commons
WARWICK	(to King Henry) It is reported, mighty sovereign, That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is murdered By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort’s means. The commons, like an angry hive of bees That want their leader, scatter up and down And care not who they sting in his revenge. Myself have calmed their spleenful mutiny, Until they hear the order of his death.
KING HENRY	That he is dead, good Warwick, ’tis too true. But how he died God knows, not Henry.
(didascalia)	Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,
KING HENRY	And comment then upon his sudden death.
WARWICK	That shall I do, my liege.—Stay, Salisbury, With the rude multitude till I return.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Warwick at one door, Salisbury and
(didascalia)	commons at another
KING HENRY	O thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts, My thoughts that labour to persuade my soul Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey’s life. If my suspect be false, forgive me God, For judgement only doth belong to thee. Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain Upon his face an ocean of salt tears, To tell my love unto his dumb, deaf trunk, And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling. But all in vain are these mean obsequies,
(didascalia)	Enter Warwick who draws apart the curtains and
(didascalia)	shows Gloucester dead in his bed. Bed put forth
KING HENRY	And to survey his dead and earthy image, What were it but to make my sorrow greater?
WARWICK	Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body.
KING HENRY	That is to see how deep my grave is made: For with his soul fled all my worldly solace, For seeing him I see my life in death.
WARWICK	As surely as my soul intends to live With that dread King that took our state upon Him To free us from his Father’s wrathful curse, I do believe that violent hands were laid Upon the life of this thrice-famed Duke.
SUFFOLK	A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue! What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow?
WARWICK	See how the blood is settled in his face. Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance ‘gainst the enemy; Which, with the heart, there cools, and ne’er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again. But see, his face is black and full of blood; His eyeballs further out than when he lived, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man; His hair upreared; his nostrils stretched with struggling; His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasped And tugged for life and was by strength subdued. Look on the sheets. His hair, you see, is sticking; His well-proportioned beard made rough and rugged, Like to the summer’s corn by tempest lodged. It cannot be but he was murdered here. The least of all these signs were probable.
SUFFOLK	Why, Warwick, who should do the Duke to death? Myself and Beaufort had him in protection, And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers.
WARWICK	But both of you were vowed Duke Humphrey’s foes, (To Cardinal Beaufort) And you, forsooth, had the good Duke to keep. ’Tis like you would not feast him like a friend; And ’tis well seen he found an enemy.
QUEEN MARGARET	Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen As guilty of Duke Humphrey’s timeless death?
WARWICK	Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh, And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect ’twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in the puttock’s nest But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak? Even so suspicious is this tragedy.
QUEEN MARGARET	Are you the butcher, Suffolk? Where’s your knife? Is Beaufort termed a kite? Where are his talons?
SUFFOLK	I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men. But here’s a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart That slanders me with murder’s crimson badge. Say, if thou dar’st, proud Lord of Warwickshire, That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey’s death.
(didascalia)	Exit Cardinal Beaufort assisted by Somerset
WARWICK	What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him?
QUEEN MARGARET	He dares not calm his contumelious spirit, Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.
WARWICK	Madam, be still, with reverence may I say, For every word you speak in his behalf Is slander to your royal dignity.
SUFFOLK	Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour! If ever lady wronged her lord so much, Thy mother took into her blameful bed Some stern untutored churl, and noble stock Was graffed with crabtree slip, whose fruit thou art, And never of the Nevilles’ noble race.
WARWICK	But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my sovereign’s presence makes me mild, I would, false murd‘rous coward, on thy knee Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech, And say it was thy mother that thou meant’st— That thou thyself wast born in bastardy! And after all this fearful homage done, Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell, Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men!
SUFFOLK	Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood, If from this presence thou dar’st go with me.
WARWICK	Away, even now, or I will drag thee hence. Unworthy though thou art, I’ll cope with thee, And do some service to Duke Humphrey’s ghost.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Suffolk and Warwick
KING HENRY	What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted? Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just; And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
COMMONS	(within) Down with Suffolk! Down with Suffolk!
QUEEN MARGARET	What noise is this?
(didascalia)	Enter Suffolk and Warwick with their weapons drawn
KING HENRY	Why, how now, lords? Your wrathful weapons drawn Here in our presence? Dare you be so bold? Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?
SUFFOLK	The trait’rous Warwick with the men of Bury Set all upon me, mighty sovereign!
COMMONS	(within) Down with Suffolk! Down with Suffolk!
(didascalia)	Enter from the commons the Earl of Salisbury
SALISBURY	(to the commons, within) Sirs, stand apart. The King shall know your mind. (To King Henry) Dread lord, the commons send you word by me Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death, Or banished fair England’s territories, They will by violence tear him from your palace And torture him with grievous ling‘ring 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 waked, Lest, being suffered 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, whe’er 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	’Tis like the commons, rude unpolished hinds, Could send such message to their sovereign. But you, my lord, were glad to be employed, 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 HENRY	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.
(didascalia)	Exit Salisbury
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET kneeling
KING HENRY	O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk.
KING HENRY	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. (To Suffolk) If after three days’ space thou here beest 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt King Henry and Warwick with
(didascalia)	attendants who draw the curtains as they
(didascalia)	leave. Queen Margaret and Suffolk remain
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET rising
KING HENRY	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 MARGARET	Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch! Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies?
SUFFOLK	A plague upon them! Wherefore should I curse them? Could curses kill, as doth the mandrake’s groan, I would invent as bitter searching terms, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-faced envy in her loathsome cave. My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words; Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; My hair be fixed on end, as one distraught; Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban. And, even now, my burdened 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 murd’ring 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 MARGARET	Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment‘st thyself, And these dread curses, like the sun ’gainst glass, Or like an overcharged gun, recoil And turn the force of them upon thyself.
SUFFOLK	You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave? Now by this ground that I am banished 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.
QUEEN MARGARET	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.
(didascalia)	She kisses his palm
QUEEN MARGARET	O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand That thou mightst think upon these lips 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 whiles 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 banished 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.
SUFFOLK	Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banishèd— Once by the King, and three times thrice by thee. ’Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence, 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 naught but that thou liv’st.
(didascalia)	Enter Vaux
QUEEN MARGARET	Whither goes Vaux so fast? What news, I prithee?
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 over-charged soul; And I am sent to tell his majesty That even now he cries aloud for him.
QUEEN MARGARET	Go tell this heavy message to the King. Exit Vaux Ay 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 sorrow’s? Now get thee hence. The King, thou know’st, is coming. 390 If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.
SUFFOLK	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 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—
(didascalia)	He kisseth her
SUFFOLK	And then it lived in sweet Elysium. By thee to die were but to die in jest; From thee to die were torture more than death. O, let me stay, befall what may befall!
QUEEN MARGARET	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 I’ll have an Iris that shall find thee out.
SUFFOLK	I go.
QUEEN MARGARET	And take my heart with thee.
(didascalia)	She kisseth him
SUFFOLK	A jewel, locked into the woefull’st cask That ever did contain a thing of worth. Even as a splitted barque, so sunder we—This way fall I to death.
QUEEN MARGARET	This way for me.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Le cortine sono aperte, rivelando il duca Humphrey di Gloucester nel suo letto con due uomini distesi sul suo petto, che lo soffocano nel letto
PRIMO SICARIO	(al secondo sicario) Corri dal mio signore di Suffolk—fagli sapere che abbiamo spacciato il Duca come ordinò.
SECONDO SICARIO	Oh, fosse ancora da fare! Che abbiamo fatto? Udisti mai uomo così penitente?
(didascalia)	Entra il duca di Suffolk
PRIMO SICARIO	Ecco che viene il mio signore.
SUFFOLK	Ora, signori, avete spacciato questa cosa?
PRIMO SICARIO	Sì, mio buon signore, è morto.
SUFFOLK	Ebbene, ben detto. Andate, recatevi alla mia casa. Vi ricompenserò per quest’atto ardito. Il re e tutti i pari son qui vicino. Avete rifatto per bene il letto? Va tutto bene, secondo le istruzioni che diedi?
PRIMO SICARIO	Lo è, mio buon signore.
SUFFOLK	Allora chiudete bene le cortine; via, andatevene!
(didascalia)	Escono i sicari, chiudendo le cortine mentre
(didascalia)	se ne vanno
(didascalia)	Suonano le trombe, poi entrano re Enrico e la regina
SUFFOLK	Margherita, il cardinale Beaufort, il duca di Somerset, e attendenti
(didascalia)	RE ENRICO a Suffolk
SUFFOLK	Va’ a chiamar subito nostro zio alla nostra presenza. Di’ che intendiamo giudicare oggi sua grazia se sia colpevole, come si divulga.
SUFFOLK	Lo chiamerò subito, mio nobile signore.
(didascalia)	Esce
RE ENRICO	Signori, prendete i vostri posti; e vi prego tutti, non procedete contro nostro zio Gloucester più rigidamente di quanto per vere prove, di buona fede, sia dimostrato colpevole di macchinazione.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Dio non voglia che alcuna malizia prevalga tanto da condannare senza colpa un nobile uomo! Prego Dio ch’egli si mondi d’ogni sospetto!
RE ENRICO	Ti ringrazio, Meg. Queste parole mi contentano molto.
(didascalia)	Entra Suffolk
RE ENRICO	Ebbene? Perché sei pallido? Perché tremi tu? Dov’è nostro zio? Che c’è, Suffolk?
SUFFOLK	Morto nel suo letto, mio signore—Gloucester è morto.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Per la Vergine, Dio ce ne scampi!
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Segreto giudizio di Dio. Sognai questa notte che il Duca era muto e non poteva dire parola. Re Enrico cade a terra
REGINA MARGHERITA	Come sta il mio signore? Aiuto, signori—il re è morto!
SOMERSET	Sollevate il suo corpo; stringetegli il naso.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Correte, andate, aiuto, aiuto! O Enrico, apri gli occhi!
SUFFOLK	Rinviene di nuovo. Madama, siate paziente.
RE ENRICO	O Dio del cielo!
REGINA MARGHERITA	Come sta il mio grazioso signore?
SUFFOLK	Coraggio, mio sovrano; grazioso Enrico, coraggio.
RE ENRICO	Come, il mio signore di Suffolk mi consola? Venne proprio ora a cantare la nota del corvo, il cui lugubre canto mi tolse le forze vitali; e crede egli che il pigolìo d’uno scricciolo, gridando conforto da un petto vuoto, possa scacciare il suono udito per primo? Non nascondere il tuo veleno con parole così zuccherate.
(didascalia)	Comincia ad alzarsi. Suffolk s’offre d’assisterlo
RE ENRICO	Non mettermi le mani addosso—smetti, dico! Il loro tocco mi spaventa come il morso d’un serpente. Tu, funesto messaggero, fuori dalla mia vista! Sulle tue pupille l’assassina tirannia siede in truce maestà a spaventare il mondo. Non guardarmi, ché i tuoi occhi feriscono— pure non andar via. Vieni, basilisco, e uccidi con la tua vista l’innocente che ti guarda. Ché nell’ombra della morte troverò gioia; in vita, solo doppia morte, ora che Gloucester è morto.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Perché strapazzate così il mio signore di Suffolk? Sebbene il Duca gli fosse nemico, pur egli cristianissimamente ne piange la morte. E quanto a me, nemico com’era mio, potessero liquide lacrime, o gemiti che offendono il cuore, o sospiri che consumano il sangue richiamargli la vita, sarei cieca di pianto, malata di gemiti, pallida come primula per sospiri che bevono il sangue, e tutto per aver vivo il nobile Duca. Che so io come il mondo possa giudicarmi? Ché è noto che eravamo solo amici finti, si potrà giudicare che io tolsi di mezzo il Duca. Così il mio nome sarà ferito dalla lingua della calunnia e le corti dei principi riempite del mio obbrobrio. Questo guadagno dalla sua morte. Ahimè, infelice, esser regina, e coronata d’infamia.
RE ENRICO	Ah, ahimè per Gloucester, uomo sventurato!
REGINA MARGHERITA	Ahimè per me, più sventurata di lui. Come, ti volti via e nascondi il volto? Non sono un lebbroso ripugnante—guardami! Come, ti sei fatto sordo come la vipera? Sii anche velenoso e uccidi la tua desolata regina. È tutto il tuo conforto chiuso nella tomba di Gloucester? Ebbene, allora Margherita non fu mai la tua gioia. Erigi la sua statua e adorala, 80 e fa’ della mia immagine solo un’insegna di taverna. Fu per questo che quasi naufragai sul mare, e due volte da venti contrari dalla riva d’Inghilterra fui ricacciata al mio clima natale? Che presagiva questo, se non che venti che ben ammonivano sembravan dire: ‘Non cercare un nido di scorpioni, né metter piede su questa spiaggia crudele’. Che fec’io allora, se non maledire i gentili soffi e colui che li sciolse dalle loro caverne di bronzo, e comandai loro di soffiare verso la benedetta riva d’Inghilterra, o di volgere la nostra poppa contro uno spaventoso scoglio. Pure Eolo non volle essere assassino, ma lasciò a te quell’odioso ufficio. Il bel mare volteggiante rifiutò d’annegarmi, sapendo che tu m’avresti annegata a riva con lacrime salate come il mare, per la tua durezza. Gli scogli che spaccano s’acquattarono nelle sabbie mobili, e non vollero fracassarmi coi loro fianchi scabri, perché il tuo cuore di selce, più duro di loro, potesse nel tuo palazzo far perire Margherita. Fin dove potei scorgere le tue bianche scogliere, quando dalla tua riva la tempesta ci ricacciò, stetti sui tambucci nella tempesta, e quando il cielo fosco cominciò a rubare alla mia vista intenta e bramosa lo spettacolo della tua terra, tolsi dal collo un prezioso gioiello— era un cuore, cinto di diamanti— e lo gettai verso la tua terra. Il mare lo ricevette, e così desiderai che il tuo corpo ricevesse il mio cuore. E proprio allora perdetti la vista della bella Inghilterra, e comandai ai miei occhi d’andarsene col mio cuore, e li chiamai ciechi e fosche lenti per aver perduto di vista la desiderata costa d’Albione. Quante volte ho tentato la lingua di Suffolk— l’agente della tua turpe incostanza— a sedere e stregarmi, come fece Ascanio, quando alla folle Didone svolgeva le gesta del padre, cominciate in Troia che ardeva! Non sono stregata come lei? O tu non falso come lui? Ahimè, non posso più. Muori, Margherita, ché Enrico piange che tu viva così a lungo. Rumore all’interno. Entrano i conti di Warwick e Salisbury con molti del popolo
WARWICK	(a re Enrico) Si riferisce, possente sovrano, che il buon duca Humphrey è ucciso a tradimento per opera di Suffolk e del cardinale Beaufort. Il popolo, come un alveare irato d’api che ha perduto la sua guida, si sparge qua e là e non si cura chi punga per vendicarlo. Io stesso ho calmato la loro rabbiosa sedizione, finché non sappiano il modo della sua morte.
RE ENRICO	Che egli sia morto, buon Warwick, è troppo vero. Ma come morì Dio lo sa, non Enrico.
(didascalia)	Entra nella sua camera, guarda il suo cadavere senza fiato,
RE ENRICO	e commenta poi la sua súbita morte.
WARWICK	Lo farò, mio sire.—Resta, Salisbury, con la rozza moltitudine finché io torni.
(didascalia)	Escono Warwick da una porta, Salisbury e
(didascalia)	il popolo da un’altra
RE ENRICO	O tu che giudichi tutte le cose, arresta i miei pensieri, i miei pensieri che s’affannano a persuadere l’anima mia che mani violente furon poste sulla vita di Humphrey. Se il mio sospetto è falso, perdonami, Dio, ché il giudizio appartiene solo a te. Volentieri andrei a scaldare le sue pallide labbra con ventimila baci, e a versare sul suo volto un oceano di salse lacrime, a dire il mio amore al suo tronco muto e sordo, e con le mie dita sentire la sua mano insensibile. Ma tutte vane sono queste povere esequie,
(didascalia)	Entra Warwick che apre le cortine e
(didascalia)	mostra Gloucester morto nel suo letto. Il letto è spinto avanti
RE ENRICO	e contemplare la sua immagine morta e terrena, che sarebbe se non far più grande il mio dolore?
WARWICK	Venite qua, grazioso sovrano, guardate questo corpo.
RE ENRICO	Ciò è vedere quanto profonda è fatta la mia fossa: ché con la sua anima fuggì ogni mio conforto terreno, ché vedendo lui vedo la mia vita nella morte.
WARWICK	Com’è certo che l’anima mia intende vivere con quel tremendo re che prese su di Sé il nostro stato per liberarci dalla maledizione irata del Padre suo, io credo che mani violente furon poste sulla vita di questo tre volte famoso Duca.
SUFFOLK	Un terribile giuramento, giurato con lingua solenne! Che prova dà lord Warwick per il suo giuro?
WARWICK	Vedete come il sangue s’è raccolto nel suo volto. Spesso ho veduto uno spirito partito a tempo debito d’aspetto cinereo, magro, pallido ed esangue, essendo tutto discesa al cuore affannato; il quale, nel conflitto che tiene con la morte, lo attira in aiuto contro il nemico; e quello, col cuore, là si raffredda, e mai ritorna ad arrossare e abbellire di nuovo la guancia. Ma vedete, il suo volto è nero e pieno di sangue; le sue pupille più sporgenti che quando viveva, fisse in modo orrendo come d’uomo strangolato; i capelli rizzati; le nari dilatate per il dibattersi; le mani spalancate, come d’uno che afferrò e lottò per la vita e fu con forza soggiogato. Guardate le lenzuola. I suoi capelli, vedete, vi restano attaccati; la sua barba ben proporzionata fatta ruvida e arruffata, come il grano d’estate abbattuto dalla tempesta. Non può essere che non sia stato ucciso qui. Il minimo di tutti questi segni sarebbe prova.
SUFFOLK	Ebbene, Warwick, chi avrebbe messo a morte il Duca? Io stesso e Beaufort l’avevamo in custodia, e noi, spero, signore, non siamo assassini.
WARWICK	Ma entrambi eravate nemici giurati del duca Humphrey, (Al cardinale Beaufort) e voi, in verità, avevate il buon Duca in custodia. È probabile che non l’avreste banchettato come un amico; e si vede bene ch’egli trovò un nemico.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Voi dunque, a quanto pare, sospettate questi nobili colpevoli dell’intempestiva morte del duca Humphrey?
WARWICK	Chi trova la giovenca morta e ancora sanguinante, e vede lì accanto un macellaio con l’ascia, non sospetterà che fu lui a fare la strage? Chi trova la pernice nel nido del nibbio non immaginerà come l’uccello morì, sebbene il nibbio si libri col becco non insanguinato? Altrettanto sospetta è questa tragedia.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Siete voi il macellaio, Suffolk? Dov’è il vostro coltello? È Beaufort chiamato nibbio? Dove sono i suoi artigli?
SUFFOLK	Non porto coltello per macellare uomini che dormono. Ma qui c’è una spada vindice, arrugginita nell’ozio, che sarà forbita nel cuore rancoroso di colui che m’infama con l’insegna vermiglia dell’assassinio. Di’, se osi, superbo signore del Warwickshire, che io son colpevole della morte del duca Humphrey.
(didascalia)	Esce il cardinale Beaufort assistito da Somerset
WARWICK	Che non osa Warwick, se il falso Suffolk lo sfida?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Non osa calmare il suo spirito contumelioso, né cessare d’essere un arrogante censore, anche se Suffolk lo sfidasse ventimila volte.
WARWICK	Madama, tacete, con riverenza mi sia detto, ché ogni parola che dite in suo favore è infamia alla vostra regale dignità.
SUFFOLK	Signore d’ingegno ottuso, ignobile nel portamento! Se mai dama fece tanto torto al suo signore, tua madre prese nel suo letto colpevole qualche rozzo villano ignorante, e il nobile ceppo fu innestato con ramo di melo selvatico, del quale tu sei il frutto, e mai della nobile razza dei Neville.
WARWICK	Se non fosse che la colpa d’assassinio ti fa scudo e che ruberei al carnefice la sua mercede, liberandoti così di diecimila vergogne, e che la presenza del mio sovrano mi fa mite, ti farei, falso e assassino codardo, in ginocchio chiedere perdono del discorso appena detto, e dire che era tua madre che intendevi— che tu stesso nascesti in bastardia! E dopo compiuto tutto questo pauroso omaggio, ti darei la tua paga e manderei la tua anima all’inferno, pernicioso succhiasangue d’uomini che dormono!
SUFFOLK	Tu sarai ben desto mentre verserò il tuo sangue, se da questa presenza osi venir con me.
WARWICK	Via, subito, o ti trascinerò fuori di qui. Indegno come sei, mi misurerò con te, e renderò qualche servizio allo spirito del duca Humphrey.
(didascalia)	Escono Suffolk e Warwick
RE ENRICO	Qual corazza più forte d’un cuore senza macchia? Tre volte armato è colui che ha giusta la sua causa; e nudo è, pur chiuso nell’acciaio, colui la cui coscienza è corrotta dall’ingiustizia.
POPOLO	(all’interno) Abbasso Suffolk! Abbasso Suffolk!
REGINA MARGHERITA	Che rumore è questo?
(didascalia)	Entrano Suffolk e Warwick con le armi sguainate
RE ENRICO	Ebbene, che c’è, signori? Le vostre armi irate sguainate qui alla nostra presenza? Osate esser così arditi? Ebbene, che tumultuoso clamore abbiamo qui?
SUFFOLK	Il traditore Warwick con gli uomini di Bury si son gettati tutti su di me, possente sovrano!
POPOLO	(all’interno) Abbasso Suffolk! Abbasso Suffolk!
(didascalia)	Entra dal popolo il conte di Salisbury
SALISBURY	(al popolo, all’interno) Signori, state indietro. Il re conoscerà il vostro animo. (A re Enrico) Temuto signore, il popolo vi manda a dire per mia bocca che, se lord Suffolk non sia subito messo a morte, o bandito dai territori della bella Inghilterra, essi con violenza lo strapperanno dal vostro palazzo e lo tortureranno con lenta e penosa morte. Dicono che per lui morì il buon duca Humphrey; dicono che in lui temono la morte di vostra altezza; e il puro istinto d’amore e di lealtà, libero da ogni ostinata intenzione contraria, come se pensassero di contrariare il vostro gradimento, li rende così solleciti del suo bando. Dicono, per cura della vostra regalissima persona, che se vostra altezza intendesse dormire, e comandasse che nessuno turbasse il vostro riposo sotto pena del vostro sdegno, o pena di morte, pure, nonostante un sì severo edito, se si vedesse un serpente con lingua forcuta che di soppiatto strisciasse verso vostra maestà, sarebbe pur necessario che foste svegliato, ché, lasciato in quel dannoso sopore, il verme mortale potrebbe far eterno il sonno. E perciò gridano, sebbene voi lo vietiate, che vi guarderanno, che voi vogliate o no, da tali fieri serpenti quale è il falso Suffolk, dal cui morso avvelenato e fatale il vostro amoroso zio, venti volte il suo valore, dicono, è vergognosamente privato della vita.
POPOLO	(all’interno) Una risposta dal re, mio signore di Salisbury!
SUFFOLK	È ben da popolo, rozzi villani ineducati, mandare tal messaggio al proprio sovrano. Ma voi, mio signore, foste lieto d’esser impiegato, per mostrare che raffinato oratore siete. Ma tutto l’onore che Salisbury ha guadagnato è d’essere stato il lord Ambasciatore mandato al re da una banda di calderai.
POPOLO	(all’interno) Una risposta dal re, o irromperemo tutti!
RE ENRICO	Va’, Salisbury, e di’ a tutti loro da parte mia che li ringrazio per la loro tenera e amorosa cura, e se non fossi stato così sollecitato da loro, pure avevo in animo ciò che essi chiedono; ché certo i miei pensieri profetizzano ogni ora sventura al mio stato per opera di Suffolk. E perciò per la maestà di Lui giuro, del quale sono ben indegno vicario, ch’egli non respirerà infezione in quest’aria più di tre giorni, sotto pena di morte.
(didascalia)	Esce Salisbury
(didascalia)	REGINA MARGHERITA inginocchiandosi
RE ENRICO	O Enrico, lasciami perorare per il gentile Suffolk.
RE ENRICO	Discortese regina, a chiamarlo gentile Suffolk. Basta, dico! Se tu perori per lui non farai che accrescere la mia ira. Avessi solo detto, avrei mantenuto la parola; ma quando giuro, è irrevocabile. (A Suffolk) Se dopo lo spazio di tre giorni tu sarai qui trovato su qualunque terra di cui io sia signore, il mondo non sarà riscatto per la tua vita. Vieni, Warwick; vieni, buon Warwick, vieni con me. Ho gran cose da comunicarti.
(didascalia)	Escono re Enrico e Warwick con
(didascalia)	attendenti che chiudono le cortine mentre
(didascalia)	escono. Restano Margherita e Suffolk
(didascalia)	REGINA MARGHERITA alzandosi
RE ENRICO	Sventura e dolore v’accompagnino! Il malcontento del cuore e l’acerba afflizione siano compagni di gioco a tenervi compagnia! Siete due, il diavolo faccia il terzo, e triplice vendetta segua i vostri passi!
SUFFOLK	Cessate, gentile regina, queste imprecazioni, e lasciate che il vostro Suffolk prenda il suo grave congedo.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Vergogna, donna codarda e meschino dal cuore molle! Non hai animo di maledire i tuoi nemici?
SUFFOLK	La peste su loro! Perché dovrei maledirli? Potessero le maledizioni uccidere, come il gemito della mandragora, inventerei termini così amari e penetranti, così maledetti, così aspri e orribili a udirsi, proferiti con forza fra i miei denti serrati, con altrettanti segni d’odio mortale, quanti l’invidia dal volto scarno nella sua ripugnante caverna. La mia lingua inciamperebbe nelle mie parole ardenti; i miei occhi scintillerebbero come selce battuta; i miei capelli si rizzerebbero, come d’un forsennato; sì, ogni giuntura sembrerebbe maledire e imprecare. E, anche ora, il mio cuore gravato scoppierebbe se non li maledicessi. Veleno sia la loro bevanda! Fiele, peggio del fiele, la cosa più squisita che gustino! La loro ombra più dolce un bosco di cipressi! La loro vista più bella basilischi assassini! Il loro tocco più morbido pungente come morsi di lucertole! La loro musica spaventosa come il sibilo del serpente, e civette di malaugurio completino il concerto! Tutti i turpi terrori dell’inferno dalle sedi oscure—
REGINA MARGHERITA	Basta, dolce Suffolk, tu tormenti te stesso, e queste terribili maledizioni, come il sole contro il vetro, o come un’arma sovraccarica, rinculano e volgono la loro forza contro te stesso.
SUFFOLK	Voi m’ordinaste d’imprecare, e ora m’ordinate di smettere? Ora, per questa terra da cui son bandito, ben potrei consumare in maledizioni una notte d’inverno, pur stando nudo sulla cima d’un monte, dove il freddo pungente non lascerebbe mai crescere erba, e crederla solo un minuto speso in gioco.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Oh, lascia ch’io ti preghi di cessare. Dammi la tua mano, ch’io la irrori delle mie dolenti lacrime; né la pioggia del cielo bagni questo luogo a lavar via i miei dolorosi monumenti.
(didascalia)	Ella gli bacia il palmo
REGINA MARGHERITA	Oh, potesse questo bacio esser stampato nella tua mano sì che tu pensassi a queste labbra per il sigillo, per le quali mille sospiri son esalati per te! Dunque vattene, ch’io possa conoscere il mio dolore. Non è che immaginato mentre tu mi stai accanto, come chi si sazia pensando a una privazione. Ti farò richiamare, o, sii ben certo, rischierò d’esser bandita io stessa. E bandita sono, se pur solo da te. Va’, non parlarmi; ora stesso vattene! Oh, non andar ancora. Così due amici condannati s’abbracciano, e si baciano, e si prendono diecimila congedi, cento volte più restii a separarsi che a morire. Pur ora addio, e addio vita con te.
SUFFOLK	Così il povero Suffolk è dieci volte bandito— una volta dal re, e tre volte tre da te. Non è la terra che m’importa, se tu ne fossi fuori, un deserto è abbastanza popoloso, purché Suffolk abbia la tua celeste compagnia. Ché dove tu sei, là è il mondo stesso, con ogni singolo piacere del mondo; e dove tu non sei, desolazione. Non posso più. Vivi tu a goder la tua vita; io non ho gioia in nulla se non che tu vivi.
(didascalia)	Entra Vaux
REGINA MARGHERITA	Dove va Vaux così in fretta? Che nuove, ti prego?
VAUX	A significare a sua maestà che il cardinale Beaufort è al punto di morte. Ché d’improvviso un grave male lo prese che lo fa ansimare, e fissare, e afferrar l’aria, bestemmiando Dio e maledicendo gli uomini in terra. Talvolta parla come se lo spettro del duca Humphrey gli fosse accanto; talvolta chiama il re, e sussurra al suo cuscino come a lui i segreti della sua anima troppo carica; e io son mandato a dire a sua maestà che proprio ora lo chiama a gran voce.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Va’ a portare questo grave messaggio al re. Esce Vaux Ahimè! Che cos’è questo mondo? Che nuove son queste? Ma perché mi dolgo d’una povera perdita d’un’ora tralasciando l’esilio di Suffolk, tesoro dell’anima mia? Perché, Suffolk, non piango solo per te, e non gareggio in lacrime con le nubi del sud— le loro per l’incremento della terra, le mie per quello del mio dolore? Ora vattene. Il re, tu lo sai, sta venendo. 390 Se sarai trovato presso di me, sei morto.
SUFFOLK	Se mi separo da te, non posso vivere. E morire alla tua vista, che sarebbe altro se non come un piacevole sopore nel tuo grembo? Qui potrei esalare l’anima mia nell’aria, mite e gentile come il bimbo in culla che muore con la mammella della madre fra le labbra; mentre, lontano dalla tua vista, sarei furiosamente pazzo, e ti chiamerei a chiudermi gli occhi, ad avere te con le tue labbra a chiudermi la bocca, sì che tu volgeresti indietro l’anima mia in fuga o io l’esalerei, così, nel tuo corpo—
(didascalia)	Egli la bacia
SUFFOLK	E allora essa vivrebbe nel dolce Elisio. Morire presso di te sarebbe morire per scherzo; morire lontano da te sarebbe tortura più della morte. Oh, lasciami restare, avvenga ciò che può avvenire!
REGINA MARGHERITA	Via. Sebbene la separazione sia un corrosivo che rode, è applicata a una ferita mortale. In Francia, dolce Suffolk. Fatti sentire da me. Ché dovunque tu sia nel Globo di questo mondo avrò un’Iride che ti troverà.
SUFFOLK	Vado.
REGINA MARGHERITA	E porta con te il mio cuore.
(didascalia)	Ella lo bacia
SUFFOLK	Un gioiello, chiuso nello scrigno più dolente che mai contenne cosa di valore. Come una barca spaccata, così ci separiamo—per questa via io cado nella morte.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Per questa, io.
(didascalia)	Escono da parti diverse

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Henry and the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick. Then the curtains be drawn revealing Cardinal Beaufort in his bed raving and staring as if he were mad
KING HENRY	(to Cardinal Beaufort) How fares my lord? Speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	If thou beest death, I’ll give thee England’s treasure Enough to purchase such another island, So thou wilt let me live and feel no pain.
KING HENRY	Ah, what a sign it is of evil life Where death’s approach is seen so terrible.
WARWICK	Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.
CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Bring me unto my trial when you will. Died he not in his bed ? Where should he die? Can I make men live whe’er 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 Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.
KING HENRY	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.
WARWICK	See how the pangs of death do make him grin.
SALISBURY	Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably.
KING HENRY	Peace to his soul, if God’s good pleasure be. Lord Card‘nal, if thou think’st on heaven’s bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. Cardinal Beaufort dies He dies and makes no sign. O God, forgive him.
WARWICK	So bad a death argues a monstrous life.
KING HENRY	Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close, And let us all to meditation.
(didascalia)	Exeunt, drawing the curtains. The bed is
(didascalia)	removed

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano re Enrico e i conti di Salisbury e Warwick. Poi le cortine sono aperte, rivelando il cardinale Beaufort nel suo letto che delira e fissa nel vuoto come se fosse pazzo
RE ENRICO	(al cardinale Beaufort) Come sta il mio signore? Parla, Beaufort, al tuo sovrano.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Se tu sei la morte, ti darò il tesoro d’Inghilterra, bastante a comprare un’altra isola come questa, purché tu mi lasci vivere e non sentir pena.
RE ENRICO	Ah, che segno è di mala vita quando l’avvicinarsi della morte si mostra così terribile.
WARWICK	Beaufort, è il tuo sovrano che ti parla.
CARDINALE BEAUFORT	Portatemi al mio giudizio quando volete. Non morì egli nel suo letto ? Dove doveva morire? Posso io far vivere gli uomini, che vogliano o no? Oh, non torturatemi più—confesserò. Vivo di nuovo? Allora mostratemi dov’è. Darò mille sterline per guardarlo. Non ha occhi! La polvere li ha accecati. Pettinategli i capelli—guardate, guardate: stanno diritti, come panie tese a prendere l’anima mia in volo. Datemi da bere, e dite allo speziale di portare il forte veleno che comprai da lui.
RE ENRICO	O Tu, eterno motore dei cieli, guarda con occhio benigno questo sventurato. Oh, scaccia il demonio affaccendato e importuno che stringe forte assedio all’anima di questo sventurato, e purga dal suo petto questa nera disperazione.
WARWICK	Vedete come le doglie della morte gli storcono la bocca.
SALISBURY	Non lo turbate; lasciatelo passare in pace.
RE ENRICO	Pace alla sua anima, se così piaccia a Dio. Lord Cardinale, se pensi alla beatitudine del cielo, alza la mano, fa’ segno della tua speranza. Il cardinale Beaufort muore Muore e non fa alcun segno. O Dio, perdonalo.
WARWICK	Una morte così cattiva arguisce una vita mostruosa.
RE ENRICO	Astenetevi dal giudicare, ché siamo tutti peccatori. Chiudetegli gli occhi e tirate bene la cortina, e andiamo tutti a meditare.
(didascalia)	Escono, chiudendo le cortine. Il letto è
(didascalia)	portato via

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarums within, and the chambers be discharged like as it were a fight at sea. And then enter the Captain of the ship, the Master, the Master’s Mate, Walter Whitmore, and others. With them, as their prisoners, the Duke of Suffolk, disguised, and two Gentlemen
CAPTAIN	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, (pointing to the First Gentleman) this prisoner freely give I thee, (To the Mate) And thou, that art his mate, make boot of this. He points to the Second Gentleman (To Walter Whitmore) The other (pointing to Suffolk), Walter Whitmore, is thy share.
FIRST GENTLEMAN	(to the Master) What is my ransom, Master, let me know.
MASTER	A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.
MATE	(to the Second Gentleman) And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.
CAPTAIN	(to both the Gentlemen) What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns, And bear the name and port of gentlemen?
(didascalia)	WHITMORE
(didascalia)	Cut both the villains’ throats! To Suffolk For die you
CAPTAIN	shall. The lives of those which we have lost in fight
(didascalia)
CAPTAIN	Be counterpoised with such a petty sum.
FIRST GENTLEMAN	(to the Master) I’ll give it, sir, and therefore spare my life.
SECOND GENTLEMAN	(to the Mate) And so will,I, and write home for it straight.
WHITMORE	(to Suffolk) I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore to revenge it, shalt thou die— And so should these, if I might have my will.
CAPTAIN	Be not so rash; take ransom; let him live.
SUFFOLK	Look on my George—I am a gentleman. Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.
WHITMORE	And so am I; my name is Walter Whitmore. Suffolk starteth How now—why starts thou? What doth thee affright?
SUFFOLK	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.
WHITMORE	Gualtier or Walter—which it is I care not. Never 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.
SUFFOLK	Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince, The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.
WHITMORE	The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags?
SUFFOLK	Ay, but these rags are no part of the Duke. Jove sometime went disguised, and why not I?
CAPTAIN	But Jove was never slain as thou shalt be.
SUFFOLK	Obscure and lousy swain, King Henry’s blood, The honourable blood of Lancaster, Must not be shed by such a jady groom. Hast thou not kissed thy hand and held my stirrup? Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mute 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 crestfall’n, 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.
WHITMORE	Speak, Captain—shall I stab the forlorn swain?
CAPTAIN	First let my words stab him as he hath me.
SUFFOLK	Base slave, thy words are blunt and so art thou.
CAPTAIN	Convey him hence and, on our longboat’s side, Strike off his head.
SUFFOLK	Thou dar’st not for thy own.
CAPTAIN	Pole—
(didascalia)	SUFFOLK Pole?
CAPTAIN	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 smiledst 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 Nevilles 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. (To Whitmore) Away, convey him hence.
SUFFOLK	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.
(didascalia)	CAPTAIN
SUFFOLK	But my deeds, Suffolk, soon shall stay thy rage.
SUFFOLK	I go of message from the Queen to France— I charge thee, waft me safely cross the Channel!
CAPTAIN	Walter—
WHITMORE	Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.
SUFFOLK	Paene gelidus timor occupat artus— It is thee I fear.
WHITMORE	Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee. What, are ye daunted now? Now will ye stoop?
FIRST GENTLEMAN	(to Suffolk) My gracious lord, entreat him—speak him fair.
SUFFOLK	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.
CAPTAIN	Hale him away, and let him talk no more.
SUFFOLK	Come, ‘soldiers’, show what cruelty ye can, That this my death may never be forgot. Great men oft die by vile Besonians; A Roman sworder and banditto slave Murdered sweet Tully ; Brutus’ bastard hand Stabbed Julius Caesar; savage islanders Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates.
(didascalia)	Exit Whitmore with Suffolk
CAPTAIN	And as for these whose ransom we have set, It is our pleasure one of them depart. (To the Second Gentleman) Therefore, come you with us and (to his men, pointing to the First Gentleman) let him go.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but the First Gentleman
(didascalia)	Enter Whitmore with Suffolk’s head and body
WHITMORE	There let his head and lifeless body lie, Until the Queen his mistress bury it. Exit
FIRST GENTLEMAN	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.
(didascalia)	Exit with Suffolk’s head and body

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarmi all’interno, e si scaricano i cannoni come se fosse una battaglia navale. E poi entrano il capitano della nave, il padrone, il secondo del padrone, Walter Whitmore, e altri. Con loro, come loro prigionieri, il duca di Suffolk, travestito, e due gentiluomini
CAPITANO	Il giorno vistoso, ciarliero e pietoso è sceso nel seno del mare ; e ora i lupi urlanti destano le rozze che tirano la tragica e malinconica notte; la quale, con le sue ali sonnolente, lente e cascanti, abbraccia le tombe dei morti, e dalle loro fauci nebbiose esala nell’aria una turpe e contagiosa tenebra. Perciò conducete avanti i soldati della nostra preda, ché mentre la nostra pinaccia sta all’ancora nelle Downs, qui faranno il loro riscatto sulla sabbia, o col loro sangue macchieranno questa riva scolorita. Padrone, (indicando il primo gentiluomo) questo prigioniero liberamente ti dono, (Al secondo) e tu, che sei il suo secondo, fa’ bottino di questo. Indica il secondo gentiluomo (A Walter Whitmore) L’altro (indicando Suffolk), Walter Whitmore, è la tua parte.
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	(al padrone) Qual è il mio riscatto, padrone, fatemelo sapere.
PADRONE	Mille corone, o giù la testa.
SECONDO	(al secondo gentiluomo) E altrettanto darete voi, o via va la vostra.
CAPITANO	(a entrambi i gentiluomini) Come, vi par troppo pagare duemila corone, e portare il nome e il contegno di gentiluomini?
(didascalia)	WHITMORE
(didascalia)	Tagliate la gola a entrambi i furfanti! A Suffolk Ché morire tu
CAPITANO	devi. Le vite di quelli che abbiamo perduto in battaglia
(didascalia)
CAPITANO	sian bilanciate con una somma così meschina.
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	(al padrone) La darò, signore, e perciò risparmiate la mia vita.
SECONDO GENTILUOMO	(al secondo) E così farò,io, e scriverò subito a casa per averla.
WHITMORE	(a Suffolk) Perdetti l’occhio nell’abbordare la preda, e perciò, per vendicarlo, tu morrai— e così questi, se potessi fare a mio modo.
CAPITANO	Non esser così avventato; prendi il riscatto; lascialo vivere.
SUFFOLK	Guarda il mio San Giorgio—sono un gentiluomo. Tassami quanto vuoi, sarai pagato.
WHITMORE	E lo sono anch’io; il mio nome è Walter Whitmore. Suffolk trasalisce Ebbene—perché trasalisci? Che ti spaventa?
SUFFOLK	Il tuo nome mi spaventa, nel cui suono è la morte. Un uomo esperto calcolò la mia nascita, e mi disse che per ‘acqua’ dovevo morire. Pure, non ti renda questo di animo sanguinario; il tuo nome è Gualtier, se pronunciato a dovere.
WHITMORE	Gualtier o Walter—quale sia non m’importa. Mai vile disonore appannò il nostro nome senza che con la nostra spada cancellassimo la macchia. Perciò, quando da mercante venderò la vendetta, sia rotta la mia spada, le mie armi lacerate e deturpate, e io proclamato codardo per il mondo.
SUFFOLK	Fermati, Whitmore; ché il tuo prigioniero è un principe, il duca di Suffolk, William de la Pole.
WHITMORE	Il duca di Suffolk avvolto in cenci?
SUFFOLK	Sì, ma questi cenci non son parte del Duca. Giove andò talvolta travestito, e perché non io?
CAPITANO	Ma Giove non fu mai ucciso come sarai tu.
SUFFOLK	Villano oscuro e pidocchioso, il sangue di re Enrico, l’onorevole sangue di Lancaster, non deve esser versato da un tal ronzino di stalliere. Non baciasti la tua mano e mi tenesti la staffa? A capo scoperto camminasti muto accanto alla gualdrappa e ti credesti felice quando io scossi il capo? Quante volte servisti alla mia coppa, mangiasti dal mio tagliere, t’inginocchiasti alla tavola quando banchettavo con Margherita? Ricordalo, e ti faccia abbassar la cresta, sì, e mitighi questa tua abortiva superbia, come nella nostra anticamera stesti attendendo debitamente la mia uscita ? Questa mia mano ha scritto in tuo favore, e perciò essa incanterà la tua lingua sfrenata.
WHITMORE	Parla, capitano—devo pugnalare il misero villano?
CAPITANO	Prima lo pugnalino le mie parole, com’egli ha fatto a me.
SUFFOLK	Vile schiavo, le tue parole son spuntate, e così sei tu.
CAPITANO	Portatelo via e, sul fianco della nostra lancia, tagliategli la testa.
SUFFOLK	Non oserai, per la tua stessa.
CAPITANO	Pole—
(didascalia)	SUFFOLK Pole?
CAPITANO	Sì, canile, pozzanghera, fogna, la cui sporcizia e fango intorbida l’argentea fonte dove l’Inghilterra bee, ora io tapperò questa tua bocca spalancata per aver inghiottito il tesoro del regno. Le tue labbra che baciarono la regina spazzeranno il suolo, e tu che sorridesti al buon duca Humphrey nella sua morte contro i venti insensibili digrignerai in vano, i quali per disprezzo ti fischieranno a loro volta. E sia tu sposato alle megere dell’inferno, per aver osato fidanzare un potente signore alla figlia d’un re da nulla, che non ha né suddito, né ricchezza, né diadema. Per diabolica astuzia ti sei fatto grande, e come l’ambizioso Silla, ingozzato di bocconi del cuore sanguinante di tua madre. Per te Angiò e Maine furon venduti alla Francia, i falsi e ribelli Normanni, per causa tua, sdegnano di chiamarci signori, e la Piccardia ha ucciso i loro governatori, sorpreso i nostri forti, e mandato a casa i soldati stracciati e feriti. Il principesco Warwick, e tutti i Neville, le cui terribili spade non furon mai sguainate in vano, odiandoti, s’alzano in armi; e ora la casa di York, spinta via dalla corona per il vergognoso assassinio d’un re innocente e per l’altezzosa, superba, usurpante tirannia, arde di fuoco vindice, i cui colori di speranza innalzano il nostro sole a mezzo volto, che lotta per brillare, sotto il quale è scritto: ‘Invitis nubibus’. Il popolo qui nel Kent è in armi, e, per concludere, obbrobrio e mendicità sono entrati nel palazzo del nostro re, e tutto per te. (A Whitmore) Via, portatelo fuori di qui.
SUFFOLK	Oh, fossi un dio, per scagliare il tuono su questi meschini, servili, abietti sgobboni. Piccole cose rendon superbi gli uomini vili. Questo furfante qui, essendo capitano d’una pinaccia, minaccia più di Bargulo, il forte pirata illirico. I fuchi non succhiano il sangue delle aquile, ma rubano gli alveari. È impossibile ch’io debba morire per mano d’un vassallo così basso come te. Le tue parole muovono in me rabbia, e non rimorso.
(didascalia)	CAPITANO
SUFFOLK	Ma i miei atti, Suffolk, presto fermeranno la tua rabbia.
SUFFOLK	Vado in ambasciata dalla regina alla Francia— t’ingiungo, traghettami sicuro attraverso la Manica!
CAPITANO	Walter—
WHITMORE	Vieni, Suffolk, devo traghettarti alla tua morte.
SUFFOLK	Paene gelidus timor occupat artus— È te che temo.
WHITMORE	Avrai motivo di temere prima ch’io ti lasci. Come, siete sgomento adesso? Ora vi piegherete?
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	(a Suffolk) Mio grazioso signore, supplicatelo—parlategli con buone.
SUFFOLK	La lingua imperiale di Suffolk è severa e ruvida, usa a comandare, non addestrata a implorar favore. Lungi da noi che dovessimo onorare costoro con umile preghiera. No, piuttosto pieghi il mio capo al ceppo, che queste ginocchia s’inchinino ad alcuno se non al Dio del cielo e al mio re; e prima danzi su una picca sanguinosa che stia scoperto davanti al volgare stalliere. La vera nobiltà è esente da timore; posso sopportare più di quanto voi osiate eseguire.
CAPITANO	Trascinatelo via, e non lo lasciate più parlare.
SUFFOLK	Venite, ‘soldati’, mostrate quanta crudeltà sapete, ché questa mia morte non sia mai dimenticata. I grandi uomini spesso muoiono per mano di vili pezzenti; uno spadaccino romano e uno schiavo bandito uccisero il dolce Tullio ; la mano bastarda di Bruto pugnalò Giulio Cesare; selvaggi isolani Pompeo il Grande; e Suffolk muore per mano di pirati.
(didascalia)	Esce Whitmore con Suffolk
CAPITANO	E quanto a questi il cui riscatto abbiamo fissato, è nostro piacere che uno di loro parta. (Al secondo gentiluomo) Perciò, venite voi con noi e (ai suoi uomini, indicando il primo gentiluomo) lasciate andar lui.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne il primo gentiluomo
(didascalia)	Entra Whitmore con la testa e il corpo di Suffolk
WHITMORE	Là restino la sua testa e il corpo senza vita, finché la regina sua signora li seppellisca. Esce
PRIMO GENTILUOMO	O barbaro e sanguinoso spettacolo! Il suo corpo porterò al re. Se egli non lo vendica, lo faranno i suoi amici; e così la regina, che vivo lo teneva caro.
(didascalia)	Esce con la testa e il corpo di Suffolk

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter two Rebels with long staves
FIRST REBEL	Come and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; they have been up these two days.
SECOND REBEL	They have the more need to sleep now then.
FIRST REBEL	I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.
SECOND REBEL	So he had need, for ‘tis threadbare. Well, I say it was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up.
FIRST REBEL	O, miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handicraftsmen.
SECOND REBEL	The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.
FIRST REBEL	Nay more, the King’s Council are no good workmen.
SECOND REBEL	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.
FIRST REBEL	Thou hast hit it; for there’s no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.
SECOND REBEL	I see them! I see them! There’s Best’s son, the tanner of Wingham—
FIRST REBEL	He shall have the skins of our enemies to make dog’s leather of. SECOND REBEL And Dick the butcher—
FIRST REBEL	Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity’s throat cut like a calf.
SECOND REBEL	And Smith the weaver—
FIRST REBEL	Argo, their thread of life is spun.
SECOND REBEL	Come, come, let’s fall in with them.
(didascalia)	Enter Jack Cade, Dick the Butcher, Smith the
(didascalia)	Weaver, a sawyer, and a drummer, with infinite
(didascalia)	numbers, fall with long staves
CADE	We, John Cade, so termed of our supposed father—BUTCHER (to his fellows) Or rather of stealing a cade of herrings.
CADE	For our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes—command silence!
BUTCHER	Silence!
CADE	My father was a Mortimer—
BUTCHER	(to his fellows) He was an honest man and a good bricklayer.
CADE	My mother a Plantagenet—
BUTCHER	(to his fellows) I knew her well, she was a midwife. CADE My wife descended of the Lacys—
BUTCHER	(to his fellows) She was indeed a pedlar’s daughter and sold many laces.
WEAVER	(to his fellows) But now of late, not able to travel with her furred pack, she washes bucks here at home. CADE Therefore am I of an honourable house.
BUTCHER	(to his fellows) 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.
CADE	Valiant I am—
WEAVER	(to his fellows) A must needs, for beggary is valiant.
CADE	I am able to endure much—
BUTCHER	(to his fellows) No question of that, for I have seen him whipped three market days together.
CADE	I fear neither sword nor fire.
WEAVER	(to his fellows) He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of proof.
BUTCHER	(to his fellows) But methinks he should stand in fear of fire, being burned i’th’ hand for stealing of sheep.
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 beer. All the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. And when I am king, as king I will be—
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	God save your majesty!
CADE	I thank you good people!—there shall be no money. All shall eat and drink on my score, and I will apparel them all in one livery that they may agree like brothers, and worship me their lord.
BUTCHER	The first thing we do let’s kill all the lawyers.
CADE	Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? That parchment, being scribbled o‘er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings, but I say ‘tis the bee’s wax. For I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since. How now? Who’s there? Enter some bringing forth the Clerk of Chatham
WEAVER	The Clerk of Chatham—he can write and read and cast account.
CADE	O, monstrous!
WEAVER	We took him setting of boys’ copies.
CADE	Here’s a villain.
WEAVER	He’s a book in his pocket with red letters in’t. CADE Nay, then he is a conjuror!
BUTCHER	Nay, he can make obligations and write court hand.
CADE	I am sorry for’t. The man is a proper man, of mine honour. Unless I find him guilty, he shall not die. Come hither, sirrah, I must examine thee. What is thy name?
CLERK	Emmanuel.
BUTCHER	They use to write that on the top of letters—‘twill go hard with you.
CADE	Let me alone. (To the Clerk) Dost thou use to write thy name? Or hast thou a mark to thyself like an honest plain-dealing man?
CLERK	Sir, I thank God I have been so well brought up that I can write my name.
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	He hath confessed—away with him He’s a villain and a traitor.
CADE	Away with him, I say, hang him with his pen and inkhorn about his neck. Exit one with the Clerk Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	Where’s our general? no CADE Here I am, thou particular fellow.
MESSENGER	Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by with the King’s forces.
CADE	Stand, villain, stand—or I’ll fell thee down. He shall be encountered with a man as good as himself. He is but a knight, is a?
MESSENGER	No.
CADE	To equal him I will make myself a knight presently. He kneels and knights himself Rise up, Sir John Mortimer. He rises Now have at him! Enter Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother, with a drummer and soldiers
STAFFORD	(to Cade’s followers) Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, Marked for the gallows, lay your weapons down; Home to your cottages, forsake this groom. The King is merciful, if you revolt.
STAFFORD’S BROTHER	(to Cade’s followers) But angry, wrathful, and inclined to blood, If you go forward. Therefore, yield or die.
CADE	(to his followers) As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not. It is to you, good people, that I speak, Over whom, in time to come, I hope to reign— For I am rightful heir unto the crown.
STAFFORD	Villain, thy father was a plasterer And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not?
CADE	And Adam was a gardener.
STAFFORD’S BROTHER	And what of that?
CADE	Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, Married the Duke of Clarence’ daughter, did he not?
STAFFORD	Ay, sir.
CADE	By her he had two children at one birth.
STAFFORD’S BROTHER	That’s false.
CADE	Ay, there’s the question—but I say ’tis true. The elder of them, being put to nurse, Was by a beggar-woman stol’n away, And, ignorant of his birth and parentage, Became a bricklayer when he came to age. His son am I—deny it an you can.
BUTCHER	Nay, ’tis too true—therefore he shall be king.
WEAVER	Sir, he made a chimney in my father’s house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify. Therefore deny it not.
STAFFORD	(to Cade’s followers) And will you credit this base drudge’s words That speaks he knows not what?
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	Ay, marry, will we—therefore get ye gone.
STAFFORD’S BROTHER	Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this.
CADE	(aside) He lies, for I invented it myself. (Aloud) Go to, sirrah—tell the King from me that for his father’s sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose time boys went to span-counter for French crowns, I am content he shall reign; but I’ll be Protector over him.
BUTCHER	And, furthermore, we’ll have the Lord Saye’s head for selling the dukedom of Maine.
CADE	And good reason, for thereby is England maimed, and fain to go with a staff, but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow-kings, I tell you that that Lord Saye hath gelded the commonwealth, and made it an eunuch, and, more than that, he can speak French, and therefore he is a traitor!
STAFFORD	O gross and miserable ignorance !
CADE	Nay, answer if you can: the Frenchmen are our enemies; go to, then, I ask but this—can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good counsellor or no?
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	No, no—and therefore we’ll have his head!
STAFFORD’S BROTHER	(to Stafford) Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail, Assail them with the army of the King.
STAFFORD	Herald, away, and throughout every town Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade; That those which fly before the battle ends May, even in their wives’ and children’s sight, Be hanged up for example at their doors. And you that be the King’s friends, follow me!
(didascalia)	Exeunt The Staffords and their soldiers
CADE	And you that love the commons, follow me! Now show yourselves men—’tis for liberty. We will not leave one lord, one gentleman— Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon, For they are thrifty honest men, and such As would, but that they dare not, take our parts.
BUTCHER	They are all in order, and march toward us.
CADE	But then are we in order when we are
(didascalia)	Most out of order. Come, march forward! Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano due ribelli con lunghi bastoni
PRIMO RIBELLE	Vieni e procurati una spada, fosse anche fatta d’una stecca; son già in piedi da due giorni.
SECONDO RIBELLE	Tanto più han bisogno di dormire adesso, allora.
PRIMO RIBELLE	Ti dico, Jack Cade il pannaiolo intende cardare lo stato, e rivoltarlo, e mettergli un pelo nuovo.
SECONDO RIBELLE	E ne ha bisogno, ché è liso fino alla trama. Bene, dico che non ci fu mai mondo allegro in Inghilterra da quando vennero su i gentiluomini.
PRIMO RIBELLE	Oh, età miserabile! La virtù non è tenuta in conto negli artigiani.
SECONDO RIBELLE	La nobiltà si sdegna d’andare in grembiuli di cuoio.
PRIMO RIBELLE	Anzi di più, il Consiglio del re non è fatto di buoni operai.
SECONDO RIBELLE	Vero; e pure si dice ‘Lavora nella tua vocazione’; ch’è come dire ‘Che i magistrati sian lavoratori’; e perciò dovremmo essere noi i magistrati.
PRIMO RIBELLE	L’hai colta; ché non c’è miglior segno d’animo valoroso d’una mano callosa.
SECONDO RIBELLE	Li vedo! Li vedo! Ecco il figlio di Best, il conciatore di Wingham—
PRIMO RIBELLE	Avrà le pelli dei nostri nemici per farne cuoio da cani. SECONDO RIBELLE E Dick il macellaio—
PRIMO RIBELLE	Allora il peccato è abbattuto come un bue, e la gola dell’iniquità tagliata come a un vitello.
SECONDO RIBELLE	E Smith il tessitore—
PRIMO RIBELLE	Argo, il loro filo di vita è filato.
SECONDO RIBELLE	Via, via, mettiamoci con loro.
(didascalia)	Entrano Jack Cade, Dick il macellaio, Smith il
(didascalia)	tessitore, un segatore e un tamburino, con infinite
(didascalia)	moltitudini, tutti con lunghi bastoni
CADE	Noi, John Cade, così chiamati dal nostro presunto padre—MACELLAIO (ai compagni) O piuttosto dall’aver rubato un barilotto d’aringhe.
CADE	Ché i nostri nemici cadranno davanti a noi, ispirati dallo spirito d’abbattere re e principi—imponete silenzio!
MACELLAIO	Silenzio!
CADE	Mio padre era un Mortimer—
MACELLAIO	(ai compagni) Era un uomo onesto e un buon muratore.
CADE	Mia madre una Plantageneta—
MACELLAIO	(ai compagni) La conoscevo bene, era una levatrice. CADE Mia moglie discesa dai Lacy—
MACELLAIO	(ai compagni) Era davvero figlia d’un merciaio ambulante e vendeva molti lacci.
TESSITORE	(ai compagni) Ma da ultimo, non potendo più girare con la sua balla pelosa, fa il bucato qui a casa. CADE Dunque io sono d’una casa onorevole.
MACELLAIO	(ai compagni) Sì, in fede mia, il campo è onorevole, e là nacque lui, sotto una siepe; ché suo padre non ebbe mai altra casa che la gabbia.
CADE	Valoroso sono—
TESSITORE	(ai compagni) Deve pure, ché la pitoccheria è valorosa.
CADE	Son capace di sopportar molto—
MACELLAIO	(ai compagni) Non c’è dubbio, ché l’ho visto frustato per tre giorni di mercato di fila.
CADE	Non temo né spada né fuoco.
TESSITORE	(ai compagni) Non ha da temere la spada, ché il suo giubbotto è a prova.
MACELLAIO	(ai compagni) Ma mi pare che dovrebbe star in timore del fuoco, essendo stato marchiato a fuoco sulla mano per furto di pecore.
CADE	Siate valorosi, allora, ché il vostro capitano è valoroso e giura la riforma. In Inghilterra sette pani da mezzo penny si venderanno per un penny, il boccale a tre cerchi ne avrà dieci, e farò reato il bere birra leggera. Tutto il regno sarà in comune, e a Cheapside il mio palafreno andrà al pascolo. E quando sarò re, come re sarò—
TUTTI I SEGUACI DI CADE	Dio salvi vostra maestà!
CADE	Vi ringrazio, brava gente!—non ci sarà denaro. Tutti mangeranno e berranno a mio conto, e li vestirò tutti d’una sola livrea, sì che vadano d’accordo come fratelli, e adorino me loro signore.
MACELLAIO	La prima cosa che facciamo, ammazziamo tutti gli avvocati.
CADE	Sì, questo intendo fare. Non è cosa lamentevole che della pelle d’un agnello innocente si faccia pergamena? Che quella pergamena, scribacchiata sopra, mandi in rovina un uomo? Alcuni dicono che l’ape punge, ma io dico ch’è la cera dell’ape. Ché io sigillai una volta sola una cosa, e da allora non fui mai più padrone di me. Ebbene? Chi è là? Entrano alcuni conducendo lo scrivano di Chatham
TESSITORE	Lo scrivano di Chatham—sa scrivere e leggere e far conti.
CADE	Oh, mostruoso!
TESSITORE	L’abbiamo preso a preparare i modelli di scrittura per i ragazzi.
CADE	Ecco un furfante.
TESSITORE	Ha un libro in tasca con lettere rosse dentro. CADE Ah, allora è un negromante!
MACELLAIO	Anzi, sa stendere obbligazioni e scrivere in scrittura di corte.
CADE	Me ne dispiace. L’uomo è un uomo come si deve, sul mio onore. Se non lo trovo colpevole, non morrà. Vieni qua, tu là, devo esaminarti. Qual è il tuo nome?
SCRIVANO	Emmanuel.
MACELLAIO	Usano scrivere quello in cima alle lettere—t’andrà male.
CADE	Lasciami solo. (Allo scrivano) Sei tu usato a scrivere il tuo nome? O hai un segno tuo, come un uomo onesto e schietto?
SCRIVANO	Signore, ringrazio Dio d’essere stato allevato così bene che so scrivere il mio nome.
TUTTI I SEGUACI DI CADE	Ha confessato—portatelo via È un furfante e un traditore.
CADE	Portatelo via, dico, impiccatelo con la penna e il calamaio al collo. Esce uno con lo scrivano Entra un messaggero
MESSAGGERO	Dov’è il nostro generale? no CADE Qui sono, tu, tipo particolare.
MESSAGGERO	Fuggi, fuggi, fuggi! Sir Humphrey Stafford e suo fratello son qui vicino con le forze del re.
CADE	Fermo, furfante, fermo—o t’abbatto. Sarà affrontato da un uomo buono quanto lui. Non è che un cavaliere, è così?
MESSAGGERO	No.
CADE	Per pareggiarlo mi farò cavaliere sul momento. S’inginocchia e si fa cavaliere da sé Alzati, Sir John Mortimer. Si alza Ora addosso a lui! Entrano Sir Humphrey Stafford e suo fratello, con un tamburino e soldati
STAFFORD	(ai seguaci di Cade) Villani ribelli, sporcizia e schiuma del Kent, segnati per la forca, deponete le armi; a casa, alle vostre capanne, abbandonate questo stalliere. Il re è misericordioso, se vi ritraete.
FRATELLO DI STAFFORD	(ai seguaci di Cade) Ma irato, furibondo e inclinato al sangue, se andate avanti. Perciò, arrendetevi o morite.
CADE	(ai suoi seguaci) Quanto a questi schiavi in giubba di seta, non me ne curo. È a voi, brava gente, ch’io parlo, sui quali, nel tempo a venire, spero di regnare— ché sono legittimo erede della corona.
STAFFORD	Furfante, tuo padre era un intonacatore e tu stesso un cimatore di panni, non è vero?
CADE	E Adamo era un giardiniere.
FRATELLO DI STAFFORD	E che c’entra?
CADE	Per la Vergine, questo: Edmondo Mortimer, conte di March, sposò la figlia del duca di Clarence, non è vero?
STAFFORD	Sì, signore.
CADE	Da lei ebbe due figli in un solo parto.
FRATELLO DI STAFFORD	Questo è falso.
CADE	Sì, qui sta la questione—ma io dico ch’è vero. Il maggiore dei due, essendo dato a balia, fu rubato via da una mendicante, e, ignaro della sua nascita e del suo lignaggio, divenne muratore quando venne in età. Suo figlio son io—negatelo se potete.
MACELLAIO	Sì, è troppo vero—perciò sarà re.
TESSITORE	Signore, fece un camino nella casa di mio padre, e i mattoni son vivi ancora oggi per testimoniarlo. Perciò non lo negate.
STAFFORD	(ai seguaci di Cade) E darete credito alle parole di questo vile sgobbone che dice ciò che non sa?
TUTTI I SEGUACI DI CADE	Sì, per la Vergine, lo faremo—perciò andatevene.
FRATELLO DI STAFFORD	Jack Cade, il duca di York t’ha insegnato questo.
CADE	(a parte) Mente, ché l’ho inventato io stesso. (Ad alta voce) Va’ via, tu là—di’ al re da parte mia che per amore di suo padre, Enrico Quinto, al cui tempo i ragazzi giocavano a piastrelle con le corone di Francia, mi contento ch’egli regni; ma io sarò Protettore sopra di lui.
MACELLAIO	E, inoltre, avremo la testa di lord Saye per aver venduto il ducato del Maine.
CADE	E con buona ragione, ché per ciò l’Inghilterra è storpiata, e costretta ad andar col bastone, se non fosse che la mia potenza la sostiene. Re miei compagni, vi dico che quel lord Saye ha castrato lo stato, e l’ha fatto eunuco, e, più di questo, sa parlar francese, e perciò è un traditore!
STAFFORD	Oh, grossolana e miserabile ignoranza !
CADE	Su, rispondete se potete: i Francesi sono nostri nemici; via, dunque, non chiedo che questo—chi parla con la lingua d’un nemico può essere un buon consigliere o no?
TUTTI I SEGUACI DI CADE	No, no—e perciò avremo la sua testa!
FRATELLO DI STAFFORD	(a Stafford) Bene, visto che le buone parole non prevarranno, assaliteli con l’esercito del re.
STAFFORD	Araldo, via, e per ogni città proclama traditori quelli che sono in armi con Cade; sì che quelli che fuggono prima che la battaglia finisca possano, sotto gli occhi stessi delle mogli e dei figli, essere impiccati per esempio alle loro porte. E voi che siete amici del re, seguitemi!
(didascalia)	Escono gli Stafford e i loro soldati
CADE	E voi che amate il popolo, seguitemi! Ora mostratevi uomini—è per la libertà. Non lasceremo un lord, un gentiluomo— risparmiate solo chi va in scarpe chiodate, ché son uomini parsimoniosi e onesti, e tali che vorrebbero, se solo osassero, prender le nostre parti.
MACELLAIO	Sono tutti in ordine, e marciano verso di noi.
CADE	Ma noi siamo in ordine allora, quando siamo
(didascalia)	più fuor d’ordine. Via, avanti, in marcia! Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarums to the fight; excursions, wherein both the Staffords are slain. Enter Jack Cade, Dick the Butcher, and the rest
CADE	Where’s Dick, the butcher of Ashford?
BUTCHER	Here, sir.
CADE	They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou behaved’st thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughterhouse. Therefore, thus will I reward thee—the Lent shall be as long again as it is. Thou shalt have licence to kill for a hundred, lacking one.
BUTCHER	I desire no more.
(didascalia)	CADE And to speak truth, thou deserv’st no less. He apparels himself in the Staffords’ armour This monument of the victory will I bear, and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse heels till I do come to London, where we will have the Mayor’s sword borne before us.
BUTCHER	If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the jails and let out the prisoners.
CADE	Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let’s march towards London.
(didascalia)	Exeunt, dragging the Staffords’ bodies

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarmi per la battaglia; scaramucce, nelle quali entrambi gli Stafford sono uccisi. Entrano Jack Cade, Dick il macellaio, e gli altri
CADE	Dov’è Dick, il macellaio di Ashford?
MACELLAIO	Qui, signore.
CADE	Caddero davanti a te come pecore e buoi, e tu ti comportasti come se fossi stato nel tuo proprio macello. Perciò, così ti ricompenserò—la Quaresima sarà lunga il doppio di quel che è. Avrai licenza d’ammazzare per cento, meno uno.
MACELLAIO	Non desidero di più.
(didascalia)	CADE E, a dire la verità, non meriti di meno. Si veste dell’armatura degli Stafford Questo monumento della vittoria lo porterò io, e i corpi saranno trascinati ai calcagni del mio cavallo finché non arrivi a Londra, dove faremo portare davanti a noi la spada del sindaco.
MACELLAIO	Se intendiamo prosperare e far del bene, sfondiamo le prigioni e liberiamo i prigionieri.
CADE	Non temerne, te lo garantisco. Via, marciamo verso Londra.
(didascalia)	Escono, trascinando i corpi degli Stafford

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Henry reading a supplication, Queen Margaret carrying Suffolk’s head, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Saye, with others
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET aside
(didascalia)	Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind, And makes it fearful and degenerate; Think, therefore, on revenge, and cease to weep. But who can cease to weep and look on this? Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast, But where’s the body that I should embrace?
BUCKINGHAM	(to King Henry) What answer makes your grace to the rebels’ supplication?
KING HENRY	I’ll send some holy bishop to entreat, For God forbid so many simple souls Should perish by the sword. And I myself, Rather than bloody war shall cut them short, Will parley with Jack Cade their general. But stay, I’ll read it over once again. He reads
QUEEN MARGARET	(to Suffolk’s head) Ah, barbarous villains! Hath this lovely face Ruled like a wandering planet over me, And could it not enforce them to relent, That were unworthy to behold the same?
KING HENRY	Lord Saye, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head.
SAYE	Ay, but I hope your highness shall have his.
KING HENRY	(to Queen Margaret) How now, madam? Still lamenting and mourning Suffolk’s death? I fear me, love, if that I had been dead, Thou wouldest not have mourned so much for me.
(didascalia)	No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee. Enter a Messenger, Fin haste
KING HENRY	How now? What news? Why com’st thou in such haste?
MESSENGER	The rebels are in Southwark—fly, my lord! Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer, Descended from the Duke of Clarence’ house, And calls your grace usurper, openly, And vows to crown himself in Westminster. His army is a ragged multitude Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless. Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother’s death Hath given them heart and courage to proceed. All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, They call false caterpillars and intend their death.
KING HENRY	O, graceless men; they know not what they do.
BUCKINGHAM	My gracious lord, retire to Kenilworth Until a power be raised to put them down.
QUEEN MARGARET	Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now alive These Kentish rebels would be soon appeased!
KING HENRY	Lord Saye, the trait’rous rabble hateth thee— Therefore away with us to Kenilworth.
SAYE	So might your grace’s person be in danger. The sight of me is odious in their eyes, And therefore in this city will I stay And live alone as secret as I may.
(didascalia)	Enter another Messenger
SECOND MESSENGER	(to King Henry) Jack Cade hath almost gotten London Bridge; The citizens fly and forsake their houses; The rascal people, thirsting after prey, Join with the traitor; and they jointly swear To spoil the city and your royal court.
BUCKINGHAM	(to King Henry) Then linger not, my lord; away, take horse!
KING HENRY	Come, Margaret. God, our hope, will succour us.
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET aside
KING HENRY	My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceased.
KING HENRY	(to Saye) Farewell, my lord. Trust not the Kentish rebels.
BUCKINGHAM	(to Saye) Trust nobody, for fear you be betrayed.
SAYE	The trust I have is in mine innocence, And therefore am I bold and resolute.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Saye at one door, the rest at another

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano re Enrico leggendo una supplica, Margherita portando la testa di Suffolk, il duca di Buckingham e lord Saye, con altri
(didascalia)	REGINA MARGHERITA a parte
(didascalia)	Spesso ho udito che il dolore ammollisce l’animo, e lo rende timoroso e degenere; pensa, dunque, alla vendetta, e cessa di piangere. Ma chi può cessar di piangere e guardare questo? Qui la sua testa può posare sul mio petto palpitante, ma dov’è il corpo che dovrei abbracciare?
BUCKINGHAM	(a re Enrico) Che risposta dà vostra grazia alla supplica dei ribelli?
RE ENRICO	Manderò qualche santo vescovo a trattare, ché Dio non voglia che tante anime semplici periscano di spada. E io stesso, piuttosto che la guerra sanguinosa li tronchi, parlamenterò con Jack Cade loro generale. Ma aspettate, la rileggerò un’altra volta. Legge
REGINA MARGHERITA	(alla testa di Suffolk) Ah, barbari furfanti! Questo volto amabile ha regnato su di me come un pianeta errante, e non poté costringerli a impietosirsi, loro ch’eran indegni di contemplarlo?
RE ENRICO	Lord Saye, Jack Cade ha giurato d’avere la vostra testa.
SAYE	Sì, ma spero che vostra altezza avrà la sua.
RE ENRICO	(a Margherita) Ebbene, madama? Ancora a lamentare e piangere la morte di Suffolk? Temo, amore mio, che se io fossi morto, tu non m’avresti pianto tanto.
(didascalia)	No, amore mio, non ti piangerei, ma morirei per te. Entra un messaggero, Fin fretta
RE ENRICO	Ebbene? Che nuove? Perché vieni in tanta fretta?
MESSAGGERO	I ribelli sono a Southwark—fuggite, mio signore! Jack Cade si proclama lord Mortimer, discendente dalla casa del duca di Clarence, e chiama vostra grazia usurpatore, apertamente, e giura d’incoronarsi a Westminster. Il suo esercito è una moltitudine straccia di villani e contadini, rozzi e senza pietà. La morte di Sir Humphrey Stafford e di suo fratello ha dato loro cuore e coraggio di procedere. Tutti gli studiosi, avvocati, cortigiani, gentiluomini, li chiamano falsi bruchi e ne intendono la morte.
RE ENRICO	Oh, uomini senza grazia; non sanno quel che fanno.
BUCKINGHAM	Mio grazioso signore, ritiratevi a Kenilworth finché non sia levata una forza per abbatterli.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Ah, fosse ora vivo il duca di Suffolk, questi ribelli del Kent sarebbero presto placati!
RE ENRICO	Lord Saye, la plebaglia traditrice v’odia— perciò via con noi a Kenilworth.
SAYE	Così la persona di vostra grazia sarebbe in pericolo. La mia vista è odiosa ai loro occhi, e perciò resterò in questa città e vivrò solo, nascosto quanto potrò.
(didascalia)	Entra un altro messaggero
SECONDO MESSAGGERO	(a re Enrico) Jack Cade ha quasi preso il ponte di Londra; i cittadini fuggono e abbandonano le case; la gentaglia, assetata di preda, si unisce al traditore; e insieme giurano di saccheggiare la città e la vostra regale corte.
BUCKINGHAM	(a re Enrico) Allora non tardate, mio signore; via, a cavallo!
RE ENRICO	Vieni, Margherita. Dio, nostra speranza, ci soccorrerà.
(didascalia)	REGINA MARGHERITA a parte
RE ENRICO	La mia speranza è andata, ora che Suffolk è morto.
RE ENRICO	(a Saye) Addio, mio signore. Non fidate nei ribelli del Kent.
BUCKINGHAM	(a Saye) Non fidate in nessuno, per timore d’esser tradito.
SAYE	La fiducia che ho è nella mia innocenza, e perciò sono ardito e risoluto.
(didascalia)	Escono Saye da una porta, gli altri da un’altra

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Lord Scales upon the Tower, walking. Enter three or four Citizens below
SCALES	How now? Is Jack Cade slain?
FIRST CITIZEN	No, my lord Scales, nor likely to be slain, for he and his men have won the bridge, killing all those that did withstand them. The Lord Mayor craveth aid of your honour from the Tower to defend the city from the rebels.
SCALES	Such aid as I can spare you shall command, But I am troubled here with them myself. The rebels have essayed to win the Tower. Get you to Smithfield, there to gather head, And thither will I send you Matthew Gough. Fight for your king, your country, and your lives! And so, farewell, for I must hence again.
(didascalia)	Exeunt, Scales above, the Citizens below

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra lord Scales sulla Torre, camminando. Entrano tre o quattro cittadini, in basso
SCALES	Ebbene? È ucciso Jack Cade?
PRIMO CITTADINO	No, mio lord Scales, né è probabile che sia ucciso, ché lui e i suoi uomini han conquistato il ponte, uccidendo tutti quelli che gli resistevano. Il lord sindaco chiede aiuto a vostro onore dalla Torre per difendere la città dai ribelli.
SCALES	Quell’aiuto che posso risparmiare sarà a vostro comando, ma qui son travagliato io stesso con loro. I ribelli han tentato di prendere la Torre. Andate a Smithfield, là a radunar forze, e là vi manderò Matthew Gough. Combattete per il vostro re, il vostro paese e le vostre vite! E così, addio, ché devo tornare dentro.
(didascalia)	Escono, Scales in alto, i cittadini in basso

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Jack Cade, the Weaver, the Butcher, and the rest. Cade strikes his sword on London Stone
CADE	Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And, here sitting upon London Stone, I charge and command that, of the city’s cost, the Pissing Conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of our reign. And now henceforward it shall be treason for any that calls me otherwise than Lord Mortimer.
(didascalia)	Enter a Soldier, running
SOLDIER	Jack Cade, Jack Cade!
CADE	Zounds, knock him down there! They kill him
(didascalia)	BUTCHER If this fellow be wise, he’ll never call ye Jack Cade more; I think he hath a very fair warning. He takes a paper from the soldier’s body and reads it My lord, there’s an army gathered together in Smithfield.
CADE	Come then, let’s go fight with them—but first, go on and set London Bridge afire, and, if you can, burn down the Tower too. Come, let’s away. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Jack Cade, il tessitore, il macellaio e gli altri. Cade batte la sua spada sulla Pietra di Londra
CADE	Ora Mortimer è signore di questa città. E, sedendo qui sulla Pietra di Londra, ordino e comando che, a spese della città, la Fontana Pisciarella non versi altro che vino chiaretto in questo primo anno del nostro regno. E d’ora innanzi sarà tradimento per chiunque mi chiami altrimenti che lord Mortimer.
(didascalia)	Entra un soldato, di corsa
SOLDATO	Jack Cade, Jack Cade!
CADE	Perdio, abbattetelo lì! L’uccidono
(didascalia)	MACELLAIO Se costui è saggio, non vi chiamerà più Jack Cade; credo abbia avuto un avvertimento bello e chiaro. Prende un foglio dal corpo del soldato e lo legge Mio signore, c’è un esercito radunato a Smithfield.
CADE	Venite dunque, andiamo a combatterli—ma prima, andate a dar fuoco al ponte di Londra e, se potete, bruciate anche la Torre. Via, andiamo. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarums. Excursions, wherein Matthew Gough is slain, and all the rest of his men with him. Then enter Jack Cade with his company, among them the Butcher, the Weaver, and John, a rebel
CADE	So, sirs, now go some and pull down the Savoy; others to th’ Inns of Court—down with them all.
BUTCHER	I have a suit unto your lordship.
CADE	Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that word.
BUTCHER	Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth.
JOHN	(aside to his fellows) Mass, ‘twill be sore law then, for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and ’tis not whole yet.
WEAVER	(aside to John) Nay, John, it will be stinking law, for his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese.
CADE	I have thought upon it—it shall be so. Away! Burn all the records of the realm. My mouth shall be the Parliament of England.
JOHN	(aside to his fellows) Then we are like to have biting statutes unless his teeth be pulled out.
CADE	And henceforward all things shall be in common. Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	My lord, a prize, a prize! Here’s the Lord Saye which sold the towns in France. He that made us pay one-and-twenty fifteens and one shilling to the pound the last subsidy.
(didascalia)	Enter a rebel with the Lord Saye
CADE	Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times. (To Saye) Ah, thou say, thou serge—nay, thou buckram lord! Now art thou within point-blank of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou answer to my majesty for giving up of Normandy unto Mounsieur Basimecu, the Dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these presence, even the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art. Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar school; and, whereas before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used and, contrary to the King his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face that thou hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb and such abominable words as no Christian ear can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed justices of peace to call poor men before them about matters they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou hast put them in prison, and, because they could not read, thou hast hanged them when indeed only for that cause they have been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride on a foot-cloth, dost thou not?
SAYE	What of that?
CADE	Marry, thou ought’st not to let thy horse wear a cloak when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets.
BUTCHER	And work in their shirts, too; as myself, for example, that am a butcher.
SAYE	You men of Kent.
BUTCHER	What say you of Kent?
SAYE	Nothing but this—’tis bona terra, mala gens.
CADE	Bonum terrum—zounds, what’s that?
BUTCHER	He speaks French.
(didascalia)	first REBEL No, ’tis Dutch.
(didascalia)	SECOND REBEL No, ’tis Out-talian, I know it well enough.
SAYE	Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will. Kent, in the commentaries Caesar writ, Is termed the civil’st place of all this isle; Sweet is the country, because full of riches; The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy; Which makes me hope you are not void of pity. I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy; Yet to recover them would lose my life. Justice with favour have I always done, Prayers and tears have moved me—gifts could never. When have I aught exacted at your hands, But to maintain the King, the realm, and you? Large gifts have I bestowed on learned clerks Because my book preferred me to the King, And seeing ignorance is the curse of God, Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven. Unless you be possessed with devilish spirits, You cannot but forbear to murder me. This tongue hath parleyed unto foreign kings For your behoof—
CADE	Tut, when struck’st thou one blow in the field?
SAYE	Great men have reaching hands. Oft have I struck Those that I never saw, and struck them dead.
REBEL	O monstrous coward! What, to come behind folks?
SAYE	These cheeks are pale for watching for your good—
CADE	Give him a box o‘th’ ear, and that will make ’em red again.
(didascalia)	One of the rebels strikes Saye
SAYE	Long sitting to determine poor men’s causes Hath made me full of sickness and diseases.
CADE	Ye shall have a hempen caudle, then, and the health o’th’ hatchet.
BUTCHER	(to Saye) Why dost thou quiver, man?
SAYE	The palsy, and not fear, provokes me.
CADE	Nay, he nods at us as who should say ‘I’ll be even with you’. I’ll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole or no. Take him away, and behead him.
SAYE	Tell me wherein have I offended most ? Have I affected wealth or honour? Speak. Are my chests filled up with extorted gold? Is my apparel sumptuous to behold? Whom have I injured, that ye seek my death? These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding, This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts. O let me live!
CADE	(aside) I feel remorse in myself with his words, but I’ll bridle it. He shall die an it be but for pleading so well for his life. (Aloud) Away with him—he has a familiar under his tongue; he speaks not a God’s name. Go, take him away, I say, to the Standard in Cheapside, and strike off his head presently; and then go to Mile End Green—break into his son-in-law’s house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them both upon two poles hither.
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	It shall be done!
SAYE	Ah, countrymen, if, when you make your prayers, God should be so obdurate as yourselves, How would it fare with your departed souls ? And therefore yet relent and save my life
CADE	Away with him, and do as I command ye!
(didascalia)	Exeunt the Butcher and one or two with the Lord Saye
CADE	The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head on his shoulders unless he pay me tribute. There shall not a maid be married but she shall pay to me her maidenhead, ere they have it. Married men shall hold of me in capite. And we charge and command that their wives be as free as heart can wish or tongue can tell.
(didascalia)	Enter a Rebel
REBEL	O captain, London Bridge is afire!
CADE	Run to Billingsgate and fetch pitch and flax and quench it.
(didascalia)	Enter the Butcher and a Sergeant
SERGEANT	Justice, justice, I pray you, sir, let me have justice of this fellow here.
CADE	Why, what has he done?
SERGEANT	Alas, sir, he has ravished my wife.
BUTCHER	(to Cade) Why, my lord, he would have ’rested me and I went and entered my action in his wife’s proper house.
CADE	Dick, follow thy suit in her common place. (To the Sergeant) You whoreson villain, you are a sergeant—you’ll take any man by the throat for twelve pence, and ’rest a man when he’s at dinner, and have him to prison ere the meat be out of his mouth. (To the Butcher) Go, Dick, take him hence: cut out his tongue for cogging, hough him for running, and, to conclude, brain him with his own mace.
(didascalia)	Exit the Butcher with the Sergeant
REBEL	My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside and take up commodities upon our bills?
CADE	Marry, presently. He that will lustily stand to it shall go with me and take up these commodities following—item, a gown, a kirtle, a petticoat, and a smock.
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	O brave!
(didascalia)	Enter two with the Lord Saye’s head and Sir James Cromer’s upon two poles
CADE	But is not this braver? Let them kiss one another, for they loved well when they were alive.
(didascalia)	The two heads are made to kiss
CADE	Now part them again, lest they consult about the giving up of some more towns in France. Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night. For with these borne before us instead of maces will we ride through the streets, and at every corner have them kiss. Away!
(didascalia)	Exeunt two with the heads. The others begin to follow
CADE	Up Fish Street! Down Saint Magnus’ Corner! Kill and knock down! Throw them into Thames!
(didascalia)	Sound a parley
CADE	What noise is this? Dare any be so bold to sound retreat or parley when I command them kill?
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Buckingham and old Lord Clifford
BUCKINGHAM	Ay, here they be that dare and will disturb thee! Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the King Unto the commons, whom thou hast misled, And here pronounce free pardon to them all That will forsake thee and go home in peace.
CLIFFORD	What say ye, countrymen, will ye relent And yield to mercy whilst ‘tis offered you, Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths? Who loves the King and will embrace his pardon, Fling up his cap and say ‘God save his majesty’. Who hateth him and honours not his father, Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake, Shake he his weapon at us, and pass by.
(didascalia)	They fling up their caps and forsake Cade
ALL CADE’S	FoLLOwERS God save the King! God save the King!
CADE	What, Buckingham and Clifford, are ye so brave? (To the rabble) And you, base peasants, do ye believe him? Will you needs be hanged with your pardons about your necks? Hath my sword, therefore, broke through London gates that you should leave me at the White Hart in Southwark? I thought ye would never have given out these arms till you had recovered your ancient freedom. But you are all recreants and dastards, and delight to live in slavery to the nobility. Let them break your backs with burdens, take your houses over your heads, ravish your wives and daughters before your faces. For me, I will make shift for one, and so God’s curse light upon you all.
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	We’ll follow Cade! We’ll follow Cade! They run to Cade again
CLIFFORD	Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth That thus you do exclaim you’ll go with him? Will he conduct you through the heart of France And make the meanest of you earls and dukes? Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to, Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil— Unless by robbing of your friends and us. Were’t not a shame that whilst you live at jar The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, Should make a start o‘er seas and vanquish you? Methinks already in this civil broil I see them lording it in London streets, Crying ‘Villiago!’ unto all they meet. Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman’s mercy. To France! To France! And get what you have lost! Spare England, for it is your native coast. Henry hath money; you are strong and manly; God on our side, doubt not of victory.
ALL CADE’S FOLLOWERS	A Clifford! A Clifford! We’ll follow the King and Clifford! They forsake Cade
CADE	(aside) Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this multitude? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them to an hundred mischiefs, and makes them leave me desolate. I see them lay their heads together to surprise me. My sword make way for me, for here is no staying. (Aloud) In despite of the devils and hell, have through the very middest of you! And heavens and honour be witness that no want of resolution in me, but only my followers’ base and ignominious treasons, makes me betake me to my heels. He runs through them with his staff, and flies away
BUCKINGHAM	What, is he fled? Go, some, and follow him, And he that brings his head unto the King Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward.
(didascalia)	Exeunt some of them after Cade
BUCKINGHAM	(To the remaining rebels) Follow me, soldiers, we’ll devise a mean To reconcile you all unto the King. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarmi. Scaramucce, nelle quali Matthew Gough è ucciso, e con lui tutti gli altri suoi uomini. Poi entra Jack Cade con la sua compagnia, fra cui il macellaio, il tessitore e John, un ribelle
CADE	Dunque, signori, ora alcuni vadano ad abbattere il Savoy; altri alle Locande di Corte—giù tutte quante.
MACELLAIO	Ho una richiesta per vossignoria.
CADE	Fosse anche una signoria, l’avrai per quella parola.
MACELLAIO	Solo che le leggi d’Inghilterra escano dalla vostra bocca.
JOHN	(a parte, ai compagni) Per la messa, sarà legge dolorante allora, ché gli ficcarono una lancia in bocca, e non è ancora guarita.
TESSITORE	(a parte, a John) Anzi, John, sarà legge puzzolente, ché il suo alito puzza d’aver mangiato formaggio arrostito.
CADE	Ci ho pensato—sarà così. Via! Bruciate tutti gli archivi del regno. La mia bocca sarà il Parlamento d’Inghilterra.
JOHN	(a parte, ai compagni) Allora è probabile che avremo statuti mordaci, se non gli si cavano i denti.
CADE	E d’ora innanzi tutte le cose saranno in comune. Entra un messaggero
MESSAGGERO	Mio signore, una preda, una preda! Ecco lord Saye, che vendette le città in Francia. Quello che ci fece pagare ventun quindicesimi e uno scellino per libbra all’ultimo sussidio.
(didascalia)	Entra un ribelle con lord Saye
CADE	Bene, per questo sarà decapitato dieci volte. (A Saye) Ah, tu, saia, tu, sargia—anzi, tu, lord di bucherame! Ora sei a bruciapelo sotto la nostra regale giurisdizione. Che sai rispondere alla mia maestà per aver ceduto la Normandia a monsù Basimecu, il Delfino di Francia? Ti sia noto per queste presenze, anzi per la presenza di lord Mortimer, che io sono la scopa che deve spazzar pulita la corte da sozzura come te. Hai corrotto nel modo più traditore la gioventù del regno erigendo una scuola di grammatica; e, mentre prima i nostri antenati non avevano altri libri che la tacca e il bastoncino da conto, tu hai fatto usare la stampa e, contro la corona e la dignità del re, hai costruito una cartiera. Ti sarà provato in faccia che hai intorno a te uomini che parlano abitualmente d’un nome e d’un verbo e di parole così abominevoli che nessun orecchio cristiano può sopportare d’udirle. Hai nominato giudici di pace per chiamare davanti a sé poveri uomini su materie a cui non sapevano rispondere. Inoltre, li hai messi in prigione, e, perché non sapevano leggere, li hai impiccati, quando invece solo per quel motivo eran degnissimi di vivere. Cavalchi su una gualdrappa, non è vero?
SAYE	E che c’entra?
CADE	Per la Vergine, non dovresti lasciare che il tuo cavallo porti un mantello quando uomini più onesti di te vanno in calze e farsetto.
MACELLAIO	E lavorano anche in camicia; come me, per esempio, che sono un macellaio.
SAYE	Voi uomini del Kent.
MACELLAIO	Che dite del Kent?
SAYE	Nient’altro che questo—è bona terra, mala gens.
CADE	Bonum terrum—perdio, che roba è?
MACELLAIO	Parla francese.
(didascalia)	primo RIBELLE No, è olandese.
(didascalia)	SECONDO RIBELLE No, è fuor-taliano, lo conosco abbastanza bene.
SAYE	Solo ascoltatemi parlare, e portatemi dove volete. Il Kent, nei commentari che Cesare scrisse, è detto il luogo più civile di tutta quest’isola; dolce è il paese, perché pieno di ricchezze; la gente liberale, valorosa, attiva, agiata; il che mi fa sperare che non siate privi di pietà. Non vendetti il Maine, non perdetti la Normandia; pure, per riacquistarle, perderei la vita. Giustizia con clemenza ho sempre fatto, preghiere e lacrime m’han commosso—i doni mai. Quando ho esatto qualcosa dalle vostre mani, se non per mantenere il re, il regno e voi? Larghi doni ho elargito a dotti chierici perché il mio libro mi promosse presso il re, e poiché l’ignoranza è la maledizione di Dio, e il sapere l’ala con cui voliamo al cielo. Se non siete posseduti da spiriti diabolici, non potete che astenervi dall’uccidermi. Questa lingua ha parlamentato con re stranieri a vostro vantaggio—
CADE	Bah, quando mai tirasti un colpo in campo?
SAYE	I grandi uomini hanno mani lunghe. Spesso ho colpito quelli che mai vidi, e li ho colpiti a morte.
RIBELLE	Oh, mostruoso codardo! Come, venire alle spalle della gente?
SAYE	Queste guance son pallide per aver vegliato al vostro bene—
CADE	Dategli uno schiaffo sull’orecchio, e quello le farà tornar rosse.
(didascalia)	Uno dei ribelli colpisce Saye
SAYE	Il lungo sedere per decidere le cause dei poveri m’ha riempito di malanni e malattie.
CADE	Avrai un brodino di canapa, allora, e la cura dell’ascia.
MACELLAIO	(a Saye) Perché tremi, uomo?
SAYE	La paralisi, e non il timore, mi scuote.
CADE	Anzi, ci fa segno col capo come per dire ‘Ve la farò pagare’. Vedrò se la sua testa sta più ferma su una picca o no. Portatelo via, e decapitatelo.
SAYE	Ditemi in che cosa ho offeso di più ? Ho ambito ricchezza o onore? Parlate. I miei forzieri son riempiti d’oro estorto? Le mie vesti son sontuose a vedersi? Chi ho danneggiato, che cercate la mia morte? Queste mani son libere dallo spargere sangue innocente, questo petto dal covare turpi pensieri ingannevoli. Oh, lasciatemi vivere!
CADE	(a parte) Sento in me il rimorso alle sue parole, ma lo terrò a freno. Morrà, non fosse che per aver perorato così bene per la sua vita. (Ad alta voce) Portatelo via—ha un demonio familiare sotto la lingua; non parla in nome di Dio. Andate, portatelo via, dico, allo Stendardo in Cheapside, e tagliategli la testa subito; e poi andate a Mile End Green—sfondate la casa di suo genero, Sir James Cromer, e tagliategli la testa, e portatele entrambe qui su due picche.
TUTTI I SEGUACI DI CADE	Sarà fatto!
SAYE	Ah, compatrioti, se, quando fate le vostre preghiere, Dio fosse ostinato come voi stessi, come andrebbe alle vostre anime partite ? E perciò impietositevi ancora e salvate la mia vita
CADE	Portatelo via, e fate come vi comando!
(didascalia)	Escono il macellaio e uno o due con lord Saye
CADE	Il più superbo pari del regno non porterà una testa sulle spalle se non mi paga tributo. Non ci sarà fanciulla che si sposi senza pagarmi la sua verginità, prima che l’abbiano loro. Gli uomini sposati terranno da me in capite. E ordiniamo e comandiamo che le loro mogli siano libere quanto il cuore può desiderare o la lingua può dire.
(didascalia)	Entra un ribelle
RIBELLE	O capitano, il ponte di Londra è in fiamme!
CADE	Corri a Billingsgate e prendi pece e lino e spegnilo.
(didascalia)	Entrano il macellaio e un sergente
SERGENTE	Giustizia, giustizia, vi prego, signore, fatemi aver giustizia di costui qui.
CADE	Ebbene, che ha fatto?
SERGENTE	Ahimè, signore, ha violentato mia moglie.
MACELLAIO	(a Cade) Ebbene, mio signore, voleva arrestarmi, e io andai e intentai la mia causa nella casa propria di sua moglie.
CADE	Dick, prosegui la tua causa nel suo luogo comune. (Al sergente) Tu, furfante figlio di puttana, tu sei un sergente—prendi qualunque uomo per la gola per dodici pence, e arresti un uomo quando è a pranzo, e lo porti in prigione prima che la carne gli sia uscita di bocca. (Al macellaio) Va’, Dick, portalo via: tagliagli la lingua per aver barato, azzoppalo per il correre, e, per concludere, spaccagli il cranio con la sua stessa mazza.
(didascalia)	Esce il macellaio col sergente
RIBELLE	Mio signore, quando andremo a Cheapside a prender merci a credito sulle nostre picche?
CADE	Per la Vergine, subito. Chi vorrà tenerci duro con gagliardia verrà con me e prenderà le merci seguenti—item, una veste, una gonnella, una sottana e una camicia.
TUTTI I SEGUACI DI CADE	Oh, bravo!
(didascalia)	Entrano due con la testa di lord Saye e quella di Sir James Cromer su due picche
CADE	Ma questo non è più bravo? Fatele baciar l’una l’altra, ché s’amavano bene quando erano vivi.
(didascalia)	Le due teste son fatte baciare
CADE	Ora separatele di nuovo, ché non si consultino sul cedere ancora qualche altra città in Francia. Soldati, differite il saccheggio della città fino a notte. Ché con queste portate davanti a noi in luogo di mazze cavalcheremo per le strade, e a ogni angolo le faremo baciare. Via!
(didascalia)	Escono i due con le teste. Gli altri cominciano a seguirli
CADE	Su per Fish Street! Giù per l’angolo di San Magno! Ammazzate e abbattete! Gettateli nel Tamigi!
(didascalia)	Suona un segnale di parlamento
CADE	Che rumore è questo? Osa qualcuno esser tanto ardito da suonare ritirata o parlamento quando io comando d’ammazzare?
(didascalia)	Entrano il duca di Buckingham e il vecchio lord Clifford
BUCKINGHAM	Sì, qui son quelli che osano e vogliono disturbarti! Sappi, Cade, che veniamo ambasciatori del re al popolo, che tu hai traviato, e qui pronunciamo libero perdono a tutti quelli che t’abbandoneranno e andranno a casa in pace.
CLIFFORD	Che dite, compatrioti, vi piegherete e vi arrenderete alla clemenza mentre v’è offerta, o lascerete che un ribelle vi conduca alla morte? Chi ama il re e vuol abbracciare il suo perdono, getti in aria il cappello e dica ‘Dio salvi sua maestà’. Chi l’odia e non onora suo padre, Enrico Quinto, che fece tremare tutta la Francia, scuota la sua arma contro di noi, e passi.
(didascalia)	Gettano in aria i cappelli e abbandonano Cade
TUTTI I	SEGUACI DI CADE Dio salvi il re! Dio salvi il re!
CADE	Come, Buckingham e Clifford, siete così bravi? (Alla plebaglia) E voi, vili contadini, gli credete? Volete proprio farvi impiccare coi vostri perdoni al collo? La mia spada ha dunque sfondato le porte di Londra perché voi mi lasciaste al Cervo Bianco in Southwark? Credevo che non avreste mai deposto queste armi finché non avessi riconquistato la vostra antica libertà. Ma siete tutti rinnegati e codardi, e vi dilettate di vivere in schiavitù della nobiltà. Che vi rompano la schiena coi pesi, vi portino via le case sopra la testa, violentino le vostre mogli e figlie davanti ai vostri occhi. Per me, me la caverò da solo, e così la maledizione di Dio scenda su voi tutti.
TUTTI I SEGUACI DI CADE	Seguiremo Cade! Seguiremo Cade! Corrono di nuovo a Cade
CLIFFORD	È Cade il figlio d’Enrico Quinto, che così esclamate d’andar con lui? Vi condurrà egli nel cuore della Francia e farà del più umile di voi conti e duchi? Ahimè, non ha casa, non luogo dove fuggire, né sa come vivere se non di rapina— se non derubando i vostri amici e noi. Non sarebbe vergogna che, mentre voi vivete in discordia, i paurosi Francesi, che voi vinceste di recente, facessero un salto oltre i mari e vincessero voi? Mi pare già, in questo tumulto civile, di vederli far da signori nelle strade di Londra, gridando ‘Villiago!’ a tutti quelli che incontrano. Meglio che diecimila Cade di bassa nascita periscano che voi doveste piegarvi alla mercé d’un Francese. In Francia! In Francia! E riprendete ciò che avete perduto! Risparmiate l’Inghilterra, ché è la vostra costa natale. Enrico ha denaro; voi siete forti e virili; Dio dal nostro lato, non dubitate della vittoria.
TUTTI I SEGUACI DI CADE	A Clifford! A Clifford! Seguiremo il re e Clifford! Abbandonano Cade
CADE	(a parte) Fu mai piuma soffiata qua e là così leggermente come questa moltitudine? Il nome d’Enrico Quinto li trascina a cento guai, e me li fa lasciare desolato. Li vedo metter le teste insieme per sorprendermi. La mia spada mi faccia strada, ché qui non c’è da restare. (Ad alta voce) A dispetto dei diavoli e dell’inferno, addosso, proprio nel mezzo di voi! E il cielo e l’onore siano testimoni che non mancanza di risoluzione in me, ma solo i vili e ignominiosi tradimenti dei miei seguaci mi fanno ricorrere ai calcagni. Si getta fra loro col suo bastone, e fugge via
BUCKINGHAM	Come, è fuggito? Andate, alcuni, e inseguitelo, e chi porterà la sua testa al re avrà mille corone in ricompensa.
(didascalia)	Escono alcuni di loro dietro a Cade
BUCKINGHAM	(Ai ribelli rimasti) Seguitemi, soldati, troveremo un modo di riconciliarvi tutti col re. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, and the Duke of Somerset on the terrace
KING HENRY	Was ever King that joyed an earthly throne And could command no more content than I? No sooner was I crept out of my cradle But I was made a king at nine months old. Was never subject longed to be a king As I do long and wish to be a subject.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Buckingham and Lord Clifford on the terrace
BUCKINGHAM	(to King Henry) Health and glad tidings to your majesty.
KING HENRY	Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade surprised? Or is he but retired to make him strong?
(didascalia)	Enter, below, multitudes with halters about their necks
CLIFFORD	He is fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield, And humbly thus with halters on their necks Expect your highness’ doom of life or death.
KING HENRY	Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates To entertain my vows of thanks and praise. (To the multitudes below) Soldiers, this day have you redeemed your lives, And showed how well you love your prince and country. Continue still in this so good a mind, And Henry, though he be infortunate, Assure yourselves will never be unkind. And so, with thanks and pardon to you all, I do dismiss you to your several countries.
(didascalia)	ALL CADE’S FORMER FOLLOWERS God save the King! Gold save the King! Exeunt multitudes below
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger on the terrace
MESSENGER	(to King Henry) Please it your grace to be advertised The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland, And with a puissant and a mighty power Of galloglasses and stout Irish kerns Is marching hitherward in proud array, And still proclaimeth, as he comes along, His arms are only to remove from thee The Duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor.
KING HENRY	Thus stands my state, ’twixt Cade and York distressed, Like to a ship that, having scaped a tempest, Is straightway calmed and boarded with a pirate. But now is Cade driven back, his men dispersed, And now is York in arms to second him. I pray thee, Buckingham, go and meet him, And ask him what’s the reason of these arms. Tell him I’ll send Duke Edmund to the Tower; And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither, Until his army be dismissed from him.
SOMERSET	My lord, I’ll yield myself to prison willingly, Or unto death, to do my country good.
KING HENRY	(to Buckingham) In any case, be not too rough in terms, For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language.
BUCKINGHAM	I will, my lord, and doubt not so to deal As all things shall redound unto your good.
KING HENRY	Come, wife, let’s in and learn to govern better; For yet may England curse my wretched reign.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Suonano le trombe. Entrano re Enrico, Margherita e il duca di Somerset sulla terrazza
RE ENRICO	Fu mai re che godesse d’un trono terreno e potesse comandare meno contento di me? Non appena fui uscito dalla culla fui fatto re a nove mesi d’età. Non fu mai suddito che bramasse d’esser re quanto io bramo e desidero d’esser suddito.
(didascalia)	Entrano il duca di Buckingham e lord Clifford sulla terrazza
BUCKINGHAM	(a re Enrico) Salute e lieti annunzi a vostra maestà.
RE ENRICO	Ebbene, Buckingham, è stato catturato il traditore Cade? O s’è solo ritirato per rinforzarsi?
(didascalia)	Entrano, in basso, moltitudini con capestri al collo
CLIFFORD	È fuggito, mio signore, e tutte le sue forze si arrendono, e umilmente così, coi capestri al collo, attendono da vostra altezza sentenza di vita o di morte.
RE ENRICO	Allora, cielo, spalanca le tue porte eterne per accogliere i miei voti di grazie e di lode. (Alle moltitudini in basso) Soldati, oggi avete riscattato le vostre vite, e mostrato quanto bene amate il vostro principe e il vostro paese. Perseverate ancora in questo animo così buono, ed Enrico, sebbene sia sfortunato, siatene certi, non sarà mai scortese. E così, con grazie e perdono a voi tutti, vi licenzio alle vostre varie contrade.
(didascalia)	TUTTI GLI EX SEGUACI DI CADE Dio salvi il re! Oro salvi il re! Escono le moltitudini in basso
(didascalia)	Entra un messaggero sulla terrazza
MESSAGGERO	(a re Enrico) Piaccia a vostra grazia d’esser avvisata che il duca di York è appena venuto dall’Irlanda, e con una possente e gagliarda forza di gallowglass e robusti fanti irlandesi sta marciando in questa direzione in superbo ordine, e va proclamando, mentre avanza, che le sue armi son solo per rimuovere da te il duca di Somerset, che chiama traditore.
RE ENRICO	Così sta il mio stato, angustiato fra Cade e York, come una nave che, scampata a una tempesta, è subito bonacciata e abbordata da un pirata. Ma ora Cade è respinto, i suoi uomini dispersi, e ora York è in armi per fargli seguito. Ti prego, Buckingham, va’ a incontrarlo, e chiedigli qual è la ragione di queste armi. Digli che manderò il duca Edmondo alla Torre; e, Somerset, vi affideremo là, finché il suo esercito non gli sia congedato.
SOMERSET	Mio signore, mi consegnerò volentieri alla prigione, o alla morte, per fare il bene del mio paese.
RE ENRICO	(a Buckingham) In ogni caso, non siate troppo aspro nei termini, ché è fiero e non tollera parole dure.
BUCKINGHAM	Così farò, mio signore, e non dubito d’agire in modo che ogni cosa torni a vostro bene.
RE ENRICO	Vieni, moglie, entriamo e impariamo a governar meglio; ché ancora l’Inghilterra può maledire il mio sventurato regno.
(didascalia)	Squillo. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Jack Cade
CADE	Fie on ambitions; fie on myself that have a sword and yet am ready to famish. These five days have I hid me in these woods and durst not peep out, for all the country is laid for me. But now am I so hungry that if I might have a lease of my life for a thousand years, I could stay no longer. Wherefore o‘er a brick wall have I climbed into this garden to see if I can eat grass or pick a sallet another while, which is not amiss to cool a man’s stomach this hot weather. And I think this word ‘sallet’ was born to do me good; for many a time, but for a sallet, my brain-pan had been cleft with a brown bill; and many a time, when I have been dry, and bravely marching, it hath served me instead of a quart pot to drink in; and now the word ‘sallet’ must serve me to feed on.
(didascalia)	He lies down picking of herbs and eating them. Enter Sir Alexander Iden and five of his men
IDEN	Lord, who would live turmoilèd in the court And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? This small inheritance my father left me Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy. I seek not to wax great by others’ waning, Or gather wealth I care not with what envy; Sufficeth that I have maintains my state, And sends the poor well pleased from my gate.
(didascalia)	Cade rises to his knees
CADE	(aside) Zounds, here’s the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray for entering his fee-simple without leave. (To Iden) A villain, thou wilt betray me and get a thousand crowns of the king by carrying my head to him; but I’ll make thee eat iron like an ostrich and swallow my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part.
IDEN	Why, rude companion, whatsoe’er thou be, I know thee not. Why then should I betray thee? Is’t not enough to break into my garden, And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms?
CADE	Brave thee? Ay, by the best blood that ever was broached—and beard thee too! Look on me well—I have eat no meat these five days, yet come thou and thy five men, an if I do not leave you all as dead as a doornail I pray God I may never eat grass more.
IDEN	Nay, it shall ne’er be said while England stands That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, Took odds to combat a poor famished man. Oppose thy steadfast gazing eyes to mine— See if thou canst outface me with thy looks. Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser— Thy hand is but a finger to my fist, Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon. My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast, And if mine arm be heaved in the air, Thy grave is digged already in the earth. As for words, whose greatness answers words, Let this my sword report what speech forbears. (To his men) Stand you all aside.
CADE	By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I heard. (To his sword) Steel, if thou turn the edge or cut not out the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I beseech God on my knees thou mayst be turned to hobnails.
(didascalia)	Cade stands. Here they fight, and Cade falls down
CADE	O, I am slain! Famine and no other hath slain me! Let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have lost, and I’d defy them all. Wither, garden, and be henceforth a burying place to all that do dwell in this house, because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled.
IDEN	Is’t Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor? Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed And hang thee o‘er my tomb when I am dead. Ne’er shall this blood be wiped from thy point But thou shalt wear it as a herald’s coat To emblaze the honour that thy master got.
CADE	Iden, farewell, and be proud of thy victory. Tell Kent from me she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the world to be cowards. For I, that never feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour. He dies
IDEN	How much thou wrong’st me, heaven be my judge. Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bore thee!
(didascalia)	And stabbing him again as I thrust thy body in with
IDEN	my sword, So wish I I might thrust thy soul to hell. Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave, And there cut off thy most ungracious head, Which I will bear in triumph to the King, Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon.
(didascalia)	Exeunt with the body

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Jack Cade
CADE	Al diavolo le ambizioni; al diavolo me stesso, che ho una spada e pure son pronto a crepar di fame. Da questi cinque giorni mi son nascosto in questi boschi e non ho osato affacciarmi, ché tutto il paese è appostato per me. Ma ora ho tanta fame che, se pur mi si dessero in affitto mille anni di vita, non potrei star fermo più a lungo. Perciò, scavalcato un muro di mattoni, mi sono arrampicato in questo giardino per vedere se posso mangiare erba o cogliere un’insalata per un poco, ché non è male per rinfrescare lo stomaco d’un uomo con questo caldo. E credo che questa parola ‘insalata’ sia nata per farmi del bene; ché più d’una volta, se non fosse stato per un’insalata, il mio cranio sarebbe stato spaccato da un’alabarda; e più d’una volta, quando avevo sete e marciavo gagliardamente, m’ha servito in luogo d’un boccale da bere; e ora la parola ‘insalata’ deve servirmi da cibo.
(didascalia)	Si stende cogliendo erbe e mangiandole. Entrano Sir Alexander Iden e cinque dei suoi uomini
IDEN	Signore, chi vorrebbe vivere agitato a corte potendo godere passeggiate quiete come queste? Questa piccola eredità che mio padre mi lasciò mi contenta, e val quanto una monarchia. Non cerco d’ingrandirmi col decadere altrui, o d’accumulare ricchezze non curandomi di quanta invidia; basta che quel che ho mantenga il mio stato, e mandi il povero ben contento dal mio portone.
(didascalia)	Cade si solleva sulle ginocchia
CADE	(a parte) Perdio, ecco il signore del suolo venuto a sequestrarmi come bestia randagia per esser entrato nel suo podere senza licenza. (A Iden) Ah, furfante, mi tradirai e prenderai mille corone dal re portandogli la mia testa; ma ti farò mangiare ferro come uno struzzo e inghiottire la mia spada come un grosso spillo, prima che tu e io ci separiamo.
IDEN	Ebbene, rozzo compare, chiunque tu sia, non ti conosco. Perché dunque dovrei tradirti? Non basta irrompere nel mio giardino, e, come un ladro, venire a derubare le mie terre, scavalcando i miei muri a dispetto mio che ne son padrone, ma vuoi anche sfidarmi con questi termini insolenti?
CADE	Sfidarti? Sì, per il miglior sangue che mai fu spillato—e anche affrontarti in barba! Guardami bene—non ho mangiato carne da cinque giorni, pure vieni tu coi tuoi cinque uomini, e se non vi lascio tutti morti come un chiodo di porta, prego Dio ch’io non mangi mai più erba.
IDEN	No, mai si dirà, finché l’Inghilterra sta in piedi, che Alexander Iden, scudiero del Kent, prese vantaggio per combattere un povero uomo affamato. Opponi i tuoi occhi fissi e saldi ai miei— vedi se sai vincermi in faccia coi tuoi sguardi. Membro a membro, e sei di gran lunga il minore— la tua mano non è che un dito al mio pugno, la tua gamba un bastoncino a paragone di questo randello. Il mio piede combatterà con tutta la forza che hai, e se il mio braccio si leva in aria, la tua fossa è già scavata nella terra. Quanto alle parole, la cui grandezza risponde a parole, questa mia spada riferisca ciò che il discorso tralascia. (Ai suoi uomini) State tutti da parte.
CADE	Sul mio valore, il più compiuto campione ch’io mai udii. (Alla sua spada) Acciaio, se pieghi il filo o non ritagli questo villano dalle ossa grosse in lombate di bue prima di dormire nel tuo fodero, supplico Dio in ginocchio che tu possa esser mutato in chiodi da scarpe.
(didascalia)	Cade si alza. Qui combattono, e Cade cade a terra
CADE	Oh, sono ucciso! La fame e nessun altro m’ha ucciso! Vengano contro di me diecimila diavoli, e datemi solo i dieci pasti che ho perduto, e li sfiderei tutti. Secca, giardino, e sii d’ora innanzi luogo di sepoltura per tutti quelli che abitano in questa casa, perché l’invitta anima di Cade è fuggita.
IDEN	È Cade quello che ho ucciso, quel mostruoso traditore? Spada, ti consacrerò per questa tua impresa e t’appenderò sopra la mia tomba quando sarò morto. Mai questo sangue sarà terso dalla tua punta, ma tu lo porterai come la cotta d’un araldo a blasonare l’onore che il tuo padrone ottenne.
CADE	Iden, addio, e sii orgoglioso della tua vittoria. Di’ al Kent da parte mia che ha perduto il suo miglior uomo, ed esorta tutto il mondo a esser codardo. Ché io, che mai temetti nessuno, son vinto dalla fame, non dal valore. Muore
IDEN	Quanto torto mi fai, il cielo sia mio giudice. Muori, maledetto sciagurato, maledizione di colei che ti partorì!
(didascalia)	E pugnalandolo di nuovo Come spingo dentro il tuo corpo con
IDEN	la mia spada, così vorrei poter spingere la tua anima all’inferno. Di qui ti trascinerò a capofitto per i calcagni fino a un letamaio, che sarà la tua fossa, e là taglierò la tua sgraziatissima testa, che porterò in trionfo al re, lasciando il tuo tronco in pasto ai corvi.
(didascalia)	Escono col corpo

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of York and his army of Irish with a drummer and soldiers bearing colours
YORK	From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right, And pluck the crown from feeble Henry’s head. Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and bright, To entertain great England’s lawful king. Ah, sancta maiestas! Who would not buy thee dear? Let them obey that knows not how to rule; This hand was made to handle naught but gold. I cannot give due action to my words, Except a sword or sceptre balance it. A sceptre shall it have, have I as word, On which I’ll toss the fleur-de-lis of France.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Buckingham
YORK	(Aside) Whom have we here? Buckingham to disturb me? The King hath sent him sure—I must dissemble.
BUCKINGHAM	York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well.
YORK	Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting. Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure?
BUCKINGHAM	A messenger from Henry, our dread liege, To know the reason of these arms in peace; Or why thou, being a subject as I am, Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn, Should raise so great a power without his leave, Or dare to bring thy force so near the court?
YORK	(aside) Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. O, I could hew up rocks and fight with flint, I am so angry at these abject terms; And now, like Ajax Telamonius, On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury. I am far better born than is the King, More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts; But I must make fair weather yet a while, Till Henry be more weak and I more strong. (Aloud) Buckingham, I prithee pardon me, That I have given no answer all this while; My mind was troubled with deep melancholy. The cause why I have brought this army hither Is to remove proud Somerset from the King, Seditious to his grace and to the state.
BUCKINGHAM	That is too much presumption on thy part; But if thy arms be to no other end, The King hath yielded unto thy demand: The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower.
YORK	Upon thine honour, is he prisoner?
BUCKINGHAM	Upon mine honour, he is prisoner.
YORK	Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my powers. Soldiers, I thank you all; disperse yourselves; Meet me tomorrow in Saint George’s field. You shall have pay and everything you wish.
(didascalia)	Exeunt soldiers
YORK	(To Buckingham) And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, Command my eldest son—nay, all my sons— As pledges of my fealty and love. I’ll send them all as willing as I live. Lands, goods, horse, armour, anything I have Is his to use, so Somerset may die.
BUCKINGHAM	York, I commend this kind submission. We twain will go into his highness’ tent.
(didascalia)	Enter King Henry and attendants
KING HENRY	Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us, That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm?
YORK	In all submission and humility York doth present himself unto your highness.
KING HENRY	Then what intends these forces thou dost bring?
YORK	To heave the traitor Somerset from hence, And fight against that monstrous rebel Cade, Who since I heard to be discomfited.
(didascalia)	Enter Iden with Cade’s head
IDEN	If one so rude and of so mean condition May pass into the presence of a king,
(didascalia)	Kneeling Lo, I present your grace a traitor’s head,
IDEN	The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew.
KING HENRY	The head of Cade? Great God, how just art thou! O let me view his visage, being dead, That living wrought me such exceeding trouble. Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew him?
(didascalia)	IDEN rising
KING HENRY	Iwis, an’t like your majesty.
KING HENRY	How art thou called? And what is thy degree?
IDEN	Alexander Iden, that’s my name; A poor esquire of Kent that loves his king.
BUCKINGHAM	(to King Henry) So please it you, my lord, ’twere not amiss He were created knight for his good service.
KING HENRY	Iden, kneel down. Iden kneels and King Henry knights him Rise up a knight. Iden rises We give thee for reward a thousand marks, And will that thou henceforth attend on us.
IDEN	May Iden live to merit such a bounty, And never live but true unto his liege.
(didascalia)	Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Queen Margaret and the Duke of Somerset
KING HENRY	See, Buckingham, Somerset comes wi’th’ Queen. Go bid her hide him quickly from the Duke.
QUEEN MARGARET	For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head, But boldly stand and front him to his face.
YORK	How now? Is Somerset at liberty? Then, York, unloose thy long imprisoned thoughts, And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. Shall I endure the sight of Somerset? False King, why hast thou broken faith with me, Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse? ‘King’ did I call thee? No, thou art not king; Not fit to govern and rule multitudes, Which dar’st not—no, nor canst not—rule a traitor. That head of thine doth not become a crown; Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer’s staff, And not to grace an aweful princely sceptre. That gold must round engird these brows of mine, Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles’ spear, Is able with the change to kill and cure. Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up, And with the same to act controlling laws. Give place! By heaven, thou shalt rule no more O’er him whom heaven created for thy ruler.
SOMERSET	O monstrous traitor! I arrest thee, York, Of capital treason ’gainst the King and crown. Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace.
YORK	(to an attendant) Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail. Exit attendant I know, ere they will have me go to ward, They’ll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement.
(didascalia)	QUEEN MARGARET to Buckingham
YORK	Call hither Clifford; bid him come amain, To say if that the bastard boys of York Shall be the surety for their traitor father.
(didascalia)	Exit Buckingham
YORK	O blood-bespotted Neapolitan, Outcast of Naples, England’s bloody scourge! The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, Shall be their father’s bail, and bane to those That for my surety will refuse the boys.
(didascalia)	Enter at one door York’s sons Edward and crookback Richard with a drummer and soldiers
YORK	See where they come. I’ll warrant they’ll make it good.
(didascalia)	Enter at the other door Clifford and his son, with a drummer and soldiers
QUEEN MARGARET	And here comes Clifford to deny their bail.
CLIFFORD	(kneeling before King Henry) Health and all happiness to my lord the King. He rises
YORK	I thank thee, Clifford. Say, what news with thee? Nay, do not fright us with an angry look— We are thy sovereign, Clifford; kneel again. For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee.
CLIFFORD	This is my king, York; I do not mistake. But thou mistakes me much to think I do. (To King Henry) To Bedlam with him! Is the man grown mad?
KING HENRY	Ay, Clifford, a bedlam and ambitious humour Makes him oppose himself against his king.
CLIFFORD	He is a traitor; let him to the Tower, And chop away that factious pate of his.
QUEEN MARGARET	He is arrested, but will not obey. His sons, he says, shall give their words for him.
YORK	(to Edward and Richard) Will you not, sons?
EDWARD	Ay, noble father, if our words will serve.
RICHARD	And if words will not, then our weapons shall.
CLIFFORD	Why, what a brood of traitors have we here!
YORK	Look in a glass, and call thy image so. I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor. Call hither to the stake my two brave bears, That with the very shaking of their chains, They may astonish these fell-lurking curs. (To an attendant) Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me.
(didascalia)	Exit attendant
(didascalia)	Enter the Earls of Warwick and Salisbury with a drummer and soldiers
CLIFFORD	Are these thy bears? We’ll bait thy bears to death, And manacle the bearherd in their chains, If thou dar’st bring them to the baiting place.
RICHARD	Oft have I seen a hot o’erweening cur Run back and bite, because he was withheld; Who, being suffered with the bear’s fell paw, Hath clapped his tail between his legs and cried; And such a piece of service will you do, If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick.
CLIFFORD	Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump, As crooked in thy manners as thy shape!
YORK	Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon.
CLIFFORD	Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves.
KING HENRY	Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow? Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair, Thou mad misleader of thy brainsick son! What, wilt thou on thy deathbed play the ruffian, And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles? O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty? If it be banished from the frosty head, Where shall it find a harbour in the earth? Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war, And shame thine honourable age with blood? Why, art thou old and want’st experience? Or wherefore dost abuse it if thou hast it? For shame in duty bend thy knee to me, That bows unto the grave with mickle age.
SALISBURY	My lord, I have considered with myself The title of this most renowned Duke, And in my conscience do repute his grace The rightful heir to England’s royal seat.
KING HENRY	Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me?
SALISBURY	I have.
KING HENRY	Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath?
SALISBURY	It is great sin to swear unto a sin, But greater sin to keep a sinful oath. Who can be bound by any solemn vow To do a murd’rous deed, to rob a man, To force a spotless virgin’s chastity, To reave the orphan of his patrimony, To wring the widow from her customed right, And have no other reason for this wrong But that he was bound by a solemn oath?
QUEEN MARGARET	A subtle traitor needs no sophister.
KING HENRY	(to an attendant) Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself.
(didascalia)	Exit attendant
YORK	(to King Henry) Call Buckingham and all the friends thou hast, I am resolved for death or dignity.
CLIFFORD	The first, I warrant thee, if dreams prove true.
WARWICK	You were best to go to bed and dream again, To keep you from the tempest of the field.
CLIFFORD	I am resolved to bear a greater storm Than any thou canst conjure up today— And that I’ll write upon thy burgonet Might I but know thee by thy household badge.
WARWICK	Now by my father’s badge, old Neville’s crest, The rampant bear chained to the ragged staff, This day I’ll wear aloft my burgonet, As on a mountain top the cedar shows That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm, Even to affright thee with the view thereof.
CLIFFORD	And from thy burgonet I’ll rend thy bear, And tread it under foot with all contempt, Despite the bearherd that protects the bear.
YOUNG CLIFFORD	And so to arms, victorious father, To quell the rebels and their complices.
RICHARD	Fie, charity, for shame! Speak not in spite— For you shall sup with Jesu Christ tonight.
YOUNG CLIFFORD	Foul stigmatic, that’s more than thou canst tell.
RICHARD	If not in heaven, you’ll surely sup in hell.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally
(didascalia)	5.2 An alehouse sign: a castle. Alarums to the battle. Then enter the Duke of Somerset and Richard fighting. Richard kills Somerset under the sign
RICHARD	So lie thou there— For underneath an alehouse’ paltry sign, The Castle in Saint Albans, Somerset Hath made the wizard famous in his death. Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathfull still— Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill.
(didascalia)	Exit with Somerset’s body. The sign is removed
(didascalia)	5.3 Alarum again. Enter the Earl of Warwick
WARWICK	Clifford of Cumberland, ’tis Warwick calls! An if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum, And dead men’s cries do fill the empty air, Clifford I say, come forth and fight with me! Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms!
CLIFFORD	(Within) Warwick, stand still; and stir not till I come.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of York
WARWICK	How now, my noble lord? What, all afoot?
YORK	The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed. But match to match I have encountered him, And made a prey for carrion kites and crows Even of the bonny beast he loved so well.
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Clifford
WARWICK	(to Clifford) Of one or both of us the time is come.
YORK	Hold, Warwick—seek thee out some other chase, For I myself must hunt this deer to death.
WARWICK	Then nobly, York; ‘tis for a crown thou fight’st. (To Clifford) As I intend, Clifford, to thrive today, It grieves my soul to leave thee unassailed. Exit
YORK	Clifford, since we are singled here alone, Be this the day of doom to one of us. For know my heart hath sworn immortal hate To thee and all the house of Lancaster.
CLIFFORD	And here I stand and pitch my foot to thine, Vowing not to stir till thou or I be slain. For never shall my heart be safe at rest Till I have spoiled the hateful house of York.
(didascalia)	Alarums. They fight. York kills Clifford
YORK	Now, Lancaster, sit sure—thy sinews shrink. Come, fearful Henry, grovelling on thy face— Yield up thy crown unto the prince of York. Exit
(didascalia)	Alarums, then enter Young Clifford
YOUNG CLIFFORD	Shame and confusion, all is on the rout! Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds Where it should guard. O, war, thou son of hell, Whom angry heavens do make their minister, Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly! He that is truly dedicate to war Hath no self-love; nor he that loves himself Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, The name of valour. He sees his father’s body O, let the vile world end, And the premised flames of the last day Knit earth and heaven together. Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, Particularities and petty sounds To cease! Wast thou ordained, dear father, To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve The silver livery of advised age, And in thy reverence and thy chair-days, thus To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight My heart is turned to stone, and while ’tis mine It shall be stony. York not our old men spares; No more will I their babes. Tears virginal Shall be to me even as the dew to fire, And beauty that the tyrant oft reclaims Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. Henceforth I will not have to do with pity. Meet I an infant of the house of York, Into as many gobbets will I cut it As wild Medea young Absyrtus did. In cruelty will I seek out my fame. Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford’s house, He takes his father’s body up on his back As did Aeneas old Anchises bear, So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders. But then Aeneas bare a living load, Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.
(didascalia)	Exit with the body
(didascalia)	5.4 Alarums
(didascalia)	again. Then enter three or four bearing the Duke of Buckingham wounded to his tent. Alarums still. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, and others
QUEEN MARGARET	Away, my lord! You are slow. For shame, away!
KING HENRY	Can we outrun the heavens? Good Margaret, stay.
QUEEN MARGARET	What are you made of? You’ll nor fight nor fly. Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence, To give the enemy way, and to secure us By what we can, which can no more but fly.
(didascalia)	Alarum afar off
QUEEN MARGARET	If you be ta’en, we then should see the bottom Of all our fortunes; but if we haply scape— As well we may if not through your neglect— We shall to London get where you are loved, And where this breach now in our fortunes made May readily be stopped.
(didascalia)	Enter Young Clifford
YOUNG CLIFFORD	(to King Henry) But that my heart’s on future mischief set, I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly; But fly you must; uncurable discomfit Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts. Away for your relief, and we will live To see their day and them our fortune give. Away, my lord, away! Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il duca di York e il suo esercito d’Irlandesi con un tamburino e soldati che portano le insegne
YORK	Dall’Irlanda così viene York a rivendicare il suo diritto, e a strappare la corona dal capo del debole Enrico. Suonate, campane, a distesa; ardete, fuochi di gioia, chiari e lucenti, per accogliere il legittimo re della grande Inghilterra. Ah, sancta maiestas! Chi non ti comprerebbe a caro prezzo? Obbedisca chi non sa come governare; questa mano fu fatta per maneggiare nient’altro che oro. Non posso dare debita azione alle mie parole, se non le bilanci una spada o uno scettro. Uno scettro l’avrà, quant’è vera la mia parola, sul quale scaglierò il giglio di Francia.
(didascalia)	Entra il duca di Buckingham
YORK	(A parte) Chi abbiamo qui? Buckingham a disturbar me? Certo il re l’ha mandato—devo dissimulare.
BUCKINGHAM	York, se intendi il bene, io ti saluto bene.
YORK	Humphrey di Buckingham, accetto il tuo saluto. Sei un messaggero, o vieni per tuo piacere?
BUCKINGHAM	Un messaggero d’Enrico, nostro temuto sire, per saper la ragione di queste armi in tempo di pace; o perché tu, essendo suddito come sono io, contro il tuo giuramento e la fedeltà giurata, dovresti levare una forza così grande senza sua licenza, o osare portare le tue schiere così vicino alla corte?
YORK	(a parte) A pena posso parlare, tanto è grande la mia bile. Oh, potrei spaccare rocce e combattere con la selce, tanto son irato per questi termini abietti; e ora, come Aiace Telamonio, potrei sfogare la mia furia su pecore o buoi. Son nato assai meglio del re, più simile a re, più regale nei miei pensieri; ma devo far buon tempo ancora un poco, finché Enrico sia più debole e io più forte. (Ad alta voce) Buckingham, ti prego, perdonami, se non ho dato risposta per tutto questo tempo; la mia mente era turbata da profonda malinconia. La causa per cui ho condotto qui quest’esercito è di rimuovere il superbo Somerset dal re, sedizioso verso sua grazia e verso lo stato.
BUCKINGHAM	Questa è troppa presunzione da parte tua; ma se le tue armi non han altro fine, il re ha ceduto alla tua richiesta: il duca di Somerset è nella Torre.
YORK	Sul tuo onore, è prigioniero?
BUCKINGHAM	Sul mio onore, è prigioniero.
YORK	Allora, Buckingham, congedo le mie forze. Soldati, vi ringrazio tutti; disperdetevi; trovatevi con me domani nel campo di San Giorgio. Avrete paga e tutto ciò che desiderate.
(didascalia)	Escono i soldati
YORK	(A Buckingham) E il mio sovrano, il virtuoso Enrico, disponga del mio figlio maggiore—anzi, di tutti i miei figli— come pegni della mia fedeltà e del mio amore. Li manderò tutti tanto volentieri quant’è vero ch’io vivo. Terre, beni, cavalli, armature, tutto quel che ho è suo da usare, purché Somerset possa morire.
BUCKINGHAM	York, lodo questa gentile sottomissione. Noi due andremo nella tenda di sua altezza.
(didascalia)	Entrano re Enrico e attendenti
RE ENRICO	Buckingham, York non intende alcun male verso di noi, ché così marcia con te a braccetto?
YORK	In ogni sottomissione e umiltà York si presenta a vostra altezza.
RE ENRICO	Che intendono dunque queste forze che porti?
YORK	Rimuovere di qui il traditore Somerset, e combattere contro quel mostruoso ribelle Cade, che poi ho udito esser stato sconfitto.
(didascalia)	Entra Iden con la testa di Cade
IDEN	Se uno così rozzo e di condizione così umile può entrare alla presenza d’un re,
(didascalia)	Inginocchiandosi Ecco, presento a vostra grazia la testa d’un traditore,
IDEN	la testa di Cade, che io uccisi in combattimento.
RE ENRICO	La testa di Cade? Gran Dio, come sei giusto! Oh, lascia ch’io veda il suo volto, ora ch’è morto, lui che vivo mi procurò tanto immenso travaglio. Dimmi, amico mio, sei tu l’uomo che l’uccise?
(didascalia)	IDEN alzandosi
RE ENRICO	Certamente, se piace a vostra maestà.
RE ENRICO	Come ti chiami? E qual è il tuo grado?
IDEN	Alexander Iden, questo è il mio nome; un povero scudiero del Kent che ama il suo re.
BUCKINGHAM	(a re Enrico) Se vi piace, mio signore, non sarebbe male ch’egli fosse creato cavaliere per il suo buon servizio.
RE ENRICO	Iden, inginocchiati. Iden s’inginocchia e re Enrico lo fa cavaliere Alzati cavaliere. Iden si alza Ti diamo in ricompensa mille marchi, e vogliamo che d’ora innanzi tu ci serva.
IDEN	Possa Iden vivere per meritare tanta munificenza, e non vivere mai se non fedele al suo sire.
(didascalia)	Esce
(didascalia)	Entrano Margherita e il duca di Somerset
RE ENRICO	Vedi, Buckingham, Somerset viene con la regina. Va’ a dirle di nasconderlo presto al Duca.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Per mille York non nasconderà il capo, ma starà saldo e l’affronterà in faccia.
YORK	Come? Somerset è in libertà? Allora, York, sciogli i tuoi pensieri lungamente imprigionati, e la tua lingua sia pari al tuo cuore. Sopporterò la vista di Somerset? Falso re, perché hai rotto la fede con me, sapendo quanto malamente io tolleri l’oltraggio? ‘Re’ t’ho chiamato? No, tu non sei re; non atto a governare e reggere moltitudini, tu che non osi—no, né sai—governare un traditore. Quel tuo capo non s’addice a una corona; la tua mano è fatta per stringere il bordone d’un pellegrino, e non per adornare un temuto scettro principesco. Quell’oro deve cingere tutt’intorno queste mie tempie, il cui sorriso e cipiglio, come la lancia d’Achille, è capace col mutare d’uccidere e di guarire. Ecco una mano per tenere alto uno scettro, e con esso attuare leggi che governano. Fa’ luogo! Per il cielo, non regnerai più su colui che il cielo creò per esser tuo signore.
SOMERSET	O mostruoso traditore! Ti arresto, York, per tradimento capitale contro il re e la corona. Obbedisci, audace traditore; inginocchiati per grazia.
YORK	(a un attendente) Tu là, chiama qui i miei figli a farmi da garanti. Esce l’attendente So che, prima di lasciarmi andare in cella, impegneranno le loro spade per la mia liberazione.
(didascalia)	REGINA MARGHERITA a Buckingham
YORK	Chiama qui Clifford; digli di venir in fretta, a dire se i bastardi ragazzi di York saranno garanti del loro traditore padre.
(didascalia)	Esce Buckingham
YORK	O Napoletana macchiata di sangue, reietta di Napoli, sanguinoso flagello d’Inghilterra! I figli di York, tuoi superiori per nascita, saranno garanti del padre, e rovina di quelli che per la mia cauzione rifiuteranno i ragazzi.
(didascalia)	Entrano da una porta i figli di York, Edoardo e il gobbo Riccardo, con un tamburino e soldati
YORK	Guardate dove vengono. Garantisco che lo manterranno.
(didascalia)	Entrano dall’altra porta Clifford e suo figlio, con un tamburino e soldati
REGINA MARGHERITA	Ed ecco che viene Clifford a negare la loro cauzione.
CLIFFORD	(inginocchiandosi davanti a re Enrico) Salute e ogni felicità al mio signore il re. Si alza
YORK	Ti ringrazio, Clifford. Di’, che nuove porti? No, non spaventarci con uno sguardo irato— noi siamo il tuo sovrano, Clifford; inginocchiati di nuovo. Per questo tuo errore, ti perdoniamo.
CLIFFORD	Questo è il mio re, York; io non erro. Ma tu erri molto sul mio conto a pensare ch’io erri. (A re Enrico) A Bedlam con lui! È diventato pazzo, quest’uomo?
RE ENRICO	Sì, Clifford, un umore da manicomio e ambizioso lo fa opporsi al suo re.
CLIFFORD	È un traditore; sia condotto alla Torre, e gli si tronchi quella sua zucca sediziosa.
REGINA MARGHERITA	È arrestato, ma non vuol obbedire. I suoi figli, dice, daranno la loro parola per lui.
YORK	(a Edoardo e a Riccardo) Non è vero, figli?
EDOARDO	Sì, nobile padre, se le nostre parole basteranno.
RICCARDO	E se le parole non basteranno, basteranno le nostre armi.
CLIFFORD	Ebbene, che covata di traditori abbiamo qui!
YORK	Guardati in uno specchio, e chiama così la tua immagine. Io sono il tuo re, e tu un traditore dal cuore falso. Chiamate qui al palo i miei due valorosi orsi, ché col solo scuotere delle loro catene possano sbigottire questi cagnacci acquattati. (A un attendente) Di’ a Salisbury e a Warwick di venire a me.
(didascalia)	Esce l’attendente
(didascalia)	Entrano i conti di Warwick e Salisbury con un tamburino e soldati
CLIFFORD	Son questi i tuoi orsi? Aizzeremo i tuoi orsi a morte, e incateneremo l’orsaio nelle loro catene, se osi portarli nel recinto dell’aizzamento.
RICCARDO	Spesso ho visto un cagnaccio ardente e presuntuoso tornare indietro e mordere, perché era trattenuto; il quale, quando gli si lasciò provar la fiera zampa dell’orso, si mise la coda fra le gambe e strillò; e tal servizio farete voi, se vi opponete a misurarvi con lord Warwick.
CLIFFORD	Via, mucchio d’ira, turpe grumo indigesto, storto nei modi quanto nella forma!
YORK	No, vi scalderemo per bene fra poco.
CLIFFORD	Badate, che col vostro calore non bruciate voi stessi.
RE ENRICO	Ebbene, Warwick, il tuo ginocchio ha dimenticato d’inchinarsi? Vecchio Salisbury, vergogna ai tuoi capelli d’argento, tu, pazzo traviatore del tuo figlio dal cervello malato! Come, sul tuo letto di morte vorrai far il bravaccio, e cercare il dolore coi tuoi occhiali? Oh, dov’è la fede? Oh, dov’è la lealtà? Se è bandita dal capo canuto, dove troverà ricetto sulla terra? Vuoi andare a scavare una fossa per trovar la guerra, e svergognare la tua onorata età col sangue? Ebbene, sei vecchio e ti manca l’esperienza? O perché ne abusi, se l’hai? Per vergogna, per dovere piega il tuo ginocchio a me, tu che ti curvi verso la tomba per la molta età.
SALISBURY	Mio signore, ho considerato dentro di me il titolo di questo rinomatissimo Duca, e nella mia coscienza reputo sua grazia il legittimo erede del regale seggio d’Inghilterra.
RE ENRICO	Non hai giurato fedeltà a me?
SALISBURY	L’ho giurata.
RE ENRICO	Puoi ottenere dal cielo dispensa da tal giuramento?
SALISBURY	È gran peccato giurare per un peccato, ma peccato maggiore mantenere un giuramento peccaminoso. Chi può esser vincolato da qualsiasi voto solenne a compiere un atto d’assassinio, a derubare un uomo, a forzare la castità d’una vergine immacolata, a spogliare l’orfano del suo patrimonio, a strappare alla vedova il suo diritto consueto, e non aver altra ragione per questo torto se non che era vincolato da un giuramento solenne?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Un traditore sottile non ha bisogno di sofista.
RE ENRICO	(a un attendente) Chiama Buckingham, e digli d’armarsi.
(didascalia)	Esce l’attendente
YORK	(a re Enrico) Chiama Buckingham e tutti gli amici che hai, io son risoluto alla morte o alla dignità.
CLIFFORD	La prima, te lo garantisco, se i sogni dicono il vero.
WARWICK	Meglio faresti ad andare a letto e a sognare di nuovo, per tenerti lontano dalla tempesta del campo.
CLIFFORD	Son risoluto a sostenere una tempesta più grande di qualunque tu possa evocare oggi— e questo lo scriverò sul tuo elmetto, se solo potessi riconoscerti dall’insegna della tua casa.
WARWICK	Ora, per l’insegna di mio padre, il cimiero del vecchio Neville, l’orso rampante incatenato al bastone nodoso, oggi lo porterò alto sul mio elmetto, come sulla cima d’un monte si mostra il cedro che tiene le sue foglie a dispetto d’ogni tempesta, proprio per spaventarti con la sua vista.
CLIFFORD	E dal tuo elmetto strapperò il tuo orso, e lo calpesterò sotto i piedi con ogni disprezzo, a dispetto dell’orsaio che protegge l’orso.
GIOVANE CLIFFORD	E dunque all’armi, vittorioso padre, a domare i ribelli e i loro complici.
RICCARDO	Suvvia, carità, vergogna! Non parlate per dispetto— ché questa notte cenerete con Gesù Cristo.
GIOVANE CLIFFORD	Turpe segnato, questo è più di quanto tu possa dire.
RICCARDO	Se non in cielo, cenerete certamente all’inferno.
(didascalia)	Escono da parti diverse

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	An alehouse sign: a castle. Alarums to the battle. Then enter the Duke of Somerset and Richard fighting. Richard kills Somerset under the sign
RICHARD	So lie thou there— For underneath an alehouse’ paltry sign, The Castle in Saint Albans, Somerset Hath made the wizard famous in his death. Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathfull still— Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill.
(didascalia)	Exit with Somerset’s body. The sign is removed

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Un’insegna di taverna: un castello. Allarmi per la battaglia. Poi entrano il duca di Somerset e Riccardo combattendo. Riccardo uccide Somerset sotto l’insegna
RICCARDO	Così giaci là— ché sotto la meschina insegna d’una taverna, il Castello di Saint Albans, Somerset ha reso famoso il mago con la sua morte. Spada, tieni la tua tempra; cuore, sii ancora irato— i preti pregano per i nemici, ma i principi uccidono.
(didascalia)	Esce col corpo di Somerset. L’insegna è portata via

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum again. Enter the Earl of Warwick
WARWICK	Clifford of Cumberland, ’tis Warwick calls! An if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum, And dead men’s cries do fill the empty air, Clifford I say, come forth and fight with me! Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms!
CLIFFORD	(Within) Warwick, stand still; and stir not till I come.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of York
WARWICK	How now, my noble lord? What, all afoot?
YORK	The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed. But match to match I have encountered him, And made a prey for carrion kites and crows Even of the bonny beast he loved so well.
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Clifford
WARWICK	(to Clifford) Of one or both of us the time is come.
YORK	Hold, Warwick—seek thee out some other chase, For I myself must hunt this deer to death.
WARWICK	Then nobly, York; ‘tis for a crown thou fight’st. (To Clifford) As I intend, Clifford, to thrive today, It grieves my soul to leave thee unassailed. Exit
YORK	Clifford, since we are singled here alone, Be this the day of doom to one of us. For know my heart hath sworn immortal hate To thee and all the house of Lancaster.
CLIFFORD	And here I stand and pitch my foot to thine, Vowing not to stir till thou or I be slain. For never shall my heart be safe at rest Till I have spoiled the hateful house of York.
(didascalia)	Alarums. They fight. York kills Clifford
YORK	Now, Lancaster, sit sure—thy sinews shrink. Come, fearful Henry, grovelling on thy face— Yield up thy crown unto the prince of York. Exit
(didascalia)	Alarums, then enter Young Clifford
YOUNG CLIFFORD	Shame and confusion, all is on the rout! Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds Where it should guard. O, war, thou son of hell, Whom angry heavens do make their minister, Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly! He that is truly dedicate to war Hath no self-love; nor he that loves himself Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, The name of valour. He sees his father’s body O, let the vile world end, And the premised flames of the last day Knit earth and heaven together. Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, Particularities and petty sounds To cease! Wast thou ordained, dear father, To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve The silver livery of advised age, And in thy reverence and thy chair-days, thus To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight My heart is turned to stone, and while ’tis mine It shall be stony. York not our old men spares; No more will I their babes. Tears virginal Shall be to me even as the dew to fire, And beauty that the tyrant oft reclaims Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. Henceforth I will not have to do with pity. Meet I an infant of the house of York, Into as many gobbets will I cut it As wild Medea young Absyrtus did. In cruelty will I seek out my fame. Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford’s house, He takes his father’s body up on his back As did Aeneas old Anchises bear, So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders. But then Aeneas bare a living load, Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.
(didascalia)	Exit with the body

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarme di nuovo. Entra il conte di Warwick
WARWICK	Clifford di Cumberland, è Warwick che chiama! E se non ti nascondi dall’orso, ora, quando l’irata tromba suona l’allarme, e le grida dei morti riempiono l’aria vuota, Clifford, dico, vieni avanti e combatti con me! Superbo signore del nord, Clifford di Cumberland, Warwick è rauco a chiamarti all’armi!
CLIFFORD	(All’interno) Warwick, sta’ fermo; e non muoverti finché io venga.
(didascalia)	Entra il duca di York
WARWICK	Ebbene, mio nobile signore? Come, tutto a piedi?
YORK	Clifford dalla mano mortale ha ucciso il mio destriero. Ma pari a pari l’ho affrontato, e ho fatto preda per nibbi e corvi carognai proprio della bella bestia ch’egli amava così bene.
(didascalia)	Entra lord Clifford
WARWICK	(a Clifford) Per uno o per entrambi di noi il tempo è venuto.
YORK	Ferma, Warwick—cercati qualche altra caccia, ché io stesso devo dar la morte a questo cervo.
WARWICK	Allora nobilmente, York; è per una corona che combatti. (A Clifford) Com’è vero che intendo, Clifford, prosperare oggi, duole all’anima mia lasciarti non assalito. Esce
YORK	Clifford, poiché siamo appartati qui soli, sia questo il giorno della fine per uno di noi. Ché sappi, il mio cuore ha giurato odio immortale a te e a tutta la casa di Lancaster.
CLIFFORD	E qui sto e pianto il mio piede contro il tuo, giurando di non muovermi finché tu o io non sia ucciso. Ché mai il mio cuore riposerà sicuro finché non avrò distrutto l’odiosa casa di York.
(didascalia)	Allarmi. Combattono. York uccide Clifford
YORK	Ora, Lancaster, siedi ben saldo—i tuoi nervi si contraggono. Vieni, timoroso Enrico, strisciando col volto a terra— cedi la tua corona al principe di York. Esce
(didascalia)	Allarmi, poi entra il giovane Clifford
GIOVANE CLIFFORD	Vergogna e confusione, tutto è in rotta! Il timore genera disordine, e il disordine ferisce là dove dovrebbe difendere. O guerra, tu figlia dell’inferno, che i cieli irati fanno loro ministra, getta nei petti gelati della nostra parte carboni ardenti di vendetta! Nessun soldato fugga! Chi è veramente consacrato alla guerra non ha amore di sé; né chi ama se stesso ha, se non essenzialmente ma per circostanza, il nome di valore. Vede il corpo di suo padre Oh, finisca il vile mondo, e le fiamme promesse dell’ultimo giorno congiungano terra e cielo insieme. Ora la tromba universale dia il suo squillo, e le particolarità e i suoni meschini cessino! Fosti tu destinato, caro padre, a perdere la tua giovinezza in pace, e a conseguire la livrea d’argento dell’età prudente, e nella tua venerazione e nei tuoi giorni di seggio, così morire in battaglia da bravacci? A questa sola vista il mio cuore s’è mutato in pietra, e finché è mio sarà di pietra. York non risparmia i nostri vecchi; né io più i loro bambini. Le lacrime verginali mi saranno come la rugiada al fuoco, e la bellezza che spesso ammansisce il tiranno sarà alla mia ira fiammeggiante olio e lino. D’ora innanzi non avrò nulla a che fare con la pietà. Se incontro un infante della casa di York, lo taglierò in tanti bocconi quanti la feroce Medea fece del giovane Absirto. Nella crudeltà cercherò la mia fama. Vieni, tu nuova rovina della casa del vecchio Clifford, Si carica il corpo del padre sulle spalle come Enea portò il vecchio Anchise, così io ti porto sulle mie virili spalle. Ma allora Enea portava un carico vivente, nulla di così pesante come questi miei dolori.
(didascalia)	Esce col corpo

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarums
(didascalia)	again. Then enter three or four bearing the Duke of Buckingham wounded to his tent. Alarums still. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, and others
QUEEN MARGARET	Away, my lord! You are slow. For shame, away!
KING HENRY	Can we outrun the heavens? Good Margaret, stay.
QUEEN MARGARET	What are you made of? You’ll nor fight nor fly. Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence, To give the enemy way, and to secure us By what we can, which can no more but fly.
(didascalia)	Alarum afar off
QUEEN MARGARET	If you be ta’en, we then should see the bottom Of all our fortunes; but if we haply scape— As well we may if not through your neglect— We shall to London get where you are loved, And where this breach now in our fortunes made May readily be stopped.
(didascalia)	Enter Young Clifford
YOUNG CLIFFORD	(to King Henry) But that my heart’s on future mischief set, I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly; But fly you must; uncurable discomfit Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts. Away for your relief, and we will live To see their day and them our fortune give. Away, my lord, away! Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarmi
(didascalia)	di nuovo. Poi entrano tre o quattro portando il duca di Buckingham ferito alla sua tenda. Allarmi ancora. Entrano re Enrico, Margherita e altri
REGINA MARGHERITA	Via, mio signore! Siete lento. Vergogna, via!
RE ENRICO	Possiamo correre più veloci del cielo? Buona Margherita, fermati.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Di che siete fatto? Non volete né combattere né fuggire. Ora è virilità, saggezza e difesa dar la via al nemico, e metterci in salvo con ciò che possiamo, e non possiamo altro che fuggire.
(didascalia)	Allarme in lontananza
REGINA MARGHERITA	Se sarete preso, vedremmo allora il fondo di tutte le nostre fortune; ma se per avventura scampiamo— come ben possiamo, se non per vostra negligenza— arriveremo a Londra, dove siete amato, e dove questa breccia ora aperta nelle nostre fortune potrà prontamente esser turata.
(didascalia)	Entra il giovane Clifford
GIOVANE CLIFFORD	(a re Enrico) Se il mio cuore non fosse volto a futuri danni, bestemmierei prima di dirvi di fuggire; ma fuggire dovete; una sconfitta incurabile regna nei cuori di tutte le nostre schiere presenti. Via, per la vostra salvezza, e noi vivremo per vedere il loro giorno e loro dare a noi la fortuna. Via, mio signore, via! Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Retreat. Enter the Duke of York, his sons Edward and Richard, and soldiers, including a drummer and some bearing colours
YORK	(to Edward and Richard) How now, boys! Fortunate this fight hath been, I hope, to us and ours for England’s good And our great honour, that so long we lost Whilst faint-heart Henry did usurp our rights. Of Salisbury, who can report of him? That winter lion who in rage forgets Aged contusions and all brush of time, And, like a gallant in the brow of youth, Repairs him with occasion. This happy day Is not itself, nor have we won one foot If Salisbury be lost.
RICHARD	My noble father, Three times today I holp him to his horse; Three times bestrid him; thrice I led him off, Persuaded him from any further act; But still where danger was, still there I met him, And like rich hangings in a homely house, So was his will in his old feeble body.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick
EDWARD	(to York) See, noble father, where they both do come— The only props unto the house of York!
SALISBURY	Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought today; By th’ mass, so did we all. I thank you, Richard. God knows how long it is I have to live, And it hath pleased him that three times today You have defended me from imminent death. Well, lords, we have not got that which we have— ’Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites of such repairing nature.
YORK	I know our safety is to follow them, For, as I hear, the King is fled to London, To call a present court of Parliament. Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth. What says Lord Warwick, shall we after them?
WARWICK	After them? Nay, before them if we can! Now by my hand, lords, ’twas a glorious day! Saint Albans battle won by famous York Shall be eternized in all age to come.
(didascalia)	Sound drums and trumpets, and to London all,
WARWICK	And more such days as these to us befall!
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt
ADDITIONAL PASSAGES	A. We adopt the 1594 Quarto version of the Queen’s initial speech, 1.1.24—9; the Folio version, which follows, is probably the author’s original draft.
QUEEN MARGARET	Great King of England, and my gracious lord, The mutual conference that my mind hath had— By day, by night; waking, and in my dreams; In courtly company, or at my beads— With you, mine alder liefest sovereign, Makes me the bolder to salute my king With ruder terms, such as my wit affords And overjoy of heart doth minister. B. For 1.4.39―40.2 the Quarto substitutes the following; it may report a revision made in rehearsal to cover the Spirit’s descent. The Spirit sinks down again
BOLINGBROKE	Then down, I say, unto the damned pool Where Pluto in his fiery wagon sits Riding, amidst the singed and parched smokes, The road of Ditis by the River Styx. There howl and burn for ever in those flames. Rise, Jordan, rise, and stay thy charming spells— Zounds, we are betrayed! C. The entire debate on Duke Humphrey’s death in 3. 1 is handled differently by the Quarto from the Folio. We retain the Folio version of the debate, but the Quarto version may represent authorial revision. The following Q lines, roughly corresponding to 3.1.310―30.1, are of particular interest because they supply Buckingham with speeches for this latter part of the scene. [YORK] Let me have some bands of chosen soldiers, And York shall try his fortune ‘gainst those kerns.
QUEEN MARGARET	York, thou shalt. My lord of Buckingham, Let it be your charge to muster up such soldiers As shall suffice him in these needful wars.
BUCKINGHAM	Madam, I will, and levy such a band As soon shall overcome those Irish rebels. But, York, where shall those soldiers stay for thee?
YORK	At Bristol I will expect them ten days hence.
BUCKINCHAM	Then thither shall they come, and so farewell.
(didascalia)	Exit
YORK	Adieu, my lord of Buckingham.
QUEEN MARGARET	Suffolk, remember what you have to do— And you, Lord Cardinat—concerning Duke Humphrey. ‘Twere good that you did see to it in time. Come, let us go, that it may be performed.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but York
QUEEN MARGARET	D. We adopt the Quarto version of the confrontation between Clifford and York at 5.3.20—30; the Folio version, an edited text of which follows, is probably the author’s original draft.
CLIFFORD	What seest thou in me, York? Why dost thou pause?
YORK	With thy brave bearing should I be in love, But that thou art so fast mine enemy.
CLIFFORD	Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem, But that ’tis shown ignobly and in treason.
YORK	So let it help me now against thy sword, As I in justice and true right express it.
CLIFFORD	My soul and body on the action, both.
YORK	A dreadful lay. Address thee instantly.
CLIFFORD	La fin couronne les oeuvres. Alarms. They fight. York kills Clifford
YORK	Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still. Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will. Exit
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	(3 HENRY VI)
THE	play printed in the 1623 Folio as The Third Part of Henry the Sixth, with the Death of the Duke of York was described on the title-page of its first, unauthoritative publication in 1595 as The True Tragedy of Richard, Duke of York, and the Death of Good King Henry the Sixth, with the whole Contention between the two houses Lancaster and York. It is clearly a continuation of The First Part of the Contention, taking up the story where that play had ended, with the aspirations of Richard, Duke of York to the English throne, and was probably composed immediately afterwards. The final scenes of The First Part of the Contention briefly introduce two of York’s sons, Edward (the eldest) and Richard (already described as a ‘foul, indigested lump, | As crooked in … manners as [in] shape’). They, along with their brothers Edmund, Earl of Rutland, and George (later Duke of Clarence), figure more prominently in Richard Duke of York. The first scenes show York apparently fulfilling his ambition, as Henry VI weakly cedes his rights to the throne after his death; but Queen Margaret leads an army against York, and, when he is captured, personally taunts him with news of the murder of his youngest son, stabs York to death, and commands that his head be ‘set on York gates’. (This powerful scene includes the line ‘O tiger’s heart wrapped in a woman’s hide’, paraphrased by Robert Greene before September 1592, which establishes the upward limit of the play’s date.) Though Richard of York dies early in the action, the remainder of the play centres on his sons’ efforts (aided by Warwick’s politic schemings) to avenge his death and to establish the dominance of Yorkists over Lancastrians. The balance of power shifts frequently, and the brothers’ alliance crumbles, but finally Queen Margaret, with her French allies, is defeated and captured, and Richard of York’s surviving sons avenge their father’s death by killing her son, Edward, before her eyes. Richard of Gloucester starts to clear his way to the throne by murdering ‘Good King Henry’ in the Tower, and the play ends with the new King Edward IV exulting in his ‘country’s peace and brothers’ loves’ while Richard makes clear to the audience that Edward’s self-confidence is ill-founded. Though the play is loud and strife-ridden with war, power politics, and personal ambition, a concern with humane values emerges in the subtle and touching continuing portrayal of the quietist Henry VI, a saintly fool who meditates on the superiority of humble contentment to regal misery in an emblematic scene (2.5) that epitomizes the tragedy of civil strife. Richard Duke of York, like The First Part of the Contention, draws extensively on English chronicle history. Historically, the period of the action covers about sixteen years (1455 to 1471), but events are telescoped and rearranged; for instance, the opening scenes move rapidly from the Battle of St Albans (1445) to York’s death (1460); the future Richard III was only three years old, and living abroad, at the time of this opening battle in which he takes an active part; and Richard’s murder of Henry owes more to legend than to fact.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY Of the King’s Party
PRINCE	EDWARD, their son Duke of S0MERSET Duke of EXETER Earl of NORTHUMBERLAND Earl of WESTMORLAND Lord CLIFFORD Lord Stafford
SOMERVILLE	Henry, young Earl of Richmond A SOLDIER who has killed his father A HUNTSMAN who guards King Edward The Divided House of Neville Earl of WARWICK, first of York’s party, later of Lancaster’s Marquis of MONTAGUE, his brother, of York’s party Earl of OXFORD, their brother-in-law, of Lancaster’s party Lord HASTINGS, their brother-in-law, of York’s party Of the Duke of York’s Party Richard Plantagenet, Duke of YORK EDWARD, Earl of March, his son, later Duke of York and
LADY	GRAY, a widow, later Edward’s wife and queen Earl RIVERS, her brother GEORGE, Edward’s brother, later Duke OF CLARENCE RICHARD, Edward’s brother, later Duke OF GLOUCESTER Earl of RUTLAND, Edward’s brother Rutland’s TUTOR, a chaplain
SIR JOHN	Mortimer, York’s uncle Sir Hugh Mortimer, his brother Duke of NORFOLK Sir William Stanley Earl of Pembroke Sir John MONTGOMERY A NOBLEMAN Two GAMEKEEPERS Three WATCHMEN, who guard King Edward’s tent
LIEUTENANT	of the Tower The French
LADY	BONA, his sister-in-law Lord Bourbon, the French High Admiral Others A SOLDIER who has killed his son Mayor of Coventry
MAYOR	of York Aldermen of York Soldiers, messengers, and attendants

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarme. Ritirata. Entrano il duca di York, i suoi figli Edoardo e Riccardo, e soldati, fra cui un tamburino e alcuni che portano le insegne
YORK	(a Edoardo e a Riccardo) Ebbene, ragazzi! Fortunata è stata questa battaglia, spero, per noi e per i nostri, per il bene d’Inghilterra e per il nostro grande onore, che così a lungo perdemmo mentre Enrico dal cuore fiacco usurpava i nostri diritti. Di Salisbury, chi può darmi notizia? Quel leone d’inverno che nell’ira dimentica le contusioni degli anni e ogni urto del tempo, e, come un galante nel fiore della giovinezza, si rinnova con l’occasione. Questo giorno felice non è se stesso, né abbiamo guadagnato un piede se Salisbury è perduto.
RICCARDO	Mio nobile padre, tre volte oggi l’aiutai a montare a cavallo; tre volte lo cavalcai a difesa; tre volte lo condussi fuori, dissuadendolo da ogni altra azione; ma sempre dov’era il pericolo, sempre là lo incontravo, e come ricchi arazzi in una casa modesta, così era la sua volontà nel suo vecchio e debole corpo.
(didascalia)	Entrano i conti di Salisbury e Warwick
EDOARDO	(a York) Guardate, nobile padre, dove vengono entrambi— i soli sostegni della casa di York!
SALISBURY	Ora, per la mia spada, bene hai combattuto oggi; per la messa, così facemmo tutti. Ti ringrazio, Riccardo. Dio sa quanto mi resta da vivere, e gli è piaciuto che tre volte oggi tu m’abbia difeso da morte imminente. Bene, signori, non abbiamo guadagnato ciò che abbiamo— non basta che i nostri nemici sian fuggiti questa volta, essendo avversari di natura così pronta a rifarsi.
YORK	So che la nostra salvezza è inseguirli, ché, come sento, il re è fuggito a Londra, per convocare subito una corte di Parlamento. Inseguiamolo prima che escano i mandati. Che dice lord Warwick, andremo loro dietro?
WARWICK	Loro dietro? Anzi, davanti a loro, se possiamo! Ora, per questa mia mano, signori, fu un giorno glorioso! La battaglia di Saint Albans vinta dal famoso York sarà eternata in ogni età a venire.
(didascalia)	Suonino tamburi e trombe, e tutti a Londra,
WARWICK	e altri giorni come questi ci accadano!
(didascalia)	Squillo. Escono
PASSI AGGIUNTIVI	A. Adottiamo la versione del Quarto del 1594 del discorso iniziale della regina, 1.1.24—9; la versione del Folio, che segue, è probabilmente la stesura originale dell’autore.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Gran re d’Inghilterra, e mio grazioso signore, il mutuo colloquio che la mia mente ha avuto— di giorno, di notte; vegliando, e nei miei sogni; in compagnia di corte, o al mio rosario— con voi, mio carissimo sovrano fra tutti, mi rende più ardita a salutare il mio re con termini più rozzi, quali il mio ingegno concede e l’eccesso di gioia del cuore somministra. B. Per 1.4.39―40.2 il Quarto sostituisce quanto segue; può riportare una revisione fatta in prova per coprire la discesa dello Spirito. Lo Spirito s’affonda di nuovo
BOLINGBROKE	Giù dunque, dico, nello stagno dannato dove Plutone siede nel suo carro di fuoco cavalcando, in mezzo ai fumi bruciati e arsi, la via di Dite lungo il fiume Stige. Là ulula e brucia per sempre in quelle fiamme. Alzati, Jordan, alzati, e cessa i tuoi incantesimi— perdio, siamo traditi! C. L’intero dibattito sulla morte del duca Humphrey in 3. 1 è trattato diversamente dal Quarto rispetto al Folio. Noi conserviamo la versione del Folio del dibattito, ma la versione del Quarto può rappresentare una revisione autoriale. Le seguenti righe di Q, corrispondenti in grosso a 3.1.310―30.1, sono di particolare interesse perché forniscono a Buckingham battute per quest’ultima parte della scena. [YORK] Datemi alcune bande di soldati scelti, e York tenterà la sua fortuna contro quei fanti.
REGINA MARGHERITA	York, l’avrai. Mio signore di Buckingham, sia vostro incarico radunare tali soldati quanti gli bastino in queste guerre necessarie.
BUCKINGHAM	Madama, lo farò, e leverò una banda tale che presto sopraffarà quei ribelli irlandesi. Ma, York, dove t’attenderanno quei soldati?
YORK	A Bristol li attenderò fra dieci giorni.
BUCKINCHAM	Là dunque verranno, e così addio.
(didascalia)	Esce
YORK	Addio, mio signore di Buckingham.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Suffolk, ricordate ciò che avete da fare— e voi, lord Cardinat—riguardo al duca Humphrey. Sarebbe bene che vi badaste a tempo. Venite, andiamo, sì che sia compiuto.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne York
REGINA MARGHERITA	D. Adottiamo la versione del Quarto del confronto fra Clifford e York a 5.3.20—30; la versione del Folio, di cui segue un testo curato, è probabilmente la stesura originale dell’autore.
CLIFFORD	Che vedi in me, York? Perché t’arresti?
YORK	Del tuo valoroso portamento sarei innamorato, se non fossi tanto saldamente mio nemico.
CLIFFORD	Né al tuo valore mancherebbero lode e stima, se non fosse mostrato ignobilmente e nel tradimento.
YORK	Che m’aiuti dunque ora contro la tua spada, com’io lo spiego in giustizia e in vero diritto.
CLIFFORD	La mia anima e il mio corpo sull’azione, entrambi.
YORK	Terribile puntata. Preparati all’istante.
CLIFFORD	La fin couronne les oeuvres. Allarmi. Combattono. York uccide Clifford
YORK	Così la guerra t’ha dato pace, ché ora sei immobile. Pace all’anima sua, o cielo, se è tua volontà. Esce
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	(3 ENRICO VI)