Classic Audiobook Collection - Henry VI Part 2 by William Shakespeare ~ Full Audiobook [tragedy]

Episode Date: April 26, 2025

Henry VI Part 2 by William Shakespeare audiobook. Genre: tragedy In Henry VI Part 2, England teeters on the edge of chaos as the young King Henry proves ill-suited to rule a nation fractured by ambition, faction, and resentment. At court, Queen Margaret fights fiercely to protect her husband's crown, while powerful nobles maneuver for influence, turning private rivalries into public threats. The Duke of Gloucester, long a pillar of the realm, faces enemies eager to undermine him, and the scheming Duke of Suffolk risks everything to keep his hold on power. As accusations, betrayals, and shifting alliances spread through London and beyond, the struggle between the houses of Lancaster and York sharpens into open confrontation. Beyond the palace walls, ordinary people feel the strain of corruption and inequality, and popular unrest flares into violent rebellion, revealing how quickly authority can crumble when trust is lost. With its mix of political intrigue, courtroom drama, and street-level upheaval, this history play traces the terrifying momentum of a country sliding toward civil war-and asks what happens when leadership fails, justice is manipulated, and power becomes the only law. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 0 (00:03:59) Chapter 1 (00:44:36) Chapter 2 (01:13:57) Chapter 3 (02:01:38) Chapter 4 (02:50:43) Chapter 5 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Act 1 of Henry VI, Part 2 by William Shakespeare. Act 1, Scene 1 London, The Palace Flourish of trumpets, then Ho-Boys. Enter King Henry the 6th, Gloucester, Salisbury, Warwick, and Cardinal, on the one side. Queen Margaret, Suffolk, York, Somerset, and Buckingham, on the other.

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 Cecil, the dukes of Orian, Calibur, Britannian, Allenton, seveners, 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 Marquess gave, the fairest queen that ever king received. Suffolk, arise. Welcome, Queen Margaret. I can express no kind a sign of love than this. kind kiss. 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. 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,

Myn alder-leafest sovereign, Makes me the bolder to salute my king with ruder terms, Such as my wit affords, And over joy of heart doth minister. Her sight did ravish, But her grace in speech, Her words eclad with wisdom's majesty, Makes me from wandering fall to weeping joys, Such is the fullness of my heart's content. Lords, with one cheerful voice, welcome my love. We are Margaret, England is happiness.

We thank you all. Thourish. My Lord, Protector, so it please your grace, here are the articles of contracted peace between our sovereign and the French King Charles for 18 months concluded by consent. Read. In premise, it is agreed between the French King Charles and William de la Poul, Marquess of Suffolk, Ambassador for Henry King of England. but the said henry shall espouse the lady margaret daughter unto reinier king of naples sicilia and jerusalem and crown her queen of england ere the thirtieth of may next ensuing

item that the duchy of and the county of maine shall be released and delivered to the king her father let's the paper fall uncle how now pardon me gracious lord some sudden quom hath struck me at the heart and dimmed my eyes that I can read no further. Uncle of Winchester, I pray, read on. Read. Item, it is further agreed between them that the Duchess of Anjou and Main shall be released and delivered over to the king her father, and she sent over of the King of England's own proper cost and charges

without having any dowry. They please us well. Lord Marquess kneel down. We here create thee the first Duke of Suffolk. and gird thee with the sword. Cousin of York, we here discharge your grace from being regent to the parts of France till term of 18 months be full expired.

Thanks, Uncle Winchester, Gloucester, York, Buckingham, Somerset, Salisbury and Warwick. We thank you all for the great favour done in entertainment to my princely queen. Come, let us in, and with all speed provide to see her coronation be performed. King Henry VI, Queen Margaret, and Suffolk. 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 coal, and Summers parting 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, victorious Warwick, received deep scars in France and Normandy?

Or hath my 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 his honours die? Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, your deeds of war and all our council die? Oh, peers of England. Nameful is this league, fatal this marriage, canceling your fame, blotting your names from books of memory, raising the characters of your renown, defacing monuments of conquered France,

and doing all as all had never been. Nephew, what means this passionate discourse, this peneration with such circumstance? For France, tis ours, and we will keep it still. Aye, uncle, we will keep it, if we can. but now it is impossible we should suffolk the new maid duke that rules the roast hath been given the duchy of andy and of maine and to the poor king reinier whose large style agrees not with the leanness of his purse now by the death of him that died for all these counties were the keys of normandy but where four weeks work my valiant son for grief they are past recovery for whether hope to conquer them again, my sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears, enjou and main, myself did win them both, those provinces these arms of mine did conquer,

and other cities that I got with wounds delivered up again with peaceful words? Maudieu! For Suffolk's Duke, may he be suffocate that dims the honor 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 advantages. A proper jest and never heard before, that Suffolk should demand a whole 15th for costs and charges in transporting her. She should have stayed in France and starved in France before.

Gloucester, now ye grow too hot. It was the pleasure of my lord the king. My lord of Winchester, I know your mind. Tis not my speeches that you do mislike, but tis my presence that does trouble ye. Rancour will out, pride, prilet in thy face. I see thy fury. If I longer stay, we shall begin our ancient bickerings. Lordings, farewell, and say when I am gone, I prophesied France will be lost here long. Exit. 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 favor him, calling him Humphrey the good Duke of Gloucester, clapping their hands and crying with loud voice, G. You 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. Why should he then protect our sovereign? He being of age to govern himself. cousin of Somerset join you with me and altogether with the Duke of Suffolk we'll quickly hoist you Comfrey from his seat This weighty business will not brook delay I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently

Exit Cousin of Buckingham Though Humphrey's pride and greatness of his place be grieved 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 protected Or thou or I, Somerset, will be protector, despite Duke Humphrey or the Cardinal. Exaunt, Buckingham, and Somerset.

Pride went before, ambition follows him. While these do labor for their own preferment, behoves it us to labor for the realm. I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Gloucester did bear him like a noble gentleman. Often have I seen the haughty cardinal, more like a soldier than a man in the church, as stout and proud as he were lord of all, swear like a ruffian and demean himself, unlike the ruler of a common-wheel. Work, my son, the comfort of my age.

Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy housekeeping hath won the greatest favor of the commons, accepting none but good do comfory. And Brother York, thy acts in Ireland, in bringing them to civil discipline, thy late exploits done in the heart of France when thou had regent for our sovereign, have made thee feared and honored of the people.

join me together for the public good in what we can to bridle and suppress the pride of Suffolk and the cardinal with Somersets and Buckingham's ambition and as we may cherish do country's deeds while they do tend the prophet of the land so god help Warwick as he loves the land and common profit of his country aside and so says York for he hath greatest cause then let's make haste away and look unto the main unto the main o'am Father, Maine is lost, that Maine, which by main force Warwick did win, and would have kept so long as breath did last. Main, child's father, you meant, but I meant Maine, which I will win from France, or else be slain. Exant Warwick and Salisbury. 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 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 curtesons still reveling like lords. till all be gone, while, as the silly owner of the goods, weeps over them and rings 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. Meethinks the realms of England, France, and

Ireland bear that proportion to my flesh and blood, as did the fatal brand Althea burned unto the Prince's heart of Caledon. 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 Neville's 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, surfeiting in joys of love, with his new bride and England's dear-bought queen, and Humphrey with the peers be fawn 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 per force I'll make him yield the crown, whose bookish rule hath pulled Fair England down. Exit Scene 2 Gloucester's house

Enter Gloucester and his Duchess Why droops, my lord, like over-ripened corn, Hanging the head at Sirius Lode? 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 my sight? What seest thou there?

King Henry's diadem, in chaste with all the honors 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 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 voucherote to beaute. safe one glance into the ground. Oh, Nell, sweet Nell! If thou just love thy lord, banish the canker of ambitious thoughts. And may that thought when I imagine ill against my king and nephew, Virtuous Henry, be my last breathing in this mortal world. My eye troublous dream this night doth make me sad.

What dreamed, my lord? Tell me, and I'll requite it with sweet rehearsals. of my morning's dream. Methought this staff, mine office, bad in court, was broke in plain by whom I have forgot. But as I think it was the cardinal, and on the pieces of the broken wand

were placed the heads of Edmund, Duke of Somerset, and William de la Pohl, First Duke of Suffolk. This was my dream. What it doth bode, God knows. Tatt, 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.

Me thought 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. May, Eleanor, then must I try out right, presumptuous day. ill-nurtured Eleanor. Are 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 will thou still be hammering treachery to tumble down thy husband and myself, from top of honour to disgrace his feet, away from me, let me hear no more. What, what, my lord, are you so choleric with Eleanor for telling but her dream? next time I'll keep my dreams into myself and not be checked.

May, be not angry. I am pleased again. Enter, messenger. My lord protector, tis his highness pleasure you do prepare to ride unto St. Albans, whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk. I go, come, Mel, that will ride with us? Yes, my good lord. I'll follow presently. Exit, Gloucester, and messenger. Follow, I must.

I cannot go before, while Blaster bears this base and humble mind. Were I a man, 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. Where are you there? John? Nay, if you're not, man, we are alone. There's none that thee and I. Enter Hume. Jesus preserve your royal majesty. What say'st thou? Majesty, I am but grace. But by the grace of God and Hume's advice, your grace's title shall be multiplied. What says thou, man? Has thou

was yet conferred with Marjorie Gordain, the cunning witch, with Roger Boulinbroke, the conjurer? and will they undertake to do me good? This, they have promised, 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. It is enough. I'll think upon the questions.

When from St. Albans we do make return, we'll see these things affected to the full. Here, Hume, take this reward. Make a merry man with thy confess. in this weighty cause. Exit. Hume must make Mary with the Duchess's 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 South.

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 Cardinals 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's REC, and her attaincture will be Humphrey's fall. Sought how it will, I shall have gold for all. Exit.

Scene 3. The Palace. Enter three or four petitioners. Peter, the armourer's man, being one. 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. Mary, the Lord protect him, for he's a good man. Jesus bless him.

Enter Suffolk and Queen Margaret. Here comes, methinks, and the queen with him. I'll be the first, sure. Come back, fool. This is the Duke of Suffolk, and not my Lord Protector. How now, fellow? Wouched anything with me? I pray, my Lord, pardon me. I took you for my Lord Protector. Reading. To my Lord Protector.

Are your supplications to His Lordship? Let me see them. What is thine? Mine is, and please, your grace against John Goodman, my Lord Cardinalsman, for keeping my house and lands and wife and all from me. Thy wife, too? That's some wrong indeed. What's yours? What's here? Reeds. Against the Duke of Suffolk, for enclosing the commons of Melford,

How now, sir, knave! Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township. Giving his petition. Against my master, Thomas Horner, for saying that the duke of york was rightful heir to the crown what sayest thou did the duke of york say he was rightful heir to the crown that my master was no forsooth my master said that he was and that the king was an usurper who is there enter servant take this fellow in and send for his master with a pursuvant presently we'll hear more of your matter before the king exit servant with peter and as for you that love to be protected under the wings of our protectors grace begin your suits anew and sue to him tears the supplication away base cullions suffolk let them go come let's be gone exaunt my lord of suffolk say is it the guys is this the fashion 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 tour thou ranst a tilt in honour of my love and stoleest away the lady's 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 Marys 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. Madam, be patient. As I was cause, your highness came to England, so will I in England work your grace's full content. Beside the haughty 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.

And he of these that can do most of all cannot do more in England than the Nevels. Salisby and Warwick are no simple piers. 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 Ducumfrey'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 Caled as she is, she vaunted amongst 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 dukdoms for his daughter. Madam, myself, have limed the brush for her,

and placed a choir of such enticing birds that she will like to listen to the 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 will weed them all at last and you yourself shall steer the happy helm Sound a Senate. Enter King Henry VI. Glauster, Cardinal, Buckingham, York, Somerset, Salisbury, Warwick, and the Duchess. For my part, noble lords I care not which. O Somerset or York all's one to me. If York have ill demeaned himself in France, then let him be denied the regentship.

If Somerset be unworthy of the place, let York be regent. I will yield to him. Whether your grace be worthy, yea, or no. Dispute not that. York is the worthier. Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak. The cardinal's not my better in the field. All in this presence are thy betters, Warwick. Warwick may live to be the best of all.

Peace, son, and show some reason, Buckingham, why Somerset should be preferred in this. Because the king, forsooth will have it. madam the king is old enough himself to give his censure these are no women's matters if he be old enough what needs your grace to be protector of his excellence madame i am protector of the realm and at his pleasure will resign my place resign it then and leave thine insolence since thou wert king as who is king but thou the commonwealth hath daily run to wreck the dauphin hath prevailed beyond the seas and all the peers and nobles the realm have been as bondment to thy sovereignty. The commons hast thou racked. The clergy's bags are lank and lean with thy extortions.

Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife's attire have caused a mass of public treasury. Thy cruelty in execution upon offenders hath exceeded law, and left thee to the mercy of the law. The sale of offices and towns in France, if they were known as the suspect is great, would make thee quickly hop without thy head. Exit Gloucester. Queen Margaret drops her fan. Give me my fan. What minion? Can you not?

She gives the Duchess a box on the ear. Oh, I cry you mercy, madam. Was it you? Was it I? Yay! I it was, proud French woman. Could I come near your beauty with my nails? I'd set my Ten Commandments in your face.

Sweet aunt, be quiet. "'Twas against her will.' "'Against her will!' "'Could King look to it in time. "'She'll hamper thee, and dandel thee like a baby. "'Though in this place most master wear no breeches, "'she shall not strike Dame Eleanor, unrevenged.' "'Exit.

"'Lord, Lord Cardinal, I will follow Eleanor "'and listen after Humphrey how he proceeds. "'She's tickle now, her fume needs no spurs. "'She'll gallop far enough to her doth, destruction. Exit. Re-enter Gloucester. Now, lords my collar 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 still deal with my soul, as I am due to love my king and country.

But to the matter that we have in hand, I say, my sovereign, York is Mithes-Man to be your regent in the realm of France. Before we make election, give me leave to show some reason of no little force that York is most unmeat of any man. I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeat. 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 dophan's hands. Last time, I danced. I danced attendance on his will till Paris was besieged, famished, and lost.

That can I witness, and of foul a fact did never traitor in the land commit. Peace, had strong, Warwick. Image of pride, why should I hold my peace? Enter Horner, the armourer and his man, Peter, guarded. Because here is a man accused of treason. Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself. Doth anyone accuse York for a traitor? What means thou, Suffolk? Tell me, what are these? Please it, your majesty.

This is the man that doth accuse his master of high treason. His words were these, that Richard, Duke of York, was rightfully errant to the English crown, and that your majesty was a usurper. Say, man, were these thy words? And shall please your majesty, I never said nor thought any such matter. God is my witness, I am falsely accused by the villain. 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.

Base dunghill villain and mechanical, I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech. I do beseech your royal majesty, let him have all the rigor of the law. Alas, my lord, hang me if I ever spake the words. My accuser is my prentice, and while 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. Uncle, what shall we say to this in law? This doom, my lord, if I may judge, let Somerset be regent over the French, because in York this breeds suspicion, and that these have a day appointed. for single combat, inconvenient place.

For he hath witness of his servant's malice. This is the law, and this do come for his doom. I humbly thank your royal majesty. And I accept the combat willingly. Alas, my lord, I cannot fight. For God's sake, pity my case. The spite of man prevaileth against me. Oh, Lord, have mercy upon me.

I shall never be able to fight. a blow. Oh, Lord, my heart! Sarah, or you must fight or else be hanged. Away with them to prison, and the day of combat shall be the last of the next month. Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent away. Flourish, exalt. Scene four, Gloucester's Garden. Enter Margaret, Jordane, Hume, Southwell, and Bowling Brook. Come, my masters, the Duchess I tell you, expect performance of your promises. Master Hume, we are therefore provided. Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms?

Aye, what else, fear you not her courage? 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 a love. 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. John Southwell, read you, and let us to our work. Enter the Duchess aloft.

Hume, following. Well said, my masters, and welcome all to the scare, the sooner, the better. 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 band-dogs 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 they do the ceremony's belonging, and make the circle.

Conjoultrote per ineffable in omen, tetragmaton, what in carta and in scriptum observe that sentissimim of which nominus virtuete and sagittissim in moment my prestes obedience ince ine fraude, fallace and invocation prestent this salvator our omnipotentissimo

who we had c'errimus a tremendous day, then the ultimo yokes and may you set doors that we went to yum tunk and come up to our room arid then the spirit riseth ah to a smith by the eternal god whose name and power though trembles that answer that i shall ask for till thou speak thou shalt not pass from him Reading out of a paper. First of the king, what shall of him become? As the spirit speaks, Southwell writes the answer. What fate await the Duke of Suffolk?

Borset shall befall the Duke of Somerset. When shall say? Yes, and the burning lake, false fiend of void. Enter York and Buckingham, with their guard and break in. Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash. Beldom, I think we watched you at an inch. What, madam, are you there? The king and commonweal are deeply indebted for this piece of pains.

My lord protector, will I doubt it not see you well gerdin for these good deserts? "'Not half so bad as thine to England's king, "'injurious Duke, the threatists where there's no cause.' "'True, madam, none at all what call you this? "'Away with them, let them be clapped up close and kept us under. "'You, madam, shall with us, therefore take her to thee.' "'Exaunt, above, Duchess and Hume, guarded. "'We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming, all away.'

"'Exhaunt, guard.' With Margaret Jordane and Southwell, etc. Lord Buckingham, me thinks you watched her well. A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon. Now pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ. What have we here? Reeds. The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose,

but him outlive and die a violent death. Why, this is just IOTE, Ayaka, Romanos Vincorapose. Well, to the rest. Tell me what fate awaits. the Duke of Suffolk. By water shall he die and take his end. What shall be tied the Duke of Somerset? Let him shun castles. Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains than where castles mounted stand. Come, come, my lords, these oracles are hardly attained and hardly understood. The king is now in progress towards St. Albans, with him the husband of this lovely lady.

Thither go these news, as fast as horse can carry them. A sorry breakfast for my Lord protector. Your grace shall give me leave my lord of York to be the post in hope of his reward. At your pleasure, my good lord. Who's within there, ho? Enter a serving man. Invite my lords of Salisbury and Warwick to suck with me tomorrow night. Away. Exaunt. End of Act 1. Act 2 of Henry VI, Part 2 by William Shakespeare. This is a Librevox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 2. Scene 1

St. Albans Enter King Henry VI, Queen Margaret, Gloucester, Cardinal, and Sulphic, with Falconer's Halloween. 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. 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. No marvel, and it like your majesty, my lord, protect his hawks do tower so well. They know their master loves to be aloft, and bears his thoughts above his felt,

My lord, tis but a basic noble mind that mounts no higher than the Burdican saw. I thought as much, he would be above the clouds. Aye, my lord cardinal, how think you by that? Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven? The treasury of everlasting joy. Thy heaven is on earth. Thine eyes and thoughts beat on a crown the treasure of thy heart. Pernicious protector, dangerous peer, that smooths it so with king and commonweil. What, cardinal, is your priesthood going peremptory? Tantene animus coerstibus airee?

Churchman so hot? Good uncle, hide such malice, with such holiness. Can you do it? No malice, sir, no more than well become so good a quarrel and so bad of peer. As who, my lord? Why, is you, my lord? And like your lordly lord protectorship? Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.

and thy ambition gloucester i prithee peace good queen and wet not on these furious peers for blessed are the peacemakers on earth let me be blessed for the peace i make against this proud protector with my sword aside to cardinal faith holy uncle would to accumb to that aside to gloucester marry when thou darest aside to cardinal make up no fuctious numbers for the matter in an unperson answer thy abuse "'Aside to Gloucester. "'I, were thou darest not peep, "'and if thou darest this evening, "'on the east side of the grove. "'How now, my lords?' "'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.' "'True, uncle.' "'Aside to Gloucester. "'Are ye advised, the east side of the grove? "'Aside to Cardinal.'

"'Cardinal, I am with you.' "'Why, how not?' now, Uncle Gloucester. Talking of Hawking, nothing else, my lord. Aside to Cardinal. Now, by God's mother, priest, I'll shave your crown for this, or all my fence shall fail. Aside to Gloucester. Medici, Te Ipsum, protect her. See to it well. Protect yourself.

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. Enter a townsman of St. Albans, crying, a miracle. What means this noise, fellow, what miracle just that proclaim? A miracle, a miracle! Come to the king and tell him what miracle. Forsooth, a blind man at St. Albans' shrine. Within this half hour hath received his sight.

A man that ne'er saw in his life before. Now God be praised that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort and despair. Enter the mayor of St. Albans and his brethren, bearing Simpcox. Between two in a chair, Simpcox's wife following. Here comes the townsman on procession to present your highness with the man. Great is his comfort in this earthly veil, although by sight his sin be multiplied. Stad by, no masters, bring him near the king. His highness' pleasure is to talk with him.

Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance that we for thee may glorify the Lord. What, hast thou been long blind and now restored? Born blind and please your grace. Aye, indeed was he. What woman is this? His wife, and like your worship. Hadst thou been his mother thou couldst have better told. Where wert thou born?

Ad Berwick in the north and like your grace. 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. Tell me, good fellow, Cameest thou here by chance, or of devotion to this holy shrine? God knows of pure devotion,

of being called a hundred times an oftener in my sleep. By good St. Orban, who said, Simcox, come, come, offer it to my shrine, and I will help thee. Most true forsooth, and many time and oft myself have heard a voice to call him so. What art thou lame? Aye, God Almighty help me.

How came'st thou so? A fall off of a tree. A plum-tree, master. How long hast thou been blind? Born so, master. What, and wouldst climb a tree? But that in all my life, when I was a youth. Too true, and bought his climbing very dear.

Mass, thou lovts plums well, thou wouldst venture so. Alas, good master. My wife desired some damsence and made me climb with danger of my life. A subtle knave, but yet it shall not serve. Let me see thine eyes. Wink now. Now open them. In my opinion, yet thou sees not well.

Yes, Master. Clear as day. I thank God and St. Orban. Sayest thou me so. What colour is this cloak of? Red, Master. Red is blood. Why, that's well said.

What colour is this gown of? Black, forsooth. Coal black as jet. Why, then? Thou know'st what colour Jett is of? And yet I think Jet did he never see. But cloaks and gowns before this day are many. Never before this day in all his life.

Tell me, Sirah, what's my name? Alas, Master, I know not. What's his name? I know not. Nor his? No, indeed, Master. What's thine own name? Sondra Simcox, and if it please you master?

Then, Sondra, sit there, blindest knave in Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, thou mightest have well known all our names, as thus to name the several colours we do wear. Sight may distinguish of colours, but suddenly, to nominate them all, it is impossible. My lords, St. Albany here has done a miracle. And would you not think his cunning to be great, that could restore this cripple to his legs again? O, master, that if you could? My master's is in Albans. Have you not beel's in your town, and things called whips?

Yes, my lord, if it please your grace, then send for one presently. Sir, go fetch the beadle hither straight. Exit, and attendant. Now, fetch me a stool hither by and by. Now, sir, if you mean to save yourself from which, sir, sir, if you mean to save yourself from leap me over the stool and run away. Alas, master, I'm not able to stand alone. You go about to torture me in vain.

Enter a beetle with whips. Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. Cyrra beetle, whip him till he leap over that same stool. I will, my lord. Come on, Thira. Off with your doublet quickly. Alas, master, what should I do? I'm not able to stand.

After the beetle hath hit him once, he leaps over the stool and runs away, and they follow and cry. A miracle. Oh, God, seeest thou this and bearest so long. It made me laugh to see the villain run. Follow the nave and take this drab away. Alas, sir, we did it for pure need.

Let them be whipped through every market town till they come to Berwick from whence they came. Exaunt, wife, beetle, mayor, etc. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle today. True made the lame to leap and thwart. But you have done more miracles than I. You made in the day, my lord, whole towns to fly. Enter Buckingham.

What tidings with our cousin Buckingham? Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold. A sort of naughty persons, ludely bent, under the countenance and confederacy of Lady Eleanor, the protector's wife, the ringleader and head of all this route, have practiced dangerously against your state, dealing with witches and with conjurers, whom we have apprehended in the fact,

raising up wicked spirits from underground, demanding of King Henry's life and death, and other of your highness's privy counsel, as more at large your grace shall understand. Aside to Gloucester. And so, my lord, protector, by this means, your lady is forthcoming yet at London. This news, I think, hath turned your weapons,

edge. Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour. 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. O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones, heaping confusion on their own heads thereby. Gloucester, see here the tincter of thy nest, and look thyself be faultless, thou word best. Madam, for myself, to heaven, I do appeal.

How I have loved my king in commonweal, 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, but have dishonoured Goster's honest name. 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 beams stand sure, whose rightful cause prevails. Flourish, exaunt. Scene 2. London, York's Garden, Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick. 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. My lord, I long to hear it at full. Sweet York, begin, and if thy claim be good, the nevils are thy subjects to command. Then thus, Edward III, 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 III's death, reigned as king, till Henry Bollingbroke, Duke of Lancaster, the eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, crowned by the name of Henry IV, seized on the realm, deposed the rightful king,

sent his poor queen to France from whence she came, and him to Pumfret, where, as you all know, harmless Richard was murdered traitorously. Father, the Duke hath told the truth. thus got the house of lancaster the crown 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 but william of hatfield died without an heir the third son duke of clarence from whose line i claimed the crown had issue philippe a daughter who married edmund mortimer earl of march edmund had issue roger earl of march roger had issue and he had issue Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor. This Edmund, in the reign of Bollingbrook, as I have read, laid claim unto the crown. And but for Owen Glendower had been king, who kept him in captivity till he died, but to the rest.

His eldest sister, Anne, my mother, being heir unto the crown, married Richard Earl of Cambridge, who was son to Edmund Langley, Edward III's fifth son. By her I claim the kingdom. him she was heir to roger earl of march who was the son of edmund mortimer who married philip sole daughter unto lionel duke of clarence so if the issue of the elder son succeed before the younger i am king what plain proceeding 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, his 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 me together, and in this private plot be we the first that shall salute our rightful sovereign, with honour of his birthright

to the crown. Lord live our sovereign Richard, England's king. We thank you, lords. 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. My lord, break we off, we know your mind at full. My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick shall one day make the Duke of York a king. And Neville, this I do assure myself. Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick the greatest man in England but the king.

Exhaun Scene 3, A Hall of Justice Sound trumpets Enter King Henry VI Queen Margaret, Gloucester, York, Sulfic and Salsbury The Duchess Margaret Jordain Southwell, Hume, and Boiling Brook, under guard. Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester's wife.

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 a judge to death. 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. You, madam, for you are more nobly born, despoil it 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. Welcome, Miss Banishment. Welcome, warm, my death. Eleanor, the law you seest have judged thee. I cannot justify who the law condemns. Exaunt, Duchess, and other people, prisoners guarded.

My eyes are full of tears. My heart of grief. Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age will bring my head with sorrow to the ground. I beseech thy majesty, give me leave to go. Sorrow would solace and my age would ease. 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 protected to thy king. I see no reason why a king of years should be to be protected like a child. God and King Henry govern England's realm. Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm. My staff, here noble Henry is my staff. as willingly do I the same resign As ere thy father Henry made it mine

And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it As others would ambitiously receive it Farewell, good king When I am dead and gone May honourable peace attend thy throne Exit 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, This staff of honour wrought There let it stand where it best fits to be In Henry's hand Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays

Thus Eleanor's pride Dies in her youngest days lords let him go please it your majesty this is the day appointed for the combat and ready or the appellant and defendant the armourer and his man to enter the lists so please your highness to behold the fight ay good my lord for purposely therefore left i the court to see this quarrel tried o god's name see the lists and all things fit here let them end it and god defend the right i never saw a fellow worse best or more afraid to fight than is the appellant, the servant of this armorer, my lords. Enter at one door, Horner, the armorer, and his neighbors, drinking to him so much that he is drunk,

and he enters with a drum before him, and his staff with a sandbag fastened to it, and at the other door Peter, his man, with a drum and sandbag, and prentices drinking to him. Yeah, neighbor Horner, I drink. Drink to you in a cup of sack. Unfair not, neighbor. You show them well enough.

And here, neighbor, he is a cup of charnico. And here's a paw, good double-bear, neighbor, drinking for not your man. Let it come our faith, and I pledge you all in a fig for Peter for credit of the prentices. I thank you all. Drink and pray for me, I pray you. For I think I have taken my last draft in this world

Here, Robin, and 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. Oh, Lord, bless me, I pray God, for I am never able to deal with my master. He hath learnt me so much fence already. Come, leave your drinking and fall to blows. Ciro, what's thy name? Peter, forsooth. Peter, what more?

Thump? Thump. Then see thou thump thy master well. Masters, I have 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.

Dispatch, this knave's tongue begins to double. Sound trumpets, allerum to the combatants. Alarum. They fight, and Peter strikes him down. Hold, Peter! Hold! I confess! I confess treason! Dies. Take away his weapon. Fellow, thank God, and the good wine in thy master's way. Oh, God, have I overcome mine enemy in this presence? Oh, Peter, thou hast prevailed in right.

Go, take hence that traitor from our sight. For his death we do perceive his guilt, and God injustice hath revealed to us the truth and innocence of this poor fellow, which he had thought to have murdered wrongfully. Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. Sound a flourish, exan. Scene four, a street. Enter Gloucester and his serving man in mourning cloaks. Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud, And after summer evermore succeeds Baron Winter, With his wrathful nipping call,

So cares and joys abound as seasons fleet. Sirs, what's o'clock? Ten, my lord. Ten is the hour that was appointed me To watch becoming of my punished Duchess. Anith may she endure the flinty streets to tread them with her tender, feeling feet. Sweet Mel, ill can thy noble mind a brook,

the abject people gazing on thy face with envious looks, laughing at thy shame. Thy erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels, when thou didstst ride in triumph through the streets. But soft, I think she comes, and I will prepare my tear-stained eyes to see her miseries. Enter the Duchess in a white sheet and a taper burning in her hand with Stanley, the sheriff and officers. So please, your grace, we'll take her from the sheriff.

No, still not for your lives. Let her pass by. Come you, my lord, to see my open shame. Now thou did his penance too. Look how they gaze, see how the giddy multitude do point and nod their heads and throw their eyes on thee. O Gloucester, hide thee from their hateful looks, And in thy closet pent up rue my shame, And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine. Be patient, gentle now, forget this grief.

Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself. For whilst I think I am thy married wife, and thou a prince, protector of this land, he thinks I should not thus be led along, mailed up in shame, with papers at my back, and followed with a rabble that rejoiced to see my tears and hear my deep, fat groans. The ruthless flint did 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? Trust thou that ere I'll look upon the world, or count them happy that enjoy 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, in such a prince he was, as he stood by, whilst I, his forlorn duchess, was made a wonder, an appointing-stock. every idle rascal follower. But be thou mild,

And blush not at my shame, Nor stir it nothing, Till the acts of death hang over thee, As sure, it shortly will. For Suffolk, He that can do all in all With her that hateeth thee, And hates us all,

And york, an impious beaufort, That false priest, Have all limed bushes to betray thy wings. And fly thou, how that, thou canst. They'll tangle thee. But fear not thou, until thy foot be snared, nor never seek prevention of thy foes. Ah, Mel, forbear, thou aimst 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 scave, so long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless.

wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach why hit 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 sought be heart to patience these few days one day will be quickly worn enter a herald i summon your grace to his majesty's parliament holden at berry the first of this next month and my consent ne'er asked here and before this is close dealing Well, I will be there. Exit Herald. My now, I take my leave. And Master Sheriff, let not her penance exceed be King's commission. And please your grace, here my commission stays, and Sir John Stanley is appointed now to take her with him to the Isle of Man.

Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here? So am I given in charge, might please your grace. Intreat her not the worse, in that I pray you use her well. The world may laugh again, and I may live to do you kind, this if you do at her. And so, Sir John, farewell. What? Gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell. With this my tears, I cannot stay to speak. Exaunt, Gloucester, and serving men.

Aren't 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 pray thee go, and take me hence, I care not wither, for I beg no favour, only convey me where thou art commanded.

Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man, there to be used according to your state. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach, and shall I then be used reproachfully? Like to a Duchess and Duke Humphrey's lady. according to that state you shall be used sheriff farewell and better than i fare although thou hast been the conduct of my shame it is my office and madam pardon me i i farewell thy office is discharged come stanley shall we go madam your penance done throw off this sheet and go we to attire you for our journey my shame will not be shifted with my sheet now 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

exent end of act two act three of henry the sixth part two by william shakespeare this is a libravox recording all libravox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 3, Scene 1 The Abbey At Burry St. Edmunds Sound a Senate. Enter King Henry the 6th. Queen Margaret, Cardinal,

Suffolk, York, Buckingham, Salisbury and Warwick, to the Parliament. I muse, my lord of Gloucester has not come. Tis not his want to be the hindmost man what our occasion keeps him from us now? 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 has 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 every one 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 as the next will mount. "'Me seemeth, 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 counsel.

"'By flattery hath he won the common's hearts, and when he pleased 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 oar grow 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. 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 suburbination 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 brain-sick Duchess by wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall. Smooth runs the water where the book is deep, and in his simple show, he harbors treason. The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb. No, no, my sovereign, Gloucester is a man unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit. Did he not, contrary to form of law, devise strange deaths, for small offences done?

And did he not, in his protectorship, levy great sums of money through the the realm, for soldiers pay in France, and never sent it, by means whereof the towns each day revolted. These are pitifuls to false unknown. Which time will bring to light in smooth, Duke Humphrey? My lord's 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 down for. Oh, what's more dangerous than this fond defiance? 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 can't? not steal a shape that means deceit. Take heed, my lord. The welfare of us all hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man. Enter Somerset. All help into my gracious sovereign. Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news from France? But all your interest in those territories is utterly bereft you. All is lost.

Cold news, Lord Somerset, but God's will be done. 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. But I will remedy this gear ere long, or sell my title for a glorious grave. Enter Gloucester. All happiness unto my lord the king,

pardon my liege that I have stayed so long. Nay, Gloucester, know that thou art come too soon, unless thou wert more loyal than thou art. I do arrest thee of high treason here. Well, Suffolk, 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?

Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of France, and, being protector, stayed the soldier's pay, by means whereof His Highness hath lost France. Is it but thought so? What are they to 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 knight, I night by night, in studying good for England.

That do it I arrested from the king, or any groat I hoarded, to my use, be brought against me at my trial day. No, many a pound of mine own private store, Because I would not tax the needy commons Have I dispersed to the garrisons, But never asked for restitution. It serves you well, my lord, to say so much.

I say no more than truth, so help me, God. In your protectorship you did devise strange tortures for offenders, Never heard of, that England was defamed by tyranny. Why, it is well known that whilst 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 gained them condine punishment. Murder indeed, that bloody sin I tortured above the felonor. What trespass else? 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 Lord Cardinal to keep until your further time of trial. My lord of Gloucester, tis my special hope that you will clear yourself from all suspect. My conscience tells me you are innocent. Ah, gracious Lord, these days are dangerous. Virtue is choked with foul ambition and charity. chased hence by Ranka'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 spend it with all willingness. But mine has made the prologue to their play, for thousands more that yet suspect no peril will not conclude their plotted tragedy. Both of its red, sparkling eyes, blab his heart's malice, and suffolk's cloudy brow, his stormy hate. Sharp bucking him and burdened with his tongue, the envious loat lies upon his heart, and dogged york, that reaches at the moon whose overweening arm I have plucked back by false accused, death level up my life, and you, my sovereign lady. With the rest, causeless, have laid disgraces on my head, and with your best endeavour, I've stirred up my leifist liege to be mine enemy. Aye, all you have laid your heads together. Myself had notice of your conventure, 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 affected. A staff is quickly found to beat a dog. My liege's 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 grant its scope of speech, it will make them cool in zeal unto your grace.

Have he not twit our sovereign lady here with ignominious words, though clerkly couched, as if she had suborned some to swear false allegations to aughtrow his state? But I can give the loser leave to chide. Far true as spoke than meant. I lose indeed. Besrew the winners, for they played me false. And well, such losers may have leave to speak.

He'll rest the sense and hold us here all day. Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner. Sirs, take away the Duke and guard him sure. 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 know thee first. Ah, that my fear were false, ah, that it were, for good King Henry, my decay, I fear. Exit guarded. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best do or undo as if ourself were here?

What? Will your highness leave the Parliament? Aye, 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 ere I proved thee false or feared thy faith. What lowering 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 strays, 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 not 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 vowed enemies. "'His fortunes I will weep, And Twixt each groan say, Who's a traitor? Gloucester, he is none. Exaunt all but Queen Margaret, Cardinal, Suffolk, and York. Somerset remains apart. 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 flowering bank with shining checkered 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 of the fear we have of him. 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.' "'But in my mind, that were no policy. "'The king will labour still to save his life. "'The commons happily rise to save his life. "'Yet we have but trivial argument more than mistrust

"'that shows him worthy death. "'So that by this you would not have him die? "'Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I. "'Tis York that hath more reason for his death. But my Lord Cardinal, and you, my Lord of Suffolk, say as you think, and speak it from your souls, Wart not all one an empty eagle were set to guard the chicken from a hungry kite, as placed Duke Humphrey for the king's protector. So the poor chicken should be sure of death.

Madam, tis true, and were 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, that he is a fox. By nature proved an enemy to the flock, before his chap be stained with crimson blood, as Humphrey proved by reasons to my liege.

And do not stand on quillets how to slay him, bit by gins, by sneers, by subtlety, sleeping or waking, tis no matter how, so he be dead. For that is good deceit, which mates him first, that first intends deceit. thrice noble Suffolk, tis resolutely spoke.

Not resolute, except so much were done. For things are often spoken, 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. But I would have him dead, my lord of Suffolk, Ere you can take due orders for a priest.

Say you consent and sense your well the deed, deed, and I'll provide his executioner. I tend to soul the safety of my liege. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing. And so say I. And I, and now we three have spoke it, it skills not greatly, who impugns our doom. Enter a post.

Great lords, from Ireland to my common main, to signify that rebels there are up and put the Englishmen into the sword. Send Sucorish lords, lords, and stop the rage between him, before the wound who grew uncurable, Forth being green, there is great hope of help. A breach that craves a quick expedient stop. What counsel give you in this weight he calls? That Somerset be sent as regent thither.

Tis meet that lucky ruler be employed. Witness the fortune he have had in France. If York, with all his far-fed policy, had been the regent there instead of me, he never would have stayed in France so long. No, not to lose it all, as that. hast done i rather would have lost my life betimes than bring a burthen of dishonour home by staying there so long till all were lost show me one scar character'd on thy skin men's flesh preserved so whole do seldom win 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 here might happily have proved far worse than his

what worse than not nay then a shame take all and in the number thee that wishest shame my lord of york try what your fortune is the uncivil cerns 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 irishman i will my lord so please his majesty why our authority is his consent and what we do establish he confirms then noble york take thou this task in hand i am content provide me soldiers lords whilst i take order for mine own affairs a charged Lord York that I will see performed. But now return we to the false new comfory. 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.

My lord of Suffolk, within 14 days at Bristol I expect my soldiers, for there I'll ship them all for Ireland. I'll see it truly done, my lord of York. Exhaunt all but York. Now York, or never, steal thy fearful thoughts and change misdoubt to resolution. Be that thou hopeest to be, or what thou art, resign to death. It is not worth the enjoying. Let pale-faced fear keep with the mean-born man and find no harbor 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 laboring spider, weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. Well, nobles, well tis politically done to send me packing with a host of men. I fear me, you but warm the starved snake, who, cherished in your breasts, will sting your hearts.

T'was men I lacked, and you will give them me, I take it kindly, and yet be well assured you put sharp weapons in a madman's hands. Whilst I in Ireland nourish 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 man. 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 Cairns, and fought so long till that his thighs with darts were almost like a sharp-quilled porpentine. And, in the end being rescued, I have seen him Cairns, 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, 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 common's mind, How the effect the house and claim of York. Say he be taken, racked and tortured, 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 rascal sowed, for Humphrey being dead as he shall be, and Henry put apart, the next for me. Exit. Scene 2. Burry St. Edmunds, a room of state. Enter certain murderers hastily. Run to my lord of Suffolk, let him know we have dispatched the duke as he commanded. Oh, that it were to do! What have we done? Didst ever hear a man so penitent?

Enter Suffolk. Here comes my lord. Now, sirs, have you dispatched this thing? Aye, my good lord, he's dead. 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 tis my good lord away begone exaunt murderers sound trumpets enter king henry the sixth queen margaret cardinal somerset with attendance go call our uncle to our present straight. Say we intend to try his grace today if he be guilty, as tis publisher. I'll call him presently, my noble lord. Exit. Lords take your places, and I pray you all,

proceed no straight against our Uncle Gloucester, then from true evidence of good esteem he be approved in practice culpable. God forbid any malice should prevail that faultless may condemn a nobleman. Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion. I thank you. I thank you. I. Thank thee, Meg. These words content me much. Re-enter, Suffolk. How now? Why looks thou pale? Why tremblest thou? Where is our uncle? What's the matter, Suffolk? Dead in his bed, my lord. Gloucester is dead.

Mary, God forfend! God's secret judgment! I did dream to-night. The Duke was dumb and could not speak a word. King Henry the sixth swoons. How fairs, my lord? Help, lords, lords. The king is dead. Rear up his body, ring him by the nose. Run, go, help, help!

O Henry Ope thine eyes! He doth revive again, madam, be patient. O heavenly God! How fares my gracious Lord? Comfort, my sovereign, gracious Henry comfort. 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. 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 eyeball's 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. 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 offender, Grones 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 Prince's courts be filled with my approach. This get I, by his death, I, me, unhappy, to be a queen and crowned with infamy. O woe is me for gloucester, wretched man. 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 wax and death? Be poisonous to, and kill thy forlorn queen. Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester's tomb? Why, then, Dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy, erect his statue and worship it, And make my image but an alehouse sign? Was I for this, nigh wrecked upon the sea, And twice by awkward wind from England's bank drove back again into my native clime? What boded this, but well-for-warning wind 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 that Eolius 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 cowered 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 wish 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 Dider would unfold his father's acts commenced in burning Troy? Am I not witched like her, or thou not false like him?

I'm me, I can no more, more. Die, Margaret, for Henry weeps that thou dost live so long. Noise within. Enter Warwick, Salisbury, and many commons. 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.

That he is dead, Good Warwick, tis too true, but how he died God knows not Henry. Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse, and comment then upon his sudden death. That shall I do, my liege. Stay, Salisbury. with the rude multitude till I return. Exit.

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 judgment 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 under his dumb, death trunk, and with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling. But all in vain are these mean obsequies, and to survey his dead and earthly image what were it but to make my sorrow greater! Re-enter Warwick and others, bearing Gloucester's body on a bed. Come hither, gracious sovereign,

view this body. 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. 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 to Duke. A dreadful oath swung with a solemn tongue. What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow? See how the blood is settled in his face. Often have I seen a timely parted ghost of ashy semblance, meager, pale and bloodless, being

all descended to the labouring heart, who, in the conflict that it holds with death, The same for adents against 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 hugged 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. All these signs were probable. Why, Warwick, who should do the Duke to death? Myself and Beaufort had him in protection, and we, I hope, sir, are no murderers. But both of you were vowed Duke Humphrey's furs, 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. Then you belike suspect these noblemen as guilty of Duke. Crumphrey's timeless death. Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh, and sees fast by a butcher with an axe, but we'll suspect twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in a puddock's nest, but may imagine how the bird was dead,

although the kite saw with unblooded beak. Even so suspicious is this tragedy. Are you the butcher, suffer? Where's your knife? Is Beaufort termed a kite? Where are his talons? 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 darest, proud, lord of Warwickshire, that I am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death. exaunt cardinal somerset and others what dares not warwick if false suffolk dare him he dares not calm his contumliest spirit nor cease to be an arrogant controller though suffolk dare him twenty thousand times madam be still with reverence may i say for every word you speak in his behalf is slander to your royal dignity blunt-witted lord ignoble in demeanour if ever lady wronged her lord so much thy mother took unto her blamful bed some stern untutored churl and noble stock was grafted with crab-tree slit whose fruit thou art and never of the never's noble race But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee,

And I should rob the death-sman of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild. I would, false, murderous coward, On thy knee make thee beg pardon for thy parson's speech, and say it was thy mother that thou meanest, that thou thyself was 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. Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood, if from this presence thou darest go with me. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence, unworthy though thou art,

But, old cope with thee, and do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost. Exhaunt, Sulfic and Warwick. 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. A noise within. What noise is this?

Re-enter Sulfic and Warwick with their weapons drawn. Why, how now, Lord! Your wrathful weapons drawn here in our presence? Dare you be so bold? Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here? The traitorous warwick, with the men of Burry, set all upon me, mighty sovereign. Earl of Salisbury, to the Commons entering. Sirs, stand apart.

The King shall know your mind. 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 lingering death. They say by him the good due comfrey 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 straight edict. Whether a serpent seen, with forked tongue and that slyly glided towards your majesty, it were but necessary you were awaked, 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 whether you will or know 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. Within. An answer to me, my Lord Salisbury. It is 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 order to you are. But all the honor Salisbury hath won is that he was the Lord Ambassador sent from a sort of thinkers to the king. Within. But now so many, or will all break in.

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 suffix means, and therefore, by His Majesty I swear,

whose far unworthy deputy I am, he shall not breathe infection in this air but three days longer, on the pain of death. Exit Salisbury. O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk. Ungentle Queen to call him gentle Suffolk. No more, I say. If thou dost plead for him,

there wilt but add increase unto my wrath. Had I but said I would have kept my word, but when I swear it is irrevocable, If after three days space Thou here 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 Exaunt, all but Queen Margaret and Sulfic Miss Chance and sorrow go along with you Hearts discontent and sour affliction Be play fellows to keep you company There's two of you. The devil make a third, and threefold vengeance tend upon your steps. Cease, gentle, queen, these execrations, and let thy suffolk take his heavy leave.

Fye, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch, hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy? A plague upon them. Wherefore should I curse them? Would curses kill at Dr. D. Dr. Dr. Dr. Dr. Dr. Dr. D. Dr. I would invent as bitter-searching terms, as cursed 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, mine hair be fixed on end as one distract. Every joint should seem to curse and ban, and even now my berthened heart would break,

should I not curse them. Poison be there drink. Gaw, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste. Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees, their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks, their softest touches

smart as desert sting, their music frightful as the serpents hiss, and boding screech-owls make the concert full. All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell. Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torments thyself. And these dread curses like the sun-gainsd glass, or like an overcharged gun, recoil,

and turn the force of them upon thyself. You made me ban, and will you bid me leave? Now, by the 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. O let me entreat thee cease.

Give me thy hand, that I may do it with my mournful tears, nor let the rain of heaven wet this place to wash away my woful monuments. O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand, that thou mightst think upon these by the same, seal, through whom a thousand sighs are breathed for thee. So get thee gone, that time I may know my grief.

Tis but surmised whilst thou art standing by, As one that surfe its 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. No, go not yet. Even thus two friends condemned embrace and kiss And take ten thousand leaves,

Lother a hundred times to part, then die. Yet now farewell, and farewell life with thee. Thus is poor suffer ten times banished, Once by the king and three times thrice by thee. Tis not the land I care for, what thou hence. A wilderness is populous enough, so Suffolk had thy heavenly company. For where thou art, there is the world itself, with every several pleasure in the world. And where thou art not, desolation. I can no more. Live thou to joy thy life. Myself,

no joy in naught but that thou livest. Enter Vaux. What news, I prithee? To signify unto his majesty that Cardinal before is at point of death. For suddenly a grievous sickness took him, that makes him gasp and steer and catch the air, blaspheming God and cursing men on earth. Sometimes he talks, as if Duke Humphrey's ghost were by his side. Sometimes he calls the king,

and whispers to his pillow as to him the secrets of his overcharged soul and i'm sent to tell his majesty that even now he cries aloud for him Go. Tell this heavy message to the king. Exit, Vow. I'm 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 content in tears, theirs for the earth's increase mine for my sorrows.

Now get thee hence, the king thou know'st is coming. If thou be found by me thou art but dead. If I depart from thee I cannot live. And in thy sight to die, What were it else but like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? Here could I breathe my soul into the air As mild and gentle as the cradle babe, dying with mother's dug between its lips,

where from thy sight I should be raging mad and cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, to have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth. So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul or I should breathe its soul into thy body. And then it lived in sweet elysium. To die by thee were but to die in jest. from thee to die

Would torture more than death Let me stay Befall what may befall 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 I go And take my heart with thee A jewel locked into the woefulest cask that ever did contain a thing of worth. Even as a splitted bark so sunder we,

this way fall I to death. This way for me. Exaunt severally. Scene three, a bedchamber. Enter the king, Salisbury, Warwick, to the cardinal in bed. How fares, my lord? Speak, Beaufort to thy sovereign. If thou be's death, I'll give thee England's treasure, enough to purchase such another island, so thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.

Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, where death's approach is seen so terrible. Perfect, that is thy sovereign speaks to thee. Bring me unto my trial when you will. Died he not in his bed? Where should he die? Can I make men live, whether they will or no? Oh, torture me no more. I will 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. Come 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. 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. See how the pangs of death to make him grin! Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.

Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be. Lord Cardinal, if thou think'st to you, on heaven's bliss, hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. He dies, and makes no sign. O God, forgive him. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close, and let us all to meditation. Exhaunt End of Act 3 Act 4 of Henry VI Part 2

by William Shakespeare. This is a Libravox recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libravox.org. Act 4, Scene 1 The Coast of Kent Alarum, Fight at Sea, Ordinance Goes Off, Enter Captain, a Master, a Master's Mate,

Walter Whitmore and others, with them, Sulfic and others, prisoners. The gaudy blabbing and remorseful days 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, whilst our pennies anchors in the downs. Here shall they make their ransom on the sand, or would their blood stain this discoloured shore? Master, this prisoner freely give I thee.

And thou that art his mate, make boot of this, the other, Walter Whitmore is thy share. What is my ransom, master? Let me know. A thousand crowns or else lay down your head. What think you much to pay two thousand crowns and bear the name in port of gentlemen? Cut both their villainous throats. For die you shall. The lives of those which we have lost in fight be counterpoised with such a pity sum. I'll give it, sir, and therefore spare my life.

And so will I, and ride home for it straight. I lost my eye in laying the prize abroad, and therefore to revenge it shall thou die. To Suffolk. And so should these, if I might have my will. Be not so rash. Take ransom, let him live. Look on my gorge. I am a gentleman. Rate me at what thou wilt. Thou shalt be paid.

And so am I. My name is Walter Ritmore. How now? Why start'st thou? What, doth death affright? 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 galtier being rightly sounded galtier or walter which it is i care not never yet did baste us on a blur our name but with our sword we wiped away the blot therefore when merchant-like i sell revenge broke be my sword my arm torn into face and i proclaim the coward to the world stay whitmore for thy prisoner is a prince the duke of suffol william de la the duke of suffolk muffled up in rags ay but these rags are no part of the duke joe sometimes went disguise and why not i but jove was never slain as thou shalt be

obscure and lowly swain king henry's blood the honourable blood of lancaster must not be shed by such a jaded groom as thou not kissed thy hand and held my stirrup bareheaded plodded by my footcloth mule and thought the happy way I shook my head? How often hast thou waited at my cup, fed from my trencher, kneel down at the board when I have feasted with Queen Margaret? Remember it and let it make thee crestfallen. Aye, 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.

Speak, Captain. Shall I stab the forlorn swain? First, let my words stab him as he hath me. Be slave, thy words are blunt, and so art thou. Convey him hence, and on our long-boat's side, strike off his head. Thou darest not for thy own. Yes, Paul. Pool.

Sir pool, Lord. Aye, kennel, puddle, sink, Whose filth and dirt troubles the silver spring where England drink. now will i dam up this thy yawning mouth for swallowing the treasures of the realm thy lips that kissed the queen shall sweep the ground and thou that smelt'st at good duke humphrey's death against the senseless winds shall grin in vain who in contempt shall hiss thee again and wedded be thou to the hags of hell for daring to afire 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 sillor over-gourged with gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart by thee and jew and main were sold to france the false revolting normans thorough thee disdain to call us lord and piccadie hath slain their governors surprised our forts and sent the ragged soldiers wounded home the princely warwick and the nevles 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 inviitous nuby 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 away convey him hence or that i would a guard to shoot forth thunder upon these paltry servile abject drudges small things make basemen proud this villain here being captain of a pinnace threatens more than bargillus to strong ilerian pirate drone Suck not Eagle's 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. I go of message from the Queen to France. I charge thee waft me safely across the chaddle.

Walter? Come, Suffolk. I must woth thee to thy death. Gelidus Timorocuputatus. It is thee, I fear. Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee. What? Are ye doth?

daunted now now will ye stoop my gracious lord entreat him speak him fair suffix 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 nor 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 room. True nobility is exempt from fear. More can I bear than you dare execute. Hail him away and let him talk no more. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty you can that this my death may never be forgot. Great men oft died by vile bosonians. A Roman sword and mandido slave murdered sweet Tully. Blutus bastard hand stabbed Julius Caesar, savage islanders Pompey the Great. And Suffolk. dies by pirates.

Exaunt Whitmore and others with Suffolk. And as for these whose ransom we have said, it is our pleasure, one of them to depart. Therefore, come you with us and let him go. Exhaunt all but the first gentleman. Reenter Whitmore with Suffolk's body. There let his head and lifeless body lie, until the queen, his mistress, bury it.

Exit. Oh, 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. Exit with the body. Scene 2. Blackheath. Enter George Bevis and John Holland.

Come and get thee a sword, they made of a leth. They have been up these two days. They have the more need to see. sleep now then. I tell Lee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the Commonwealth and turn it and set a new nap upon it.

So he had need. For tis drag bear. Well, I say it was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up. Oh, miserable age. Virtue is not regarded in handicrafts, men.

The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons. Nay more, the king's council are no good workmen. True, and yet it is said, laborer in thy vocation, which is as much to say as let the magistrates be laboring men, and therefore should we be magistrates? Thou hast hit it, for there's no better sign of a brave mind than an ard end. I see them, I see them.

Their best son, the Tanner of Wingham. These shall have the skin of our enemies to make dog's leather of. And Dick the butcher. There is sin struck down like an ox, an iniquity's throat cut like a calf. And Smith, the weaver. Argo, their thread of life is spun. Come, come, let's fall in with them. Drum.

Enter Cade, Dick, Smith the Weaver, and a Sawyer. with infinite numbers. We, John Cade, so termed of our supposed father. Aside. Rather of stealing a cade of herrings. For our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes. Command silence.

Silence! My father was a mortimer. Aside. He was an honest man on a good bricklayer. My mother are plantagenet. Aside. I knew her well. She was a midwife. My wife descended of the laces.

Aside. She was indeed, a peddler's daughter, and so many laces. Aside. But now of late, notable to travel with her fared pack, she washes bucks here at home. Therefore am I of an honorable house. Aside. I, by my fate, the field is honorable. and there was he born under a hedge, for his father had never a house but the cage.

Valiant I am. Aside. Ah, must needs, for beggary is valiant. I am able to endure much. Aside. No question of that, for I've seen him whip three market days together. I fare neither sword nor fire. Aside.

He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of proof. Aside. but he thinks he should stand in fear of fire being birdie the hand for stealing of sheep be brave then for your captain is brave and vows reformation there shall be in england seven hepenny loaves sold for a penny the three-hooped pot shall have ten hopes and i will make it felony to drink small beer all the realm shall be in common and in chapside shall my palfrey go to grass, and when I am king, as king I will be. God say your majesty! I thank you, good people. There shall be no money.

I 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. The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers. Nay that I meant to do. Is not this a lamentable thing that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? That parchment being scribbled or should undo a man. Some say the bay stings,

but I say it is the bay's wax, for I did but sail once to a thing, and I was never my own man's sense. Oh no, who's there? Enter some, bringing forward the clerk of Chatham. The clerk of Chatham. He can write and read and cast a count. Dumb monstrous.

We took him setting of boys' copies. He's a villain. Has a book in his pocket with red letters in t. Nay, then he is a conjurer. Nay, he can make obligations. and right court hand. I am sorry for it. The man is a proper man of me honour.

Unless I find him guilty, he shall not die. Come hither, Sirrah. I must examine thee. What is the name? Immanuel. They used to write it on the top of letters. It will go hard with you.

Let me alone. Dost thou used to write the name? Or hast thou remarked thyself? an honest playing dealing man. Sir, I thank God. I have been so well brought up that I can write my name. He has to confess.

Away with him. He's a villain and a traitor. Away with him, I say. Hang him with his pen and inkorn about his neck. Exit one with the clerk. Enter Michael. Where's our general?

Here I am, thou particular fellow. Fly, fly. Fly, fly, Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by with the king's forces. Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell they down. I shall be encountered with a man as good as himself. He is but a cnoit, is a... No. To equal him, I will make myself a cnoyt presently.

Neals. Rise up, Sir John Mortimer. rises no have at him enter sir humphrey and william stafford with drum and soldiers rebellious hynes 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 but angry rathol and inclined to blood if you go forward therefore yield or die as for they silk and coat slaves I pass not. It is to you, good people, that I spake. Over whom in time to come, I hope to reign, for I am rightful heir unto the crown. Villan, thy father was a plasterer, and thou thyselfish chairman, art thou not? And Adam was a gardener. And what of that? Married this, Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, married the Duke of Clarence's daughter,

did I, sir? Beher, he had two children at one birth. That's false. Aye, there's the question, but I say tis true. The elder of them being put to nurse was by a beggar woman stolen away, and ignorant of his birth and parentage became a bricklayer when he came to age. His son am I, deny it if you can. Nay, tis too true, therefore he shall be king.

Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it, therefore deny it not. And will you credit this base drudges words? That speaks he knows not what? I marry Louis, therefore get you on. Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this. Aside. A-side. self. Go to, Sirrah, tell the king from May that for his father's sake, Henry V, in whose time boys went to span counter for French crowns. I am content he shall reign, but I'll be protector over him.

And furthermore, we'll have the Lord Say's head for selling the dukedom of Maine. And good reason, for their boy is England, Maine. and fain to go with a staff, but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow kings, I tell you that that Lord Say hath gelted the Commonwealth and made it a nionic. And more than that, he can speak French, and therefore he is a traitor. Oh, gross and miserable ignorance! Now answer, if you can, the Frenchmen are our enemies. go to then i ask but this can hear that spake's with the tongue of an enemy be a good counsellor or no no and therefore will pass his head well seeing gentle words will not prevail assail them with the army of the king harold 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. Exaunt William Stafford and Sir Humphrey and soldiers. And you that loveth the commons follow me. Now show yourselves man tis for liberty. We will not live own lord, own gentleman, spare none but such as going clouted shone. For they are thrifty on. men and such as would but that they dare not take our parts they are all in order and march toward us but then our way in order when we are most out of order come march forward Exeons Scene 3 another part of Blackheath Alarums to the fight wherein Sir Humphrey and William Stafford are slain enter King

Cade and the rest. Where's Deg, the butcher of Ashford? Here, sir. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen. And thou behavits thyself As if thou'dst been in the known slaughterhouse. Therefore thus will I reward they. The lent shall be as long again as it is.

And thou shalt have a license to kill for a hundred lacking one. I desire no more. And to speak trot, thou deservest no less. This monument of the victory will I bear. Putting on Sir Humphrey's brigadine. And the body shall be dragged at my horse hails till I do come to London, where we will have the mere sword born before us.

If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the jails and let out the prisoners. Fair not that, I warrant they. Come, let's march towards London. Exaunt Scene 4. London, the palace. Enter King Henry VI with a supplication,

and the queen with Sophoc's head. Buckingham, and Lord Say. Often 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?

What answer makes your grace to the rebel supplication? I'll send some holy bishop to entreat, for God forbid so many simple souls should perish by the soul. 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. Ah, barbarous villains! Had 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?

Lord say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head. Aye, but I hope your heart. Hainess shall have his. How now, madam? Still lamenting in mourning for Suffolk's death? I fear me, love, if that I had been dead, thou wouldst not have mourned so much for me? No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee.

Enter a messenger. How now? What news? Why com'st thou in such haste? 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 have given them heart and courage to proceed. All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, they call false caterpillars and intend their death. Oh, graceless men, they know not what they do. My gracious Lord, return to Killingworth Until a power be raised to put them down

Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now alive These Kentish rebels would be soon appeased Lord say the traitors hate thee Therefore away with us to Killingworth So might your gracious 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

Enter another messenger. Jack Cade hath got in 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. Then linger not, my lord. Away, take horse. Come, Margaret, God our hope will succour us.

My hope is gone. Now Suffolk is deceased. Farewell, my lord. Trust not the Kentish rebels. Trust nobody, for fear you be betrayed. The trust I have is in mine innocence, and therefore am I bold and resolute. Exhaunt

Scene 5. London, the Tower. Enter scales upon the tower, then enter two or three citizens below. How now is Jack Cade slain? No, my lord, nor likely to be slain, for they have won the bridge, killing all those that withstand them. The Lord Mayor craves aid of your honour from the tower to defend the city from the rebels. 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. But get you to Smithfield and gather head, and thither I will send you Matthew Goff. Fight for your king, your country, and your lives. And so, farewell, for I must hence again. Exhaun.

Scene 6. London. Cannon Street. Enter Cade and the rest, and strikes his staff on London Stone. 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, hence for it, it shall be treason for any that calls me other than Lord Mortimer.

Enter a soldier running. Jackayed, jacked! Knock him down there. If this fellow be wise, he'll never call you Jack Cade Moore. I think he hath a very fair warning. My lord, there's an army gathered together in Smithfield. Come then, let's go fight with them. But first, go and set London Bridge on fire.

And if you can, burn down the tower too. Come, let's the way. Exhaunt Scene 7 London Smithfield Alarums Matthew Goff is slain

And all the rest Then enter Cade With his company So sirs Now go some and pull down the savoy Others to the ends of court Down with them all I have a suit under your lordship

Be it a lordship Thou shalt have it for that word Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth. Aside. Mass, t'will be sore law then, for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and tis not whole yet. Aside. Nay, John, it will be stinking law, for his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese. 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. aside. Then we are like to have biting statutes, unless his teeth be pulled out. And hence for at all things shall be in common. Enter a messenger. My lord, a prize, a prize.

Here's the Lord Say which sold the towns in France, he that made us pay one in twenty-fifteenth and one shilling to the pound the last subsidy. Enter Bevis and Lord Say. Well, here shall be beheaded for it ten times. Ah, thou say, thou serge, nay thou buckram lord, Now art thou within point blank of our jurisdiction or regal. What canst thou answer to my majesty for giving up of Normandy,

until monsieur baise me cool? the Dauphin of France. Be it known unto they by these presents, even the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the basem that must sweep the court clane of such filth as thou art. Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the oath of the realm in erecting a grammar skull.

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 thee face that thou hast men about thee that usually tak of a known and a verb, and such abominable words as no Christian heir can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed justices of pace 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 raid, thou hast hanged them. When indeed only for that cause they have been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride in a footcloth, dost thou not. What of that? marry thou artest not to let the horse wear a cloak when harnest or man than thou go in their hose and doublets and work in their shirt too as myself for example that am a butcher you men of kent what say you of kent nothing but this tis bona terra malaginz aware with him aware with him a speggs latin hear me but speak and bear me where you will kent kent and bear me where you will kent In the commentaries, Caesar writ is termed the civilist place of this aisle. Sweet is the country because full of riches, the people liberal, valiant, active, and 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 favor 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 parlayed unto foreign kings for you behoof When struckest thou one blow in the field? Great men have reaching hands. oft have I struck those I never saw, and struck them dead. Oh, monstrous coward. What, to come behind, folks? These cheeks are pale for watching for your good. Give him a box of the air, and that'll make them red again.

Long sitting to determine poor man's causes hath made me full of six. and diseases. Ye shall have a hemp and cardle then, and the help of ach it. Why dost thou quiver, man? The palsy and not fear provokes me. Nay, and nods at us, as I should say, I'll be averin with you. I'll say if his head will stand steadier on a pole, or no, take him away and behead him. Tell me wherein have I offended most, have I affected wealth or on

Honor? Speak! Are my chest 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 harboring foul, deceitful thoughts. Oh, let me live! Aside, I fail remorse in meself with his words, but I'll bridle it. They shall die on it bay for played in so well for his life. Away with him, he has a familiar under his tongue. He spake's not a God's name. Go take him away, I say, and strike off his head presently.

And then break into his son-in-law's house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them both upon two poles hither. It shall be done. Ah, countrymen, if when you make your prayers, God should be so abdured as yourselves, how would it fare with your departed souls, and therefore yet relent and save my life? Away with him, and do as I command ye.

Exhaunt some, with Lord say. The proudest pair in the realm shall not wear a head on his shoulders, unless a pay made tribute. There shall not a maid be married, but she shall pay to me her maidenhead, or they have it. Men shall hold of may in Capite and we charge

and command that their wives be as fray as heart can wish or tongue can tell. My lord, when shall we go to cheapside and take up commodities upon our bills? Marry presently. Oh, brave!

Re-enter, one with the heads. But is not this braver. Let them kiss one another, for they loved well when they were alive. Now part them again, lest they consult about the giving up of some more towns in France. Soldiers deferred the spoil of the city until night, for with these born before us, instead of maces, will we ride through the streets, and at every corner have them kiss. Away! Exxon

Scene 8 South Work Alarm and Retreat Enter Cade and all his ramblement Up fish straight Down St. Magnus Corner Kill and knock down Throw them into Thames

Sound a parley What noise is this I hear Dare any base a bolt to sound retreat or parley when I command them kill. Enter Buckingham and Clifford attended. I hear they be that dare and will disturb thee. No, 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.

What say ye, countryman? Will ye relent and yield to murder? whilst has 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 V that made all France to quake, shake he his weapon at us and pass by. God save the king! God save the king! God save the king! What, Buckingham and Clifford! Oh ye so brave! And ye'ye so brave! And you have

You base peasants, do ye believe him? Will you need to be hanged with your pardons about your necks? Hath my sword therefore broke through London gates, that you should leave me at the white heart in Southark. I thought he 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 no Let them break your backs with bourthens, 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, Al. We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade. Is Cade the son of Henry VIII that thus ye 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 it not a shame that whilst you live at Jarre, the fearful French whom you late vanquished, should make a start overseas and vanquish you? Me thinks already in this civil broil, I see them lauding it in London, streets crying Villiago unto all they meet. Better 10,000 baseborn Cades, Miss Carrie, then 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 a victory. That's litigers, that's worth. We'll

follow the king and clifred. Ah, was ever feather, so lightly blown toe and fro as this multitude. The name of Henry V, hails them to an hundred mischiefs, and makes them leave me desolate. I say them lay their heads together to surprise me. My sword make way for me, for here is no staying. In despite of the devils and hell, half-fought-react. through the very middest of you. And heavens and honour be witness,

That no want of Resilucion in May, But only me followers' base and ignominious treasons. Mex may be take me to my hails. Exit. 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.

Exant, some of them. Follow me soldiers, we'll devise a mean to reconcile you all unto the king. Exam Scene 9 Kenilworth Castle Sound trumpets Enter King Henry VI Queen Margaret and Somerset

On the terrace 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. Enter Buckingham and Clifford. Health and glad tidings to your majesty.

Why Buckingham? Is the traitor Cade surprised, or is he but retired to make him strong? Enter below, multitudes, with halters about their necks. He is fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield. And humbly thus, with halters on their necks, "'Expect Your Highness's doom of life or death.' "'Then heaven, set Ope thy everlasting gates "'to entertain my vows of thanks and praise. "'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 unfortunate, "'assure yourselves, will never be unkind. "'And so, with thanks and pardon to you all, "'I do dismiss you, to your several countries. God save the king.

God save the king. Enter a messenger. 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 gallow glasses and stout cairns, his 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 traitor. Thus stands my state, Quixed Cade and York distressed. Like to a ship that, having escaped a tempest, is straightway calmed and bordered 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'll commit thee thither

until his army be dismissed from him. My lord, I'll yield myself to prison willingly or unto death to do my country good. In any case, be not too rough in terms, for he is fierce and cannot brook hard language. I will, my lord, and doubt not so to deal as all things shall redound unto your good. Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern better.

For yet may England curse my wretched reign. Exxon Scene 10 Kent Iden's Garden Enter Cade Oh, Foy on Ambition

Foy on myself that have a sword And yet I'm ready to famish These five days have I hid me in these woods And dirst not peep out For all the country is laid for me But now am I so hungry hungry, that if I might have a lace of my life for a thousand years, I could stay no longer. Where far on a brick wall have I climbed into this garden to say if I can eat grass, or pick a

salad another while, which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather? And I think this word salad was born to do me good, for many a time. But for a salad, my brain pan had been cleft with a brown bell. And many a time when I have been dry and bravely marching, it hath served me instead for a quart pot to drink in. And now the word salad must serve me to fade on. Enter Iden. Lord, who would live turmoil 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 suffices that i have maintained my state and sends the poor well pleased from my gate Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for astray, For enterin his face simple without lave. Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the king, carrying my head to him. But I'll make thee eight iron like an ostrich, and swallow me sword like a great pin ere thou and I part. Why, rude companion, whatsoever thou be, know thee not why then should i betray thee is it not enough to break into my garden and like a thief to come rob my grounds climbing my walls in spite of me the owner but thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms brave they i be the best blood that ever was broached and bared they too look on me well i have ate no mate these five days yet come thou in thee five men

and if I do not lay for you all as dead as a door-nail, I pray God I may never eat grass more. Nay, it shall never 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 Lin 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 my 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. By me valour, the most complete champion that ever I heard. still if thou turn the edge or cut not out the barley bonnet clone in chines of bef ere thou slip in thy sheath i besiege god on me nest thou mayst be turn't to hob nails here they fight kade falls o i am slain famine and no other hath slain me let ten thousand devils come against me and give me but the ten males I have lost, and I'll 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. Is Cade that I have slain? That monstrous traitor? Sword, I will hollow thee for this thy deed, and hang thee. thee over my tomb when I am dead. Never 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. Iden, farewell, and be proud of thy victory. Tell Kent from May she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the world to be cowards, for I that never feared any, An vanquished by famine, Not be valour. Dyes. How much thou wrong'st me? Heaven be my judge.

Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bear thee. And as I thrust thy body in with thy sword, So wish I, I might thrust thy soul. to hell. Hence will I drag thee head long by the heels unto a dung-hill 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. Exit. End of Act four. Act five of Henry VI, Part 2 by William Shakespeare. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public.

domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Act 5. Scene 1. Fields between Dartford and Blackheath. Enter York and his army of Irish with drum and colors. 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, Sanktimaestus, who would not buy thee, dear? Let them obey that know 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 scepter balance it. A sceptre, shall it have, have I a soul, on which I'll toss the flower de luce of France.

Enter Buckingham. whom have we here buckingham to disturb me the king hath sent him sure i must dissemble jork if thou mean'st well i greet thee well humphrey of buckingham i accept thy greeting art thou a messenger or come of pleasure a messenger from henry our dread liege to know the reason of these arms in peace or why thou being as subject as i am against thy oath and true allegiance sworn should raise so great a power without his sleeve, or dare to bring thy force so near the court. Scarce can I speak! My collar is so great! Oh, I could hew up rocks and fight with Flint! I am so angry at these abject terms! And now, like Ajax telemonious, 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. 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. 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.

Upon thine honour is he prisoner? Upon mine honour, he is prisoner. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my powers. Soldiers, I thank you all. Dispers yourselves. meet me tomorrow in St. George's Field. You shall have pay, and everything you wish. 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, armor, anything I have is his to use, so Somerset may die. Jork, I commend this kind submission. We Twain will, go into His Highness's tent. Enter King Henry 6th and attendance. Buckingham, Doth York intend no harm to us, that thus he marcheth

with thee arm in arm. In all submission and humility, York doth present himself unto your highness. Then what intends these forces thou dost bring? To heave the traitor Somerset from hence,

and fight against that monstrous rebel Cade, who, since, I heard, to be discomfited. Enter Identity. with Cade's head. If one so rude and so mean condition may pass into the presence of a king, lo, I present your grace a traitor's head, the head of Cade, whom I in combat slew.

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? i was ain't like your majesty how art thou called and what is thy degree alexander idon that's my name a poor esquire of kent that loves his king so please it you my lord twere not a miss he were created knight for his good service idae kneel down he kneels rise up a knight we give thee for reward a thousand marks and will that thou henceforth attend on us

May Iden live to merit such a bounty, and never live but true unto his liege. Rises. Enter Queen Margaret and Somerset. See, Buckingham, Somerset comes with the queen. Go, bid her hide him quickly from the Duke. For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head, but boldly stand and front him to his face. 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 darest not know 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 awful princely sceptre. That gold must round and girt 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, or him whom heaven created for thy ruler. O monstrous traitor, I arrest the york of capital treason against the king and crown. Obey audacious traitor.

kneel for grace. Wouldst have me kneel? First let me ask of these if they can brook-eye-bow-a-k-k-k-a-k-kaw-a-nee to man. 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. Call hither Clifford.

Bid him come amain to say if that the bastard boys of York shall be the surety for their traitor father. Exit Buckingham. O blood-besotted 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.

Enter Edward and Richard. See where they come. I'll warrant they'll make it good. Enter Clifford and Young Clifford. And here comes Clifford to deny their bail. Health and all happiness to my lord the king. Neal's. I thank thee, Clifford. Say what news with thee. Nay, do not fright us with an angry look.

We are thy sovereign, Clifford. Neal again, for thy mistaking so we pardon thee. This is my king, York. I do not mistake, but thou mistakest me much to think I do. To bedlam with him. Is the man grown mad? I, Clifford, a bedlam and ambivalent. humor makes him oppose himself against his king.

He is a traitor. Let him to the tower and chop away that factious pate of his. He is arrested but will not obey. His sons, he says, shall give their words for him. Will you not sons? I, noble father, if our words will serve. And if words will not, then our weapons shall. Why was a brood of traitors have we here? Look in a glass and call thy image so. i am thy king and thou a false heart traitor call hither to the stick my two brave bears that with the very shaking of their chains they may astonish these fell-lurking curs bid salisbury and warwick come to me enter the warwick and salisbury

are these thy bears we'll bait thy bears to death and manacle the bear ward in their chains if thou darest bring them to the baiting place oft have i seen a hot over-winning 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 Hence heap of wrath, foul indigested lump, As crooked in thy manners as thy shape. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon. Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow? Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair,

Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son. What, wilt thou on thy death-bed 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 once 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. 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.

Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me? I have. Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath? 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 murderous 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 accustomed right, and have no other reason for this wrong but that he

was bound by a solemn oath? A subtle traitor needs no sophister. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself. Call Buckingham and all the friends thou hast. I am resolved for death or dignity. The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true. were best to go to bed and dream again, to keep thee from the tempest of the field. I am resolved to bear a greater storm that any thou can conjure up to-day. And that I'll write upon thy burgeonet, might I but know thee by their household badge. 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 burgeonette, as on a while I'll wear off my burgeonette, as on a man of my bedrocked,

a mountain top the cedar shows that keeps his leaves in spite of any storm even to affright thee with the view thereof and from thy burgeonette i'll rend thy bear and tread it underfoot with all contempt despite the bear ward that protects the bear and so to arms victorious father to quell the rebels and their accomplices fie charity for shame speak not in spite for you shall sup with Jesus Christ tonight. Fowl stigmatic, that's more than thou'st can tell. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell. Exhaunt severally. Scene 2. St. Albans

Alarums to the battle, enter Warwick. Clifford of Cumberland, dis Warwick calls. And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum and dead men's cries to 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 arm. Enter York. How now, my noble lord, what, all afoot?

The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed, but match-handed, to match I have encountered him, and made a prey for carrion kites and crows, even of the bonny beast he loved so well. Enter Clifford. Of one or both of us, the time is come. Old Warwick, seek thee out some other chase, for I myself must hunt this deer to death. They nobly, York, tis for a crowd thou fightest, as I intend Clifford to thrive today, it grieves my soul to leave thee unassailed.

Exit. What ceased thou in me, York? Why dost thou pause? With thy brave bearing, should I be in love, But that thou art so fast mine enemy? Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem, But that is shown ignobly and in treason. So let it help me now against thy sword,

As I injustice and true right express it. My soul and body on the action both. A dreadful lay, Address thee instantly. They fight and Clifford falls. La fin, couronne lays over. Dyes. Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still.

Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will. Exit. Enter young Clifford. Shame and confusion, all is on the root. Fear frames disorder and disorder wounds where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell, whom angry heavens do make their minister, row 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 valor seeing his dead father oh 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

Was thou ordained, dear father, to lose thy youth in peace, And to achieve the silver livery of advised age, And in thy reverence, in 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's spares, nor 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 absurdist did in cruelty will i seek out my fame come thou new ruin of old clifford's house as did aeneas old ankeys bear so bear thee upon my manly shoulders ugh but then aeneas bear a living load nothing so heavy as these woes of mine exit Bearing off his father. Enter Richard and Somerset to fight. Somerset is killed. So lie thou there, for underneath an alehouse poultry sign, The castle in St. Albans, Somerset,

Hath made the wizard famous in his death. Sword, hold thy temper. Heart be wrathful still. Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. Exit. Fight excursions Enter King Henry VI, Queen Margaret and others Away, my lord, you are slow for shame away!

Can we outrun the heavens? Good Margaret stay. 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? Alarum afar off. If you be ta'en, we then.

should see the bottom of all our fortunes but if we should 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 re-enter young clifford But that my heart's on future mischief set, I would speak blasphemy, ere bid you fly. But fly you must. Uncurable discomfort 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! Exaunt

Scene 3 Fields near St. Albans Alarum, Retreat. Enter York, Richard, Warwick, and, and, soldiers with drum and colors. Of Salisbury, who can report of him, that winter lion who enrage 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.

My noble father, three times today I hold 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. But noble as he is, look where he comes. Enter Salisbury. Now by my sword well hast thou fought today.

By the 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 to-day 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 i know our safety is to follow them for as i hear the king has 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 after them Nay, before them, if we can. Now, by my faith, lords, twas a glorious day. St. Albans' battle won by famous York

shall be eternized in all age to come, sound drums and trumpets, and to London all, and more such days as these to us before. Exhaunt. End of Act 5. End of Henry VI, Part 2, by William Shakespeare.