Though standing naked on a mountain top Q. Mar, Oh, let me entreat thee cease. Give me thy hand, That I may dew it with my mournful tears; [Kiffing his hand, And banished I am, if but from thee. -Go, speak not to me; even now be ganeOh, go not yet-Ev'n thus two friends condemn'd Embrace and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, Loather a hundred times to part than die. Yet now farewel, and farewel life with thee! So Suffolk had thy heav'nly company. 2 That thou might'ft think upon thefe by the feal, Through which a thousand fighs, &c.] That by the impreffion of my kifs for ever remaining on thy hand thou mighteft think on thofe lips through which a thoufand fighs will be breathed for thee. SCENE Q. Mar. Whither goes Vaux fo faft? what news, I pr'ythee? Vaux. To fignify unto his Majefty, That Cardinal Beauford is at point of death, Q. Mar. Go tell this heavy meffage to the King. [Exit Vaux. And with the fouthern clouds contend in tears? If thou be found by me, thou art but dead. -at an hour's poor lofs.] She means, I believe, at a lofs which any hour spent in contrivance and deliberation will enable her to fupply. Or perhaps the mav And And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, To die by thee were but to die in jest, From thee to die were torture more than death. Q. Mar. Away. Though parting be a fretful corrofive, It is applied to a deathful wound. To France, fweet Suffolk. Let me hear from thee, For wherefoe'er thou art in this world's globe, *I'll have an Iris that fhall find thee out. Suf. I go. Q. Mar. And take my heart with thee. Even as a splitted bark, fo funder we; Q. Mar. This way for me. SCENE [Exeunt feverally. X. The Cardinal's Bedchamber. Enter King Henry, Salisbury, and Warwick, to the K. Henry H Cardinal in Bed. OW fares my Lord? fpeak, Beauford, to thy Sovereign. Car. If thou beeft Death, I'll give thee England's treafure, Enough to purchafe fuch another Island, So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain. * I'll have an Iris] Iris was the meffenger of Juno. Car Car. Bring me unto my Trial when you will. Dy'd he not in his bed? where should he die? Can I make men live whether they will or no? -Oh, torture me no more, I will confefs -Alive again? then fhew me where he is, I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him. -He hath no eyes, the duft hath blinded them. -Comb down his hair; look! look! it ftands upright, Like lime twigs fet to catch my winged foul. - Give me fome drink, and bid th' apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. K. Henry. O thou eternal Mover of the heav'ns, Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch; Oh, beat away the bufy, medling, fiend, That lays ftrong fiege unto this wretch's foul, And from his bofom purge this black despair. War. See, how the pangs of death do make him grin! Sal. Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably. K. Henry. Peace to his foul, if God's good pleature be! -Lord Cardinal, if thou think'ft on heaven's blifs, Hold up thy hand, make fignal of thy hope. -He dies, and makes no fign!-O God, forgive him, War. So bad a death argues a monftrous life. K. Henry. Forbear to judge, for we are finners all. Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain clofe, And let us all to meditation. [Exeunt.* tinue to be admired when prejudice fhall ceafe, and bigotry give way to impartial examination. Thefe are beauties that rife out of nature and of truth the fuperficial reader cannot miss them, the profound can image nothing beyond them. ACT ACT IV. SCENE I. The Coaft of Kent. Alarm. Fight at fea. Ordnance goes off. Enter Captain Whitmore, and other Pirates, with Suffolk, and other Prifoners. CAPTAIN. HE gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day TH And now loud howling wolves aroufe the jades, s Who with their drowfy, flow, and flagging wings [Pointing to Suffolk. 1 Gent. What is my ransom, mafter, let me know. Maft. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. Mate. And fo much fhall you give, or off goes yours. Whit. What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns, The gaudy, blabbing,—day] The epithet blabbing applied to the day by a man about to commit murder, is exquifitely beautiful. Guilt is afraid of light, confiders darkness as a natural fhelter, and makes night the confidante of thofe actions which cannot be trusted to the tell-tale day. the jades That drag the tragick melancholy night, Who with their drowsy, flow, and flagging wings, Clip dead men's graves ;-1 The wings of the jades that drag night appears an unnatural image, till it is remembered that the chariot of the night is fuppofed, by Shakespeare, to be drawn by dragons. And |