They say, in care of your most royal person, That if your highness should intend to sleep And charge that no man should disturb your rest In pain of your dislike or pain of death, Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict, Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue, That slily glided towards your majesty, It were but necessary you were waked, Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber, The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal;And therefore do they cry, though you forbid, That they will guard you, whether you will or no, From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is, With whose envenomed and fatal sting, Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth, They say, is shamefully bereft of life. Commons [Within] An answer from the king, my Lord of Salisbury! SUFFOLK 'Tis like the commons, rude unpolish'd hinds, Could send such message to their sovereign:
But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd, To show how quaint an orator you are:
But all the honour Salisbury hath won Is, that he was the lord ambassador Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king. Commons [Within] An answer from the king, or we will all break in! KING HENRY VI Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me.
I thank them for their tender loving care;And had I not been cited so by them, Yet did I purpose as they do entreat;For, sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means:
And therefore, by His majesty I swear, Whose far unworthy deputy I am, He shall not breathe infection in this air But three days longer, on the pain of death.
Exit SALISBURY QUEEN MARGARET O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk! KING HENRY VI Ungentle queen, to call him gentle Suffolk!
No more, I say: if thou dost plead for him, Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath.
Had I but said, I would have kept my word, But when I swear, it is irrevocable.
If, after three days' space, thou here be'st found On any ground that I am ruler of, The world shall not be ransom for thy life.
Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me;I have great matters to impart to thee.
Exeunt all but QUEEN MARGARET and SUFFOLK QUEEN MARGARET Mischance and sorrow go along with you!
Heart's discontent and sour affliction Be playfellows to keep you company!
There's two of you; the devil make a third!
And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps! SUFFOLK Cease, gentle queen, these execrations, And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave. QUEEN MARGARET Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch!
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy? SUFFOLK A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse them?
Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, I would invent as bitter-searching terms, As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear, Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-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;Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban:
And even now my burthen'd heart would break, Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste!
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees!
Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks!
Their softest touch as smart as lizards' sting!
Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss, And boding screech-owls make the concert full!
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell-- QUEEN MARGARET Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou torment'st thyself;And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass, Or like an overcharged gun, recoil, And turn the force of them upon thyself. SUFFOLK You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave?
Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, Though standing naked on a mountain top, Where biting cold would never let grass grow, And think it but a minute spent in sport. QUEEN MARGARET O, let me entreat thee cease. Give me thy hand, That I may dew it with my mournful tears;Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place, To wash away my woful monuments.
O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand, That thou mightst think upon these by the seal, Through whom a thousand sighs are breathed for thee!
So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;'Tis but surmised whiles thou art standing by, As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
