Car. If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's treasure,

Enough to purchase such another island,
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.
K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,
Where death's approach is seen so terrible!
War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to
thee.

Car. Bring me unto my trial when you will.
Died he not in his bed? where should he die?
Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no?-
O! torture me no more, I will confess.-
Alive again? then show me where he is;

I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.Comb down his hair; look! look! it stands upright,

Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul! Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.

K. Hen. 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! War. See, how the pangs of death do make him grin.

Sal. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably. K. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good

pleasure be!

Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.He dies, and makes no sign; O God, forgive him!

War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. K. Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.

Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close; And let us all to meditation. [Exeunt.

WE have already noticed the charges which were made by his enemies against the Duke of Gloster. Hall, whom Holinshed copies, thus proceeds to describe his death :

"Although the duke (not without great laud and praise) sufficiently answered to all things to him objected, yet because his death was determined, his wisdom little helped, nor his truth smally availed: but of this unquietness of mind he delivered himself, because he thought neither of death, nor of condemnation to die: such affiauce had he in his strong truth, and such confidence had he in indifferent justice. But his capital enemies and mortal foes, fearing that some tumult or commotion might arise if a prince so well beloved of the people should be openly executed and put to death, determined to trap and undo him, or he thereof should have knowledge or warning. So, for the furtherance of their purpose, a parliament was summoned to be kept at Bury, whither resorted all the peers of the realm, and amongst them the Duke of Gloster, which, on the second day of the session, was by the Lord Beaumont, then high constable of England, accompanied by the Duke of Buckingham and other, arrested, apprehended, and put in ward, and all his servants sequestered from him, and xxxii of the chief of his retinue were sent to divers prisons, to the great admiration of the common people. The duke, the

night after his imprisonment, was found dead in his bed, and his body showed to the lords and commous as though he had died of a palsy or empostom; but all indifferent persons well knew that he died of no natural death, but of some violent force."

The conspiracy which the poet has exhibited in the first scene of this act, of the queen, the cardinal, Suffolk, and York, against the life of Gloster, is not borne out by any relation of the chroniclers. Indeed it is by no means clear that the duke actually did die by violence. The people, no doubt, firmly believed that he came to his end by foul practices; and they would naturally associate this belief with the suspicion of his avowed enemies. Hence, probably, the general tone of the chroniclers. The participation of the queen in the supposed crime is distinctly stated by Hall; and he suggests, also, the motive by which York might have been prompted to remove so able and popular a branch of the house of Lancaster as the Duke Humphrey. The following passage bears upon both points :

"There is an old said saw, that a man intending to avoid the smoke falleth into the fire: so here the queen, minding to preserve her husband in honour and herself in authority, procured and consented to the death of this noble man, whose only death brought to pass that thing which she would

most fain have eschewed, and took from her that jewel which she most desired: for if this duke had lived, the Duke of York durst not have made title to the crown: if this duke had lived, the nobles had not conspired against the king, nor yet the commons had not rebelled: if this duke had lived, the house of Lancaster had not been defaced and destroyed; which things happened all contrary by the destruction of this good man."

The banishment of Suffolk took place in 1450, three years after the death of Gloster. In the articles against him "proponed by the commons," there were many accusations of " treason, misprision, and evil demeanour;" but the murder of the Duke of Gloster was not therein imputed to him. Hall, indeed, says that the commonalty affirmed him to "be the chief procurer of the death of the good Duke of Gloster." The protection of the queen, "which entirely loved the duke," was for some time his safeguard; but he was finally banished by the king, according to Hall, "as the abhorred toad and common nuisance of the whole realm, for the term of five years." The poet has brought events which were separated by considerable intervals of time into a dramatic unity; and he has connected the guilt which was popularly attributed to Suffolk with the punishment which was demanded by the public hatred of him.

The death of Cardinal Beaufort is one of those scenes of the Shaksperian drama which stand in the place of real history, and almost supersede

its authority. Shakspere, however, found the meagre outline of this great scene in a passage of Hall:

"During these doings, Henry Beauford Bishop of Winchester, and called the rich cardinal, departed out of this world, and was buried at Winchester. This man was son to John of Gaunt Duke of Lancaster, descended of an honourable lineage, but born in Baste, more noble of blood than notable in learning, haut in stomack and high in countenance, rich above measure of all men, and to few liberal; disdainful to his kin and dreadful to his lovers, preferring money before friendship, many things beginning and nothing performing. His covetous insaciable, and hope of long life, made him both to forget God, his prince, and himself, in his latter days; for Doctor John Baker, his privy counsellor and his chaplain, wrote that he, lying on his death-bed, said these words: Why should I die, having so much riches? If the whole realm would save my life, I am able either by policy to get it, or by riches to buy it. Fie! will not death be hired, nor will money do nothing? When my nephew of Bedford died, I thought myself half up the wheel; but when I saw my other nephew of Gloster deceased, then I thought myself able to be equal with kings, and so thought to increase my treasure in hope to have worn a triple crown. But I see now the world faileth me, and so I am deceived: praying you all to pray for me.""

SCENE I.-Kent. The Sea-shore, near Dover.

Firing heard at sea. Then enter from a boat, a Captain, a Master, a Master's-Mate, WALTER WHITMORE, and others; with them SUFFOLK, and other Gentlemen, prisoners.

Cap. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful daya Is crept into the bosom of the sea; And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades That drag the tragic melancholy night; b Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. Therefore, bring forth the soldiers of our prize; For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, Here shall they make their ransom on the sand, Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore. Master, this prisoner freely give I thee;And thou that art his mate, make boot of this ;

These epithets are beautifully chosen. Milton has copied one of them in Comus:'

"Ere the blabbing eastern scout,

The nice morn, on th' Indian steep,
From her cabin'd loop-hole peep."

b The jades with flagging wings are the "night's swift dragons" of A Midsummer Night's Dream:

"For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast."

The other, [pointing to SUFFOLK] Walter Whitmore, is thy share.

1 Gent. What is my ransom, master? let me know.

Mast. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.

Mate. And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.

Cap. What, think you much to pay two

thousand crowns,

And bear the name and port of gentlemen ?-Cut both the villains' throats,-for die you

shall.

The lives of those which we have lost in fight Be counterpois'd with such a petty sum?"

1 Gent. I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life.

We follow the reading of the folio. Malone has corrected the passage as follows:

"The lives of those which we have lost in fight
Cannot be counterpois'd with such a petty sum."

It appears to us that this emendation greatly weakens the force of the passage. Upon the hesitation to pay ransom the Captain exclaims," What, think you much," &c. He then, parenthetically, threatens death: and continues his halfinterrogative sentence, What," The lives of those which we have lost in fight be counterpois'd," &c.