ACT III.
2. SCENE II. Bury St. Edmund's. A Room of State.
(continued)
SUFFOLK.
Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloster is dead.
QUEEN.
Marry, God forfend!
CARDINAL.
God's secret judgment!--I did dream to-night
The duke was dumb and could not speak a word.
[The King swoons.]
QUEEN.
How fares my lord?--Help, lords! the king is dead.
SOMERSET.
Rear up his body; wring him by the nose.
QUEEN.
Run, go, help, help!--O Henry, ope thine eyes!
SUFFOLK.
He doth revive again.--Madam, be patient.
KING.
O heavenly God!
QUEEN.
How fares my gracious lord?
SUFFOLK.
Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, comfort!
KING.
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 sugar'd 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 eye-balls murtherous 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 Gloster's dead.
QUEEN.
Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus?
Although the duke was enemy to him,
Yet he most Christian-like laments his death;
And for myself, foe as he was to me,
Might liquid tears or heart-offending groans
Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life,
I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans,
Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs,
And all to have the noble duke alive.
What know I how the world may deem of me?
For it is known we were but hollow friends.
It may be judg'd I made the duke away;
So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded
And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach.
This get I by his death. Ay me, unhappy!
To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!
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