_Suf._ Madam, ’tis true; and were’t 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,   ·bca255· Because his purpose is not executed. No; let him die, in that he is a fox, By nature proved an enemy to the flock, Before his chaps be stain’d with crimson blood, As Humphrey, proved by reasons, to my liege.   [bca260] And do not stand on quillets how to slay him: Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety, Sleeping or waking, ’tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good deceit   [bca264] Which mates him first that first intends deceit.   ·bca265· _Queen._ Thrice-noble Suffolk, ’tis resolutely spoke.   [bca266] _Suf._ Not resolute, except so much were done; For things are often spoke and seldom meant: But that my heart accordeth with my tongue, Seeing the deed is meritorious,   ·bca270· And to preserve my sovereign from his foe, Say but the word, and I will be his priest. _Car._ But I would have him dead, my Lord of Suffolk, Ere you can take due orders for a priest: Say you consent and censure well the deed,   ·bca275· And I’ll provide his executioner, I tender so the safety of my liege. _Suf._ Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing. _Queen._ And so say I. _York._ And I: and now we three have spoke it,   [bca280] It skills not greatly who impugns our doom. _Enter a_ Post. _Post._ Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain,   [bca282] To signify that rebels there are up And put the Englishmen unto the sword: Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime,   ·bca285· Before the wound do grow uncurable;   [bca286] For, being green, there is great hope of help. _Car._ A breach that craves a quick expedient stop!   [bca288] What counsel give you in this weighty cause? _York._ That Somerset be sent as regent thither:   [bca290] ’Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ’d; Witness the fortune he hath had in France. _Som._ If York, with all his far-fet policy,   [bca293] Had been the regent there instead of me, He never would have stay’d in France so long.   ·bca295· _York._ No, not to lose it all, as thou 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:   ·bca300· Men’s flesh preserved so whole do seldom win.   [bca301] _Queen._ 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 there,   ·bca305· Might happily have proved far worse than his.   [bca306] _York._ What, worse than nought? nay, then, a shame take all!   [bca307] _Som._ And, in the number, thee that wishest shame!