_Salb._ My Lord, the Commons sends you word by me, [daj116] The vnlesse false Suffolke here be done to death, [daj117] Or banished faire Englands Territories, That they will erre from your highnesse person, They say by him the good Duke Humphrey died, ·daj120· They say by him they feare the ruine of the realme. And therefore if you loue your subiects weale, They wish you to banish him from foorth the land. [daj123] _Suf._ Indeed tis like the Commons rude vnpolisht hinds Would send such message to their soueraigne, ·daj125· But you my Lord were glad to be imployd, To trie how quaint an Orator you were, But all the honour Salsbury hath got, Is, that he was the Lord Embassador Sent from a sort of Tinkers to the King. ·daj130· The Commons cries, an answere from the King, my Lord of _Salsbury_. _King._ Good Salsbury go backe againe to them, Tell them we thanke them all for their louing care, [daj132] And had I not bene cited thus by their meanes, [daj133] My selfe had done it. Therefore here I sweare, If Suffolke be found to breathe in any place, ·daj135· Where I haue rule, but three daies more, he dies. _Exet Salisbury._ _Queene._ Oh Henry, reuerse the doome of gentle Suffolkes banishment. _King._ Vngentle Queene to call him gentle Suffolke, Speake not for him, for in England he shall not rest, If I say, I may relent, but if I sweare, it is erreuocable. [daj140] Come good Warwicke and go thou in with me, [daj141] For I haue great matters to impart to thee. _Exet_ King and _Warwicke_, _Manet_ Queene and _Suffolke_. _Queene._ Hell fire and vengeance go along with you, Theres two of you, the diuell make the third. [daj144] Fie womanish man, canst thou not curse thy enemies? ·daj145· _Suffolke._ A plague vpon them, wherefore should _I_ curse them? Could curses kill as do the Mandrakes groanes, I would inuent as many bitter termes Deliuered strongly through my fixed teeth, With twise so many signes of deadly hate, ·daj150· As leaue fast enuy in her loathsome caue, [daj151] My toong should stumble in mine earnest words, Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint, My haire be fixt on end, as one distraught, And euery ioynt should seeme to curse and ban, ·daj155· And now me-thinks my burthened hart would breake, [daj156] Should _I_ not curse them. Poison be their drinke, Gall worse then gall, the daintiest thing they taste. Their sweetest shade a groue of sypris trees, [daj159] Their softest tuch as smart as lyzards stings. ·daj160· Their musicke frightfull, like the serpents hys. And boding scrike-oules make the consort full. [daj162] All the foule terrors in darke seated hell. _Queene._ Inough sweete Suffolke, thou torments thy (selfe. [daj164]