CARDINAL.
That he should die is worthy policy,
But yet we want a colour for his death.
’Tis meet he be condemned by course of law.
SUFFOLK.
But, in my mind, that were no policy.
The King will labour still to save his life,
The commons haply rise to save his life,
And yet we have but trivial argument,
More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death.
YORK.
So that, by this, you would not have him die.
SUFFOLK.
Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I!
YORK.
’Tis York that hath more reason for his death.
But, my Lord Cardinal, and you, my Lord of Suffolk,
Say as you think, and speak it from your souls:
Were ’t not all one an empty eagle were set
To guard the chicken from a hungry kite,
As place Duke Humphrey for the King’s Protector?
QUEEN MARGARET.
So the poor chicken should be sure of death.
SUFFOLK.
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
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 stained with crimson blood,
As Humphrey, proved by reasons, to my liege.
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
Which mates him first that first intends deceit.
QUEEN MARGARET.
Thrice-noble Suffolk, ’tis resolutely spoke.
SUFFOLK.
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,
And to preserve my sovereign from his foe,
Say but the word, and I will be his priest.
CARDINAL.
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,
And I’ll provide his executioner.
I tender so the safety of my liege.