Shakespeare's Kings (85 page)

formal
letter
of
appointment
being
dated
as
late
as
9
December.
As
we know,
he
was
extremely
reluctant
to
accept
the
position
and
actually delayed
his
departure
for
a
year
and
a
half;
but
Shakespeare
is
certainly allowing
full
rein
to
his
imagination
when
he
gives
the
Duke
of
York the
extraordinary
soliloquy
with
which
the
scene
ends,
suggesting
first that
he
has
agreed
to
his
appointment
only
as
a
means
of
obtaining
an army
to
lead
against
the
King,
and
then
that
he
has
personally
engineered the
coming
insurrection
under
Jack
Cade:

'Twas men
I
lack'd, and you will give them me:

I
take it kindly; yet be well assur'd

You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.

Richard
showed
on
at
least
four
occasions
in
his
life
that
he
was
capable of
raising
an
army
whenever
he
wanted
one,
and
although
after
his return
from
Ireland
he
was
to
be
the
subject
of
various
wild
accusations of
association
with
Cade,
no
one
either
then
or
later
took
them
very seriously.

Scene
ii
is
set
in
'a
Room
of
State',
presumably
in
the
house
of Cardinal
Beaufort,
to
whose
care
Gloucester
has
been
most
unwillingly committed.
The
earliest
version
of
the
play,
published
in
quarto
form in
1594,
includes
at
this
point
an
opening
stage
direction:
'Then
the Curtaines
being
drawne,
Duke
Humphrey
is
discouered
in
his
bed,
and two
men
lying
on
his
brest,
and
smothering
him
in
his
bed.
And
then enter
the
Duke
of
Suffolke
to
them.'
For
some
reason
—
possibly
the insistence
of
the
censor
-
these
words
were
omitted
from
the
version in
the
First
Folio
of
1623,
in
which
the
murder
occurs
offstage.
A
short conversation
between
the
murderers
and
Suffolk
makes
it
clear
that
it is
he
who
has
given
them
their
orders,
whereupon
the
King
and
Queen, accompanied
by
Beaufort
and
Somerset,
enter
on
the
scene.
What brings
them
to
the
Cardinal's
house
is
never
explained,
because
they
are apparently
still
unaware
of
Gloucester's
death;
when
this
is
announced
to them,
the
King
falls
in
a
swoon.
He
recovers
only
to
launch
a
most uncharacteristically
violent
tirade
against
Suffolk,
which
gives
rise
to two
still
more
passionate
outbursts
from
Queen
Margaret.
The
group is
then
joined
by
Warwick,
leading
an
indignant
delegation
from
the Commons;
somehow
they
have
already
heard
rumours
of
what
has occurred,
and
it
is
Warwick
who
draws
back
the
bed-curtains
to
reveal the
body,
pointing
out
as
he
does
so
that
the
Duke
has
died
a
violent death
-
for
which,
he
alleges,
Beaufort
and
Suffolk
are
responsible.

Beaufort
leaves
at
once,
not
deigning
to
defend
himself;
Suffolk
on
the other
hand
angrily
denies
the
charges
and,
after
a
furious
and
abusive exchange,
he
and
Warwick
draw
their
swords.
Bloodshed
is
averted
only by
the
arrival
of
Salisbury,
demanding
the
immediate
execution
or
exile of
Suffolk;
the
King
complies
at
once
with
a
sentence
of
banishment, then
withdraws.
Now
Suffolk
and
the
Queen
are
left
alone,
and
there follows
a
scene
of
parting
which
would
have
done
credit
to
Romeo
and Juliet
themselves.
It
includes
those
haunting
lines
of
Margaret's:

So, get thee gone, that I might know my grief;

'Tis but surmis'd whiles thou art standing by.

Such
tenderness
comes
as
something
of
a
surprise.
True,
in
the somewhat
ridiculous
scene
where
Margaret
first
makes
her
appearance
(Part I,
V.v)
Suffolk
is
seen
to
be
infatuated
with
her;
but
the
theme
is not
pursued,
and
up
to
this
point
in
the
present
play
the
Queen
has been
represented
as
hard,
bitter
and
vindictive.
There
has
been
no evidence
until
now
that
the
two
are
anything
more
than
political
allies, and
political
allies
is
in
fact
all
that
they
were.
As
we
saw
in
the previous
chapter,
¹
Shakespeare
cannot
take
the
entire
blame
for
a
quite unjustifiable
slur
on
both
characters,
based
as
it
is
on
pure
fable;
both Hall
and
Holinshed
-
and
even
Michael
Drayton,
in
his
Heroical Epistles
—make
similar
allegations.
Still,
he
has
given
the
pair
some
exquisite poetry
-
which
is,
perhaps,
compensation
of
a
kind.

The
pair
are
interrupted
by
a
messenger,
Vaux,
who
brings
news that
Cardinal
Beaufort
is
near
death,
thus
preparing
the
ground
for
the third
and
final
scene
of
Act
III,
which
is
set
in
his
bedchamber.
We have
to
assume
that
we
are
still
at
Bury,
since
the
King,
Salisbury
and Warwick
are
all
at
the
Cardinal's
bedside;
²
we
know
for
a
fact,
however, that
Beaufort
died
on
10
April
1447
-
two
months
after
Duke
Humphrey
-
in
the
Wolvesey
Palace
at
Winchester.
His
terrifying
delirium
is
also