Page 560 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

And whispers to his pillow as to him [375]
The secrets of his overchargèd soul.
And I am sent to tell his majesty
That even now he cries aloud for him.

MARGARET

Go tell this heavy message to the king.
Exit [Vaux].

Ay me! What is this world? What news are these? [380]
But wherefore grieve I at an hour’s poor loss,
Omitting Suffolk’s exile, my soul’s treasure?
Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee
And with the southern clouds contend in tears,
Theirs for the earth’s increase, mine for my sorrow’s? [385]
Now get thee hence: the king, thou knowst, is coming;
If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.

SUFFOLK [He kisses her.]

If I depart from thee, I cannot live;
And in thy sight to die, what were it else
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? [390]
Here could I breathe my soul into the air,
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe
Dying with mother’s dug between its lips:
Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad
And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, [395]
To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth;
So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul,

Or I should breathe it, so, into thy body,
And then it lived in sweet Elysium.
To die by thee were but to die in jest: [400]
From thee to die were torture more than death.
O let me stay, befall what may befall!

MARGARET

Away!
[He turns to go.]

Though parting be a fretful corrosive,
It is applièd to a deathful wound.
To France, sweet Suffolk: let me hear from thee. [405]