Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house, 212
Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence;
And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
Looking the way her harmless young one went,
And can do nought but wail her darling's loss; 216
Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case,
With sad unhelpful tears, and with dimm'd eyes
Look after him, and cannot do him good;
So mighty are his vowed enemies. 220
His fortunes I will weep; and, 'twixt each groan,
Say 'Who's a traitor, Gloucester he is none.' Exit.
Queen. Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams.
Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, 224
Too full of foolish pity; and Gloucester's show
Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile
With sorrow snares relenting passengers;
Or as the snake, roll'd in a flowering bank, 228
With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a child
That for the beauty thinks it excellent.
Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I,—
And yet herein I judge mine own wit good,— 232
This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world,
To rid us from the fear we have of him.
Car. That he should die is worthy policy;
And yet we want a colour for his death. 236
'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law.
Suf. 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; 240
And yet we have but trivial argument,
More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death.
222 Who's: whoever is
223 Free: noble
229 slough: skin
236 colour: pretext
241 argument: evidence
242 mistrust: suspicion
