A". Hen. Ay, my good lord :—my lord I, you should *Tis sin to Salter, good was little better; [say rather; Cotx! Gloster and good devil were alike. And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord. Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must eonfer.

j Exit Lieutenant. A". Htm. So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf:

So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece.
And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.
What scene ot death hath Roscius now to act?

tile. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The ihief doth fear each bush an officer

K Hen. The bird that hath l>ccu limed in a bush. With trembling wing* misdoubteth every bush; And !, the hapless male to otic sweet bird, Hive now the fatal object in my eye, [kill'd Where my poor young was hm'tf, was caught, and

Glo Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete,
That taught his son the office of a fowl,
And yet, for all his wings, the fool w as drown d.

A". Hen. I. Daedalus; my poor boy. Icarus;
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;
The sun, that sear d the wings of my sweet boy,
Thy brother Edward ; and thyself, the sea,
Whose envious gulf did swallow tip his life.
Ah. kill me with thy weapon, not with wordsl
My breast can better brook thy dagger s point.
Than can my ears that tragic history.
But wherefore dost thou conic r is't for my life t

Glo. Think'st thou 1 am an executioner?

A.' Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art:
If murd'ring innocents be executing,
Why, then thou art an executioner.

G/o. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.

A". Hen. Hadst thou been kill d. when first thou didst presume.

Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine
And thus 1 prophesy,—that many a thousand.
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear.
And many an old man s sigh, and many a widow's.
And many an orphan's water-standing eye.—
Men for tneir sous', wives for their husbands fate.
And orphans for their parents' timeless death,—
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek d at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless tune;
Dogs howl d, and hideous tempest shook down trees 1
The raven rook d her on the chimney's top.
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother s pain.
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope;
To wit, an indigested and deformed lump.
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast bom.
To signify, thou cam st to hitc the world:
And. if the rest be true which I have heard.
Thou cam'st—
Glo 111 hear no more:—Die. prophet, in thy speech:
\stabs hint.

For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.
K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter after
this.

O, God forgive my sins, and pardon thee 1 \Dtes.

Glo. What will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground T I thought it would have mounted.
See how my sword weeps for the poor king s death!

0. may such purple tears be always shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house I
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither,

\Stabs him again.

1, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my mother lay,
1 came into the world with my legs forward:
Had I not reason, think ye. to make haste.
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right r
The midwife wouder'd; and the women c-:-'

'O. Jesus bless us, he Is born with teeth V*

And so I was , which plainly signified

That 1 should snarl, and bite, and play the dosf.

Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so.

Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer iL

I have no brother. I am like no brother;

And this word—love,—which greybeards call divine,

Be resident in men like one another.

And not m me: I am myself alone.

Clarence, beware; thou keep s', ine from the light:

But I will sort a pitchy day for thee;

For I will buz abroad such prophecies.

That Edward shall be fearful of his life;

And then, to purge his fear. I ll be thy death.

King Henry, and the prince his son. are gone:

Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest,

Counting myself but bad. till 1 be best.

i ll throw thy body in another room ,

And triumph. Henry, m thy day of doom. \_Ex:t.

SCENE VII —London. A Room in the Palace.

King Edward is discovered sitting on his throne: yueen Elizabeth with the infant Prince, Clarence,

Gloster, Hastings, and others, near htm.
A" Iidw. Once more we sit in England's royal throne,

Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies.

What valiant foenien, like to autumn's corn.

Have we mow d down, in tops of all their pride?

T hrce dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd

For hardy and undoubted champions:

Two Cliffords, as the father and the son;

And two Northimibertands, two braver men

No cr spurr d their rourscrs at *he trumpet's soond;

With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and
Montague.

That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion.
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat.
And made our footstool of security.
Come hither, Bess, ami let me kiss my boy;
Young Ned. for thee, thine uncles and myself.
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night;
Went all a-foot in summer's scalding heat.
That thou might'st repossessthe crown in peace;
And of our labours thou shall reap the gain.
Glo [Aside] III blast his harvest, if your head were
laid;

For yet I ain not look'd on in the world
This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave;
And heave it shall some weight, or break my back:
Work thou the way. and thou shall execute.
A", i'du- Clarence, and Gloster, love my lovely
queen;

And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.

Clar. T he duty, that I owe unto your majesty, I seal upon the hps of this sweet babe.

A". lidn/.Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks.

Glo. And, that I love the tree from whence thou

sprang'st.

Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit:

I A.ftde.) To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master,

And cried—all hail! when as he meant—alt harm.

A', l-dw. Now am I seated ns my soul delights. Having my country's peace, and brothers' loves,

Clar. What will your grace have done with.Map garet!

Rcignier, her father, to the king of France
Hath pawn d the Sicils and Jerusalem,
And hirhcr have they sent it for her ransom.
A*. Ediu Away with her, and waft her hence to
France.

And now what rests, but that we spend the time

With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows

Such as bent the pleasure of the court?

Sound, drums and trumpets !—farewell, sour nnnoy I

For here, 1 hope, begins our lasting joy, \ExcunL

Sir Thomas Vaughan. Sir Richard Rat cliff

Sir William Catesby. Sir James Tyrrell

Sir James Blount. Sir Walter Herbert.

Sir Robert Brakenbury, Lieutenant of the Tower.

Christopher Urswick, a Priest. Another Priest.

Lord Mayor of London. Sheriff of Wiltshire.

Elizabeth. Queen o/King Edward IV.

Margaret, IVidowofKing Henry VI.

Duchess of York, Mother to King Edward IV.,

Clarence, and Gloster. Lady Anne, IVtdowof Edward, Prince of IVales, Son

to King Henry VI. j afterwards married to the

Duke of Gloster. Lady Margaret Planjtagenet. a young Daughter of

Clarence.

Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, ire

ACT I.

SCENE I.—London. A Street,
Enter Gloster.
Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;

And alfthe clouds, that lower'd upon our house,

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths j

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;

Our slern alarums changed to merry meetings.

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

Crim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;

And now,—instead of mounting barbed steeds,

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,—

He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber.

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

But I,—that am not shap'd forsportjve tricks.

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;

I, that am rudely Stamp'd, and want love's majesty.

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtaiVd of this fair proportion.

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature.
Deform "d, unfinish d, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up.
And that so lamely and unfashionable,

That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them;—
"Why I, in this weak piping lime of peace.
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to see iny shadow in the sun.
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover.
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain.
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
1'lots have I laid, inductions dangerous.
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams.
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And. if king Edward be as true and just.
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous.
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
AI>out n prophecy, which says, that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clarence
comes.

[/inter Clarence, guarded, and Brakenbury. Brother, good day: what means this armed guard, Tnat waits upon your grace!

Clar His majesty.

Tendering my person s safely, hath appointed
This kuuduct to convey we to the Tower.

Glo, Upon what cause f

Clar. Because my name Is George.

Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers:
O, belike his majesty hath some intent
That you should be new christen'd in the Tower.
But wnat's the matter, Clarence r may 1 know t

Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know ; for I j
As yet I do not; but, as I can learn.
He hearkens after prophecies and dreams:
1 from the cross-row plucks the letter G,
And says a wizard told him, that by G
His issue disinherited should be;
And. for my name of George begins with G,
It followsin his thought that I am he.
These, as I learn, and such like toys as these.
Have mov'd his highness to commit me now,
Glo. Why. this it is. when men are rui'd by
Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower;
My lady Grey, his wife, Clarence, 'tis she
That tempers him to this extremity.
Was it not she. and that good man of worship,
Antony Woodville. her brother there.
That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower;
From whence this present day he is deliver'd?
We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe

Clar. By heaven, I think there is no man secure.
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Shore.
Heard you not, what a humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery t

Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.
I'll tell you what, I think it is our way
If we will keep in favour with the king.
To be her men. and wear her livery:
The jealous o'cr-worn widow and herself.
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen.
Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.

Brak. ] "beseech your graces both to pardon me I
His majesty hath straitly given in charge
That no man shall have private conference,
Of what degree soever, with your brother.

Glo. Even so. an please your worship, Brakenbury, You may partake of anything we say: We speak no treason, man ;—we say the king Is wise and virtuous; and his noble queen Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous;— We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue | And thnt the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks: How say you, sir? can you deny all this; UraJt. With this, uiy lord, myself have nought to do.

Glo. Naught to do with mistress Shore I I tell thee, fellow.

He that doth naught with her, excepting one.
Were best to do it secretly, alone.
Urak What one, iny lord 1

Glo. Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray roe? BraA. 1 beseech your grace to pardon me ; and withal.

Forbear your conference with the noble duke.

Clay. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

Glo. We are the queen's abject*, and must obey.
Brother, farewell : I will unto the king;
And whatsoe'er you will employ me in,—
Were it to call kin^ Edward's widow, sister,
I will perform it to enfranchise you.
Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can Imagine.

Liar. I know it pleased: neither of us well.

Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;
I will deliver you, or else lie for you:
Meantime, have patience.

Clar. I must perforee: farewell.

[Exerntt Clarence, Brakenbury, and {
Guard.

Glff. Go, tread the paih that thon shah ne'er return,
Simple, plain Clarence! I do jove thee so.
That I wiH shortly send thy soul to heaven.
If heaven will take the present at our hands.
But who conies here t the new-deliver'd Hastings I
Enter Hastings.
Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord I
Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain I
Well are you welcome to this open air.
How hath your tm-dshrp brook d imprisonment f

Hast. W ith patience, noble lord, as- prisoners must: But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks That were the cause of my imprisonment.

Glo. No doubt, no doubt, ami so shall Clarence too; For they that were your enemies are his,

And have prevnird as much on him, as you.

Hast. More pity, that the eagles should be While kites ana buzzards prey at liberty.

Glo. What news abroad T
Hast. No news so bad abroad, as this at home;
The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy.
And his physicians fear him mightily.

Glo. Now by St. Paul, this news is bad indeed.
O, he hath kept an evil diet long.
And over-much consum'dhis royal person:
Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
What, is he in his bed!
Hast. He is.

Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you.

[Exit Hastings. He cannot Kve, T hone, and must not die. Till George Vie pack d with post horse up to heaven. IH in. to urge his hatred more to Clarence, With lies well stecl'd with weighty arguments; Ami, if I fail not in iny deep intent. Clarence hath not another day to live: Which done, God take king Edward to his mercy, And leave the World for me to bustle in I For then 111 marry Warwick's youngest daughter. What though 1 kill'd her husband and her father. The readiest way to make the wench amends. Is to become her husband, and her father: The which will I ; not all so much for love, As for another secret close intent. By marrying her, which I must reach unto. But yet I run before my horse to market; Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns: When they are gone, then must I count my gains.

[Exit.

SCENE IT.—London. Another Street. Enter the corf it of King Henry the Sixth, borne in an

open coffin; Gentlemen bearing halberds to guard it; and Lady Anne, as mourner.

Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load,— If honour may be shrouded in a hoarse,—■ Whilst I a while obsequiously lament Th' untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. Poor key-cold figure of a holy king! Paie ashes of the house of Lancaster! Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood 1 Be it lawful that I invocatc thy ghost. To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,

Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter d son,

Stabb'd by tut self-same hand that

Lo. in these windows, tit it let forth thy Ufc,
I pour the lielpless balm of iny poor eyes:
O. cursed be die hand thai made these notes 1
Cursed the heart, thai hud the heart to do it 1
Cursed the blood, that let this blood from hencet
More direful hap betide that hated wretch.
That makes, us wretched by the death of thee.
Than 1 tan wish to adders,, spiders, toads.
Or any creeping venom'd tiling that lives 1
If ever lie have child, abortive be it.
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whese ugly and unnatural aspect
May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to his-unbappmess I
I fever he have wife, let her be made
More miserable by the death of him.
Than I am made by my young lord, and thee I
Come, now toward Chertsey with your holy load.
Taken from Paul's to be interred there;
And still, as yon me weary of the weight,
Rest you. whites 1 lament king Henry s corse.

\The bearers take up the corpse and a'
Enter Gloster.

Glo. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down

Anne. What black magician conjures «p this fiend. To stop devoted charitable deeds \

Glo. Villains, set down the corse ; or,, by Saint Pai& I'll make a corse of him that disobeys r

l Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

Glo. Urrmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command:

Advance thy Kalberd higher than my breast.
Or, by Saint Paul, 1 11 strike thee to my foot.
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

f The bearers set dorcnt the cofflft,

Anne. What, you tremble? are you all afraid! Alas, I blame you not; for yon are mortal And mortal eyes cannot endure the deviL Araimt, thou dreadful minister of hell I Thou hadst but power over hrs mortal body. His soul thou canst not have; therefore, begone.

Glo. Sweet »aint, for charity-, be not so curst.

Anne Foul devil, for God's sake hence, aad
trouble us not;
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims*
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds.
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.
O, gentlemen, see, see I dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal" d months, and bleed afresh I
Blush, blush, thou himo of foul deformity;
For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural.
Provokes this deluge most unnatural.
O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death (
0 earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death 1
Either, heaven, with lightning strike the murd'ref
dead;

Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick.
As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood,
Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered f

Glo. I-adv, you know no rules of charity.
Which renders good for bad. blessings for curses.

Anne. Villain, thou know st no law of God uorroan: No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

Glo. But 1 know none, and therefore am no beast

Anne. O wonderful 1 when devils tell the truth I

Glo. More wonderful, when angels are so angry.
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
(>f these supposed crimes, to give me leave.
By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

Anne. Vouchsafe, difftis'n infection of a man,
For these known evils, bat to give me leave.
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

Anne. Fouler than heart pan think thee, thoa canst make No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

Glo. By such despair. I should accuse myself.

'Anne. And by despairing, shaltthou stand excus'd; For doing worthy vengeance on thyself. That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

Glo. Say that I slew them not.

Anne. Then say they were not slain:

But dead they are. and, devilish slave, by thee.
Gio. I did not kill your husband
Anne. Why, then he is alive.

Gio. Nay, he is dead ; and slain by Edward's hand
Anne. In thy foul throat thou best: queen Mar-
garet saw

Thy murd'rous falchion smoking in his blood;
The which thou once didst bend against her breast,
But that thy brothers bent aside the point.

Gio, I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue,
That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, That never dreamt on aught hut butcheries: Didst thou not kill this king?

Gio. I grant ye.

A nne. Dost grant me, hedge-hog ? then, God grant

me too.

Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.

Gio. The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him

Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. [thither.

Gio. Let him thank me. that helped to send him For he was fitter for that place than earth.

Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell.

Gio. Yes, one place eUc, if you will hear me name it. . Anne. Some dungeon.

Gio. Your bed-chamber.

Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest 1

Gio. So will it, madam, till I lie with you.

Anne. I hope so,

Gio. I know so.—But, gentle lady Anne,

To leave this keen encounter of our wits.
And fall somewhat into a slower method.
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
As blameful as the executioner!

Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accurs'd effect.

Gio. Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep,
To undertake the death of all the world.
So might I live one hour in your sweet bosom.

A nne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

Gio. These eyes could not endure that beauty's wreck;

You should not blemish it, if I stood by:
As all the world is cheered by the sun.
So I by that; it is my day, my life.
Anne. Black night o'ershade thy da-', and death
thy life I

Gio. Curse not thyself, fair creature, tho.\ art both.

Anne, I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee.

Gio. It is a quarrel most unnatural. To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee.

Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable. To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband.

Gio, He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, Did it to help thee to a better husband.

Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

Gio. He lives that loves thee better than he could.

Anne. Name him,

Gio. Plantagenet.

Anne. Why. that was he.

Gio. The self-same name, but one of better nature.

Anne. Where is he?

Gio. Here. [She spits at htm.] Why dost thou spit at me?

A nne. Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake I Gio Never came poison from so sweet a place. Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight I thou dost infect mine eyes.

Gio. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. Anne. Would they were basilisks, to strike thee deadl

Gio. I would they were, that I might die at once; For now they kill me with a living death. Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, Shain'd their aspects with store of childish drops: These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear, No. when my father York and Edward wept. To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him: Nnr when thy warlike father like a child, Told the sad story of my father's dentb. And twenty times made pause, to sob and weep,

That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks.
Like trees bedash'd with rain; in that sad time,
My manly eyes ilid scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale.
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
I never su'd 10 friend, nor enemy;
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word;
But, now thy beauty is propos'd my fee.
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to
speak. {She looks scornfully at him.

Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt
ff thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast.
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it open to the deadly stroke.
And humbly beg the death upon niy knee.

[He lays his breast open. She offers at it with
his sword.

Nay, do not pause; tot I did kill king Henry,—
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked ine.
Nay, now despatch; twas I that stabb'd young Ed-
ward,— [She again offers at his breast.
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.

[She lets fall the sword.
Take up the sword again, or take up me.
Anne. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,
will not be thy executioner.
Gio. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
Anne. I have already.

Gio. That was in thy rage:

Speak it again, and, even with the word.
This hand, which for thy love, did kill thy love,
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love:
To both thetr deaths shalt thou be accessary.
Anne. I would I knew thy heart.
Gio. *Tis figur'd in my tongue.
Anne. I fear ine both are false.
Gio. Then never man was true.
Anne. Well, well, put up your sword.
Gio. Say. then, my peace is made.
Anne. That shalt thou know hereafter.
Gio. But shall I live in hope 1
Anne. AH men, I hope, live so.
Gio. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.
Anne. To take, is not to give

[She puts on the ring,
Gio. Look, how my ring encompasseth thy finger.
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
VVear both of them for both of them are thine.
And if thy poor devoted servant may
But beg one favour at thy gracious hand.
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.
Anne. What is it?

Gio. That it may please you leave these sad designs To him that hath most cause to be a mourner. And presently repair to Crosby-place; Where, after I have solemnly interr'd. At Chertsey monastery, this noble king, And wet his grave with my repentant tears,

11 with all expedient duty see you: For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you. Grant me this boon.

Anne. With all iny heart; and much it joys metoo, To see you are become so penitent. Tressel. and Berkley, go along with me. Gio Bid ine farewell.

Anne. "Tis more than you deserve;

But since you teach me how to flatter you.
Imagine I have said farewell already.

[Exeunt Lady Anne, Tressel, and
Berkley.

Gio. Sirs, take up the corse.
Gent. Toward Chertsey, noble lordf
Gio. No, to White-Friars; there attend my coming.

[Exeunt the rest, with the corse.
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd 1 A
Was ever woman in this humour won?
Ill have her; but I will not keep her long.
What I I. that kill'd her husband, and his father,
To take her in her heart's extrcmest hate;
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes.
The bleeding witness of her hatred by;
Having God? her conscience, and these bars against
A nd I no friends to back my suit withal, [me,
i! il llit: plain ''k-vil. ami dissembling looks.
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing I
O a

Il.ith she forgot already that brave prince.
Edward, heriord, whom I. some three months since,
StabbVt in my angry mood at Tcwksbury?
A swjtrtcr and a lovelier gentleman,
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature.
Young', valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal.
The spacious world cannot again afford:
And will she yet abase her eyes on me.
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince,
And made her widow to a woful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moietyl
On me. that halt, and am mis-shapen thus!
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
I do mistake my person all this while:
Upon my life, she finds, although I cinnot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass;
And entertain a score or two of tailors.
To study fashions to adorn mv body:
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But, first, I'U turn yon fellow in his grave;
And then return lamenting to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till 1 have bought a glass,
That 1 may see my shadow as I pass.

[Exit.

SCENE III.—London. A Room in the Palace. Enter Queen Elizabeth, Rivers, and Grey.

Riv. Have patience, madam: there's no doubt, his majesty

Will soon recover his accustnm'd health.

Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse Therefore, for God s sake, entertain good comfort. And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.

Eiiz. If he were dead, what would betide on me?

Grey. No other harm, but loss of such a lord.

Q. Eiiz. The loss of such a lord includes all harms.

Grey. The heavens have blessed you with a goodly To be your comforter when he is gone, £son,

Q. Eli*. Ah, he is young; and his minority
Is put into the trust of Richard Gloster,
A man that loves not me, nor none of you.

Riv. Is it concluded he shall be protectorf

Q. Eiiz. It is determin'd, not concluded yet: But so it must be, if the king miscarry.

Enter Buckingham and Stanley.

Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and Stanley.

Buck, wood time of day unto your royal grace I Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you have been I

Q. Eiiz. The countess Richmond, good my lord of
Stanley,

To your good prayer will scarcely say amen.
Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she *s your wife,
And loves not ine, be you, good lord, assur'd,
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.

Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe
The envious slanders of her false accusers;
Or, if she be accus'd on true report.
Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.

Q. Eiiz. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of
Stanley? 1

Stan. But now, the duke of Buckingham, and I, Are come from visiting his majesty.

Q. Eiiz. What likelihood of his amendment, lords?

Bueh. Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully.

Q. Etiz. God grant him health! did you confer with him?

Buck. Ay, madam: he desires to make atonement Between the duke of Gloster and your brothers, And between them and my lord chamberlain; And sent to warn them to his royal presence.

I must be held a rancorous enemy.

Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm.
But thus his simple truth must be abus'd
By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?
Grey. To whom in aJflf this presence speaks yonr
grace?

Glo. To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace.
When have I injur'd thee? when done thee wrong!
Or thee ?—or thee ?—or any of your faction?
A plague upon you all! His royal grace,
(Whom God preserve better than you would wish !)
Cannot be quiet scarce a brealhing-while.
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.

Q. Eiiz. Brother of Gloster. you mistake
The king, on his own royal disposition.
And not provok'd by any suitor else;
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred.
That in your outward action shows itself
Against my children, brothers, and myself.
Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.

Glo. I cannot tell:—the world is grown so bad.
That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch:
Since every Jack became a gentleman.
There's many a gentle person made a Jack.
Q. Eltz. Come, come, we know your meaning,
brother Gloster;
You envy my advancement, and my friends':
God grant, we never may have need of vou!

Glo. Meantime, God grants that we have need of
Our brother is imprison'd by your means, [you:
Myself disgrae'd, and the nobility
Held in contempt; while great promotions
Are daily given, to ennoble those
That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble
Q. Eiiz. By Him that rais'd me to this careful height
From that contented hap which I enjoy*d,
I never did incense his majesty
Against the duke of Clarence; but have been
An earnest advocate to plead for him.
My lord, you do me shameful injury.
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.

Glo. You may deny that you were not the means
Of my lord Hastings' late imprisonment.
Riv. She may, my lord; for—

Glo. She may, lord Rivers,—why, who knows not so?
She may do more, sir, than denying that:
She may help you to many fair preferments;
And then deny her aiding hand therein.
And lay those honours oh your high desert.
What may she not? She may,—ay, marry,
Ri->. What, marry, may she?
Glo. What, marry, may she I marry with a king,
A bachelor, a handsome stripling too:
I wis. your grandam had a worser match.

Q. Eiiz. My lord of Gloster, I have too Ions'- borne
Your blunt upbraiding?, and your bitter scoffs;
By heaven. I will acquaint his majesty
Of those gross taunts that oft I have endur'd,
1 had rather be a country servant-maid,
Than a great queen, with this condition.
To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at:
Small joy have I in being England's queen.

Enter Queen Margaret, behind.
Q. Mar. [Apart] And lessen d be that small, Cod
I beseech Him !—
Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me.

Glo. What I threat you me with telling of the kin^i
Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have: