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SCENE I.-London, A Street. Enter GLOSter.

ACT I.

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To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd 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 time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time;
Unless to spy my 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, —
Plots have I laid, inductions3 dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence, and the king,
In deadly hate the one against the other:

3 Preparations for mischief,

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Because my name is

George.

Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers:
Belike his majesty hath some intent,

That you shall be new christen'd in the Tower.
But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know?
Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest,
As yet I do not: But, as I can learn,
He hearkens after prophecies, and dreams;
And 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 follows in 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 rul'd by women:-
'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 Woodeville, 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 an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?

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'er-worn widow, and herself,
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,
Are mighty gossips in this monarchy.

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

And I beseech your grace to pardon me; and, withal,
Forbear your conference with the noble duke.
Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and
will obey.

- sister,

Glo. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey.
Brother, farewell: I will unto the king;
And whatsoever you will employ me in, -
Were it, to call king Edward's widow
I will perform it to enfranchise you.
Mean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood,
Touches me deeper than you can imagine,
Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.
Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;
I will deliver you, or else lie for you:
Mean time, have patience.

Clar.

I must perforce; farewell. [Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and Guard.

Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return.
Simple, plain Clarence! - I do love thee so,
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
If heaven will take the present at our hands.
But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings?
Enter HASTINGS.

Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord!
Glo. As much unto my good lord chamberlain !
Well are you welcome to this open air.
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?
Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners

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Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you.
[Exit HASTINGS.

He cannot live, I hope; and must not die,
Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven.
I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live:

Glo. Even so? an please your worship, Braken- Which done, Heaven take king Edward to his mercy,

bury,

You may partake of any thing 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 the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks:
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?

Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought to do,
The queen and Shore.

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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.

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SCENE II. Another Street.
Enter the Corpse 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 hearse,·
Whilst I a while obsequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son,
Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds!
Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life,
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes:
O, cursed be the hand that made these holes!
Cursed the heart, that had the heart to do it!
Cursed the blood, that let this blood from hence!
More direful hap betide that hated wretch,
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect

May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
And that be heir to his unhappiness!
If ever he have wife, let her be made
More miserable by the death of him,
Than I am made by my young lord, and thee!
Come, now, toward Chertsey with your holy load,
Taken from Paul's to be interred there;
And still, as you are weary of the weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's corse.

[The Bearers take up the Corpse, and advance.
Enter GLOSter.

Glo. Stay you that bear the corse, and set it down. Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds?

Glo. Villains, set down the corse; or, by saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin

pass.

Glo. Unmanner'd dog: stand thou when I command:

Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,
Or, by saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

[The Bearers set down the Coffin.
Anne. What, do you tremble? are you all afraid?
Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
His soul thou canst not have; therefore, begone.

Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. Anne. Foul devil, for heaven's sake, hence, and 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! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh!
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity;

5 With becoming reverence for the dead.

For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,
From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;

Provokes this deluge most unnatural.

O Thou, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death! O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death! Either, Heaven, with lightning strike the murderer 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!»

Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor

man;

No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity.

Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no beast. Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth! Glo. More wonderful, when angels are so angry.— Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, Of these supposed evils, to give me leave, By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man, For these known evils, but 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 can think thee, thou canst make

No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

Glo. By such despair, I should accuse myself. Anne. And, by despairing, shalt thou stand excus'd; For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,

That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

Glo. Say, that I slew them not?

Anne.

Why, then, they are not dead:
But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee.
Glo. I did not kill your husband.

Anne.
Why, then he is alive.
Glo. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand.
Anne. In thy soul's throat thou liest: queen

Margaret saw

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

Glo. 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 but butcheries;
Didst thou not kill this king?

Glo.
I grant ye.
Anne. O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.
Glo. The fitter for the King of heaven that hath him.
Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never

come.

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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.

Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect; Your beauty which did haunt me in my sleep, To undertake the death of all the world.

Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. Glo. 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 day, and death thy life!

Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both.

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

Glo. He lives, that loves you better than he could. Anne. Name him.

Glo.

Anne.

Plantagenet.

Why, that was he. Glo. The self-same name, but one of better nature. Anne. Where is he? Glo.

Here: [She spits at him.] Why dost thou spit at me? Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place. Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! thou dost infect mine eyes.

Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

Glo. 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,
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops :
These eyes, which never shed remorseful 6 tear,
Nor 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:
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
Told the sad story of my father's death;
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 did scorn an humble tear;
And what these sorrows could not hence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
I never su'd to friend, nor enemy;

My tongue could never learn sweet soothing 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.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword ;
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast,
• Pitying.

And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.

[He lays his Breast open; she offers at it with his Sword.

Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry;
But 'twas thy beauty that provok'd me.
Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young
Edward; [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,
I will not be thy executioner.

Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.
Anne. I have already.

Glo.

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 their deaths shalt thou be accessary. Anne. I would, I knew thy heart. Glo. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue. Anne. I fear me, both are false. Glo. Then man was never true. Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. Glo. Say then, my peace is made. Anne. That shall you know hereafter. Glo. But shall I live in hope? Anne. All men, I hope, live so. Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. Anne. To take, is not to give.

[She puts on the Ring. Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; Wear 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?

Glo. That it may please you leave these sad de

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Glo. Bid me 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. Glo. Take up the corse, sirs.

Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord? Glo. No, to White Friars; there attend my coming. [Exeunt the rest, with the Corpse. Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? Was ever woman in this humour won? I'll have her, but I will not keep her long. What! I, that kill'd her husband, and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate; With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by ;

7 In Bishopsgate-street,

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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 moiety?
On me, that halt, and am misshapen thus?
My dukedom to a beggerly denier 8,

I do mistake my person all this while :
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
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 my body;
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But, first, I'll turn yon' fellow in his grave;
And then return lamenting to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass.

SCENE III.

A room in the Palace.

[Exit.

Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, LORD RIVERS, and

LORD GREY.

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Who are they, that complain unto the king,
That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?
By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly,
That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours.
Because I cannot flatter, and speak fair,
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog,
Duck with French nods, and apish courtesy,

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

Riv. Have patience, madam; there's no doubt, By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

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Therefore, for heaven's sake, entertain good comfort,
And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.
Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide of
me?

Grey. No other harm but loss of such a lord.
Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes all harms.
Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a
goodly son,

To be your comforter, when he is gone.

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

Riv. Is it concluded, he shall be protector?
Q. Eliz. 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. Good time of day unto your royal grace e!
Stan. Heaven make your majesty joyful as you
have been!

Q. Eliz. 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 me, be you, good lord, assur'd,
I hate not you for her proud arrogance.

A small French coin.

Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks your

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 breathing-while,
But you must trouble him with rude complaints.
Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the

matter:

The king, of 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 may prey where eagles dare not perch.
Since every Jack 9 became a gentleman,
There's many a gentle person made a Jack.

Q. Eliz. Come, come, we know your meaning,
brother Gloster:

You envy my advancement, and my friends;
Heaven grant, we never may have need of you!
Glo. Meantime, heaven grants that we have need

of you!

Our brother is imprison'd by your means,
Myself disgrac'd, and the nobility
Held in contempt; while great promotions
Are daily given, to ennoble those

Low fellow.

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