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Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy!

Canst thou not speak!-O traitors! murderers!
They, that stabb'd Cæsar, shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by, to equal it.
He was a man; this, in respect, a child;
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?
No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak :
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr❜d up re-



But, if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off,
As, deathsmen! you have rid this sweet young

K. Edw. Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce.

Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me here;

Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death: What! wilt thou not?-then, Clarence, doit thou. Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear, I would not do it?

Q.Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself; 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher, Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou? Thou art not here: Murder is thy alms-deed; Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.

K. Edw. Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her hence. Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this prince! [Exit, led out forcibly. K. Edw. Where's Richard gone? Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I guess, To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.

Now march we hence: discharge the common sort With pay and thanks, and let's away to London, And see our gentle queen how well she fares; By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-London. A room in the Tower.

King HENRY is discovered sitting with a book in his hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter GLOSTER.

Glo. Good day, my lord! What, at your book so hard?

K. Hen. Ay, my good lord: My lord, I should say rather;

'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better: Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike, And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord. Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must [Exit Lieutenant.


K. Hen. 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 of death hath Roscius now to act?

Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

K. Hen. The bird, that hath been limed in a bush,

With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush:
And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal object in my eye,
Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught,
and kill'd.

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 was drown'd.

K. Hen. I, Dædalus; 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 up his life. Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! My breast can better brook thy dagger's point, Than can my ears that tragic history.But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life! Glo. Think'st thou, I am an executioner? K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art; If murdering innocents be executing, Why, then thou art an executioner.

Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption. K. Hen. Had'st thou been kill'd, when first

thou didst presume,

Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine. And thus I prophecy,—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 their sons, 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 time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down

The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discord sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,

And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope;
To wit, an indigest deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast

To signify, thou cam'st to bite the world:
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Theu cam'st-

Glo. I'll hear no more;-Die, prophet, in thy
Stabs him.

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

O God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee! [Dies.
Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have

See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's

O, may such purple tears be always shed
From those that wish the downfal of our house!
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell; and say-I sent thee thi-
[Stabs him again.
I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.-
Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my mother say,
I 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?
The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried,
O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!
And so I was; which plainly signified-
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother:
And this word-love, which greybeards call

Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me; I am myself alone.-

| Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies.
What valiant foe-men, like to autumn's corn,
Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride?
Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
For hardy and undoubted champions:
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son:
And two Northumberlands; two braver men
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's

With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and

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, and 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 repossess the crown in peace;
And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.

Glo. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were

For yet I am 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


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Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light; And cried-all hail! when as he meant

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 I be best.-
I'll throw thy body in another room,
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. [Exit.

SCENE VII.—The same. A room in the palace.
King EDWARD is discovered sitting on his throne;
Queen ELIZABETH with the infant Prince,
"near him.

K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal

-all harm.


K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul delights, Having my country's peace, and brothers' loves. Clar. What will your grace have done with


Reignier, her father, to the king of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
And hither have they sent it for her ransome.

K. Edw. 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 befit the pleasures of the court?-
Sound, drums and trumpets!-farewell, sour

For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.



King EDWARD the Fourth.
EDWARD, prince of WALES, af-
terwards King EDWARD V.
RICHARD, duke of YORK.

afterwards K. RICHARD III. S



brothers to the King.

A young Son of CLARENCE.
HENRY, earl of RICHMOND, afterwards King


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CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a priest. Another Priest.

Lord Mayor of London. Sheriff of Wiltshire.

ELIZABETH, queen of king EDWARD IV. Duchess of YORK, mother to king EDWARD IV., MARGARET, widow of king HENRY VI. CLARENCE, and GLOSTER.

Lady ANNE, widow of EDWARD prince of WALES, son to king HENRY VI.; afterwards married to the duke of GLOSTER.

A young Daughter of CLARENCE.

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

SCENE, England.

SCENE I.-London. A Street.

Enter GLOSter.


Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds, that lower'd upon our house, In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

Grim 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 for sportive 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 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, 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;
About a prophecy, which says-that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul! here Clarence


Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY. Brother, good day: What means this armed guard,

That waits upon your grace?

Clar. His majesty,

Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.
Glo. Upon what cause?

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 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

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


'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


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'erworn 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.

Glo. Even so? an please your worship, Bra◄ kenbury,

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.

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

He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best to do it secretly, alone.
Brak. What one, my lord?

Glo. Her husband, knave :-Would'st thou betray me?

Brak. 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.

Glo. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; And whatsoe'er you will employ me in,Were it to call king Edward's widow-sister,I will perform it to enfranchise you. Meantime, 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 Guards. Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er


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?


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


But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks,
That were the cause of my imprisonment.
Glo. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Cla-
rence too;

For they, that were your enemies, are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him, as you.
Hast. More pity, that the eagle should be

While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

Glo. What news abroad?

Hast. Nonews so bad abroad, as this at home;The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy, And his physicians fear him mightily.

Glo. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad

O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
And over-much consum'd his 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 live, I hope; and must not die,
Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to

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,
Clorence hath not another day to live:
Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to bustle in!
For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter:
What though I 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

When they are gone, then must I count my gains. Exit.

SCENE IL-The same. 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.-
Peor 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

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.


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


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 had'st but power over his mortal body, His soul thou canst not have; therefore, be gone. Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and

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