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Clar. He knows the Game, how true he keeps the Wind?
Glo. Silence.

K. Edw. Widow, we will confider of your fuit,
And come, fome other time, to know our Mind.
Gray. Right gracious Lord, I cannot brook delay,
May it pleate your Highnefs to refolve me now.
And what your pleafure is, thall fatisfie me.

your Lands,

Glo. Ay, Widow! then I'll warrant you all
And if what pleafes him, fhall please you :
Fight clofer, or good faith you'll catchi a blow.
Clar. I fear her not, unlefs fhe chance to fall.
Glo. God forbid that, for he'll take vantages.

K. Edw. How many Children haft thou, Widow? tell me.
Clar. I think he means to beg a Child of her.
Gle. Nay then whip me; he'll rather give her two.
Gray. Three, my moft gracious Lord.

Glo. You fhall have four, if you'll be rul'd by him.
K. Edw. 'Twere pity they fhould lofe their Father's Lands.
Gray. Be pitiful, dread Lord, and grant it then.

K. Edw. Lords, give us leave, I'll try this Widow's wit.
Glo. Ay, good leave have you, for you will have leave,
'Till Youth take leave, and leave you to the Crutch.

K. Edw. Now tell me, Madam, do you love your Children.
Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love my felf.

K. Edw. And would you not do much to do them good.
Gray. To do them good, I would fuftain fome harm.
K. Edw. Then get your Husband's Lands, to do them good.
Gray. Therefore I came unto your Majefty.

K. Edw. I'll tell you how thefe Lands are to be got.
Gray. So fhall you bind me to your Highnefs Service.
K. Edw. What Service wilt thou do me, if I give them?
Gray. What you command that refts in me to do.
K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my Boon.
Gray. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot do it.
K. Ed. Ay, but thou canft do what I mean to ask.
Gray. Why then I will do what your Grace commands.
Glo. He plies her hard, and much Rain wears the Marble.
Clar. As red as fire! nay, then her Wax will melt.
Gray. Why ftops my Lord? fhall I not hear my Task?
K. Edw. An eafie Task, 'tis but to love a King.
Gray. That's foon perform'd, because I am a Subject.

K. Edw.

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K. Edw. Why then, thy Husband's Lands I freely give thee.
Gray. I take my leave with many thousand Thanks.
Glo. The match is made, fhe feals it with a Curtfie. "
K. Edw. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of Love I mean.
Gray. The fruits of Love, I mean, my loving Liege.
K. Edw. Ay, but I fear me in another fenfe.
What Love, think'ft thou, I fue fo much to get?
Gray. My Love 'till Death, my humble Thanks, my Prayers.
That Love which Virtue begs, and Virtue grants.

K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean fuch Love.
Gray. Why then you mean not as I thought you did.
K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive my Mind.
Gray. My Mind will never grant what I perceive
Your Highness aims at, if I aim aright.

K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lye with thee.
Gray. To tell you plain, I had rather lye in Prifon.

K. Edw. Why then thou shalt not have thy Husband's Lands.

Gray. Why then mine Honefty fhall be my Dower, For by that Lofs I will not purchase them.

K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'ft thy Children mightily. Gray. Herein your Highnefs wrongs both them and me: But, mighty Lord, this merry inclination

Accords not with the fadnefs of my Suit;

Please you difmifs me, either with Ay, or No.

K. Edw. Ay; if thou wilt fay Ay to my request ;

No; if thou doft fay No to my demand.

Gray. Then No, my Lord; my Suit is at an end.
Glo. The Widow likes him not, fhe knits her Brows.

Clar. He is the blunteft Wooer in Chriftendom.

K. Edw. Her Looks do argue her repleat with Modefty, Her Words do fhew her Wit incomparable,

All her Perfections challenge Sovereignty,

One way or other fhe is for a King,

And the fhall be my Love, or elfe my Queen.

Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queen?

Gray. 'Tis better faid than done, my gracious Lord;

I am a Subject fit to jeft withal,

But far unfit to be a Sovereign,

K. Edw. Sweet Widow, by my State I swear to thee,

fpeak no more than what my Soul intends, And that is, to enjoy thee for my Love.

Gray. And that is more than I will yield unto : I know I am too mean to be your Queen,

And yet too good to be your Concubine.

K.Edw. You cavil, Widow, I did mean my Queen.

Gray. 'Twill grieve your Grace, my Sons fhall call you
K. Edw. No more than when my Daughters

Call thee Mother.

Thou art a Widow, and thou haft fome Children,

And by God's Mother, I being but a Batchelor,
Have other fome. Wby, 'tis a happy thing,
To be the Father unto many Sons:

Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queen.

[Father.

Glo. The Ghoftly Father now hath done his Shrift.
Clar. When he was made a Shriver, it was for a fhift.
K. Edw. Brother, you mufe what Chat we two have had.
Glo. The Widow likes it not, for the looks fad.

K. Edw. You'ld think it ftrange, if I fhould marry her.
Clar. To whom, my Lord?

K. Edw. Why Clarence, to my felf.

Glo. That would be ten days wonder at the leaft.
Clar. That's a day longer than a Wonder lafts.
Glo. By fo much is the Wonder in extreams.
K. Edw. Well, jeft on, Brothers, I can tell
Her fuit is granted for her Husband's Lands.
Enter a Nobleman.

you both,

Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken, And brought your Prifoner to your Palace Gate.

K. Edw. See that he be convey'd unto the Tower: And go we, Brothers, to the Man that took him, To queftion of his Apprehenfion.

Widow, go you along: Lords, ufe her honourably.

Manet Gloucester.

Glo. Ay, Edward will ufe Women honourably.
Would he were wafted, Marrow, Bones, and all,
That from his Loins no hopeful Branch may fpring,
To cross me from the golden time I look for:
And yet, between my Soul's defire and me,
The luftful Edward's Title buried,

[Exeunt.

Is Clarence, Henry, and his Son young Edward,
And all the unlook'd for Iffue of their Bodies,
To take their Rooms e'er I can place my felf:
A cold premeditation for my purpose.
Why then I do but dream on Sovereignty,
Like one that ftands upon a Promontory,
And spys a far-off fhore, where he would tread,
Wishing his Foot were equal with his Eye,
And chides the Sea that funders him from thence,
Saying, he'll lave it dry to have his way:
So do I wish the Crown, being fo far off,
And fo I chide the means that keeps me from it,
And fo (I fay) I'll cut the Caufes off,
Flattering me with Impoffibilities:

My Eye's too quick, my Heart o'er-weens too much,
Unlefs my Hand and Strength could equal them.
Well, fay there is no Kingdom then for Richard;
What other pleasure can the World afford?
I'll make my Heaven in a Lady's lap,
And deck my Body in gay Ornaments,

And 'witch fweet Ladies with my Words and Looks.
Oh miferable thought! and more unlikely,
Than to accomplish twenty Golden Crowns.
Why, Love forfwore me in my Mother's Womb;
And, for I fhould not deal in her foft Laws,
She did corrupt frail Nature with fome Bribe,
To fhrink mine Arm like to a wither'd fhrub,
To make an envious Mountain on my Back,
Where fits Deformity to mock my Body;
To fhape my Legs of an unequal fize,
To difproportion me in every part:
Like to a Chaos, or unlick'd Bear whelp
That carries no impreffion like the Dam.
And am I then a Man to be belov'd?

Oh monftrous Fault, to harbour fuch a Thought.
Then' fince this Earth affords no Joy to me,
But to command, to check, to o'er-bear fuch
As are of better Perfon than

my felf;

I'll make my Heaven to dream upon the Crown,
And whiles I live t'account this World but Hell,
Until this mifs-hap'd Trunk that bears this Head,

Be

Be round impaled with a glorious Crown.
And yet I know not how to get the Crown,
For many Lives ftand between me and home:
And I, like one loft in a thorny Wood,

That rents the Thorns, and is rent with the Thorns,
Seeking a way, and ftraying from the way,
Not knowing how to find the open Air,
But toiling defperately to find it out,
Torment my felf to catch the English Crown;
And from that torment I will free my felf,
Or hew my way out with a bloody Ax.
Why I can fmile, and murther whiles I fmile,
And cry, Content, to that which grieves my Heart,
And wet my Cheeks with artificial Tears,
And frame my Face to all Occafions.

I'll drown more Sailors than the Mermaid fhall,
I'll flay more Gazers than the Bafilisk,
I'll play the Orator as well as Neftor,
Deceive more flily than Ulyffes could,
And like a Sinon, take another Troy.
I can add Colours to the Camelion,
Change fhapes with Proteus for Advantages,
And fet the murtherous Matchevil to School.
Can I do this, and cannot get a Crown?
Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down.

SCENE

[Exit.

II.

Flourish. Enter King Lewis, Bona, Bourbon, Prince of Wales, Queen Margaret, and the Earl of Oxford. Lewis fits, and rifeth up again.

K. Lew. Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret,
Sit down with us; it ill befits thy State,

And Birth, that thou should'ft ftand, whiles Lewis hts.
Queen. No, mighty King of France; now Margaret
Muft ftrike her Sail, and learn a while to serve,
Where Kings command. I was, I must confefs,
Great Albion's Queen, in former golden Days:
But now mifchance hath trod my Title down,
And with difhonour laid me on the Ground,

Where

!

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