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Hum. Here in this Country, where we now remain.
K. Henry. I was anointed King at nine Months old,
My Father, and my Grandfather were Kings;
And you were fworn true Subjects unto me :
And tell me then, have you not broke your Oaths?
Sink. No, for we were Subjects but while you were a King.
K. Henry. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a Man?
Ah fimple Men, you know not what you fwear:
Look, as I blow this Feather from my Face,
And as the Air blows it to me again,
my Wind when I do blow,
And yielding to another when it blows,
Commanded always by the greater guft;
Such is the lightness of you common Men.
But do not break your Oath, for of that Sin
My mild intreaty fhall not make you guilty.
Go where you will, the King fhall be commanded,
And be you Kings, command, and I'll obey.
Sink. We are true Subjects to the King,
K. Henry. So would you be again to Henry,
If he were feated as King Edward is.
Sink. We charge you in God's Name and in the King's To go with us unto the Officers.
K. Henry. In God's Name lead, your King's Name be oAnd what God will, that let your King perform, [bey'd, And, what he will, I humbly yield unto. [Exeunt. Enter King Edward, Gloucefter, Clarence, and Lady Gray.
K. Edw. Brother of Glo'fter, at St. Alban's Field
This Lady's Husband, Sir Richard Gray, was flain,
His Land then feiz'd on by the Conqueror:
Her fuit is now, to repoffefs thofe Lands,
Which we in Juftice cannot well deny,
Because in quarrel of the House of York,
The worthy Gentleman did lofe his Life.
Glo. Your Highness fhall do well to grant her Suit:
It were dishonour to deny it her.
K. Edw. It were no lefs; but yet I'll make a pause.
Glo. Yea! is it fo?
I fee the Lady hath a thing to grant,
Before the King will grant her humble Suit.
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 please your Highnefs to refolve me now. And what your pleasure is, fhall fatis fie me.
Glo. Ay, Widow! then I'll warrant you all
And if what pleases him, fhall please you:
Fight clofer, or good faith you'll catch a blow.
Clar. I fear her not, unless 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.
Glo. 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 should lofe their Father's Lands.
Gray. Be pitiful, dread Lord, and grant it then.
K. Edw. Lords, give us leaye, I'll try this Widow's wit. Glo. Ay, good leave have you, for you will have leave, 'Till Youth take lave, and leave you to the Crutch.
K. Edw. Now tell me, Madam, do you love your Children.
Gray. Ay, full as dearly as I love my self.
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 Highness 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. Edw. Ay, but thou capft 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. Why then, thy Husband's Lands I freely give thee. Gray. I take my leave with many thousand Thanks. Glo. The match is made, the feals it witha Curtfie. K. Edw. But ftay 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 sense. What Love, think'st thou, I fue so 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 Prison. 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 Highness 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, she knits her Brows. Clar. He is the blunteft Wooer in Christendom. 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 she shall be my Love, or else 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 fwcar to thee,
I 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 [Father. 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. Why, 'tis a happy thing,
To be the Father unto many Sons:
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queen.
Glo. The Ghoftly Father now hath done his Shrift.
Clar. When he was made a Shriver, it was for a shift.
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 should marry her.
Clar. To whom, my Lord?
K. Edw. Why Clarence, to my felf.
Gle. That would be ten days wonder at the leaft
Cla. 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 you both,
Her fuit is is granted for her Husband's Lands.
Enter a Nobleman.
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.
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 crofs me from the golden time I look for:
And yet, between my Soul's defire and me,
The luftful Edward's Title buried,
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
A cold premeditation for my purpose.
Why then I do but dream on Sovereignty,
Like one that ftands upon a Promontory,
And fpys 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 keep 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,
Unless 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 Tweet 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 mif-fhap'd Trunk that bears this Head,