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Scanes II., IV.

K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and hear | For strokes receiv d, and many blows repaid,
me speak.

Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strengti,
Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. | And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.
K. Hen. I prithee
, give no limits to my tongue;

Enter Edward, running.
I am a king, and privileg'd to speak.
. My liege,' the wound that bred this meeting For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded.

Edw. Smile, gentle Heaven! or strike, ungentle deaih!
Cannot be cur'd by words ; therefore be still.

War. How now, my lord ? what hap? what hope of
Rich. Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword :
By Him that made us all, I am resolvid

That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.

Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair ;
Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right or no?

Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us :
A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day,

What counsel give you, whither shall we fly?
That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown.

Edu. Bootless is flight; they follow us with wings :
War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit.
For York in justice puts his armour on.
Prince. If that be right which Warwick says is right,

Enter Richard.
There is no wrong, but everything is right.

Rich. Ah, Warwick, why bast thou withdrawn thy-
Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands ;

For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth bath drunk,

Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam; Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance:
But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatic,

And, in the very pangs of death, he cried, -
Mark'd hy the destinies to be avoided,

Like to a dismal clangour heard from far.-
As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings.

Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!"
Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt,

So underneath the belly of their steeds,
Ihose father bears the title of a king,

That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,
(As if a chanuelb should be call'd the sea,)

The noble gentleman gave up the ghust.
Sham’st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood
To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?

I 'll kill my horse, because I will not fly.
Edw. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns, Why stand we like soft-hearted women here,
To make this shameless callet know herself.

Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage;
Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou,

And look upon, as if the tragedy
Although thy husband may be Menelaus ;

Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors ?
Ani ne'er was Agamemuon's brother wrong'a

Here on my knee I vow to God above,
By that false woman as this king ly thee.

I 'll never pause again, never stand still,
Ilis father revell'd in the heart of France,

Till either death bath clos'd these eyes of mine,
And tam d the king, and made the dauphin stoop :

Or fortune given me measure of revenge.
And had be match'd according to his state,

Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine;
He might have kept that glory to this day:

And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine;
But when he took a beggar to his bed,

And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face,
And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day,

I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,
Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings !
That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, Beseeching thee, it with thy will it stands
And heap'd sedition on his crown at home.

That to my foes this body must be prey,
Por what bath broach'd this tumult but thy pride? Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may hope,
Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept : And give sweet passage to my sinful soul!
And we, in pity of the gentle king,

Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,
Had slipp'd our claim until another age.

Where'er it be, in heaven, or on earth.
Geo. But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, Rich. Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle War-
And that thy summer bred us no increase,

We set the axe to thy usurping root :

Let me embrace thee in my weary arms :
And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, I, that did never weep, now melt with woe,
Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike,

That winter should cut off our spring-time so.
We'll never leave till we have hewn thee down,

War. Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, fare.
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods.

Edro. And, in this resolution, I defy thee;

Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops,
Not willing any longer conference,

And give them leave to fly that will not stay;
Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak.

And call them pillars that will stand to 118 ;
Sound trumpets !-let our bloody colours wave!-- And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards
And either victory, or else a grave.

As victors wear at the Olympian games :
Q. Mar. Stay, Edward.

This may plant courage in their quailing breasts ;
Edro. No, wrangling woman; we 'll no longer stay : For yet is hope of life, and victory.
These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. Fore-slow“ no longer, make we hence amain. (E.reuni.


SCENE IV.—The same. Another Part of the Fichita SCENE III.-A Field of Battle between Towton

Excursions. Enter Richard and CLIFFORD. and Saxton in Yorkshire.

Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone :
Alarums : Excursions. Enter Warwick.

Suppose this arm is for the duke of York,
War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge,
I lay me down a little while to breathe :

Wert thou environ d with a brazen wall.

Chf. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone :
See Note on Henry VI., Part II.,' Act V.,
& Stigmatic.

This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York ;
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And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland ; lv some man else, as thig dead man doth me.
And here 's the heart that triumphs in their death, Who's this?-0 God! it is my father's face,
And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother, Whom in this conflict I unawares have killd.
To execute the like upon thyself;

O neavy times, begetting such events !
And so, have at thee.

From London by the king was I press'd forth; [ They fight. WARWICK enters ; Clifford flies. My father, being the earl of Warwick's man, Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase ; Came on the part of York, press 'd by his master; For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. [Exeunt. And I, who at his hands receivd my life,

Have by my hands of life bereared him. SCENE V.- Another Part of the Field. Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did ! Alarum. Enter King HENRY.

And pardon, father, for I knew not thee!

My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morning's war, And no more words till they have flow d their fill. When dying clouds contend with growing light; K. Hen. O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,

Whiles lions war, and battle for their dens, Can neither call it perfect day nor night.

Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea,

Weep, wretched man, I 'll aid thee, tear for tear; Fored by the tide to combat with the wind ;

And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war, Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea

Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg‘d with grief. Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind : Soinetime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind :

Enter a Father who has killed his Son, with the body Now, one the better; then, another best;

in his arms. Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,

Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered:

Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold ; So is the equal poise of this fell war.

For I have bought it with an hundred blows. Here on this molehill will I sit me down.

But let me see:-is this our foeman's face ? To whom God will, there be the victory!

Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son ! For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,

Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, Have chid me from the battle; swearing both



eye; see, see, what showers arise, They prosper best of all when I am thence.

Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, 'Would I were dead! if God's good will were so : Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart! For what is in this world but grief and woe?

0, pity, God, this miserable age! O God! methinks it were a happy life,

What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, To be no better than a homely swain :

Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural, To sit upon a hill, as I do now,

This deadly quarrel daily doth beget! To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,

O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, Thereby to see the minutes how they run:

And hath bereft thee of thy life too late! How many make the hour full complete,

K. Hen. Woe above woe! grief more than comma How many hours bring about the day,

grief! How many days will finish


O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! How many years a mortal man may live.

() pity, pity, gentle Heaven, pity! When this is known, then to divide the times :

The red rose and the white are on his face, So many hours must I tend my flock;

The fatal colours of our striving houses : So many hours must I take my rest;


one, his purple blood right well resembles ; So many hours must I contemplate;

The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present :
So many hours must I sport myself;

Wither one rose, and let the other flourish!
So many days my ewes have been with young; If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.
So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean;

Sm. How will my mother, for a father's death, So many years ere I shall shear the fleece;

Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied ! So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my son, Pass'd over to the end they were created,

Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied ! Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.

K. Hen. How will the country, for these wucru Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!

chances, Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade

Mis-think the king, and not be satisfied! To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,

Son. Was ever son so rued a father's death? Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy

Fath. Was ever father so bemoan 'd a son ? To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery?

K. Hen. Was ever king so griev'd for subjects' woe? O, yes it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.

Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much. And to conclude the shepherd's homely curds,

Son. I'll bear the bence, where I may weep myfill. His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,

[Exit, with the body His wonted sleep unıler a fresh tree's shade,

Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy pindung All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,

sheet; Is far beyond a prince's delicates,

My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre ; Ilis viands sparkling in a golden cup,

For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go His body couched in a curious bed,

My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell ; When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.

And so obsequious b will thy father be,

Sad for the loss of thee, having no more, Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his Father,

As Priam was for all his valiant sons. dragging in the dead body.

I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will Son. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.

For I have murther d where I should not kill. This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight,

[Erit, with the body May be possessed with some store of crowns : And I, that haply take them from him now,

* Stratagems here means disastrous events-not merely the

eve:its of war, its surprises and spares. Alay yet ere night yield both my life and them

Obsequious-performing obsequies.


K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's departing Here sits a king more woeful than you are.

Edw. See who it is: and, now the battle 'e ended,

If friend, or foe, let him be gently used. dlarums : Excursions. Enter QUEEN MARGARET,

Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 't is Clifford; PRINCE OF WALES, and EXETER.

Who, not contented that he lopp'd the branch Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled, In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, And Warwick rages like a chafed bull:

But set nis murthering knife unto the root Away! for death doth hold us pursuit.

From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post I mean, our princely father, duke of York. amain :

War. From off the gates of York fetch down the Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds

head, Having the fearful flying hare in sight,

Your father's head, which Clifford placed there : With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath,

Instead whereof let this supply the room; And blowly steel grasp'd in their ireful hands,

Measure for measure must be answered. Are at our backs; and therefore hence arnain.

Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our houce Exe. Away! for vengeance comes along with them : That nothing sung but death to us and ours: Nay, stry not to expostulate, make speed ;

Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, Or else come after, I 'll away before.

And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter ;

[Attendants bring the body forward Not that I fear to stay, but love to go

War. I think his understanding is bereft :-
Whither the queen intends. Forward ; away! (Exeunt. Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee !--

Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life,
SCENE VI.-The same.

And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say.

Rich. O, would he did ! and so, perhaps, he doth ; A loud Alarum. Enter ClifFORD, wounded.

'T is but his policy to counterfeit, Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, Because he would avoid such bitter taunts Which, whiles it lasted, gave king Henry light. Which in the time of death he gave our father. 0, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow,

Geo. If so thou think'st, rex him with eagera words. More than my body's parting with my soul.

Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. My love, and fear, glued many friends to thee:

Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. And, nıw I fall, thy tough commixtures melt.

War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York,

Geo. While we derise fell tortures for thy faults. [The common people swarm like summer flies:]

Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to York. And whither fly the gnats but to the sun ?

Edw. Thou pitied 'st Rntland, I will pity thee. And who shines now but Henry's enemies ?

Geo. Where 's captain Margaret, to fence you now? O Phæbus! hadst thou never given consent

War. They mock thee, Clifford! swear as thou want That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds,

wont. Thy burning car never had scorchid the earth :

Rich. What, not an oath? nay, then the world goes And Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do,

hard Or as thy father, and his father, did,

When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath :
Giving no ground unto the house of York,

I know by that he 's dead: And, by my soul,
They never then had sprung like summer fies; If this right hand would buy two hours' life,
I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm,

That I in all despite might rail at him,
Had left no mourning widows for our death,

This hand should chop it off; and with the issuing blood And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.

Stifle the villain, whose unstanched thirst For what doth cherish weeds, but gentle air ?

York and young Rutland could not satisfy. And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity? War. Ay, but he's dead: Off' with the traitor's heaul, Butless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds: And rear it in the place your father's stands. No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight;

And now to London with triumphant marchi, The foe is merciless, and will not pity;

There to be crowned England's royal king. For at their bands I have deservd no pity.

From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France The air hau got into my deadly wounds,

And ask the lady Bona for thy queen : And much effuse of blood doth make me faint: So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; Come, York and Richard, Warwick, and the rest ; And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not drearl I stabb d your fathers' bosoms, split my breast. The scatter d foe, that hopes to rise again;

[He faints. For though they cannot greatly sting tv hurt,

Yet look to have them buzz, to oflend thine ears. Alarum and retreat. Enter Edward, GEORGE,

First, will I see the coronation ; RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers.

And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea, Edro. Now breathe we, lords; good fortune bids us To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. pause,

Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it le: And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. For on thy shoulder do I build my seat; Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen;

And never will I undertake the thing That led calm Henry, though he were a king,

Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. As doth a sail, filld with a fretting gust,

Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster;
Command an argosy to stem the waves.

And George, of Clarence; Warwick, as ourself,
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them? Shall do, and undo, as him pleasesh best.
War. No, 't is impossible he should escape :

Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of Gloster; Por, though before his face I speak the words,

For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave:

War. Tut! that 's a foolish observation ; And, wheresoe'er be is, he's surely dead.

Richard, be duke of Gloster. Now to London, (CLIFFORD groans, and dies. To see these honours in possession.

'Ermurit. Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? |

a Eager-our-sharp.



SCENE I.--A Chace in the North of England. K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, nct on my head;

Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones, Enter Two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands.

Nor to be seen : my crown is call'd content; 1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. ourselves;

2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with content, l'or through this launda anon the deer will come; Your crown content and you must be contented And in this covert will we make our stand,

To go along with us : for, as we think, Culling the principal of all the deer.

You are the king king Edward hath depos d ; 2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance,

1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy cross-bow Will apprehend you as his enemy. Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost.

K. Hen. But did you never swear and break an orth! Here stand we both, and aim we at the best :

2 Keep. No, never such an oath ; nor will not m. And, for the time shall not seem tedious,

K. Hen. Where did you dwell when I was king ti I 'll tell thee what betell me on a day,

England ? In this self-place where now we mean to stand.

2 Keep. Here in this country where we now remain 2 Keep. Here comes a man, let 's stay till he be past. K. len. I was anointed king at nine months old; Enter King Henry, disguised, with a prayer-book.

My father, and my grandfather, were kings; K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, And you were swom true subjects unto me : To greet mine own land with my wishful siglit.

And, tell me then, have you not broke your oaths ? No, Harry, Harry, 't is no land of thine;

1 Keep. No; Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee,

For we were subjects but while you were king. Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast anointed :

K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a mur No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,

Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear. No humble suitors press to speak for right,

Look, as I blow this feather from my face, No, not a man comes for redress of thee;

And as the air blows it to me again, For how can help them, and not myself?

Obeying with my wind when I do blow, 1 Keep. Ay, bere 's a deer whose skin 's a keeper's fee: And yielding to another when it blows, This is the quondam king ; let 's seize upon him.

Commanded always by the greater gust ; K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour adversities :

Such is the lightness of you common men. For wise men say it is the wisest course.

But do not break your oaths; fur, of that sin 2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him. My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. 1 Keep. Forbear a while; we 'll bear a little more.

Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; K. Hen. My queen and son are gone to France for aid; And be you kings; command, and I 'll obey. And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick

1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king, king Edward. Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister

K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry, To wife for Edward : If this news be true,

If he were seated as king Edward is. Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost;

1 Keep. We charge you, in God's name, and in the For Warwick is a subtle orator,

king's, And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words.

To go with us unto the officers. By this account, then, Margaret may win him;

K. Hen. In God's name, lead; your king's name le For she 's a woman to be pitied much :

obey'd : Her sighs will make a battery in his breast;

And what God will, that let your king perform ; Her tears will pierce into a marble heart;

And what he will, I humbly yield unto. (Ezzel The tiger will be mild while she doth mourn; And Nero will be tainted with remorse,

SCENE II.- London. A Room in the Palace. To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears.

Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, CLARENCE, and Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick, to give :

Lady GREY.
She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry;
He, on bis right, asking a wife for Edward.

K. Edu. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Alban's field She weeps, and says-her Henry is depos’d;

This lady's husband, sir John Grey, was slain, He smiles, and says-his Edward is installd;

His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror : That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more; Her suit is now, to repossess those lands; Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, Which we in justice cannot well deny, Inferreth arguments of mighty strength;

Because in quarrel of the house of York And, in conclusion, wins the king from her,

The worthy gentleman did lose his life. W’ith promise of his sister, and what else,

Glo. Your highness shall do well to grant ler suit ; To strengthen and support king Edward's place. It were dishonour to deny it her. O Margaret, thus 't will be; and thou, poor soul, K. Edw. It were no less; but yet I 'll make a jauss Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn.

Glo. Yea! is it so? 2 Keep. Say, what art thou that talk'st of kings and I see the lady hath a thing to grant, queens?

Before the king will grant her humble suit. K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was born to: Clar. He knows the game : How true he keeps the A man at least, for less I should not be:


(Asir's And men may talk of kings, and why but I?

Glo. Silence!

(Assas 2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk’st as if thou wert a king. K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of your suit; K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind; and that 's enough. And come some other time, to know our mind.

Keep. But if thou be a king, where is thy crown? L. Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot brwok delay : " Laund (the same as li.wn) is, according to Camden, “ a

May it please your highness to resolve me now ; plaiu among trees."

And what your pleasure is shall satisfy rue.



your lands,

tell me.


Glo. (Aside.) Ay, widow ? then I'll warrant you all L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both them ani
An if what pleases him shall pleasure you.

But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
Fight closer, or, good faith, you 'll catch a blow. Accords not with the sadness a of my suit;
Clar. I fear her not unless she chance to fall. [ Aside. Please you dismiss me, either with ay or no.
Glo. God forbid that! for he 'll take vantages. [Aside.

K. Edu. Ay, if thou wilt say ay to my request :
K. Edw. How many children hast thou, widow ? No, if thou dost say no to my demand.

L. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end. Clar. I think he means to beg a child of her. [Aside. Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits ber brows. Glo. Nay, then whip me; he 11 rather give her two.

(Aside. (Aside.

Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord.

[Aside. Glo. You shall have four, if you 'll be rul'd by him. K. Edro. (Aside.) Her looks do argue her replete

[ Aside.

with modesty;
K. Edw. T were pity they should lose their father's Her words do show her wit incomparable.

All her perfections challenge sovereignty:
L. Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then. One way, or other, she for a king;
K. Edw. Lords, give us leave : I 'll try this widow's And she shall be my love, or else my queen.

Say, that king Edward take thee for his queen ?
Glo. Ay, good leave have you; for you will have leave L. Grey. 'T is better said than done, my gracious
Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch.

lord : (Gloster and CLARENCE retire to the other side. I am a subject fit to jest withal, K. Edw. Now, tell me, madam, do you love your | But far unfit to be a sovereign. children?

K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee, L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. I speak no more than what my soul intends ; K. Edw. And would you not do much to do them And that is, to enjoy thee for my love. good ?

L. Grey. And that is more than I will yield unto : L. Grey. To do them good I would sustain some harm. I know I am too mean to be your queen, K. Edu. Then get your husband's lands, to do them And yet too good to be your concubine. good.

K. Edw. You cavil, widow; I did mean my queen. L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty. L. Grey. "T will grieve your grace my son should K. Edw. I 'll tell you how these lands are to be got.

call you father. L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your highness' K. Edw. No more than when my daughters call thee service.

mother. K. Edro. What service wilt thou do me, if I give them? Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children; L. Grey. What you command that rests in me to do. And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor, K. Edv. But you will take exceptions to my boon. Have other some : why, 'tis a happy thing L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it. To be the father unto many sons. K. Edro. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask. Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen. L. Grey. Why, then I will do what your grace com- Glo. The ghostly father now hath done his shrift! mands.

[Aside. Glo. He plies her hard ; and much rain wears the Clar. When he was made a shriver, 't was for shift. marble. [ Aside.

[Aside. Clar. As red as fire! nay, then her wax must melt. K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we two have


had. L. Grey. Why stops my lord ? shall I not hear my Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad. task ?

K. Edw. You 'd think it strange if I should marry her. K. Edr. An easy task; 't is but to lore a king, Clar. To whom, my lord ? L. Grey. That's soon perform'd, because I am a sub- K. Edu.

Why, Clarence, to myself. ject.

Glo. That would be ten days' wonder at the least. K. Edro. Why, then, thy husband's lands I freely Clar. That 's a day longer than a wonder lasts. give thee,

Glo. By

so much is the wonder in extremes. L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand thanks. K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers : I can tell you both Glo. The match is made; she seals it with a curt'sy. Her suit is granted for her husband's lands. K. Edw. But stay thee, 't is the fruits of love I mean. L. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.

Enter a Nobleman. K. Edro. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense.

Nob. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken, What love think'st thou I sue so much to get?

And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. L. Grey. My love till death, my humble thanks, my K. Edw. See that he be convey'd unto the Tower : prayers;

And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.

To question of his apprehension. K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. Widow, go you along ;--Lords, use her honourable. L. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I thought you (Exeunt K. Edw., Lady Grey, CLARENCE, and Lord did.

Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honourably. K. Edro. But now you partly may perceive my mind. 'Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all,

L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I perceive | That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring, Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.

To cross me from the golden time I look for! K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. And yet, between my soul's desire and me, L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison. (The lustful Edward's title buried,) K. Edio. Why, then thou shalt not have thy hus- Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edwarl, band's lands.

And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies, L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower; To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: For by that loss I will not purchase them.

A cold premeditation for my purpose ! K Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily.

* Sadness-seriousness.

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