Clar. I fear her not, unless fhe chance to fall. K. Edw. How many children haft thou, widow? tell me. Clar. I think he means to beg a child of her. Glo. Nay, whip me then: 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 pityful, dread Lord, and grant'em 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? Gray, Ay, full as dearly as I love myself, K. Edw. And would you not do much to do them good? Gray. To do them good I would sustain some 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.. Glo. He plies her hard, and much rain wears the marble. task? Clar. As red as fire! nay, then her wax muft melt.. fubject. Gray. I take my leave with many thousand thanks. Glo. The match is made, the feals it with a curt'fy. 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 fenfe.. What love think'st thou 1 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 lie with thee. Gray. Why then, mine honefty fhall be my dower; K.Ed. Therein thou wrong'ft thy children mightily. Gray. Herein your Highness wrongs both them and But, mighty Lord, this merry inclination [me... Accords not with the fadness of my fuit; Please you difmifs are, or with Ay or No. · K Edw. Ay, if thou wilt fay Ay to my request; No, if thou doft say No to my demand. Gray, Then, No, my Lord, my fuit is at an end. Glo. The widow likes him not, fhe knits her brows, Clar He is the blunteft wooer in Christendom. K. Edw. Her locks do argue her replete with modefty, Her words do fhew her wit incomparable, All her perfections challenge iovereignty; One way or other fhe is for a King; And the fhall be my love, or else my Queen. Say that King Edward take thee for his Queen? Gray. 'Tis better faid than doue, my gracious Lord; I am a fubject fit to jeft withal, But far unfit to be a Sovereign. K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my ftate I fwear to thee,. I fpeak no more than what my foul-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 fons fhould call you father. K. Edw. No more than when my daughters call thee mother, Thou art a widow, and thou haft fome children; Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queen. Glo. The ghoftly father now hath done his fhrift. Clar. When he was made a fhriver, 'twas for fhift. K. Ed. Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had. Glo. The widow likes it not, for fhe looks fad. K. Edw. You'd think it strange if I should marry her. Clar. To whom, my Lord? K. Ed. Why, Clarence, to myself. Gle. That would be ten days' wonder at the leaft. Clar. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts. Glo. By fo much is the wonder in extremes. K. Edw. Well, jeft on, brothers; I can tell you both, Her fuit is granted for her husband's lands. Enter a Nobleman. Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your foe is taken, And brought your prisoner 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, use her honourably. [Exeunt. SCENNE III. 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 foul's defire and me, (The luftful Edward's title buried), Is Clarence, Henry, and his fon young Edward; Flatt'ring my mind with things impoffible.. And deck my body in gay ornaments, And 'witch fweet ladies with my words and looks. Oh, monftrous fault, to harbour fuch a thought! I'll make my heav'n to dream upon the crown; Be round impaled with a glorious crown. That rends the thorns, and is rent with the thorns. And frame my face to all occafions: I'll drown more failors than the mermaid fhall, SCENE IV. Changes to France. [Exit. Flourish, Enter King Lewis, Lady Bona, Bourbon, Ed- And birth, that thou fhould'ft ftand while Lewis fits. |