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ACT I. SCENE I. London. A street. Enter RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, solus.

Glou. Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sm of York ; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with vietorious

wreaths ; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ; Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled

front; And now, instead of mounting barded steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, 11 He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an imorous 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 clissembling nature,
Deformed, untinish'd, sent before my time 20
Into this breathing world, scarce half made

up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I lalt 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

30
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 new'd up,
About a prophecy, which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. 40
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul : here Clar-,

ence comes, Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKEN

BURY, 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.

Glou. Upon what cause ?
Clar.

Because my name is George. Glou. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of

Fours ; He should, for that, commit your godfathers : 0, belike his majesty hath some intent That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower.

But whet's the matter, Clarence? may I know? ('lar. Yez, Richard, when I know ; for I

protest 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 Ilis issue disinherited should be ; Ind, for iny 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 60 Hlave moved his bigliness to commit me now. Glou. Wy, this it is, when men are ruled

by women: '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, Anthony Woodville, 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, 70 Clar. By heaven, I think there's no man is

secure But the queen's kindred and night-walking

heralds That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress

Shore.
Heard ye not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery ?

Glou. Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.
l'll tell you what ; I think it is our way,
If we will keep in favor with the king,
To be her men and wear her livery :

80 The jealous o'erworn widow and herself, Since that our brother dubb'd them gentle

women, Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. Bruk i beseech your graces both to pardon

me; Ilis majesty hath straitly given in charge That no man shall have private conference, Of what degree soever, with his brother. Glou. Even so; an't please your worship,

Brakenbury, You may partake of any thing we say : We speak no treason, man: we say the king 9C 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 that the queen's kindred are made gentle

folks : How say you, sir ? can you deny all this? Brak. With this, my lord, myself have

nought to do. Glou. Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I

tell thee, fellow, lle that doth naught with her, excepting one, Were best he do it secretly, alone.

100 Brak. What one, my lord ? Glou. Her husband, kuave : wouldst thou

betray mo?

110

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. Glou. We are the queen's abjects, and must

obey.
Brother, farewell : I will unto the king ;
And whatsoever 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.
Ciar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.
Glou. Well, your imprisonment shall not be

long;
I will deliver you, or else lie for you :
Meantime, have patience.
Clar.

I must perforce. Farewell. (Freunt Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard. Glou Go, tread the path that thou shalt

ne'er return, 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. Bat who comes here ? the new-deliver'd Hastings?

Enter LORD HASTINGS. Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious

lord ! Glou. As much unto my good lord cham

berlain ! Well are you welcome to the open air. How bath your lordship brook'd imprison

ment Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prison

ers must : But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks That were the cause of my imprisonment. Glou. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall

Clarence too ; For they that were your enemies are his, 130 And have prevail'd as much on him as you. Host. More pity that the eagle should be

med,
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

Glou. What news abroad ?
Hast. No news so bad abroad as this at

home ;
The king is sickly, weak and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.
Gloy. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad

indeed. 0, he hath kept an evil diet long, And overmuch consumed his royal person: 140 "Tis very grievous to be thought upon. What, is he in his bed ? Hast. He is. Glou. Go you before, and I will follow you.

[Erit Hastings. He cannot live, I hope ; and must not die Till George be pack'd' with post-horse up to

heaven. P'n 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,
Clarence hath not another day to live : 150
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: 160 Clarence still breathes ; Edward still lives and

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

[Exit. SCENE II. The same. Another street. Enter the corpse of King HENRY the Sixth,

Gentlemen with halberds to guard it; LADY
ANNE being the mourner.
Anne. Set down, set down your honorable

load,
If honor may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
Poor 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, 10
Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these

wounds! Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life, I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes. Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes! Cursed be 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! 20 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 As miserable by the death of him As I am made by my poor lord and thee ! Come, now towards Chertsey with your hour Taken from Paul's to be interred there; 30 And still, as you are weary of the weight, Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.

Enter GLOUCESTER. Glou. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set

it down. Anne. What black magician conjures up

this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds ?

load,

Glou. Villains, set down the corse ; or, by

Saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin

pass. Glou. Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when

I command : Advance thy halbert higher than my breast, 40 Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, And spurn upon thee, beggar, forthy boldness. Anne. What, do you tremble ? are you all

afraid ? Alas, I blame you not ; for you are mortal, And mortal eyes cannot enduire the devil. Avant, thou dreadful minister of hell! Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, His soul thou canst not have; therefore be

gone. Glou, Sweet saint, for charity, be not so

curst. Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not ;

50 For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims. If thou delight to view thy heinons deeds, Behold this pattern of the butcheries. O, gentlemen, see, see! dead llenry's wounds Open their congeal'd inoutlıs and bleed afresh! Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity : For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty veins, where no blood

dwells ; Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,

60 Provokes this delige most unnatural. O God, which this blood madest, revenge his

death ! O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his

death ! Either heaven with lightning strike the mur

derer dead, Or carth, gape open wide and eat him quick, As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, Which his hell-govern d arm bath but hered!

Glou. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for

Curses. Anne. Villain, thon know'st no law of God

70 No beast so fierce but knows some touch of

pity: Glou. But I know none, and therefore am

no beast. Anne. ( wonderful, when devils tell the

truth! Glou. More wonderful, when angels are so

angry Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, Of these supposed evils, to give me leave, By circumstance, but to acquit myself, Anne. Vouchsafe, defused infection of a

man, For these known evils, but to give me leave, By circumst:ince, to curse thy cursed self. Glou. Fairer than tongue can name thee,

let me bave Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

Annc. Fouler than heart can think thee,

thou canst make No excuse current, but to hang thyself. Glou. By such despair, I should accuso

myself. Anne. And, by despairing, shouldst thou

stand excused ; For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, , which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

Gluu. Say that I slew them not?

unre. Why, then they are not dead But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. Glou. I did not kill your husband. 91 Anne.

Why, then he is alive Glou. Nay, he is dead ; and slain by Ed.

ward's hand. inne. In thy foul throat thou liest : Queen

Margaret saw Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood The which thou once didst bend against her

breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point. Glou. I was provoked by her slanderous

tongue, Which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

(mind. Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries: Did t thou not kill this king ?

101 Glou.

I grant ye. Anne. Dost grant me, hedgehog ? then, God

grant me too Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed ! 0, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous ! Glou. The fitter for the king of heaven,

that hath him. Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt

never come. Glou. Let himn thank me, that holp to send

him thither ; For he was fitter for that place than earth. Anne. And thou unfit for any place but

hell. Glou. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

110 Anne. Some dungeon. Glou,

Your bed-chamber. Anne. I'll betide the chamber where

thou liest ! Glou. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. Anne. I hope so.

Glou. I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne, To leave this keen encounter of our wits, And fall somewhat into a slower method, Is not the causer of the timeless deathis Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, As blameful as the executioner ? Anne. Thou art the cause, and most ac. cursed effect.

12€ Glou. Your beauty was the cause of that

effect; Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep To undertake the death of all the world, So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom

Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homi.

nor man:

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These nails should rend that beauty from my | My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing cheeks.

words; Glou. These eyes could never endure sweet But, now thy beauty is proposed my fee, 170 beauty's wreck ;

My proud heart sues and prompts my tongue You should not bleinish it, if I stood by:

to speak., (She looks scornfully at him. As all the world is cheered by the sun,

Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they wero So I by that; it is my day, my life. 130

made
Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
death thy life!

If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Glou. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;
art both.

Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom, Anne. I would I were, to be revenged on And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, thee.

I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, Glou. It is a quarrel most unnatural, And humbly beg the death upon my knee. To be revenged on him that loveth you.

[lle lays his breast open : she offers at it Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable,

with his sucord. To be revenged on him that slew my husband. Nay, do not pause ; for I did kill King Henry, Glou. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy hus- But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. 181 band,

Nay, now dispatch ; 'twas i that stabb'd young Dil it to help thee to a better husband.

Edward, Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. earth.

140

[Ilere she lets fall the sword. Glou. He lives that loves thee better than Take up the sword again, or take up me. be could.

Anne, Arise, dissembler : though I wish Anne, Name him.

thy death, Glou, Plantagenet.

I will not be the executioner. Anne.

Why, that was he. Glou. Then bid me kill myself, and I will Glou. The selfsame name, but one of better

do it. nature.

Anne. I have already. Anne. Where is he?

Glou.

Tush, that was in thy rage : Glou,

Here. [She spitteth at him.] Speak it again, and, even with the word, Why dost thou spit at me ?

That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy Anne. Would it were mortal poison, for thy love,

190 sake !

Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love ; Glou. Never came poison from so sweet a

To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary. place.

Anne. I would I knew thy heart. Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad.

Glou. 'Tis figured in my tongue. Out of my sight ! thou dost infect my eyes. Anne. I fear me both are false. Glou. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have in

Glou. Then never man was true. fected nine.

150 Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. Ann, Would they were basilisks, to strike Glou. Say, then, my peace is made. thee dead !

Anne. That shall you know hereafter. Glou. I would they were, that I might die Glou. But shall I live in bope ? 200 at once ;

Anne. All men, I hope, live so. For yw they kill me with a living death.

Glou. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt Anne. To take is not to give. tears,

Glou. Look, how this ring, encompasseth Shamed their aspect with store of childish thy finger. drops :

Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart ; These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear, Wear both of them, for both of them are thiné. No, when my father York and Edward wept, And if thy poor devoted suppliant may To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made But beg one favor at thy gracious hand, When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.

Anne, What is it ?

210 Vor when thy warlike father, like a child, 160 Glou. That it would please thee leave these Told the sad story of my father's death,

sad designs And twenty times made pause to sob and To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, weep,

And presently repair to Crosby Place ; That all the standers-hy bad wet their cheeks, Where, after I have solemnly interr'd Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time At Chertsey monastery this noble king, My manly eves did scorn an humble tear ; And wet his grave with my repentant tears, And wat these sorrows could not thence ex- I will with all expedient duty see you : bale,

For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you, Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with Grant nie this boon. weeping.

Anne. With all my heart; and much it I never sued to friend nor enemy;

joys me too,

220

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To see you are become so penitent.

Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would beTressel and Berkeley, go along with me.

tide of me ? Gloui. Bid me farewell.

Pic. No other harm but loss of such a lord. Anne.

'Tis more than you deserve ; Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes But since you teach me how to Hatter you,

all harin. Imagine I have said farewell already.

Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a (Exeuni Lay Anne, Tressel, und Berkeley. goodly son, Glou. Sirs, take up the corse.

To be your comforter when he is gone. 10 Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord ? Q. Eliz. Oh, he is young, and his minority Glou. No, to White-Friars; there attend Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester,

my coming. [Errunt all but Gloucester. Ainan that loves not me, nor none of you. Was ever woman in this humor woo'd ?

Ric. Is it concluded he shall be protector ? Was ever woman in this humor won ?

Q. Eliz. It is determined, not concluded i'll have her; but I will not keep her long. 230

yet: What! I, that kill'd her husband and his But so it must be, if the king miscarry. father,

Enter BUCKINGHAM and DERBY. To take her in her heart's extremest hate,

Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,

and Derby. The bleeding witness of her hatred by;

Buck. Good time of day unto your royal Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me,

grace!

Der. God make your majesty joyful as you And I nothing to back my suit at all,

have been ! But the plain devil and dissembling looks,

Q. Eliz. The Countess Richmord, good my And yet to win her, all the world to nothing !

Lord of Derby,

20 На !

To your good prayers will scarcely say amen. Hath she forgot already that brave prince, 240

Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife. Edward, her lord, wbom I, some three months

And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured since,

I hate not you for her proud arrogance. Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury ?

Der. I do beseech you, either not believe A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,

The envious slanders of her false accusers ;
Framed in the prodigality of nature,

Or, if she be accused in true report,
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal, Bear with her weakness, which, I think, pro-
The spacious world cannot again afford :

ceeds And will shie yet debase her eyes on me,

From wayward sickness, and no grounded That cropp'd the golden priine of this sweet

malice, prince, And made her widow to a woful bed ?

Riv. Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of

Derby? On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?

Der. But now the Duke of Buckingham On me, that halt and am unshapen thus ? 251

and I My dukedom to a beggarly denier,

Are come from visiting his majesty. I do mistake my person all this while :

What likelihood of his amendUpou my life, she finds, although I cannot,

ment, lords ? Myself to be a marvellous proper man.

Buck. Madam, good hope; his grace speaks I'll be at charges for a looking-glass,

cheerfully. And entertain some score or two of tailors,

Q. Eliz. God grant him health! Did you To study fashions to adorn my body:

confer with him ? Since I am crept in favor with myself,

Buck. Madam, we did : he desires to make I will maintain it with some little cost. 260

atonement But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave;

Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your broAnd then return lamenting to my love.

thers, Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,

And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain ;
That I may see my shadow as I pass. Exit

And sent to warn them to his royal presence.
SCENE III. The palace.

Q. Eliz. Would all were well!' but that
will never be

40
Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, LORD RIVERS, and I fear our happiness is at the highest.
LORD GREY.

Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET, Riv. Have patience, madam : there's no Glou. They do me wrong, and I will not doubt his majesty

endure it : Will soon recover his accustom'd health. Who are they that complain unto the king, Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?

By lioly Paul, they love his grace but lightly Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good com- That šll his ears with such dissentious rafort,

mors. And cheer his grace with quick and merry Because I cannot flatter and speak fair, words.

Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog,

Q. Eliz.

worse :

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