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KING EDWARD IV.

EDWARD, Prince of Wales, afterwards

King Edward V.,

RICHARD, Duke of York,

GEORGE, Duke of Clarence,

RICHARD, Duke of Gloucester, afterwards

King Richard III.,

A young son of Clarence.

sons to the King.

brothers to

the King.

HENRY, Earl of Richmond, afterwards King Henry VII.
CARDINAL BOURCHIER, Archbishop of Canterbury.
THOMAS ROTHERHAM, Archbishop of York.
JOHN MORTON, Bishop of Ely.

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

DUKE OF Norfolk. EARL OF SURREY, his son.
EARL RIVERS, brother to Elizabeth.

MARQUIS OF DORSET and LORD GREY, Sons to Elizabeth.
EARL OF Oxford. LORD HASTINGS.

LORD STANLEY, called also EARL OF DERBY.

LORD LOVEL.

SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN.

SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF. SIR WILLIAM CATESBY. SIR JAMES TYRREL. SIR JAMES BLOUNT.

SIR WALTER HERBERT.

SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower. SIR WILLIAM BRANDon.

CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a priest. Another Priest. TRESSEL and BERKELEY, gentlemen attending on the Lady Anne.

Lord Mayor of London.

Sheriff of Wiltshire.

ELIZABETH, queen to King Edward IV.

MARGARET, widow of King Henry VI.

DUCHESS OF YORK, mother to King Edward IV.
LADY ANNE, widow of Edward Prince of Wales, son to
King Henry VI.; afterwards married to Richard.
A young daughter of Clarence (MARGARET Plantag-
ENET).

Ghosts of those murdered by Richard III., Lords and other Attendants; a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Soldiers, etc.

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Enter RICHARD, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, solus. Glou.

Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun 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 victorious 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 barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.

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But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;

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I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's maj

esty

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt 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.

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And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover

To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
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 mew'd up
About a prophecy, which says that G

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Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul; here Clarence

comes.

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Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY.

Brother, good day; what means this armed guard That waits upon your grace?

His majesty,

Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed

This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

Upon what cause?

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Because my name is George.

Glou. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of

yours;

He should, for that, commit your godfathers.
O, belike his majesty hath some intent
That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower.
But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know?

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Clar. Yea, 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 His issue disinherited should be;

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And, for my 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
Have moved his highness to commit me now.
Glou. Why, 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.

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