Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset;-sweet Oxford, thanks.

Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath nothing else.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand, Keady to fight; therefore be resolute.

Oxf. I thought no less: it is his policy, To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.

Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness.

Q. Mar. This cheers my heart to see your forwardness.

Oxf. Here pitch our battle, hence we will not budge.

March. Enter at a distance, KING EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces.

K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood,

Which, by the heaven's assistance, and your

strength,

Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night. I need not add more fuel to your fire,

For, well I wot,9 ye blaze to burn them out: Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords.

[Exit.

should say,

My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes,
Therefore, no more but this:-Henry, your sove-
reign,

Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,
His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain,
His statutes cancelled, and his treasure spent;
And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil.
You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords,
Be valiant, and give signal to the fight.
[Exeunt both Armies.

SCENE V.-Another Part of the same. Alarums: Excursions; and afterwards a Retreat. Then enter KING EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces; with QUEEN MARGARET, OXFORD, and SOMERSET, Prisoners.

K. Edw. Now, here a period of tumultuous broils. Away with Oxford to Hammes' castle' straight: For Somerset, off with his guilty head.

Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak. Orf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words. Som. NorI; but stoop with patience to my fortune. [Exeunt OXFORD and SOMERSET, guarded. Q. Mar. So part we sadly in this troublous world, To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.

K. Edw. Is proclamation made,-that, who finds
Edward,

Shall have a high reward, and he his life?
Glo. It is: and, lo, where youthful Edward comes.
Enter Soldiers, with PRINCE EDWARD.

K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak:

What! can so young a thorn begin to prick?
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou inake,
For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to!
Prince.Speak like a subject,proud ambitious York!
Suppose that I am now my father's mouth;
Resign thy chair, and, where I stand, kneel thou,
Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee,
Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.

Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd! Glo. That you might still have worn the petti

coat,

And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. Prince. Let Æsop2 fable in a winter's night; His currish riddles sort not with this place.

Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that word. Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to

Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by, to equal ít.
He was a man: this, in respect, a child;
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it!
No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak :-
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.—
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse:
But, if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off,
As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young
prince!

K. Edw. Away with her; go bear her hence per

force.

Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me here;

Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death: What! wilt thou not?-then, Clarence, do it thou.

Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear, I would not do it!

Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself; 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher, Hard-favor'd Richard? Richard, where art thou!' Thou art not here: Murder is thy alms-deed; Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.

K. Elw. Away, I say; I charge ye bear her hence. Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this prince! [Erit, led out forcibly. K. Edw. Where's Richard gone? Clar. To London all in post; and, as I guess, To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head. Now march we hence: discharge the common sort With pay and thanks, and let's away to London, And see our gentle queen how well she fares; By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. [Exeunt. SCENE VI.-London. A Room in the Tower. KING HENRY is discovered sitting with a Book in his Hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter GLOSTER. Glo. Good day, my lord! What, at your book so hard?

K. Hen. Ay, my good lord: My lord, I should say rather;

'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better; Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike, And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord. Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must con. fer. [Exit Lieutenant. K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf:

So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.What scene of death hath Roscius now to act? Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

She alludes to the desertion of Clarence.

K. Hen. The bird, that hath been limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush: And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, Have now the fatal object in my eye,

Where my poor young was limed, was caught, and kill'd.

Glo. Why, what a peevish4 fool was that of Crete, That taught his son the office of a fowl? And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd. K. Hen. I, Dædalus; my poor boy, Icarus ; Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy, Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea, Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! My breast can better brook thy dagger's point, Than can my ears that tragic history.But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life? Glo. Think'st thou, I am an executioner? K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art; If murdering innocents be executing, Why, then thou art an executioner.

Glo. Thy son I kill'd, for his presumption.
K. Hen. Had'st thou been kill'd, when first thou
didst presume,

Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophesy,-that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear;
And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye-
Men for their sons', wives for their husbands' fate,
And orphans for their parents' timeless death,-
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down
trees;

The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope;
To wit, an indigest deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast born,
To signify,-thou cami'st to bite the world:
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou cam'st-

Glo. I'll hear no more;-Die, prophet, in thy
speech;
[Stabs him.

For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.
K.Hen.Ay.and for much more slaughter after this.
O God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee! [Dies.
Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have
mounted.

See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death!
O, may such purple tears be always shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house!-
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell;-and say-I sent thee thither,
[Stabs him again.
I. that have neither pity, love, nor fear.-
Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of;
As I have often heard my mother say,
I came into the world with my legs forward:
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried,
O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!
And so I was; which plainly signified-
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
Then since the heavens have shap'd my body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother:

• Childish. To rook signified to lodge on any thing.

And this word-love, which graybeards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me; I am myself alone.-
Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light;
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee:
For I will buz abroad such prophecies,
That Edward shall be fearful of his life:
And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone:
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest;
Counting myself but bad, till I be best.-
I'll throw thy body in another room,

And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. [Exit.
SCENE VII-A Room in the Palace.

KING EDWARD is discovered sitting on his Throme;
QUEEN ELIZABETH with the infant Prince, CLA-
RENCE, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and others, near him.
K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal
throne,

Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies.
What valiant foe-men, like to autumn's corn,
Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride?
Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
For hardy and undoubted champions:
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son,
And two Northumberlands; two braver men
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound:
With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and
Montague,

That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion,
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat,
And made our footstool of security.-
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy:
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles, and myself,
Have in our armors watch'd the winter's night;
Went all a-foot in summer's scalding heat,
That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace:
And of our labors thou shalt reap the gain."

Glo. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid;
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave;
And heave it shall some weight, or break my back:-
Work thou the way,-and thou shalt execute.

[Aside.

K. Edw. Clarence and Gloster, love my lovely

KING EDWARD THE FOURTH. EDWARD, Prince of Wales, afterwards King Edward V., RICHARD, Duke of York, GEORGE, Duke of Clarence, RICHARD, Duke of Gloster, 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 OF RIVERS, Brother to K. Edward's Queen. MARQUIS OF DORSET, and LORD GREY, her Sons. EARL OF OXFORD.

LORD HASTINGS.

LORD STANLEY.

LORD LOVEL.

SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN.

Another Priest.

Lord Mayor of London.
Sheriff of Wiltshire.

ELIZABETH, Queen of King Edward IV.
MARGARET, Widow of King Henry VI.

DUCHESS OF YORK, Mother to King Edward IV,
Clarence, and Gloster.

LADY ANNE, Widow of Edward, Prince of Wales, Son to King Henry VI.; afterwards married to the Duke of Gloster.

A young Daughter of Clarence.

Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, &c.

SCENE I.-London. A Street.

Enter GLOSTER.

Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds, that low'r'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.1
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled
front;

And now, instead of mounting barbed2 steeds,
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,-
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 amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's ma-
jesty,

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;
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, inductions3 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
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul! here Clarence

Anne.What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds?

Glo.Villains, set down the corse; or, by saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. Glo. Unmanner'd dog: stand thou when I command:

Advance thy halberd higher than my breast,
Or, by saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.
[The Bearers set down the Coffin.
Anne. What, do you tremble? are you all afraid?
Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.-
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
His soul thou canst not have; therefore, begone.
Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.
Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and
trouble us not;

For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries:-
O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths, 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,
Provokes this deluge most unnatural.-

O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death!
O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death!
Either, Heaven, with lightning strike the murderer
dead,

Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick; As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!

Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity,
Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor
man;

No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity.
Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!
Glo. 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, diffus'd infection of a man,
For these known evils, but to give me leave,
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have

Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make

No excuse current but to hang thyself.

Glo. By such despair, I should accuse myself. Anne. And, by despairing, shalt thou stand excus'd;

For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.
Glo. Say, that I slew them not?
Anne.

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

Why, then, he is alive. Glo. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand. Anne. In thy soul's throat thou liest: queen Margaret saw

Thy murd'rous falchion smoking in his blood; The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

G. I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue, That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

Glo. These eyes could not endure that beauty's wreck;

You should not blemish it if I stood by:

As all the world is cheered by the sun,
So I by that; it is my day, my life.

Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life!

Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both. Anne. I would I were, to be revenged on thee. Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural,

To be revenged on him that loveth thee.

Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, To be revenged on him that kill'd my husband. Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, Did it to help thee to a better husband.

Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the

Glo. I would they were, that I might die at once;
For now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thine from mine hath drawn salt
tears,

Shamed their aspects with store of childish drops:
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear,-
Nor when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland måde,
When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him;
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
Told the sad story of my father's death;
And twenty times made pause, to sob and weep,
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks,
Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time,
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear:
And what these sorrows could not hence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weep-
ing.

I never sued to friend, nor enemy;

My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word, But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee,

That never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
Didst thou not kill this king?

Glo.
I grant ye.
Anne. Dost grant me, hedge-hog? then God
grant me too,

Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deed!
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous.
Glo.The fitter for the King of heaven that hath him.
Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never

come.

speak. She looks scornfully at him. Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was inade For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; Which if thou please to hide in this true breast, And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, And humbly beg the death upon my knee.

[He lays his Breast open; she offers at it with his Sword.

Pitying.